I wanted you to have a perfect story
But from first breath you emerge crying
Because this world is cold
And my warmth wasn't [isn't] enough
But greater than perfection is grace, and that's what I hope for your story
I want your story to be a deluge of grace
No story is perfect, but a grace-filled story can be

I didn't want your story to hurt
But the writing of it sometimes does
Because hurting is human
And we hurt each other, we hurt ourselves, our souls, and the God who created us
But without hurt there would be no healing, and that's what I hope for your story
No story is without hurt, but a story of healing is powerful
I want your story to be powerful

I wanted you to have a story
But before your life started it was over
Because sometimes life ends too quickly
And I'm not in control [thank God I'm not in control]
But without your being and your ending I might not have grown, we affect each other
I want your story to be affective and affected
No one story is written without affecting another

Your story is not mine to write, nor wish-into reality
It's written in the moments
By a Hand greater than mine
For a purpose bigger than you or I can imagine

Your story isn't who they say your are or the lies that your mind whispers
It's not your trials, accomplishments, failures, or successes
It's not what you look like or the things that you do

Your story is
The guts you show
It's the emotions you express and the ones you learn how to control
It's the words you write and the love you give
It's the tears, the honesty, the laughter and the joy
Your story is
Giving your all and knowing your all is enough
It's choosing to see the good, and the light, and the beauty when ugly and dark threaten to steal your hope away
It's standing for what's right and believing the truth even when it seems unbelievable
It's knowing life isn't fair and doing your best anyway
Your story is
The truth written on your heart,
Inscribed through years of trial and overcoming and learning and growing
It's being okay with not being okay, but not allowing yourself to stay there
The freedom found in being yourself 

Your story,
Is not mine to write
Though sometimes I try
So instead,
I'll let your story unfold
I'll let myself be affected and hope I can affect you too
I'll pray
And I'll be here

When you succeed and when you fail
I'll be here
When you hurt and when you overcome
I'll be here
When you gut it out and when you feel like you can't
I'll be here
When you stand and when you fall
I'll be here
When you laugh and when you cry
I'll be here
When you doubt and when you're sure
I'll be here
Trusting, and modeling, and serving, loving and remembering
Because for now, you're mine to be here for

The nightmare

The darkness gripped me and silence held me hostage, so under my covers I would hide.  Eyes shut tight, awaiting rest to overtake the silence.  But even there, behind my eyes it was dark, and though I ran, fear followed.  I watched helplessly as all I knew to be love and home was stripped away until there was nothing - only me.  Alone, and afraid in the darkness, that's how the nightmares always ended.

But for some it's not a nightmare

Life is a walking dream that doesn't end when eyes open 

Parents loose babies and Daughters lose their Mommas

Cancer steals away time and Time is always fleeting

Husbands cheat, Wives cry and Families get by 

We're all dying

...he [Jesus] became flesh and blood... for only as a human being could he die and in dying break the power of the devil who had the power of death. Only in that way could he deliver those who through fear of death have been living all their lives as slaves to constant dread. 

-- Hebrews 10:14-15

In my nightmares I never died

I was more afraid of living without, of loosing, of watching those I love break than of death itself

But not anymore

Because I know I am never alone, and the One who goes with me is trustworthy

So when the unthinkable happens

When lives break and nightmares become reality

We can choose to be afraid, to run, to freeze, or we can choose to be at peace in His brokenness

Break out of the normal, and the accepted - Walk into that which is beyond your reason

Choose to put your full weight in something that's bigger than yourself, 

Trust

Forgive, be forgiven

Feel

Love and be loved

Rest

Be broken, but don't let the world break you

Because death has no power - and fear is no longer worthy of being called your master

Linking up with Kate Motaung and the 

FMF writers, todays word - Break

Over HERE

Loosing Baby

Dear Baby Girl (you're gone) --

You would be five, but your body never was and instead you're just a beautiful soul
I don't think of you as often as I once did, and though my head knows that is a completely normal statement to make, there's a piece of me that hates that I can say that.
Because I loved you and regardless of how many days or weeks or months you were or were not - you mattered.
But, I couldn't live inside the heartbreak that was loosing you.
I learned early on there would be days I just need to made cupcakes and I learned how to live with loosing you, and slowly it became okay.

