Feeling oh-so-very stuck...it's kind of like trying to jump up as high as you can with your ankles chained to the ground. The moment I make a conscious decision to dwell on the positive and trust the Lord, Satan makes a novel effort to beat me down. My faith is weak, my resolve is weaker. Back to counseling I go...(gladly)! :-)

Thanksgiving was good. I didn't get to pull my baby boy up to the table in his high chair, but there was peace and a steadfast trust in God's faithfulness. Thanks for praying.

Today is a simple act of obedience. Moving...doing what I know God's called me to do and trusting that joy will follow because right now all I feel is brokenness and the weight of our loss. I feel inadequate. I feel like a failure. I perceive a crushing absence of God's blessing.

But tonight...in about four hours...I'm going to sing. I'm going to worship the Creator and Sustainer of life with everything I've got in a room full of people who are there to do the same. Even thought I don't feel like it. Even though I'd rather lie down in the pit for a while longer. Even though it feels like I don't have a ton to be thankful for tonight at our "Thanksgiving Eve" service. I don't have the answers I want. My heart aches. All I want to do is sit at the dining table tomorrow with my son and a sense of peace.

But I know that God is God. And I know that Satan wants me to stay in the pit...I know he'd be throwing a party if I didn't stand on that stage and worship tonight. So I will dig deep for all the courage I've got and choose be obedient and trust God to meet me there.


Psalm 86:

"Hear, O Lord, and answer me, for I am poor and needy. Guard my life, for I am devoted to You...Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I call to You all day long. Bring joy to Your servant, for to You, O Lord, I lift up my soul...Teach me Your way, O Lord, and I will walk in Your truth; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear Your name. I will praise You, O Lord my God, with all my heart; I will glorify Your name forever. For great is Your love toward me; You have delivered me from the depths of the grave...Give me a sign of Your goodness."

Get Out of That Pit

I've been struggling, seriously struggling with some big questions lately. Theological concepts…I can barely grasp the questions, so the answers have seemed far beyond my reach.

-God, why did You do this? I know You saw everything that happened the day Zachary died…I know You never turned Your head…I know, without a doubt that You had the power to stop it from happening, so why didn’t You?

-God, I’m tired and weary. I’ve tried to be faithful to You. I’ve handed my pain to You and allowed You to use it to teach me, to grow me, and to benefit others. But I feel stranded in this pit. Why have You left me here?

-Lord, I’m seriously starting to questions whether or not You’re listening when I pray. I keep coming to You, but I’m not really seeing any answers. Actually, I’m not even sure what to pray. I feel kind of like a pawn in Your game of chess. I’ve realized that You’re going to do what You purpose to do…I’m not going to change that. In praying, am I really going to move the hand of the Almighty God? Or am I wasting my breath?

So, last night, I sat down on the couch with an adult beverage (shhh!) and Beth Moore’s book, “Get Out of That Pit.” Kind of ironic, huh? Just the picture in my mind makes me chuckle. :-)

I didn’t really think I’d get that much out of it…I was feeling pretty low, but I figured some quiet reading wouldn’t hurt.

You see, the scab that’s formed over my deep wound has been ripped off on a very regular basis over the past six months. When I step back and look at life, I can see measurable growth and healing, but, honestly, this hurts! Still. And it’s hard to trust that God really is healing me because of that pain. I’ve tried to cover my own wound…unsuccessfully. Actually my bandaids really stink.

But, as I read chapter one, and then into chapter two, it was as if God graciously covered that open wound with a piece of gauze and some Neosporin. He made me just comfortable enough to get my attention, and I started to give Him the space to heal me again. I took off my crummy, self-made bandaids.

And, as angry as I am, as much as I feel like God has turned a deaf ear to me some days, and for every time I wonder what life would be like if Zachary was here and I didn’t have to walk through this, I know that, as Beth Moore says, “I’m a neater person healed than I would have been just plain well.”

Oh, that’s hard to swallow.

As backwards as if sounds, God is using this gaping hole in my heart make me more complete. And, as I keep choosing to stand up and take hold of the hand that reaches down into the pit to pull me out, God is making me whole.

“Life is hard. Most of us have reasons to lie down on life and never get up…Most of us can rationalize staying angry, bitter, or fearful and insecure for the rest of our lives. Most of us can talk others into not blaming us for being in our pit. We think we want people to lie down next to us, feel what we feel, and give us permission to stay there. But, if they do, they help talk us into making ourselves at home in the early grave Satan dug for us. They agree to our living death.

