When The Answer Is No. Again.

     
       I thought to myself that after all we had been through we, or I, to be exact deserved this. I was due, as they say. It was time for God to deliver on my request since he had said no up until this point on some of the most important requests of my life. I was just sure that since I had prayed and begged once again that this time the answer would be yes and it would be awesome and feel great and wonderful and like redemption to my soul! I had sat many nights imagining the moment and how wonderful it would be. How happy the entire day would be. I thought about the words coming out of her mouth and the feeling I would get welling up inside and the look I would give to Amos and how I wouldn't be able to wipe the smile off of my face.  How the entire day and the rest of the pregnancy really, would be this glorious happy celebration. I thought back to several moments in the past year watching others get their yes from God and just knowing we would get ours too. Standing in the card aisle of Target and literally picking up every "congrats your having a girl" card.  Reading them all and remembering how it never felt right with Koralyn, we never got to just celebrate and be excited. There was always this dark shadow in the corner by the name of HLHS. Looming when we registered for all her tiny pink clothes, looming when we thought against moving our son to share a room so we could do a nursery for her. Looming as I swallowed my baby shower cake and smiled through my doubt, always looming at every sonogram and appointment. I remember when my dear friend called to tell me her happy news that she was having a girl. The utter joy and excitement in her voice, I could tell what she was having before she could even manage to tell me. After hanging up the phone with her I parked at the Home Depot under a tree and I cried for a good 30 minutes. I cried at the injustice of it all. How while I was so happy for her, at the same time it all seemed so unfair. We had a daughter and she was gone now, due to some cruel congenitial heart defect, really one of the worst you can be diagnosed with. Now to top  it off  not even a year into her death I was having to watch two close friends have babies, around the same time we would have celebrated Koralyn's much anticipated 1st birthday. It felt cruel and unfair and awful and all the negative you can think. I thought to myself in all those moments, wait for it, I am sure He is having you walk through this so he can give you the desire of your heart and it will feel all the more precious, wait for it Kenda, your reward is coming.

And then it didn't, at least not wrapped in the package I was hoping for and expecting. I had prayed for 17 weeks, or really since the day my daughter had died, that God would allow us  to have another sweet girl. This time, whole and healthy and the answer was once again a no! I felt as though I had been hit by a truck, the weight of the sonographers words were so heavy and not what I was expecting to hear at all. The look I gave my sweet husband as he squeezed my hand and smiled down at me with a pained look of his own, was not the joyous one I had planned, but was more one of defeat and utter disappointment. I walked out into the hall and the nurse ushered me to take my blood pressure and weight and all around me were pictures of babies and each one of those babies with a bow or a dress seemed to stab at me, mock me really. I was shell shocked. I held it together until I was sitting on the paper of the exam table in the doctors room and then I just began to bawl. Some sobs shook me as I tried to quiet them and Amos stood rubbing my back and hugging me the best he could. The doctor walked in to my tears and asked if these were tears of joy and relief (which, I know at this point is really what I should have been crying as the sonogram hadn't shown anything abnormal and that sweet baby boy had 4 glorious chambers in his heart). I blurted out that no! These were tears of disappointment and release as this had been the longest week of my life waiting for my happy Friday that suddenly seemed rather blue... Pun intended. He reminded me that some families come in hoping for a boy they never get and I then reminded him that yes, but the difference is I had a girl and she was dead now. He sweetly conceded and said he wasn't going to pretend to know what I was going through and that I was doing very well for all we had been through.

Out in the truck we sat still reeling, I sobbed some more and asked my husband as I always do what he was feeling and thinking. He said he was indeed sad it wasn't a sweet baby girl but that he was mostly thankful and relieved that everything seemed to be healthy and strong so far. Usher in anger and massive amounts of guilt on my part. You see this is the ugly truth no one wants to tell you. I always think its so cute when a first time pregnant couple say "oh we don't care what it is as long as its healthy." I stand thinking bitterly, sure you do, because the world is your oyster and as far as you know if this ones not a boy or a girl the next one will be or you can just keep trying until you get both. I remember being that young girl, pregnant for the first time, not caring what it was just wanting my belly to pop so everyone would know my secret.

Both, how many people have both? Its ideal right? I remember thinking and saying as a small girl  that I wanted a boy first and then a girl, that way the boy would be older and protect his little sister. 2 kids, one boy, one girl, the perfect American dream and then you are done and you can work on the rest of your perfect American life. But then you grow up and realize that lifes not that simple and pregnancy isn't easy for everyone and you can't choose your perfect American picture. Some get it, or we think they have it. But most end up with something very different then what they had imagined as little girls playing house, and teens writing the last name of the boy you liked all over your notebook to see how good his name looks with yours. Suddenly then you are that young woman with hopes of having a baby never thinking things could go wrong and that sometimes pregnancy ends in heartache and tragedy. No one tells you that, or if they do you are too caught up into thinking it can't happen to you to stop and listen.

