It's been a long week!

Yesterday afternoon, Shaun and I headed to the SCS gym to shoot around for a bit. We were meeting a few of the guys Shaun coaches there, and we were running late (surprise!). As we hurried across the valley, we hit every...and I mean EVERY red light. There are probably a dozen stoplights between our house and school and every single one of them was red. I was...well...disgruntled. We were almost there when I looked at the clock in the car and mumbled under my breath, "This is so typical...red lights...it's the story of our life."

Shaun looked over at me and said plainly, "But we're okay."

'Of course he'd say that,' I thought. But as quickly as that cynical thought crossed my mind and I all but rolled my eyes, I caught myself.

There have been so many times lately when I have needed my husband to be optimistic...to point out the good...to reassure me that this is not the end of the road for us. I'm so thankful for him.

"Yeah, I guess we are okay, huh?" I replied.

We're okay.

My doctor said to me this past week, "You can't wait to start your family until you have children. You start if before that with just the two of you. You have to take care of each other and invest in your family now."

So, while our family looks nothing like I thought it would, it's still our family. We've made it through so much in the past year. We've still got each other. God still has a plan for us. We're okay.

My friend Julie sent me this song a couple of weeks ago.

It comes from a verse in Hosea 6:1,3:


"Come, let us return to the Lord. He has torn us to pieces but He will heal us; He has injured us but He will bind up our wounds...Let us acknowledge the Lord; let us press on to acknowledge Him. As surely as the sun rises, He will appear; He will come like the spring rains that water the earth."

You'll Come (Hillsong)

I have decided, I have resolved

To wait upon You, Lord

My Rock and Redeemer shall not be moved

I'll wait upon You, Lord

As surely as the sun will rise

You'll come to us

As certain as the dawn appears

You'll come, let Your glory fall

As You respond to us

Spirit rain, flood into

Our thirsty hearts again

You'll come

Chains be broken

Lives be healed

Eyes be opened

Christ revealed

Shaun reminded me of this verse this morning:

"When you walk through the fire,

you will not be burned;

the flames will not set you ablaze."

Isaiah 43:2b

I'm hanging on to that promise and I know He's with me, but the searing hot coals under my bare feet hurt intensely right now. Just as I bring my foot up and it starts to cool, I'm forced to step down again. I don't have the audacity to even guess what God's up to...

Please pray for us today. The grief is fresh and overwhelming.

My heart is so heavy today.

I was standing over the kitchen sink this afternoon doing the dishes, and I was rattled by a memory of the day we arrived home from the hospital.

May 18th. I was exhausted and in a fog. The hospital staff had sent us home with a box full of momentos of our time with Zachary. I opened the box and pulled out the outfit they had dressed him in while we held him and loved on him in the hours after his birth. As I pulled it out, I noticed a blood stain around the neck. I went to the laundry room to grab some stain remover and detergent and stood weakly at the kitchen sink while I scrubbed that stain out. Shaun, noticing how pale my tear-stained face was, asked me to go sit down and promised to finish scrubbing the stain out himself. I slumped to the floor and cried, "I have to clean his outfit. It's the only laundry I'm ever going to get to do for him."

That's how I feel today...like slumped on the floor is where I belong...like I'm missing out on so much. The weight of living without my son is too much...too heavy. It's agonizing. I'm angry. I don't get it. The stack of clean baby towels in the linen closet mocks me. What I would give just to search for a tiny pair of socks that matched in a load of laundry! What I would give to bring Zachary back, even for a second!

Yet, as I wrestle, I am overwhelmed by the love of God. The more my heart aches, the more comfort I know. In that tension, there is growth and the knowledge that this hurt is not forever. Jeremiah 31:3-4 says, "I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore, I have drawn you with lovingkindness. Again I will build you and you will be rebuilt." As welcoming as the kitchen floor looks, I'll cling to God's love and His promise to rebuild.

For the past week I have struggled with fear and anxiety. Like I've mentioned before, these feelings have only plagued me for the past eight months, and I hate it. I don't feel like myself, and I find it odd because, really, things are going okay. We're hanging in there financially, successfully working through stuff in our marriage, when grief floods me, it's a little less 'punch-you-in-the-gut', and I've truly never been more fulfilled or happy in my work. Nevertheless, I feel extremely anxious, and trying to suffocate these feelings isn't going to get me anywhere...so my conversation with God went a little something like this today:

Me: "God, my mind is spinning and if I started to list off the reasons why I'm anxious, we'd be here all afternoon."

God: (silence)

Me: "I could really use some help getting to the bottom of these feelings. And I could also use some peace right now, too."

God: (silence)

Me: "Okay, fine. I'll go open my Bible to Isaiah again...it seems to be the book of choice lately."

So, Isaiah 41 has been the chapter of the day. It's interesting...since I was probably 12 years old, I've had the same Bible engraved in silver letters with my maiden name (except now it says "Courtn_y Marie Ra__in" because some of the letters have worn off), and whenever God has shown me a powerful verse in a crucial time in my life, I've written down the date in the margin. In the margin next to Isaiah 41 are quite a few dates listed...the week I started high school, the week my uncle died, the day I started working at Children's Hospital, etc. Here's what God promises in Isaiah 41:9-10, 18:

"You whom I have taken from the ends of the earth, and called from its remotest parts and said to you, 'You are my servant, I have chosen you and not rejected you.' Do not fear, for I am with you; do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you...I will open rivers on the bare heights and springs in the midst of the valleys; I will make the wilderness a pool of water and the dry land fountains of water." (NASB)

I'm hanging on to that tonight. And, reading those words and seeing those dates in the margin reminds me of God's faithfulness. My heart is at peace.

8 Months

Zachary,

I miss you so much!

I miss getting to know your personality and what makes you you. I miss baby food mis-haps and hearing your laugh. I miss showing you off to friends and family, packing a diaper bag everywhere I go, and bringing you to the gym for basketball games.

And, even though you'd be pretty squirmy by now, I desperately miss holding you close to me.

As your dad and I continue to move on in life, please know that the distance created by time does not distance you from my heart.

I love you, baby boy!

Mom