Christ got down next to us in the grave, stayed the better part of three days, and then got up…so we’d have permission to get up too. And start living life…

…If God allowed you to be thrown into a pit, you weren’t picked on; you were picked out. God entrusted that suffering to you because He has faith in you. Live up to it. All the way up.” (Beth Moore, Get Out of That Pit)

Okay, Lord. I’m getting up…please pull me out once again. I’ll be patient…I’ll choose to trust You. I’ll grapple with those questions in faith that You are good and You hear my cries for deliverance. My bandaids are off. Please heal me and make me whole.

Oh, the holidays.

Everyone says that the holidays are difficult after you lose someone you love. That made sense after my grandma died…there were so many memories, so many traditions…and it was difficult, especially the first year after she died.

But when people started telling me a couple of weeks ago that the holidays this year would be tough for us, I found it kind of strange…I thought to myself, ‘well, everyday is difficult, but Thanksgiving and Christmas will probably just seem like any other day in terms of our loss.’ We have no memories with Zachary around the holidays. I have no idea what it would be like to open presents with my baby dressed in his jammies on Christmas morning, so I have no idea what I’m missing.

But, as this week begins, I’m really sad, and celebration feels forced. And, while I have no memories of what was with Zachary because he was with us for such a short time, I’m realizing that everyone was right…the next month is going to be tough. I’ve spent a lot of time praying and thinking through my emotions in the past couple of days, and I’m realizing that, with all of the emphasis on family during the holiday season, my sadness stems from the feeling that my family is incomplete. It feels kind of like someone amputated an appendage. It’s so weird.

But, maybe a rambunctious celebration isn’t necessary. Maybe I can just reflect on God’s faithfulness and worship Him, thankful for what was and what is now, even if it feels incomplete. Because someday…someday…it will be complete…better than complete.

"...in keeping with His promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, the home of righteousness." 2 Peter 3:13

6 Months

6 months.

6 months since I felt the movement of my baby boy inside my belly.

6 months since I drove my car with a carseat in the back and a bag packed for the hospital.

6 months since I hurried around, trying to make sure that everything at home was prepared for the arrival of our child.

6 months since the moment I know Zachary went to be with the Lord.

6 months since I laid in that wretched hospital bed, wondering what had happened and how I would go on.

6 months of walking into a nursery with clean crib sheets and a death certificate.

6 months since I had to tell my parents that their dreams of being grandparents wouldn’t come true.

6 months of unbelievable sadness, tears, and grief.

And, 6 months that God’s sustaining grace and faithfulness have carried us. For every moment that I wished my heart had just stopped beating when Zachary’s did, God has given me greater reason to get up in the morning and live. He has surrounded us with family, friends and strangers who have overwhelmed us with love. Thank you, Lord, and happy half-birthday to my sweet baby. Someday in heaven we’ll make up for all the parties we will have missed on earth.

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows."

1 Corinthians 1:3-5

We just returned last night from Portland, where we hung out with my family for a few days and looked at a couple of colleges with my little sister, who is a senior in high school.

It's so nice to get away! I've realized that if I don't have a change of scenery at least once a month, I start to feel like a crazy person...really. One of the best pieces of advice that anyone offered me after Zachary died was to plan one activity a month for the first year following our loss. I've been blessed to go on some pretty great get-aways, and having something to look forward to each month is extremely beneficial.

So, if you've recently experienced a loss, or know someone who has, pass those words of wisdom along.

I also wanted to recommend a few books that have been exceptionally helpful to me over the past six months. Many of those books were thoughtful gifts from people who wanted to help us or had gone through similar loss. Here are a few:

A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows Through Loss by Jerry Sittser - by far, the best book I've read on loss. It's an honest, raw account of Jerry Sittser's tragic loss of his mother, wife and daughter when their family van was struck by a drunk driver. If you know anyone who has lost a loved one, please recommend this book, or better yet, give it to them as a gift.

Empty Arms by Pam Vredevelt - practical advice after suffering a pregnancy loss...everything from physical healing to trying to get pregnant again after miscarriage or stillbirth.

Empty Cradle, Broken Heart by Deborah L. Davis - another practical book including planning a funeral, caring for the huband/father, etc.

Safe In the Arms of God by John MacArthur - walks through the theological reasons why you can rest assured that your baby is in heaven with God.

Blessings!