The next few days were a blur or feeling devastated and let down. Crying and praying to God begging him that it could be different. Asking him why, going over in my mind all our friends who were fortunate to have both boys and girls and wondering and inquiring of God why it was that he thought we didn't deserve this privilege. Feeling so let down and heartbroken. The grief of everything seemed to come back in a Tsunami Wave and knock me back out into the middle of the ocean with all the debris floating beside me and no horizon in sight. It almost felt as if I was having to bury another daughter, the one I had imagined now since Koralyn died, the one who was going to come and right all this wrong that had been done to us. The one I would slip into all those precious pink outfits our Koralyn never got to wear. I was angry and so hurt feeling I had been robbed once again. I laid and cried for hours talking to this God who kept seeming to give me no at every turn. A few years ago I wouldn't have been able to really tell him how I was feeling and how dissapointed I was. I grew up thinking that you could never question God or have a negative feeling or emotion towards him or about him. Now I know how silly that is because he knows our hearts even if we choose not to speak them and he is big enough and gracious enough to handle our confusion and hurt. Wasn't it Jesus himself who asked "My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?"

A few months have passed since that day of utter disappointment. I have been able to grieve and take the time I need to understand a little why my picture perfect baby girl is not a girl at all but another hairy little boy, as my mom would say. I realize now that in a big way I was counting on another baby girl coming and erasing a lot of my hurt and loss over my sweet Koralyn. I realize now that a baby girl was my solution to my problem, My band-aid that would cover my wound or the crack in the dam of sorrow I didn't want to face. My human, flawed way of fixing my problem. Instead of embracing what God has given me right now in my life I was fighting against it, but in a neat and tidy manner as to not alert those around me.

 Isn't that what we have been taught? Everything can be replaced. Something breaks or gets old and ugly? Just replace it! Your wife not what she used to be? Just go out and find a new younger version, Your house no longer as big as you like? Just upgrade! Broken tv, we have several aisles and sizes to fit your television needs sir!! Not happy with your body just go in and have some of the parts tucked and nipped, good as new. It is all such a farce, yet most of us fall for this lie on a daily basis, sometimes on a small scale and sometimes so big it wrecks our lives and the lives of our loved ones. This is the reason so many lives and families are ruined by adultery, and addiction. Why so many of us are in debt with no way out. Because we keep trying to replace what can't be replaced here on this earth. We keep warring against a reality we don't want and digging our graves deeper and deeper in the wrong direction. When what we should be doing is looking up and clinging to the bottom of the cross, the cross that leads up and to the only way out of the hole.

What pressure I would have been placing on that sweet baby girl. To live up to my standards and thinking that she could solve most of my grief. Sometimes stopping to fully embrace our circumstances and grief is exactly what we need to move forward. Its such a bitter taste, to sit and confront your grief. To confront the reality that sometimes God says no and sometimes life really sucks and things aren't "fair" but it leads to freedom and wisdom. Coming to the complete end of yourself and realizing that your best human solution is actually no solution at all. My grief came back in a Tsunami wave because I had just been thinking, soon I will be able to solve this issue and move on once again.

If I have learned anything it is that we are all feeble in our attempts to solve and need something more and far greater then we could ever be to help us every single day. Everything is temporary here on this earth. Our pain, our suffering, our lives and moments with our loved ones. I choose to cling to the one thing that is not, my Jesus. It is hard, don't get me wrong, obviously based on the words above, it is a struggle to set my mind on things eternal. My broken humaness wants nothing more then to right all thats been wronged to me and solve it all here and NOW! As awful as it is to walk this hard dusty road I have been placed upon, I choose to continue down this path knowing that I am still so if not more, blessed now then I was before my perfect life fell apart with the birth of my special needs daughter and the death of my mother. This road is not the paved shiny one most people want for their lives but I believe it is leading me to something greater than anything I could ever imagine. All of my children have taught me so much and I am blessed to now be a mother of 4 precious lives. By God's Grace and goodness, not on my own.

 I am very excited to meet the newest little man in my life, Abram Jace. I know he is who we are meant to have at this point.I know that he is a miracle and a blessing to our family. I am so excited when I walk into his sky blue nursery with all the little hot air balloons and think about the blessed days to come. Look at all his little outfits hanging in the closet and know soon a squirmy baby will fill them up!

 Three little boys to love and watch grow. Three boys to, God willing, raise and be so proud of. Asa and Asher are so excited about thier little brother and I can't wait to see who he will look like and the little person he will grow into. I am so thankful that God saw fit to answer my prayer to be able to have another healthy and whole child. I pray each day for Abram to grow and be strong and whole when he comes out to greet the world. I thank God each day for what this precious boy has already taught me. I thank God for once again giving me what is best, not what I thought I needed or wanted. Does that mean my want for a precious girl is cured? Of course not! I am just comfortable and happy to say I know Abram is who I am supposed to have and he is wanted so very much. I love him  and the One who has given him to me very much. If God one day sees fit to give us another daughter, whether through birth or adoption we will joyously take her. If not, we had and still have a beautiful daughter named Koralyn, who is forever changing our lives and who we will get to see again soon.