When I lost you - you changed me.
I learned how to ask the hard questions,
And in asking I realized I could be angry with God and still believe in Him,
I accepted that the depth of my understanding was lacking and that drove me to want to know God more.  


Because I couldn't make your heart beat, the false illusion of control I was living faded to a beautiful reality of guided trust.
You showed me how big faith is, how little I had, and how much we can do with the sufficient little.
I came to accept the truly momentary nature of my role as Mom,
Loosing you doesn't mean I'm not your Mom - it's just a reminder of how time is fleeting.
And it taught me the best way to love them is with an open hand.
I found in my doubt God was not disappointed, but lovingly waiting.
Waiting to give me the peace and answers my aching-heart demanded.
When you ceased to grow, within me grew a longing for the eternal home we could share
Because in that place you're whole and rejoicing and worshiping and living.
You would be five
I would never have chosen to loose you, but five years ago I did
But it was not an empty loss
Loosing you drained out the parts of me that were too full
So I could be shaped into someone more deserving of the two I get to keep (for now)
I'm still not perfect, there are days I need emptied and days I need filled up
But because I had you, and because I lost you
I am more
Until I can hug and hold you - know you were loved, I needed you and you mattered.

Unmasking "Okay"

Do you ever choose your vocabulary based on the group of people you're around?
Ever filter or censor?
Or maybe you color normal speak/text/type with four letter words that seem like expression
Doesn't everybody?
*See footnote

Do you use social media and comment boxes as a place to act like someone else, or articulate your opinions in a way you might never in a face to face situation?
Anonymously even?

Is it real life interaction that you can't seem to nail down?
Does it makes you uncomfortable, or fearful or self-conscious or tired
So you hide behind personas, smiles, expectations, drama or apathy - carefully calculating how people think you will respond or act before entering a situation?
Or maybe you just genuinely don't like people
I get it: people stink (figuratively and sometimes literally) but we kinda ALL need each other

Intending good, for yourself, or others have you ever faked an attitude, action or emotion?
Or have you told a different version of the same story, same event - different flavor - to a different group of people?

Guilty.
As.
Charged.
(except for not liking people and the comment box one - oh and I don't use four letter words anymore...This makes me seem like a credible person to write and talk about being real - right?)

We shape-shift
And act our way through situations
We disguise and hide
We all do it - It may be a momentary mask - But it's not okay
Because that mask is a lie
A lie we tell consciously, unconsciously, and subconsciously
To others and ourselves
We lie ourselves into something we are not
And without intention those lies become us

"For we have made a lie our refuge and falsehood our hiding place."
-- Isaiah 28:15b

Faking it is easy
Being real takes courage
Being real is different
And it starts intentionally with the little stuff
Like the casual "Hi, how are you?"
What if we answered honestly?
Because "fine and okay" are the usual responses, but maybe I'm not fine, maybe you're less than okay
And what if when we ask - we really want to know...the barista at Starbucks, the cashier at the grocery, the friend, the co-worker, the sister, the husband, the child

What if instead of disguising, stuffing, hiding - we acknowledge the truth?
That we are simply ourselves
Emotional
Imperfect, but wholly us
We maybe don't fit in with every group
And we don't have it all together
I. Don't. Have. It. All. Together
But what if I don't have to?
What if all I need to do is HOLD onto the One that does?

Because When I'm not enough
God says, "I am your portion.  My grace is enough, in all things and at all times I will provide all that you need, For my power is made perfect in your weakness"
-Psalm 73:26b, 2Corinthians 12:9, 2Corinthians 9:8

What if being real looked a lot like letting go
"People don't choose to be courageous, they just choose not to be afraid anymore"
- Bob Goff

Let go of fear
Because God made you, and He called you good
But, maybe you're crippled
Crippled by fear, or pride, or insecurity, or doubt, or inadequacy or maybe you're physically crippled - and through what seems like a deficiency it's hard to see how good you are
Hear this...

