A letter to my girl - Two years

My sweet girl, 

I have been longing for the quiet of this morning to be with you as I write your birthday letter.  It's a precious time to me.   Your brother is down for his nap and I get to sit in the stillness of this house as he sleeps.  It's dreary here today, unlike your home.  The tone of this day fits my heart.  It's overcast and drizzly. Wet.  Heavy.  Leaves everywhere - beautiful and yet a chaotic mess.  It all reflects so well how I feel on your birthday this year.

The pain of separation is just too much at times.  I have felt restless and uneasy trying to control my world down here for the last two weeks.  I have cried easily and fought with those I love.  I have been sensitive, disappointed, and  frustrated over anything and everything.  Poor Sissies and daddy :).   I have been longing for peace but it has felt like unrest everywhere I turn.  It's because I ache, Kate.   I ache for you.  The anticipation of this 2nd birthday was almost too much for my soul, and it took me off guard.  My shoulders have felt slumped and my chest heavy.  A lump in my throat ready to burst at any moment.  I think I have been afraid to "go there" ...... into the pain, in fear that I may never come back.  I finally did last week and again on Sunday.  My dear soul friend rocked me like a baby and let me BE.  I needed to just BE ..... be where I was in order to love you with all of my mommy might.  You saw the family celebration we had and the balloons let go into the night sky.  We sent our love to you in prayers and love notes.  We know how you feel and experience our hearts in the most intimate way.  You taste the beauty and the closeness of our relationship with you far beyond what we understand.  It's so pure.  Oh, how it makes me long for the perfection of heaven.  And long to see you in all your perfection the way God intended you to be precious girl.   And to hug you and hold you .... to twirl with you and giggle ..... I could just go on and on. 

Your biggest sister finally broke last night.  The floodgates opened.  It's been two years.  There have been tears shed but not like this.  Her seven year old heart and mind had to protect itself when we lost you so suddenly.  And then last night in all of God's grace, at nine years old, she felt the weight of it all.  My mama's heart was broken but it was a beautiful hour as I rocked her, wiped her tears, and just said, "I know.  I am sorry."  Those are the only words.  I can't tell her it's going to be okay because it's not.  EVER.  We will be okay, but the fact that you are so far from us never will be.  We talked about Psalm 56:8.   I told her that her tears are precious to our Father in heaven.  She asked why, and I had the privilege of explaining to her that it shows how much God cares about our pain and how he cares that it hurts so bad to miss you.  His word says, "You keep track of all my sorrows, you have collected all my tears in your bottle.  You have recorded each one in your book."  You are worth every tear, my love.  We love you with our tears; and God honors each drop in His  love and care for us. How GREAT is this love that he has lavished upon us.  How would we survive this without Him and his wondrous love?   

As the hours have gone by today I have felt covered by that LOVE.  The countless texts, the prayers, the time spent together, the words written straight to our hearts.  The donuts, the birthday cake, the flowers sent.  The phone calls and emails.  YOU are loved and missed, and so so many are taking sweet care of your family.  Rest assured you live on.  One friend said your life continues to scream "Jesus!" to the multitudes.  I believe this to be true my love. I continue to hear the way you have affected hearts and minds ..... you have changed a people .......  it's His kingdom come.  

Though my faith is not wavering, I feel less steady right now.  But today, Kate, I have felt a resurgence of  hope and strength as I remember what God has done for us the last two years.  This day in 2013 we faced the unimaginable pain of saying goodbye to you way too soon.  Our God kept us, strengthened us and whispered loving truth so we would endure those days, weeks, months. I am reminded by his word that there is no sorrow that heaven cannot heal and for that I praise him!  If he gave me strength for those worst of days, he will give me strength for these.  He is able.  

I have typed this throughout today, Kate.  The day has felt long and I am tired.  It's never going to be an easy day, but it will always be a holy day.  A day that I know will be painful, but that I will also always look forward to because I feel so close to you again.  It your day sweet baby.  It's Kate's Day. 
As I prepare for bed tonight I am blessed by a reminder I received from a dear friend.  That you dance in joy, my sweet girl.  Because HE LIVES, you DANCE IN JOY!!  I will rest well with that vision in my mind.  Hallelujah!   
Happy 2nd birthday Kate Ryan - there must be a party in heaven like we had here this evening.  Your sisters sure hope so!!

To the moon and back,
Mommy

Family ready to release balloons in remembrance.

Gifts of love and care that brought joy to our day.

Happy Birthday Kate!!

Donuts delivered to our door this morning :)

 

My KIDS

The kids.  I hear myself say it and it still doesn't sound normal to me.  "The kids and I will see you in a bit".  "Could you watch the kids tonight?"  I have said girls since Maci was born 8+ year ago.  It's one of those subtle phrases that jolts me back into reality again.  I have a son.  We have a new life.

