6 years post Gibson

6 years post Gibson


I definitely don't share as much now about the grieving process as I did in the early years- that doesn't mean it isn't changing and it doesn't mean it doesn't matter anymore. For me it seemed like those first seasons of grief moved & changed much more quickly. I've said before grief is like an onion we just keep peeling away the layers. Some are sweet, some have different flavor, and some bring many more tears. 

This season for some reason brought a different realization to me. I've watched other friends and acquaintances bury babies and while sometimes I hope that having walked through this for so long now I have some sort of wisdom or extra encouraging words to say, but most of the time it's still best to just say you're sorry. Everyone tries to rationalize these things. There is no explanation on this side of heaven. It's very clear that God does not "need" them. Well wishers might say this, and yes they definitely are in a better place, but that is the last thing you need to say to a mother or father who just lost their precious child.

What I feel like I've realized this year is that there is just as much power in the healing process of a heart as in an actual physical healing of a heart. 

Along with a list of anomalies a mile long, Gibson had multiple holes in his heart. One of those last things they hoped to do was a surgery that hadn't really been done on babies his size. After all the other things his little body had endured for 3.5 months his heart lungs just did not want to play together.  The day before he died one of his doctors, who was a believer, sat us down and told us we needed to pray for a miracle. 

As much as I wanted him to be with me on earth for as long as I lived- no mother should have to bury her child. I wanted his body to be whole and well.  I had watched his body go through so very much for months that I can't even explain. 

But in that moment when that doctor said that as much as I hoped for a miracle, something whispered in my ear that if he was not healed here on earth people would not see the goodness of God through his little life. That, my friends is a lie of the devil.

·····

I was sitting in a Tori Kelly concert recently as she sang the song, "Questions..."

What happens when the healing never comes?
Do we stand and curse the heavens
Or lift our hands and feel the sun
The mystery's not clear
Just once, Your voice I'd love to hear
What happens when the healing never comes?

Is there a chance for me to believe

We would dance together soon

If there's a billion galaxies

I'll count each one 'til I'm with You

They say where You are is better

But I want You here with me

Oh, this is for a purpose

But hurt won't let me see

So now I must be silent

Your voice is in the wind

The hands that made the heavens

Will heal the storm within

I have so many questions

I don't know where to begin

Since You were there at the beginning

You already know the end

I suddenly found tears pouring down my cheeks. I'd heard the song before, but something about it that night, coming up on this day, with my husband on my left and one of my dearest friends who's walked through every step of grief with me on my right, it hit me and peeled this whole new layer & revelation in my grieving process.

I couldn't see at the time that the healing process we would walk through in the coming years could be just as powerful display of God's merciful grace and love as what I really longed for in that instant healing. There were days I questioned - and there still are - and that's ok. 

If you're waiting for a healing- don't lose hope. I do believe my God still does miracles. If you didn't receive the healing you were praying for- don't lose hope, the healing in YOUR heart will come. Some days may feel like it was ripped right open again but His mercies are new and continuous. 

Layer peeled. -XO 

3

I crawled in the back of the closet this morning and dug out my box.  Deep down I hoped that it would still smell like him.  The scarf I wore that night that caught hundreds of tears and now wrapped my sweet memories tight.  I hoped it would have the faintest smell of him.  It didn't.

I haven't looked through that box in a long while.  Probably a couple years.  I sat and read all the thoughtful words and prayers.  All the sweet words of encouragement.  Notes of how his life changed theirs.  It brings heartache and hope in the same breath.

It's been 3 years tomorrow.

This year has been a different year of grieving for me.  It seems each year brings a different wave of emotions and reactions.  This year I feel like I was able to take a deep breath and accept freedom.  Let go of the guilt.  Assess some resentment I had buried deep down.  And ask God some big questions - knowing that the answers may not come and may not be what I wanted to hear.  But sometimes they're even better.