"Happiness is not getting something-but being given to someone." Ann Voscamp

Abram: Exalted Father
Jace: A Healing

Before and After

Today at Babies R Us the teenager helping me load my rather large baby gift in my Traverse saw my new green sleeping bags and happily asked if we were going camping soon. I stumbled on my thoughts for a minute, and then just said, oh yeah, pretty soon. He smiled and said, well have fun, and that was that. You see I could have turned around and told him yes, we are going to attend a grief camp this weekend put on by our daughters hospital for families who lost their children there in the last year. I am sure smores will be involved! But I didn't say that because he was just a nice young man asking an innocent question and wanting an innocent answer. Never did I know there was such a thing as grief camp and never did I think I would be attending it. I am sure if I had spilled the truth onto the pavement between me and that young man he would have been a little shocked and it would have been a little awkward.

 Driving home I started to think about all these public moments when I want to tell my story but of course I don't. Like the Saturday we went to buy new storm doors at Lowes and the very sweet salesman kept saying what was to me, the most tragic things. When I jokingly asked him if he wanted to take our crazy boys off our hands he laughed and said oh no, I love girls, do you have any girls? You see my daughters are all grown and out of the house and boy do I miss them. Girls are amazing and precious. It was then I looked over to my dear Amos and smiled a faint smile knowing he will never get to see his Koralyn grow and talk about her proudly in the Lowes aisle. Our eyes met in that moment and I could see his sadness and he mine and it was okay. Then the poor man he kept going, talking about one of his daughters expecting  her 1st child and asked me if my mother lived close to help out with my boys. You know grandmothers are so important, he said. I wanted to tell him the truth, wanted to let him know he was trodding on sacred soil, Part of me right there in the Lowes wanted to scream out how we did, we had a baby girl and she was precious and she was beautiful and she is dead in the cold hard ground and we won't get to see her again for maybe a long time. I wanted to tell him how oh my young mom was supposed to turn 55 this past September but instead she died in the back of an ambulance after her body hit the back of a dodge truck flying off her Harley so many people think are just so cool. If she had been in a car she would probably still be here today.  I didn't of course, I nodded and smiled and said oh my mom is in New Mexico and laughed about my rowdy boys and told him congratulations on his exciting news. Because I didn't want to ruin his day, or make him feel bad, or worse have him pity me. (We survivors, we don't want pity. Sympathy, love, understanding yes, but pity, no! Pity is an insult. We know we are your worst fear and you are so glad you aren't walking in our shoes, we don't need to hear it in your voice or see it in your face.)

I have been surprised at all the times since Koralyns death I have been asked if its just the two boys. All boys I see? Or, are these your only children, these two boys? Usually in these cases I will take a moment and explain that oh no, we have a daughter too but she passed away. Most of the time people are very sweet and I am so thankful for their kindness. Sometimes I don't have to say anything. Asa likes to tell random people at totally random times he had a sister but she passed away. Poor guy taking our order at Mcdonalds, he looked at me shocked and I smiled and he says, uhhhhh sorry dude thats sad. Its happened twice to unsuspecting fast food workers.

 I find myself wanting to spare people those awkward feelings that come rushing to their cheeks when I say something about my dead baby or my dead mom. Strange how I feel like I  have two identities since my mom and Koralyn died. How I feel more at ease around the people that know and more lost around the people that don't, which is the majority of the world. To most people I am just a young mom with two boys and a husband and a happy life not touched by tragedy and pain. Its funny how before all of this happened I never looked twice at people and wondered what their story was, what sadness or hurt were they carrying around. Now I can't help but wonder that everytime I am out somewhere. Sometimes you can tell, in these past days I have often thought about all those people injured in the Boston bombing and how their lives will now forever be a before and after, especially those who lost limbs. It will be easy for random people in public to see that something has happened to them in their lives, something to scar them. People will wonder and some may ask. For me it is healing to tell my story, to talk about my Koralyn and my mom and what we have been through. It helps me and its comforting to know that others know, its a feeling like, there one more person knows, they know of my loss and my pain and about my daughter who was so brave. Like each person that knows and acknowledges helps me heal a little piece of my heart. I am sure for a lot of those in Boston (maybe not all, and I know its a very different scenario) it will be the same way, they will eventually find comfort in the telling of their tragedy. Strength in numbers. I used to be very naive and think tragedy didn't happen to everyone but now I know in different ways it happens to us all and we all want to feel connected and have someone hear our story and give a nod in recognition. I used to be the person saying I just can't imagine and meaning it and standing there trying to imagine and being horrified at the thought.