Our months (almost SEVEN) with our boy, Luke, have been graced with so many good good gifts.  Of course he has brought us joy and laughter.  He has brought us the reminder of our limitations and God's unending capacity that is ours in Christ Jesus.  He has shown me the strength of heart that has grown in me since my girls were born.  He has grown us in patience and love.  He has filled our hearts to overflowing.  All of these are magnificent, but one of my favorite gifts is the new beauty I see in my girls.   Something is different about them and while it is not necessarily identifiable, it is recognizable.  I see it in their eyes and  in their smiles.  Others do too.  I hear it in their voices, in their laughs, in the way they relate.  Their countenance has changed.   I am in constant awe and wonder about what I see opening up in them.   They are nurturers to their core .... I never knew this.  They are helpful in ways that I never thought possible!!  They desire to serve and take care of their brother, and even take care of me in new ways as they see me mother a baby.  Their hearts are bubbling with JOY.  They take delight not only in Luke, but in simple pleasures in a different way.  It's unique to this season.  I just can't get enough of them.  I miss them when they are gone all day.  We miss them, Luke and I.

Our boy has brought such redeeming grace ..... grace upon grace upon grace.  His sisters have waited so long for new life,  and maybe that's why we are experiencing extra doses of sweetness.  Or maybe this is just the way God grows our families no matter what losses we have or haven't experienced.   It doesn't really matter what or why because I know it's HIM.  Only HE can do these things in my kids.  Only HE grows love in our hearts .....  that's His work to do.  Thank you Lord for these kids of mine and the wonder of each of them.   The way you grow and mature them and bring them closer to you.  I see you in each of them in uniquely powerful ways.  You are good.

A New Song

Sadly, I have been away from the blog for awhile.   I've had the desire to write, but haven't found the time, space, or clarity of mind to do it.  Still not sure I really have the latter, but I do want to capture some of Luke's arrival and the journey of new life with him. So, here goes .... two months later :)

The last time I wrote was March 25th which was during this space in time ...... this holy passage I was moving through awaiting Luke's birth.  It is hard when the heart must wait, yet so much happens when it does.  I was truly at the end of myself during this waiting period, and my faith was stretched fully.  I was counting down the Mondays until April 20th.  The 20th was the day we had a c-section scheduled for our son's birth.  Monday April 6th came and went.  Monday April 13th came and went. They were days among many others spent fighting for hope.  The fear and anxiety was creeping in strongly the last couple of weeks and I literally cried pleas to my Father over and over again for everything to be okay this time around.  I knew who He had been to me in the darkness of loss so I trusted, but I was ready to experience His kindness in the light.  My faith was stretched and I was clinging to Jesus with everything in me.  I had to believe he was making all things new even though I could not yet physically see my son. 

Well, my good Father knew just how stretched I was.  At my Dr. appt on April 14th Luke's heart rate was dipping, not dangerously, but it was slower than we had ever seen it.  My doctor and I agreed that it was "GO" time.  With our history of losing Kate in the 39th week, and my being 37 weeks along at that point, we decided it was safe and right to move ahead with a c-section that day.  It all happened so quickly.  I had just enough time to make some calls and texts and get Dave there to be with me :).  God, in all of his mercy, grace, and loving compassion allowed this wild ride to end 6 days early. He knew I could not take much more. 

Luke David joined us at 4:02 in the afternoon and our prayers had been answered.  We prayed for a pink, squirmy baby with a LOUD cry that would fill the operating room with hope and joy.  Tears of relief and tears of joy fell down my cheeks as I heard that loud cry, and as I laid eyes on my pink squirmy boy.  This long awaited moment was finally here.  I had dreamed about this moment shortly after losing Kate.  I longed to be at that hospital again and just have it all go differently.  The way it was supposed to go.  It was a sweetness I cannot capture in words to meet Luke and to see him in Dave's arms for the first time. This delivery was also deliverance.  Deliverance from the fear of silence, of bruising and discoloration, of stillness.  Deliverance into LIFE.  Redemption before us.  God is good.  He was on November 17th 2013 and he is now on April 14, 2015.  We witnessed his power and his miracles both days.  Both days sacred in their own way.

We had many with us in the waiting room.  These were mostly the same friends and family that were with us on Kate's birthday.  I have heard about the air they breathed when Dave texted them a picture from the OR ..... they took deep breaths of fresh, clean, spirit filled air.  There were sighs and tears of relief and of joy.  Hugs and screams all around.  Luke's birthday holds a unique holiness because of Kate's holy birthday.  These people who are so dear to us and have walked this journey with us know and feel it like we do.   Again ...... she matters.  One friend kept hearing the Doxology, "Praise God from whom all blessings flow".  So that is what we did that Tuesday.  We praised and worshiped the One who created Kate and Luke, and the One who makes all things new.  