The first year of grief I plowed through full steam ahead.  I was NOT going down in that pit.  I felt like if I moved and moved and moved I'd get through.  And I did.  I only allowed myself certain times of sitting in it and feeling it.  I resolved to be thankful, make new memories and find change.  We did all of those things.  And we did them well.  The second year was more of the same, with a lot of newness.  Newness that began to reap joy.  We moved into our house, we had a precious baby girl and life bloomed.  We still remembered him daily.  There were still very hard days and reminders but a new joy flooded our hearts.

This year Stella has continued to bring joy and hope in our hearts.  But something has changed in how I looked at my grief this year.  Personally I've been able to stop and ask God things in the darkest parts of my heart that I was scared to uncover before.  I read the book, "Soulkeeping," this year and it really allowed me to look at those places and have honest candid conversations with God.

I was never mad at God.  I've said before something in me wanted to be so angry in those first weeks.  I wanted to scream at Him and throw things and yell, "WHY?" But that's not what rose up in my heart.  I'm not mad now.  But this year I've asked God to reveal to me things I needed to hear.  I think I felt like if I stopped and wondered too much in that first year I would fall deep in that pit unable to get back out.  I was afraid if I asked God questions He'd respond in ways my soul couldn't handle.  If I let myself sit and smell the scarf, read the notes and look at his tiny handprint I would crumble.  I had little eyes watching and they couldn't see me crumble anymore.  People would tell me I was strong and inspiring so I figured I had to keep it up.  Chin. Up. Buttercup.  I put expectations on myself that others never would have. I'm not in anyway saying I regret how I walked that first year out.  I'm only saying that I've found more freedom in the process of grieving this year.

Once you take any wrong doings off of God and accept the process of grieving you find FREEDOM.  

That is my revelation this 3rd year of grief.

Soulkeeping challenges you to speak to your soul.  To ask God where He is in those hard times.  One day while thinking of that night 3 years ago when everything came crashing down I took a deep gulp and said, "God WHERE WERE YOU?"

As everything fell apart that afternoon I sat curled up in a chair in the corner of the hospital room watching as if it weren't my reality, gripping onto that scarf around my neck.  Mostly shaking my head no.  As things progressed I wanted to leave.  I didn't want to remember him this way and wanted to be anywhere but there.  The nurses began to ask me questions to which I just kept saying no.  Do you want to wait?   Do you want to hold him?  do you want to have people here?  do you want to take pictures?  No, no, no!  I didn't want any of it at all.  This wasn't what I'd chosen.  They explained what would happen and convinced me that of course I wanted to hold him.  Everyone gathered around, my rock of a husband by my side, and we were handed that sweet boy for the last time.  

"God WHERE WERE YOU?!?"

Immediately I heard God say, "I was right there."  I saw the sweetest most gentle image of my kind and compassionate savior with His arms wrapped around us weeping.

He is with us IN our grief.  In the moment, and in the moments and years after.  I don't believe He's asking me to "move on."  If anything I've asked that of myself, not my patient Father.  

He's ok with me sitting in my closet clinging to that scarf.

One of the sweet notes I read today was from a nurse that loved & cared for Gibson.  It read,

"Sometimes the tiniest of feet leave the biggest impression on your heart."

we miss you baby boy.

Stella Wren is one.

I cried this morning (and every morning this week) as I nursed her.  Bittersweet thankful tears.  How in the world a year has flown by I do not know.  I still stare at her in shock.  Amazed that she's real and in my arms.  Amazed that she's SO beautiful.  Amazed by the miracle of life.  Amazed by God's goodness and love for us.

When you've witnessed every possible thing that can go wrong in a baby it's easier to stand in awe when things go right.

A year ago I was awakened in the night by a big surprise... a wonderful surprise.  I laid in bed the night before feeling like I could burst wondering how I could wait two more days to meet this babe.  And God said, "Ok, baby girl, Let's Go."

The tears and the joy in her delivery will never escape me.  And that was just the beginning of His restoration.