    "Another time Jesus went into the meeting place, and a man with a shriveled hand was there... Jesus said to the man, 'Stand up in front of everyone...and stretch out your hand.'  The man stretched out his hand and was completely restored."
--Mark 3:1-5

This man lived courageously everyday, as himself, imperfect and crippled for the glory of God  Because one day Jesus was going to walk into that meeting place and completely restore him.
There's freedom in being who you were made to be
You were made to shine, not to hide
And Jesus offers us all restoration

What mask do you need to take off?
Don't let yourself become the lie
Believe His truth about who you are
Be brave
Tell yourself the truth
Live Real
Really Live

*Jacob's Dad always told him, "there are a lot of words in the English language and intelligent people can figure out a better way to express themselves - be an intelligent person"  Jacob now repeats this phrase to our two.

Just let that marinate for a minute 

Being a Parent is Hard

There are nine months of growing pains
And though it's often unrealized in the moment
The uncontrollable changes to your body are just the beginning
The governance you perceived to have
Bends to the realization that you are not in control 

Then they're born 
Or sometimes they're not

And, we fight for control
Because our ideals our dreams are all we've ever tried to see
We wrestle with our sufficiency
We question why
We doubt our dream that once glistened
Now drowned in diapers, and fatigue
Or an empty crib
And our reality is rocked,
Because it's not all that we imagined
Or maybe it is - and so we hold our breath

Then they grow
Or time wanes your emotion from their absence

And still we fight
To protect, and love, and discipline, and inspire, and guide, and encourage
But they need more from us than we can give
And they have their own will
And so
We wrestle
We wrestle with them and with our inadequacies  
We question the love we show, the guidance we give
We doubt our ability to discipline, and encourage and inspire at the same time
Though we try to hold them in our hand closed and safe
Our reality isn't this assured life we pictured
It's fluctuating
Out of our control, they are out of our control

What if there was a better reality
Where the absence of control brought deliverance
And we hold our children or their memory with an open hand
What if we could live in the place of surrender and yield the fight
How would that free us of the guilt we carry for loosing babies
What if we asked for vision instead of imposing our own
What if we quit trying to appear perfect
What if we ask for and accept undeserved forgiveness
What if we allow our best to be good enough, even when it doesn't feel like it
Because
Being a parent is hard
But it's worth it

It's worth every prayer
Every tear
Every sleepless night
Every doubt
Every mistake
Every stretch mark
Every moment of grace
Most of all it's worth trading your near-sighted dream of life
For a vision of grand design, and living surrendered

"Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these" - Matthew 19:14

It's okay

There's something about
The lights
The garland
The sound of carols
And an empty stocking holder
She was a present
Wrapped up tightly
And then
In a moment that seemed untimely
She wasn't

But the lights sparkled
The garland was still green
The carolers crooned
And
It's okay
It didn't hurt
It wasn't sad
It was just a memory
Of something that made me stronger
Helped me grow
And I smiled
As I hung the star in her place
Because its not really empty
It's filled with hope
And
It's okay

THE Plan

When I was little I made plans;
I planned
What I would be
In vauge beautiful generalizations
A wife
A mom
And Happy
I planned
My family
In specifics that hold no true meaning (except for laughter and butterflies)
The color of  my husband eyes
His features
How he'd make me laugh and feel butterflies
What age I'd be when we said "I do"
How many kids we'd have
And what their unique, but not weird names would be

Then...
Llife happened
Pain was never a part of my plan
I didn't factor in my head-strong nature
Or selfishness

I didn't plan on seeking the Lord
He'd just always been there

When I was little
I didn't know my own faith
When life happened
And Sin derailed
I needed Him
I needed forgiveness
And
A new plan

Grace gave way to trust
And I started to understand
His plan was the Garden
A real-life experiece of community with Him
He knew we'd mess it up
People, we're messy
I
Am
Messy

So He made a new plan
It couldn't be perfect with us in it
There would be pain
But there would be forgiveness
And fulfillment
And hope
And a future...