This boy is not lacking in love.  He has had so many arms ready to hold and embrace him.   The adoration he receives from his sisters is unbelievable.  My heart fills to overflowing seeing them all three together.  The delight we all have for him is evident and beautiful.  I honestly have trouble taking my eyes off of this kid!!   He is so very precious and his life a powerful testimony of our amazing God.  I feel fully the weight of this gift we have received in Luke David. 

Georgia Shae photography

God has brought Luke, our LIGHT, to remind us that death does not have the final word.  Luke, our LIGHT, has restored joy and hope to our family and our community.  Luke, our LIGHT, is a very precious gift who has caused a new song to rise in us.  

"Sing to the Lord a new song, for he has done marvelous things.....!"  Psalm 98:1

 Georgia Shae photography

Dare to HOPE

Only twenty six days left until I meet my son.  This has been quite a journey filled with many emotions, thoughts, prayers, and pleas.  Closing in on April 20th has brought it's fair share of all of the above. 

We have busily been working on our little guy's room and preparing for a baby in our home once again.  We have been praying for baby boy and singing to him as a family every night before bed.  The girls absolutely love this.  What follows is always a discussion about his name.  "Decide now, decide NOW", the girls chant, as they plead for their name choices. We are getting closer to naming him,  but are not 100% sure just yet.  So he remains "little man", "little guy", or "baby boy" for now. 

There is a great deal of emotion running through us these last few weeks.  There is so much joy and anticipation for new life and our growing family.  AND .... closing in on the final weeks is also a reminder of the trauma we experienced 17 months ago in my final week of pregnancy with Kate. The pain of the loss has been rising up.  There has definitely been a struggle for hope.  I won't bore you with all of my thought processes, and prayers, and things I have been learning; but HOPE is complicated.  It just is.  If I really dare to fully hope then I must also fully remember.  I must remember, taste, and see the beauty of God's glory and goodness in those moments when "all is well".  I mean, this is what we all hope for, right?  Those returned moments of complete and pure joy and delight.  If I dare to honestly and fully remember His sweetness, then I also honestly remember the ache.   I ache because I remember and know the suffering,  loss, and pain that comes on this journey called life.  Biblical hope is filled with tension.  We long for what is to come ..... perfection, a new heaven and a new earth ......  but we live HERE, this side of heaven, where things are broken and not all is "right". 
So as we hope, we desire.  As we desire, we long.  As we long, we remember .... what was (or what wasn't).  It's complicated and I can't fully wrap my mind around it, but I am learning to embrace these mysteries.  These mysteries are what call us to faith.  I am learning to embrace the ache that comes with desire, and let God comfort me here.  This is where I am moved from the threats of fear and despair FORWARD into hope.  Hope that reminds "all will be well with me ...... no matter what".  I can believe that statement because it is God's promise to me, and because my soul has known it.  My soul knows what it is to have joy and mourning.  What it is to have brokenness and beauty.  What is is to have fear and courage.  

As Jan Meyers shares in her book on hope, "Hope is not something outside of us to be found or lost, it is something that rises up in us with a gentle strength that requires a response."  So in these final days before birth,  I am choosing to respond even when response brings a deepened thirst, a deepened ache.  I will choose to fully feel the desires, the longings, the pain, and the loss.  Here is where I bring my most vulnerable self to my most loving Father for his comfort, love, security, and promise.  Here is where my faith finds it's voice.  Where my faith is alive and breathing, where I allow myself to be human and God to be God.   Here is where I find myself fully available and present to my son and his life inside of me.  Here is where I choose not to live in fear of what may happen and therefore miss out on the NOW.  Here is where I experience the excitement of the new life God is bringing to us ...... no matter what.  Here is where I dare to HOPE.  

Hope and Hallelujah

I sat at a dinner table recently to celebrate the birthday of one of our dearest friends.  As I thought about the four couples we would be sharing dinner with, my heart swelled.  It swelled with heartache, compassion, inspiration, and love.  These people have endured so much; many of them in the last year.   All day, I prayed a simple prayer, hallelujah.   Just a little over one year ago, that word came to life for me at the memorial service for my daughter who was born still at 39 weeks.  The service began, and during the opening song I did not utter a word until my friend sang from the stage, “I will be still and I will know that you are God, Oh hallelujah”.  I suddenly began to sing out loud with everything in me.  Somewhere in my innermost being my soul awoke and I began to worship spontaneously. I sang in agreement, proclaiming “He is God” …. even though I didn’t understand why this had become our story, and even though my heart was completely broken.