Today a year after I laid in that hospital room in that bed on the 3rd floor after Koralyn's very 1st crisis when she was less then a week old and I pleaded with God throughout the night to save her, please let her live. Laying their thinking I wouldn't be able to live through the death of my baby girl, a girl that was wanted so badly. I wouldn't be able to take this postpartum body home without a baby to hold. Couldn't, I couldn't and surely God wouldn't make me, he knew I couldn't do it. Oh but he did make me, he graciously gave us more time with our sweet girl and allowed us to be loved and supported by so many others, but he did take my girl and my mom too in the midst of it all. There have been days when I have asked him what the heck he was thinking. Days when I have coveted my "neighbors" life and their lack of tragedy. Days when the bitter taste of death wells up in my throat and burns holes into my body. But each and every single day I have been carried by my Jesus and by the ones he put in my life to carry me as well. I know now, that I can tell him anything and he has been so gracious to allow me to do that and help me to walk even on the most heavy days of my grief. He has given me moments of strength to cling to and more hope then I ever thought possible in a situation like this. He is forgiving and loving and gracious. There is much sadness to be had here on this earth but there is also much Joy. My girls 1st birthday came and went and she wasn't here to celebrate in the ladybug dress her Grandma Kay bought her. It was hard to go to her grave on that day and take balloons and roses. There was also sweetness and comfort in the gifts our friends left for our girl, honoring her life and our loss as well. Everyday there is pain and sadness and most days Joy too and lots of mercy and grace. I remember after that sonogram at 24 weeks gestation, that devastating sonogram that shook us to the core. I went into the womens restroom and as I was washing my hands I looked into the mirror and smiled having an overwhelming sense of peace.  I rubbed my big belly and  I looked at my reflection and said to myself and our baby girl alone in that bathroom that everything was going to be all right. God would make everything all right; and in his way, in his time, he is.

"These things I have spoken to you, so that in me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world." John 16:33

Dreams

I sat at my computer one evening after putting the boys to bed and clicked on an article about one of the Sandy Hook mothers. I can't remember the title of the article but it was about the sweet mom struggling in the weeks since her sons death. Specifically it was about her dreams, literally what she was dreaming every night, or most nights. Some dreams were good, her son smiling in the bathroom brushing his teeth telling her he was all right. One dream she had had several times was her on a mountain  birthing her sweet boy only to descend down a long flight of stairs to drop the baby before she reached the bottom, rushing to find him dead once down. I sat there reading and thinking about this club of moms to dead children I find myself in. Thinking how I know exactly the dread of going to bed as well as the dread of waking to find it is all indeed true. I wanted to give her a hug and let her know she is not alone in this, of course she knows that I am sure. Sadly she was not alone that day, many more lost their beloved children.

I remember walking out of Cook Children's for the last time, making that lonely drive home on that sunny afternoon and walking into an empty house filled with ache and sorrow. Thinking, saying out loud even, what do we do now? I had been at the hospital for so long fighting for my girl I didn't know what to do with this new found time on my hands. What could we do, we laid down and cried ourselves to sleep in the late afternoon, exhausted from the days that had passed, exhausted in grief. I remember waking confused a few hours later and then the dread set in and my heart physically hurt. God gave us sleep if for nothing else then to help us survive this crazy life and shut down so as not to overload completely.

A few weeks after being home my dreams started, nightmares really. The most vivid and terrifying one I can recall was a scenario I had been in with Koralyn several times but this time in place of Koralyn (who my brain seemed to know was dead even in dreams) was Asher. My sweet boy Asher was now in danger. All the doctors and nurses whose faces were familiar were at my home diagnosing my sweet boy. I was in a panic and trying to tell them he was dying, only they couldn't hear me, or see me, or were just ignoring me for whatever reason. He stopped breathing and they weren't doing enough to help him so I ran into his room and picked him up and ran with him to the circle of doctors and then woke up terrified. I went and checked on him to make sure he was okay, which he was  of course. That was the worst of them but not the only one. I think I had to go through this to help my body and soul process what we had been through and come to a place where I could not be afraid and on edge all the time. It seemed with Koralyn up to her very last breath, that whenever we felt like she was thriving and turning a corner, like we could let down our guard and be happy, a new crisis would occur and really that was the case. We never gave up hope though, until the very last hour when the doctors came into that little room and told us there was no more. Maybe even when I walked into the room where they had taken her and picked up her heavy swollen body and that kind doctor unhooked the ventilator I thought maybe, just maybe she would breathe on her own, knowing she wouldn't, but yet still hoping. That is a parents job and gift, to never give up hope for their children no matter what the road ahead or behind looks like. Hope is a gift from God to be used, without Hope we would all cease to keep going.