I am a wife
I'm also a mom
Most of the time I'm happy
Really, truly happy
My husband does have brown eyes as I planned
He still gives me butterflies, eight years after saying I do
And we laugh
A LOT
I was blessed with two children, not three as planned
And they have great names
None of which came from my middle-school notebook

I'm still head-strong, and selfish
But I'm growing in submission,
Learning to get over myself
And relinquish control
I can't control if my friend has cancer
Or if another is moving half-way across the globe
I couldn't control my miscarriage
Or Ethan's stay in the NICU
I can't control my children's choices
Or keep their heart's from breaking

But I have faith
And forgiveness
My hope is eternity
And while I'm here living my messy life
He listens to my prayers
He cares about what I want
He loves me
He gives me more grace
And He is good

For the Love of less planning, more trust, looking forward to eternity and faith that's real in the middle of this messy life,
ME

Comfort

The taste of salty tears,
Uninhibited they fall from eyes long too dry, like a flood washing over parched soil.
The pain of loss resurfaces,
The sting of grief,
The absence of control.
Her face imagined, a dream seared into your memory
The perfect pieces of you and him making her all her own,
But it is only a dream.
Your earthly eyes won't lock with hers,
Arms empty, they will not cradle her here.
A barrenness, filled only by hope.

A shapeless supple sweatshirt.
Bagels and cream cheese.
Heavy card stock and creased letters in envelopes sealed.
Words of comfort, shared sorrow and strength emotionally penned.
Chocolate, dark chocolate.
Slack cotton tank-tops.
A cocoon of covers pulled up to your nose.
Tea and honey.
Coffee with cream.
The contagious laughter of children, and make-believe.
Cupcakes and birthday parties.
Slippers that leave soft fuzzy residue between toes.
Life.
The encompassing warmth of loves embrace.
The silence of friends,
The conversation of friends.
A deep breath bringing renewal, like a blanket of snow brightening the barren ground.
Time
Prayer
Time

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all our 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. - 2 Corinthians 1:3

For the Love of comfort; found in faith, cards, chocolate, tears, deep breaths, and for the compassion of an unchanging God,
Me

Nine

Just nine-
Nine weeks.
That's what the expectant mom said
And my nightmare of nine seeped from my memory
So, I distracted myself with grumbling about sand
As I watched Charlie's toes disappear into the giant litter box
The picture of her tiny body, still and frozen at nine weeks, clouded my mind
A gulp of water helped to dam up the tears
But the emotion of it all slowly faded into the background
As I watched Ethan run and Charlie tip toe
As I listened to the anticipation of new life and growing families
As I felt the warm sun caress my face and the gentle breeze tease my hair
I made peace, again, with loosing her
And I'm ok
I'm better than ok
I'm thankful
I'm content
I'm happy
And so is she

Happy Birthday Baby...

August 4th was your due date
If you were anything like your older sister, you would have come on your own terms
But let's face it there can be but ONE Charlie!
I am sure we would not be remodeling...but I am sure I would be decorating, and planning, and baking, and welcoming all the family and friends that would gather to celebrate you!
One year of life
You'd make a great addition to the imaginary world of your brother and sister
And you'd fit smack in the middle of your cousins (although I'm not sure you'd be ready to keep up with the Hurricane)

If I let myself,
I see that day and I can feel it all over again
The panic, the confusion, the disbelief, the pain
My hand squeezes your daddy's
My eyes search the screen for your movement
My ears strain to hear the beat of your heart
And for a second my eyes leave you to scan the face of the technician
And then I do it all over again, because I'm missing it, all of it
You're body is still and your heart is silent
You're gone
And my heart breaks because already I love you, already you're mine
I thought you were mine to keep
But HE had a different plan
You were always HIS, mine only for a few weeks
But you made me stronger, made me trust HIM more
And I know someday you'll welcome me HOME; I can't imagine your face, but I'm sure I'll know it and there HE will keep us both!