I didn't let her leave my side for a couple days.  I slept with her in my arms all night long in the hospital the first couple nights despite the looks of concern and offers to help from the nurses.  I brought her home and still slept with her in my arms for months.  (Even though I'm definitely not by nature into the whole co-sleeping business.)  Daniel joked that she might move out of our room around high school age.  (She's happily sleeping in her own room now.)

It just seemed like day after day she was pouring God's love on me in the most simple ways.  Through each milestone she's passed and each hurdle we've faced it's His goodness that's carried us.

I've mentioned before the oddity of experiencing extreme joy & extreme grief simultaneously.  There have been so many moments of that this year.  Shame sneaks up and guilt wants to rear its ugly head while I'm enjoy my beautiful healthy baby.  The loss is no less because of the gain of new life.  There's still hope in eternity in the joy of the present, even on days I'm longing for the past.  I'm ok with that and God's given me that freedom to feel those feelings - no apologies for when they come.

Stella has truly been a gift of God's redeeming love.  I can see it when Ryder stares at her and delights in her antics.  I can feel it when Paisley holds her and calls her sissy.  And I can see the fullness of it when she bounces on her knees and squeals, "Dadadadada!" when Daniel comes through the door.  It's in every reach, every touch of her hand and every babble she makes.  His goodness is here.

Yep, she's hit a crazy phase.  She's into EVERYthing.  She's a constant ball of energy.  She loves life and loves people and she's testing alllll the limits.  But even in that there's a joy that is indescribable.

I felt so robbed of so many things.  I felt such resentment for things that would never be.  But somehow He's given me those things a new.  In her.

Stella Wren, we love you more than all the stars in the sky.

Happy 3rd.

For some reason I feel closer to you when I'm here.

Not just because we brought your ashes here, but more so because the waves seem to drown out the noise of life.
They wash away the worries and busyness and bring me clearness of mind.  I can set my eyes on heaven. On Him - the finisher of my faith.  With whom you dwell.

I came here when I was broken. And I feel like this is the place where I began healing. 
I walked till I couldn't anymore. 
I rode in the rain and my tears and the rain became one. 
I sat in silence and let my thoughts and questions as numerous as the stars run wild.  
I clung to your daddy and found great peace with him. 
I heard the fatherly voice of God promise me I was going to make it... Promise me I could go home and be a mom and a wife and a daughter and a friend again.
Promise me He is good and His love endures.

I miss you as much as the day you left and I celebrate you as much as the first time I laid eyes on you.  I see you in everyday life. In the eyes of your new sister. In the sound of her squeal. In your little blonde hair buddies here on earth.  In the way your siblings remember you. 
I miss you fiercely and work each day to hold on to the memories I have that sometimes seem ancient already.  I dusted off your picture on my nightstand the other day and whispered, "I love you," wondering if I should say it more.  If my soul needed to utter those words aloud more often to feel the gravity of it all.  

I can't believe you are 3 today.  How could the 3 months we had together suddenly vanish into 3 years?

Your brother told me last night as we stood in the sand that he was worried because babies couldn't take care of themselves and you'd be in heaven without me to take care of you.  I assured him you have the ultimate keeper... holding your hand and heart.  And mine as well.

I have this picture in my mind of you running into my arms the day we meet again.  Similar to when your brother and sister have been away from me for a bit.  They run to my arms with glee and delight.  I hold onto hope of that day with you.  Until then my little love... 

Happy 3rd Birthday.

You are so loved.

Super Stella

Yesterday I drove my sweet perfectly-perfect 6 month old baby girl to Dell Children's Hospital. The same route I knew all too well.  I was mad...  at life, the devil, our earthly bodies. Just mad. I wanted to be sad and I wanted to be mournful of the days I was there with Gibson, but I just kept thinking I shouldn't be taking her here. This isn't how the story goes...

Monday morning we went into Stella's 6 month well-check at the pediatrician. She's the epitome of a healthy bouncing baby girl- 'The Gerber Baby,' as she's referred to by multiple strangers a day. I can't even begin to write how God has poured love over my heart and is healing all the little broken and shattered pieces in the past 6 month through this child (that's a whole other blog!)