A few weeks ago Amos sat down one night to tell me he had had a dream the night before. A dream about our Koralyn. He was afraid to tell me but I insisted that since he brought it up he needed to! He said that in the dream he was standing at his cousin Rita's house, which is right down the hill from his childhood home. They were talking and watching as I came down the hill holding the hands of a toddling Koralyn. We were smiling and happy. He said what was so strange is that he was happy during the dream but also kept thinking this isn't right, Koralyn is dead not alive and walking towards me. The dream continued at our home where Koralyn seemed to be sick and I was in bed with her trying to calm her and take care of her and then just like that it ended. He woke up happy if not a bit confused.

I have to admit I was jealous that he had such a lovely dream of our daughter while I have only had hard ones. I was also happy for him and felt like that sweet dream was a gift to him, an assurance that Koralyn is indeed well now.

I am in a hard place right now, my grief has taken up residence it seems. I bought a sign while we were in Galveston that hangs on my dining room wall. It says: You cannot prevent the birds of sorrow from flying over your head, but you can prevent them from building nests in your hair. Well friends, it seems they have made themselves at home lately. I think maybe this is part of the difficulty of grief, the loneliness of it all. Its funny how now in a room full of people I feel so unknown and lonely in my grief. Recently I was in a room with over 800 women and its in these moments I can feel utterly alone. If I focus only on that (my grief and whats missing) I tend to pity myself and think no one knows my pain. I sat there feeling a twinge of bitter and then realized if statistics are true I am certainly not alone in my grief. Not that I want people to be grief stricken but there is something about knowing you are not alone, someone else knows your pain, it helps. Again God made us to want and need connection.

I think the reason I seem to be having so much trouble right now in my grief almost 11 months since Koralyn's birth, and 9 since mom died, and next month will mark a year since Grandma passed; is that I am angry. I am usually not very angry, or at least I don't think I am in most circumstances. Its taken a lot of soul searching to admit that yes indeed right now I feel angry and alone in many ways. I think it is okay to feel this way but it wouldn't be okay if I just decided to stay this way. So me and God and yes my sweet counselor too, we are talking it out. I am talking to God a lot more these days, telling him how I feel, asking him for help. Some days I feel so confused, others just weary, some are good or okay, and some days are very bad.

Two Sundays ago we sang "I Surrender All" Standing there in the sanctuary I wondered at the words and the people around me and my own heart as well. Can I, would I, surrender all? How many people sharing this room with me would, could, really surrender all for their faith? I have been pondering this lately because it seems I am having such a hard time coming to terms with the fact that I had a sweet baby girl, a daughter, and now I don't. It doesn't help that so many around me or in the public eye are happily pregnant and giving birth. Its like salt on a very deep wound. I feel like I am at a point where acceptance is needed to move forward. Not anger, or bargaining,or depression, but acceptance. Acceptance that yes, I had a daughter and she was beautiful and amazing and her life was so hard for her and for us. I had so many hopes and dreams for her and a closet full of clothes and a room waiting for her at home. Yet God has chosen to glorify himself through her death instead of through her life, wouldn't have been my choice of course, but it was his. So now I have to choose whether or not I will be angry and distraught because God didn't do my will but his instead; or whether I can come to a place of acceptance and surrender. Surrendering my hopes and dreams that were wrapped up in my daughter and her life, surrendering my dreams for my mom and my kids having her as their grandmother for a long time here on this earth. Surrendering so much. My feelings tell me its not fair and I should be angry and sad and feel sorry for myself and just give up. But this is where I feel like my faith will stand and my faith tells me that surrendering my life and my dreams and my daughter and mother to my God will in the end, bring Glory and Joy to God and to me. Maybe not here today or even tomorrow or two years from now or a decade later. Maybe while still on this earth or maybe not until I can see all their smiling faces after leaving this earth. I need to now stand firm in my faith that tells me Jesus knows my grief and my sorrow and he wants and plans good for my life, for all who believe. Here is where almost 11 months later the rubber meets the road and I decide my God knows what he is doing or decide he doesn't and walk away. Even on my worst days when I want to give up I have to believe what my faith tells me is so. God is good all the time. Thats so easy to say when things are going great and your baby is healed and your mom can go have lunch with you. Its a whole different ball game when it seems God has answered all your prayers in ways you wouldn't have. When you come home with no sweet girl to dress up and love.

So now my friends I will stand and say, God is indeed good all the time and there is still so much to be thankful for. After all, without Koralyn and her precious life or the loss of my mom and grandmother I wouldn't be at this deep, sweet, sad place, where I am learning more about myself and my savior. Leaning on him to take my next step and my next breath. I want to be able to look back and to move forward saying yes Lord, yes I will surrender all. After all my faith tells me he could ask for more of me before all is said and done. Just like my faith tells me to not lose hope, it also tells me not to fear tomorrow. So here I sit with a broken heart (yes still, surprise! grief doesn't leave after only a month or two like so many in America want us to believe) but my faith tells me its okay to grieve, as long as I don't lose hope. Each day I have to ask for help and each day I am able to keep breathing and going and hoping.