I cried for you again today baby girl.
I don't let myself very often.
But today is your day - so for today it's okay.

Sentimental

Maybe I don't clean out the closets as often as I should...
The tiny tees and the frilly dresses
The worn, hole-ridden jeans
They all seem so small, and I wonder at how you got to be so big.

Maybe I forget some of the stuff I've "hidden" away
At least Jacob, claims I hide things
I'd like to classify myself as an organized-piler
Problem with piling things away is sometimes, you find them when least expected
The dark purple KSU socks meant to cover tiny feet
Tiny feet that now tread the streets of gold

Maybe I don't call as often as I should
And maybe it's because every time we talk I miss you like the first time
I wish you were here, but I can't picture myself there
And I'm sorry

Maybe I'm just hormonal
But when I watch you hold him
I have to blink back the tears
You're such a sweet big-brother
The way your eyes gaze at him and how he stares back at you, your sweet "hi-baby"
Why do we talk with such sugary-shrill voices to newborns? Do they hear us better?

Maybe I wonder how she would have changed our lives
But mostly I'm just thankful

Check-up

It was "that time of year again"
You ladies know what I'm talking about...
The Yearly appointment where you are escorted into a cold-sterile-room, that is, if you don't count the cheesy landscape pictures cut from old calendars stuck to the ceiling - and you know why their on the ceiling BLAH.
Next you're asked to fully-undress, a thin sheet drapes across the examination table and acts as the draftiest robe you've ever donned, and the hygienic-paper crunches beneath your cheeks where you sit to wait.
While waiting - fully-naked, and half-covered the nurse peruses your chart and there she finds a few facts she'll need you to confirm.
I knew it was coming,
But the words stung, like a cold extremity aches as you warm up after snowy-play.
"3 pregnancies and 2 births?" She asked.
And there it was; the truth and with it, a twinge of pain from inside the deepest part of me. And I simply replied "yes"
But that outwardly-quiet simple "yes" caused the inside of me to call-out....
Do you know I wanted number three, really-really wanted her?
Do you know number three was a little girl?
Do you know I saw her heart pulsing strong and quick
And do you know I starred helplessly, and cried, when the monitor pictured a motionless body and a heart-without a rhythm.
Do you know when my four-year-old asks me "when are we going to get another baby"
I answer him, "when we get to heaven"
No, the nurse didn't know, it was just a routine question, at a routine check-up, that's 6-months over due.
And then she left,
Alone in the sterility - cold, still naked, emotions stinging, with the lingering empty promise: "the doctor will be in soon"
I pulled the ratty-thin sheet around me a little tighter, which helped to relieve the chill, and somehow my own arms encompassing my gut dulled the stabbing from within.
48 minuets later I was free to leave with a clean bill of gynecological-health, an order for labs, a free sample of birth control and the emotional pieces of me in check.

50 Years

I stand witness to a love that has lasted 50 years
A love rooted in something greater than emotion
A love which has endured..
Endured War and Separation
Held strong through Miscarriages
Transitioned when Locations and jobs changed
Joyed in Children
Grieved in the Death of a newborn
Suffered as Children choose their own way
Rejoiced as Children came home
Exulted in Grandchildren
Held strong in the Loss of parents and siblings
Delighted in Great-Grandchildren
An enduring love that
Grew together
Grew through tribulation
Grew through joy
Grew old
And will last Forever.

I stand witness...and I am blessed!
Love you, Mawna and Grandpa

So I made cupcakes....