Her well check went like most do: weigh, measure, do some tricks for the nurses...
The doctor began to look at the dreaded growth chart. Then she looked at Stella's head. On the chart Stella's head had jumped in size pretty rapidly. In the past two months she'd gone up a good percentage and was now well above 100 percentile compared to her weight & height both around average at 50 percentile. The doctor examined my baby's beautiful round (perfect but large ) head and I could see the concern growing. She rubbed on her soft spot on the top of her head and explained that it seemed to be protruding a bit. And like a ton of brick - or something much worse she said, "I'd like for you to take her to have a cranial ultra-sound done. I want to make sure there's no fluid in the ventricles of the brain."  She said it as if she didn't want to give me too much unnecessary knowledge yet. Little did she know there was wayyyyy more knowledge there than I'd ever hoped to have about hydrocephalus.

Keep in mind our pediatrician knows about Gibson, but had NO knowledge of his issues.

I was standing holding Stella at the time and I could feel it welling up in me. I slowly and quietly said, "I'm really trying not to panic here, but that was the first thing they found wrong with our baby boy that we lost."  At this point I think I rambled on about how they'd checked Stella's brain every 4 weeks in utero, this couldn't be, they found no genetic link...

I left the appointment like the cool, calm, collected mom I was supposed to be.  Except I had an order in my hand to go have something I never expected tested on my baby girl.  I sat in my car crying, so confused and afraid to even ask God why... again. I know the 'why' is never answered here.

So we made our appointment at Dell. The dread of going there and the anxiety of what could be revealed filled me for the next two days.

We prayed hard.
I fell asleep both nights with my hand on my baby's head and my heart and stomach in knots.

I didn't really want to tell it to the world (or broadcast to the social media world) until we had more details.

A sweet friend prayed the exact words I needed Monday afternoon on the phone for me: She said, "God I pray that you silence the lies."
I clung to that, knowing that my God is a redeemer, he has been faithful and He IS good. No matter what He would be good.

But if I'm being completely honest, as I drove to the appointment yesterday I said, God I don't WANT to be brave right now, I'm tired of being STRONG. I really just want to enjoy my healthy baby girl.

I found my place and sat in the car. Afraid to pray. Afraid to get out. The last thing I said was, "God, you have control over this sweet baby's brain. And devil, you have no place here. You've messed with the wrong momma, AGAIN."

The scan was quick and fairly simple. Since her soft spot is still open they were able to do it via ultrasound instead of an MRI/CAT scan. Stella laid there cooing sweetly.  It was less than 10 minutes and I KNEW they did not measure any pockets of fluid. I've seen what it looks like, I've seen the zoom in and measure bit, the confused technician, the look of worry masked with a comforting smile. I've been there when they went to get multiple backup technicians to hopefully see something different.

She simply said, "The doctor will call you, I don't see anything of concern."  I said, "You didn't measure any fluid did you???"  And she said, "No."

In the afternoon we got the call from the doctor that everything was PERFECTLY NORMAL.  There was NO fluid in her ventricles.

We are praising Jesus and thankful again for each moment we have with these healthy babies.

I'm still not sure what the point of all of this this week was. I'm not sure why the devil had a chance to scare me again or make our heart doubt for one minute God's faithfulness. But if anything it proved His goodness even more. He silenced the lies. 

As the song says, "You drown my fear in perfect love."

And we will rejoice in that with our sweet Super Stella.

Repent & be baptized because we are all in this together.

It was 11:05. Church started in exactly 10 mins. 

Considering it would take at very least 12 mins to get there if it weren't raining and I weren't standing in my pajamas with crazy hair, we were already going to be late. Daniel was already there and I was home- left in the battle of getting somewhere at a certain time with these 3 unpredictable and needy little people. And for some reason the oldest is usually my biggest battle.

I looked at my phone. I looked in the mirror. Should we just not go?!?  
I have to make a decision... Quick.
We'll go. It's harder to stay here sometimes I thought.  And so it began...