What have you had to surrender to Jesus? A person? A dream? A future? I still sit here and wonder if tomorrow God asked me or forced me to surrender all, could I? I hope that yes, I could indeed surrender all for something greater, for someone greater, who indeed surrendered all for me on the cross. The words of this simple hymn are not so simple, they are heavy and deep, and I never really listened to them until I had to surrender things I wouldn't have chosen to surrender in my own strength. Daily still surrendering all.

"All to Jesus I surrender, all to him I freely give; I will ever love and trust him, in his presence daily live. I surrender all, I surrender all, all to thee my blessed Savior, I surrender all."

Connections

Those little crosses on the side of every road mean so much more to me then they used to. I used to drive past and think, oh thats sad, someone died there, then I would forget and move on with my day. How many crosses did I pass before that sunny Sunday afternoon when my mom became a cross on the side of the road? How many do you pass on your way to work, or the grocery store or to pick your kids up at school? Have you ever thought about what those crosses, or little roadside memorials represent? Really thought about the lives behind them? There are at least 3 roadside "memorials" on the way to drop off my son at school. One was faded and hanging on a tree and has just recently been changed to a new bright wreath, it was around Christmas that I noticed it had become new again. Someone still hurts and honors the spot where their loved one breathed their last. Then there is another, a cross with flowers that sits at the edge of a neighborhood. The cross is not faded with time and the silk flowers are changed often. Now when I pass these memorials I often wonder who that person was, were they young or old? Were they a mother or a son or a sister to someone? What kind of void have they left in the lives of those left behind? I would love to know each story, sit down with those loved ones and talk about who that person was and what they meant and what they left behind.



 





A few years ago I remember reading an article about how they wanted to do away with these sacred little memorials on roadsides. Someone thought the crosses were offensive or just a sad trashy reminder of our mortality. Boy doesn't it ruin your day to come face to face several times over with the fact that we all will in fact die? That probably before we do, we will have to suffer through losing loved ones? Stink. I just remember thinking then how sad that was. To the the families that put up these roadside memorials it is healing and a testament to a life lived and a life lost. I guess someone who felt inconvenienced by it all didn't want to be reminded of death on his drive to the grocery store or wherever it is he is going everyday. I wonder how differently they would feel if they had to set up one for their daughter or son or mother? These little crosses are a testament to our fragile human condition. They should remind us all how life is precious and a gift not to be wasted. To me these crosses are proof that we all want to feel loved and connected. The families that raise their little roadside memorials are really saying, hey someone we loved, someone that mattered, died here. Take notice, stop and think. They are saying someone special is gone, and we need you to know they were here at all.

 Don't we all want to feel recognized and loved? I think so, I think we all yearn for connectedness, to be wanted and needed by someone. I think God built us this way. I think if we all maybe thought a little bit more about how each of us is really fighting this same battle that leads to the same outcome (death and taxes, or is it taxes and death) would there be more kindness in the world? We could all think a little bit more about what others burdens are, maybe that person being rude or pushy in line behind you has a few roadside crosses to bear. Maybe that child that is loud and acting crazy just lost his sister or his mom or his brother. Maybe that person thats scowling at your needs a warm smile to melt the cold that has set in in his heart since his wife of almost 50 years passed away a year ago.

After Koralyn died, I used to feel so isolated in a public place, especially a store that carried girl clothes or girly things; which is like every store, because lets face it, girls like to shop and moms of girls like to shop for their girls, HA! I used to walk past all those little baby girl clothes and think about how unfair it all was, how no one knows this pain of having a sweet girl to dress and love and be so proud of and then having her taken away. I was really good at the whole, lets go to the Target baby section and feel sorry for ourselves bit. Rightly so I suppose, for a time. After all, it was hard to be pregnant with a girl after carrying two boys and not really feel able to fully enjoy the experience. They say a mom knows and I believe I did to a point. I felt guarded. While registering for my baby shower I wondered what the point was, I didn't know what to register for, what sizes, would she even be able to wear clothes in the hospital? Should I register for anything past six months? Would she live at all? After the most wonderful shower my friends threw for me I remember sitting surrounded by all the beautiful pink and girl things and thinking, am I going to be able to use this stuff? In a way I felt robbed of this wonderful experience of finally getting a girl. I felt like people didn't understand, they would smile and say, yay! You are finally getting your girl! I would think, yes but am I really getting her? I wanted to hope and did, we prayed and hoped and trusted God knew what he was doing. We prayed to the end for a miracle. While she was in my belly and after she came out. I remember my mom telling me to talk to that sweet baby, rub your belly and tell her she is strong and beautiful and everything is going to be all right. So I did, and I loved her, she was my daughter!