So I whispered Hallelujah throughout the day leading up to this dinner party.  Exclaiming praise to God even though one couple lost a 9 year old daughter tragically 7 months ago.  Even though that 9 year old was another couple’s niece.  Even though a wife, mom, and friend is going through treatment for breast cancer without a very good prognosis. The “hallelujah whispers” kept me claiming the promises of God all day, even though doubt was knocking.  I claimed that His ways and his thoughts are higher than mine.  I claimed that he holds our hands through the darkest of nights.  I claimed that true joy rests in his eternal promise of heaven.   As I claimed these things over the people at that table during the day, and I listened to them talk that evening, I heard another word ringing in my ears.  HOPE. 

Though none of us are perfectly faithful everyday; and the pain of loss and disease can be excruciating and derailing, there is a profound lesson being learned in the lives of my friends.  The things of this world really have nothing lasting to offer us.  We have many things to enjoy here.  Our possessions, our health, our children, our friendships, and our jobs are all earthly blessings, but they are all just momentary.  The enjoyment of these things is but a breath here on this earth.  While we can hope FOR all of these wonderful pleasures of life, it is death to place our hope IN these things.  In a moment, any of them can be taken. And if our hope is in them we feel destroyed, confused, miserable, and in despair. There is only ONE who is worthy of our hope.  Jesus, who came and gave his life for every sorrow and every pain that our hearts must endure.   Jesus, who conquered death and promises to make all things new.  Jesus, our cornerstone and strong foundation.  A hope placed in Jesus brings life in the midst of death.  It brings joy in mourning, and peace in chaos.  Hope in Him causes a Hallelujah to rise even though …..

So I sat, listened, and watched my friends fight for HOPE at that dinner table.  They inspire me as they authentically walk this journey of faith, receiving grace upon grace to face their days.  And for that I shout, “HALLELUJAH”! 

Forward, not "on"

The sadness has been ever so present again, the tears flowing freely.  It feels as though I have come upon a very unwelcome detour in my grief process. 
There is one problem in that last statement.  None of it probably appears "good" (grief, detour, sadness), but truly it's okay - most of it.  See, there is no problem with grief; it is in fact the most healthy and sane thing I can continue to do in this season after loss.  And there is no problem with detour.  A detour just gives us another pathway to an end.  In this case an end that is my healing.  So where the problem lies is with that one word - unwelcome.  The one that I DO have control over.  The one that will change everything for me in this space and time.  

As I ponder the word, unwelcome, I think of words like cold, hard, and resistant.  If I am honest this has become the state of my heart in recent weeks.  Why is it so hard to welcome the pain, once again?  To accept and try to understand the root of it.  To press into, and grieve.   The reasons are many, but the truth is I must.  I must feel and experience the sadness, without judgement of self, to find a way forward.  To move through.

Yet not "move on".

That is the tension that has been causing so much angst and most likely the resistance in my soul.  How do I move forward in this place without moving on?  Moving on - and away from my Kate Ryan.  The first year after loss felt protected in so many ways.  It felt safe and okay and understandable to want to keep Kate alive in our hearts and in our life.  I wrote monthly birthday letters, we talked about her often, the girls drew, we hung pictures and made photo albums, we grieved, alone and with others.  We honored her life on her birthday with a special celebration.  These are just a few of the ways she has remained part of us.  Then came the beginning of year two, and right on top of the holidays of course.  The whirlwind of the season was swirling around me, but my heart felt frozen.  Stuck.  It wanted to scream and cry but it didn't seem like there was time, space, or freedom.  Feeling alone, I just ached.   

As things have slowed down and stilled, my heart has begun to dethaw.  It hasn't been pretty but it has been necessary.  Grief is necessary and it is healing.  I love Psalm 56:8.  It says, "You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book."  This verse has been such comfort to me as I have mourned deeply this week.  As I have dreamed of who she would be right now.  (absolutely pure deliciousness!)  As I have missed her presence.  
As I fight to keep her alive and part of us in this second year .... and ALWAYS.  As I prepare this week to begin changing her room into her baby brother's.  It's killing me if I am honest, but it is right and it is time.  I will, this week, with the help of a cherished friend clean out the rest of her things and prepare to move forward.   The truth is she is always a part of us.  My SON will not replace Kate Ryan. (and how sweet of the Lord to give us a SON, right?)  He will not replace her .... that may seem like a gigantic "duh", but my mother's heart overrides logic here.  My heart feels protective of her; that she be remembered and always have a place.  Kate has impacted us so deeply and will always be my 3rd child.  My last daughter.  She is engraved on our hearts forever, so I will not fear.  The scriptures remind us that perfect love casts out fear, and my Father IS perfect love.  His good and perfect gifts are from above and are birthed from a heart of LOVE.  This is true of Kate Ryan and our new boy on the way.  So I cannot fear.  I will not fear moving into and through the hard moments ahead.   Because we are not moving on; but moving forward in this season that is pregnant not only with new life but also with trust, hope and faith.