"Y'all!  Get your shoes on!  Ryder, when you're done go put Rocky up!  Paisley, come help me with Stella!"  Ryder appears, (clearly the battle has begun) "Can I record Star Wars Rebel?"  "No, turn it off, put your shoes on!  Do what I asked."  

Ryder appears again. Shoes on. Laces hanging everywhere.  I snap, "You can't go like that!  Fix your shoes!" "I can't," he says, "I don't know how to tie my shoes." (I know, I'm a horrible mom.)  He flops in front of me as I leaned down to tie them. "SIT UP.  How am I supposed to fix them when you flop like a toddler?!? Ugh, your breath smells awful, did you brush your teeth like I said??  Go get your toothbrush and do it down here so I can watch!"  The harsh words continue to fly off my tongue... "Why can't you act like the almost 7 yr old you are??  Why do you do this to ME on Sundays?!? We should just stay here and take naps!"  My voice gets louder. Stella cries on the bed... I throw my clothes on. Of course nothing fits. I've gotta get to the gym I think. Dang it, why did I eat that kolache for breakfast?!?  I need a salad for lunch... We've gotta get to church, so we can go to lunch...

Minutes pass.  He's still brushing his teeth, sobbing with each breath.  More bitter words fly. (Why can't he cooperate?!???)

We all somehow get dressed and head to the door and then I hear it in my heart...

"Repent to your son. Make the time. Choose what matters."

I send paisley in the rain to the car. I set Stella down and kneel down in front of him. "Buddy, I'm sorry I got upset with you.  I really am.  Can you forgive mommy?"  I can see the relief wash over his little fair face.  "Yes, mam," he says sweetly, (now he uses manners of course to twist the knife in my heart a little more).

We get in the car at 11:20. We're 5 mins late already and we've still gotta get there.

We get almost to church and Ryder says, "Mommy, can I go in big church with you?" (The social butterfly that he is never asks for that. Ever.)  "Sure, wanna stay for worship and then go to your class?"  Thinking well at least I'll get to go in worship before dropping them off.

We get there for the last couple songs of worship, including baptisms. People stood and sang, and cheered for the baptisms. As I sat in the back row, arms around my now calm children I leaned over and ask Ryder, "Do you know what they're doing?" I knew he did, but I wanted to ask what he was thinking in the moment. He said confidently, "They're getting baptized." I said, "Do you understand what that means?"  Without missing a beat, in the most calm & confident voice he said,

"It means they've met God."

Clearly I had no more words. I'd used them all just trying to get there. But some how, just somehow God's mercy had been poured out anyway and redeemed what seemed doomed as another awful Sunday morning getting to church.

We held each other close and sang, "For the Lord is good and His love endures, yes, the Lord is good forever..."


Last Wednesday I sat at a table with some moms and we discussed our biggest fears as moms, our personal pitfalls, the words we wished we hadn't said, our daily, "mom fails."  The constant fear of ruining our children is prevalent and ever weighing on our hearts.  But as I looked at these moms around me (each one I would confidently say is an AMAZING mom in every sense of the word!) I realized we all mess up ROYALLY. 

We just do. That's it. 

We're stressed out, exhausted, over-caffeinated humans that most of the time feel like a food-source, taxi, maid, life coach to irrational beings we created.  But somehow if we continue to meet with God, He is faithful. And His mercy is real. And His love endures.

I started painting a sign for my entry way today that I've been wanting in my house for a while that says, "We are ALL in this TOGETHER."  Because there are days I'll have to kneel in front of  that sign in my entry and in front of my child and repent- and that's ok too.  We're all in need of redemption.

Take heart Mommas. Xoxo.

The Wonder of His Love

Today while I was cleaning lipstick off crystal glasses in the kitchen, baby in the floor in her bouncer gazing at me, tree lights glistening in the background my Christmas pandora music took a slight detour and threw in just a hint of Great Is Thy Faithfulness.  While wiping the last remnants of a sweet party with friends off the counter and floors I was reminded of that truth.  He is so faithful.  In the joy & the pain of the season.