I guess what I am trying to say is, it is really easy to only see your cross on the side of the road, to only see your empty crib and empty shopping cart minus all the cute pink clothes you should be buying for your daughter. Its when we look up, look over, look in that persons face next to us and ask what their story is that we realize we are not alone. God made us to want connection because he wants us to be connected! To him and to one another. He wants those who have grief to share it with others and then to lighten the next grief stricken load that comes along. It has been such a huge comfort and blessing to have other sweet moms come tell me about the babies they have loved and lost. Or to have a daughter tell me how much she misses talking to her mom on the phone at night. It is beautiful really and the world would be a lot kinder if we all looked up from our Target basket full of pity to the person next to us and wondered, hey what are they going through? What grief are they carrying around that I could help with or learn from? I wonder what that mom over there who looks perfect and polished is carrying around.

Looks can be deceiving, and I think here in America we like to think no roads should have crosses on them, and everyone next to us at the store only has good things to tell.  I think, I know my grief and pity is at its worst when I am only looking inward at what has happened to me. When I assume I am the only one with a roadside cross to bear. When I forget that everyone I pass in the car, in the store, at the school, has a story to tell. Both good and bad, some maybe more sad then others, some more tragic, some more blessed and happy. We all have pain, we have all felt loss in some way, isn't it time we remember that? How much more beautiful and kind would the world be if we could all remember and have more compassion for other people's carts and sacks and crosses full of hurt. If we could remember that every broken soul we pass, is just that, broken and wanting to feel special and belong to someone.

 Next time you are at the Kroger or Target or wherever it is you shop, stop and look at just one person, old or young and think for a moment about what hurt they might be carrying with them in their cart. Then maybe smile at them and wish them a good day. Or better yet tell them about the Jesus they can belong to, the one they can connect with, the one who carried the biggest roadside cross of them all. The God who gave up his Son for us (I know I am a chicken too, and shamefully even embarrassed that some at this point of reading will roll their eyes and groan at the mention of my Jesus)

Next time you pass one of those little crosses on the side of the road, say a little prayer for that family, whoever they might be. Pray joy for their souls and comfort for their pain. Let us all take heart in the fact that we are not alone, in our grief or our happiness either! Thank you precious souls who have shared your sweet babies with me, it helps to know I am not the only mom in Target feeling jealous or grief stricken. To know I am not the only daughter who has lost her sweet young mom and can't call her on a Sunday night. Thank you, go spread some more of that around! I know I am going to try!

^" Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position.^{"    
 Romans 12: 15-16}

Hurricanes

Here I sit in a hotel room in Galveston Texas on the 2nd day of 2013. A new year, so fresh and exciting for all those who love new beginnings. I am a lover of new beginnings, being type A, don't I have to be? Isn't it a requirement to love fresh new things, clean slates, new opportunities? I am one of those little girls that thought every new August and the beginning of school, could bring with it a whole new life. More organized, more happy, more friends. Less teasing, less hurt, less confusion in math class. Whatever I wanted it to be! I am one of those teenage girls that always started my diet  on a Monday or on the first day of a new month. I am a mom now who resolves to start fresh in the morning. Less yelling, less impatience, more grace, more games, more laughs from my boys.

This new year I feel so different, more contemplative then I have ever been before. More grown, and worn and weary then ever before; but also more hopeful and thankful and yes joyful then ever before as well. I look back on the hellish year behind me and I am so thankful for so many things and hopeful for things to come. I feel like I know something so many people never get to know in their lives here on this earth. The peace that surpasses all understanding.

Being here in Galveston has brought this soul-searching so to speak, to the surface even more so. As many of you know a  long time ago Galveston was hit by what they call "The Great Storm." On September 8, 1900 a massive category 4 hurricane with winds they think hit 145mph came ashore on Galveston Island. Back then the town was booming and had a population close to 40,000 people. As you can imagine hurricane reporting was in its infancy back in 1900 so the residents of Galveston were unaware of what was about to happen to their beloved town. They knew a storm was coming but had no idea of its magnitude. Much of the island was caught off guard and the residents became prisoners in their homes and lost their lives to the massive destruction that took place. To make matters worse, the hurricane and eye of the storm hit the island at dusk and into the night. Can you imagine the terror these poor people must have felt? The chaos and confusion as they huddled in their houses that were soon nothing more then sticks on the beach, if that. It is said that after the storm, babies were found craddled in the arms of their mothers, none living, not mother or child. Many families were swept out to sea never to be seen again. Lives completely gone in a matter of seconds, with no known evidence that they were ever there in the first place, other then memories and maybe a few photographs. To look at the pictures and hear the stories of survivors of this storm is like nothing else. So much destruction, so much death, complete and utter devastation.