Your heart stopped
I cried
Your daddy held me and he cried too
They had to take you out of me
I hated it
My heart ached
But my attention was needed elsewhere
And it helped
It was your sisters 2nd birthday
A party to host and a life to celebrate
It was a good distraction
So I scrubbed toilets
And washed the floors
I dusted tables
And I made cupcakes

One year ago I lost you
And just like last year there are cupcakes to be made
And a life to celebrate
And while I'm sad I mourn your life instead of celebrate it
I'm not as sad as I was before
I know your whole
I know I'll see you someday
And we'll celebrate then

So today...I'll make cupcakes

The "A"

Today I decided to decorate for Christmas.
The house is clean, the kids excited
And no foreseeable time in the near future following Thanksgiving to get it done

It was great fun watching the kids pull-garland and lights from the boxes
And then we pulled-out the stockings and stocking holder
Last year on clearance I bought "PEACE"
5 - stocking holders, expecting there to be an extra stocking this year
And I just stood there as the tears welled up in my eyes and stared at the empty "A"
Ethan looked at me with inquisitive eyes
I sat down on the couch, and he hugged me
And I cried

Ethan, unable to understand and just too excited and busy hopped up and started rummaging through the boxes
He brought me a star, and inside this star was Mary holding baby Jesus
We took it together to the empty "A" and filled it with Jesus

Flooded with emotions I just cried, and cried some more
Thoughts of...
The little baby girl I don't get to share Christmas with
Other friends who are missing the same
My little brother, who was supposed to be married this Christmas
Soldiers fighting for us far away
Families struggling without jobs
Heartache, Struggle, Pain

JESUS
JESUS
JESUS

Today

I read a friends post
I cried, and I remembered you, my unborn baby girl
The house is still and the hum of the computer the only noise

Baby girl - you would be two-weeks old today
You should be cradled in my arms
Instead you rest in God arms
I rest in knowing you are safe and loved and I will hold you someday

I cried some-more

28 weeks

Is how pregant I should be right now...and I know because when in November we found out we were expecting I wrote each week down on our calendar.

My belly should be round and full. We would know "baby" was baby-girl; I should be able to feel her shifting and kicking inside of me, how I cherish that sensation (it's truly the one-thing I miss about being pregnant). We would be falling in love with her more and more everyday.

Little did I know almost 6-months later, I would not be 28 weeks pregnant. I would have endured tests, medication, surgery and still be paying for all-the-above. I wonder if the sonographer, who was rude and acted rushed on our arrival, felt any regret for her attitude toward us as she observed the missing heart-beat and measured our lifeless baby trapped inside my body. I am so very grateful that Jacob was at that appointment with me.

I think about my very first Mother's day almost 4 years ago - I was preganant with Ethan, and how this mother's day I should be too.

And as depressing as this may sound, I feel better after writting it. I can not cry,- Is it possible I have cried all the tears I can for this little girl, for this loss of experience?
There is a peace, beyond my own understanding and I am reconciled to the reality I am the mother of two-instead of three. But it is more than reconciled, beacuse I am so truly thankful and blessed with the two-children I have.

And so, this Mother's day will come and go, like all the ones to follow. I will celebrate my mother her life, her beauty, her example and her amazing love for me and my brothers, and I will be thankful I have been blessed with my two-children to love.

Rollercoaster

Your heart accelertates and stomach churns with anticipation of the impending ride. Trudgingly the coaster climbs, and climbs - you know what's coming, you can't go back. Strapped in and clenching the arm bars you surrender to the ride. The coaster peaks but swiftly plummets to the valley, and before you can fathom the valley you are again at the peak. Again the peak breaks to the valley, upside down you are twisted and bowed under the pressure of the ride. Then it ends. Screatching to a hault, we get off the ride, gain our bearings, and recover.
Why is it we compare life to a rollercoaster ride?
Because sometimes it is...

Novemeber 2008 - Elation. The blessing of a third child is given.

December 2008 - Determination. Despite complications we are optomistic, prayerful and disclose details with our friends and family.

Janurary 2009 - Grief. Pain. Miscarriage and a required surgical procedure to remove the baby from my body. Anger. Depression. Acceptance. Anger.

February 2009 - Age. Another year older. Acceptance again, as we discover the reason for the miscarriage - Turner's Syndrome.

March 2009 - Happiness. Thankful. I have two beautiful, healthy children. And our lost-baby girl is not lost, she is waiting for us in Heaven, in the glorious care of God.

April 2009 - Recovery. Slowly the broken-piece of my heart is mended, my stomach settles into the cavity in which it belongs, I breathe in air and wait for the next ride to begin.