Honestly, had I survived this great storm, and walked out from under the wreckage and saw the death and destruction. I am pretty sure I would have packed my bags, that is if there were anything left to pack, taken my dignity and gotten the heck off the island and as far away from any beach as possible. Trying hard to forget what had occurred that deep dark night one September. Now some might have done that, probably many did, I don't know for sure. These past days here learning about this storm and its aftermath I am taken by the souls who stayed.The people that went to work clearing away the debris and the dead. They spent years, rebuilding their beloved island's foundation to be higher and stronger. They literally raised the elevation of the entire island so it could withstand another hurricane. Not only that, but they built a seawall to protect the city from the next storm surge.In order to do all this the residents that stayed had to deal with mud and water and messes for several years. And the story goes that they did, endure it all and without much complaint, because they knew that out of the mess would come something stronger and better.  As with any storm, its usually the aftermath that is so hard to deal with. The aftermath is when you learn of the destruction that has taken place. After the shock wears off and you are able to look around, really look, you learn what is gone and what is left. The aftermath is what makes people want to leave and never come back. After the storm is when you have to chose whether to stay and try to rebuild and start anew where you are at, or to run and find another place to lay the foundation of your home and your life.



I think many of my friends and family have heard me compare 2012 to a massive storm. Like a hurricane that hit our lives and now here we are on the beach in the aftermath of sticks and death and destruction, complete and utter devastation. Obviously those first dark hours of finding our way around and getting our bearings in the aftermath of the storm have passed. We are now in the rebuilding stage. Bit by bit, piece by broken piece, we have decided to stay and rebuild on this foundation that is our life. The ugly messy debris has been cleared so to speak, so that we can see the solid dry ground once again. It isn't an easy decision, how many times have I wanted to run and hide during this process. No, we are not rebuilding a house of material goods of course, but a life or lives really, that have been beaten and battered and look nothing like they did a year ago at this time. Really being stripped down to the foundation and having to come back and remember and rebuild. It has been so very helpful for me to find other lives that have been ravaged and are furthur along in the rebulding process. These people, moms, dads, sisters, brothers, daughters and sons. Whoever they are, have helped me to see the possibilities for my rebuilding project. I have read many a book on grief, scrolled through blog after blog of moms like me that have lost a sweet baby or a mother of their own. All these stories have been helpful and healing to me in some way. All have helped me to look inside and out in my life and see what I do or don't want to become in the aftermath of losing my grandma, my mom, and my sweet Koralyn. I am so greatful for their stories and words and courage to write them down for others to have in their time of grief.

I have learned, some people in the face of devastation, lay down and die themselves, whether literally or in spirit. They give up, they let go. They cannot see beyond the destruction and the hurt.They can't or won't clear away the debris and start fresh on solid ground. For some the debris is too priceless and they don't really have a foundation under it all to stand on. So they spend their lives sitting and sifting through the debris but never letting it go enough to build a new life. They seem stuck in the old one. We have all seen those houses that need to be torn down after the hurricane. They are an ugly eyesore to all who pass by, but for some reason they are still half standing, rotting away in the spot where they landed. They seem such a sad waste of good earth, if only they could be cleared away, something new could be born and built in that very spot that holds priceless memories. I think we can all point to someone who seems to be rotting in their debris, whatever it may be. A death, a divorce, a failure of some kind. Such sadness and waste.

 But then some people, they become great. They take the tragedy and make it beautiful. These people seem to take the most important bits and pieces from their debris and they rebuild on the foundation that is their lives. Only, they make it better then it was before. Smarter, more loving and kind, more giving. They put in more windows to let the light come in, they add more color and warmth and love to make their lives more welcoming for others. They take what God has given them right in the place where they are and they choose to make it magnificient! Beautiful souls like Angie Smith http://angiesmithonline.com/  or Mark and Chelsea Jacobs http://www.hischase.org/ or Ann Voscamp http://www.aholyexperience.com/ . They grieve and  feel the weight of their own tragedys, they see God and a purpose in those tragedys and then they move into action to help others. And in helping others rebuild their lives, they themselves rebuild their own lives and  become richer and more beautiful in the process. It is amazing to me what God can do with a tragedy if you let him come in and help clean up the aftermath and the debris that is covering his solid foundation.

This, this is what I want to do! I want to take this debris and make it beautiful and meaningful and helpful to others!  We, are still trying to figure out exactly what that looks like for our family. In the meantime, everyday is a gift and a challenge and I want to run this race to the best of my ability and make it count! Precious loved ones have been taken from my life. In their lives and their deaths and now their absence, I have learned and am still learning what a gift this life is and how each moment counts for something, whether we like it or not! How the smallest or biggest act of kindness and love in God's name can mean healing and restoration for another hurting helpless soul, like my own. How many precious souls have loved me and helped me wade through the debris during this past year of my life. I am so greatful for each and every single one of you. I want to take these precious gifts of love and multiply them times infinity and make my mom, my grandma, my sweet Koralyn and my Savior most proud!  What does that look like? With Gods grace, I can't wait to find out!