Christmas is tricky with my emotions.  Especially this year for me.  The season is filled with such hard memories.  Such stark realities and thoughts run through my head while in the midst of celebrations.  A couple weeks ago was the 2 year mark.  2 years since I stroked his sweet cheeks and kissed his head and wept as I said goodbye.  However, this year has been such an amazing year of renewing.  Amazing rebirth, amazing NEW memories.  And how can I not give thanks?  Yet how can I not grieve?

It's so weird to feel distinct pain and extreme joy simultaneously.  On the 6th of December I mourned that loss all over again while gazing at my BEAUTIFUL new baby girl.  Sunday we sang a song about heaven... tears streaming I could picture him and long for that day when I get to see him, but somehow I choose and WANT to be present with my babies now.  And you know what?  That's ok.  God doesn't ever ask us not to grieve.  He asks us not to grieve as those that do without hope. 

Because we have a THRILL of HOPE. 

When He sent Jesus to be born in that manger God knew there would be pain ahead.  That's the crux of it.  There would be JOY in His birth, pain in His death, and HOPE in his resurrection.   

I looked for a card this year that said "The Wonders of His Love."  Because that's what we're in the midst of.  It doesn't make sense. 

But that's the wonder of it all.      

Merry Christmas.  May you feel that love this Christmas.

Stella Wren

She's two weeks old today and I can't believe she's really in my arms.  I sit and stare at her and watch her sleep for hours.  It feels kind of like having my first all over again.  I don't want to miss a thing and I don't want to set her down.  I'm so grateful to have these sweet first moments with her at home.  I said multiple times in the hospital when nurses would ask about our other kids and I'd tell them about G, "It's just made this that much sweeter."

So before my mommy brain completely takes over I thought I'd write about the slightly unexpected and surprising 9 day early arrival of our little Stella Wren.

My "due date" was Friday October 24th, I was scheduled for a c-section (due to it being my 4th c-section) on Friday, October 17th- a week early, so we really didn't think she'd make an entrance before then.  There were other plans...

I went to bed on Tuesday night, the 14th with big plans for the next day.  We were two days out from baby day so I was going to get my oil changed, go to Costco & Trader Joes, get Ryder a hair cut, yadda yadda yadda... While getting ready for bed Tuesday night I said to Daniel, "I hope my water doesn't break in Costco! hahahaha.  I bet I wouldn't be the first though."  While going to sleep at about 11pm I SERIOUSLY thought how it's nice to have these things scheduled but there's something exciting about a baby coming on their own... but I wouldn't ever have that and that's ok.  Can't wait to meet this baby.... zzzzzzzz.

I woke up at 1:15am (thinking it was about 4 or 5).  I rolled over in bed and it hit me - something wasn't right.  As I stood up to get out of bed I realized my water had broken!  I yelled at Daniel, "My water broke - and I'm NOT kidding!"  He jumped up and ran around the bed and promptly knocked over the water on my night stand while grabbing my phone!  I called my dad - who hung up on me the first time.  I called the nurse line and waited for the Dr to call.  I frantically called and texted friends and tried to figure out what to do with our sleeping kids!  Before the Dr even called back my sweet friend Stephanie was at our door!  And Daniel was cleaning toilets (seriously) and I was, well, still dealing with the broken water situation... I warned Stephanie as she came in she may never want to have kids!  LOL.  When asked later why he was cleaning toilets he said, "Well, it was on the list of things that needed to be done before the baby came Friday!"  HAHA.  Love my man.

The on call Dr called and said come on in, but if I wanted my Dr to deliver (which I really did) we could try to hold off till morning.  And that would give our family a little time as well.  (And my friends to wake up and see that I was in labor!)  My dad drove through the night, threatening to finally turn to coffee.  Daniel's sister Rachel I'm pretty sure sped the whole way to Austin and everyone else planned their quick exit and headed this way.

We got checked into the hospital before 3am and they got me all hooked up to monitor the baby and my contractions.  Since I was having a c-section they didn't want to give me pain meds prematurely, so lucky me I got to really feel what laboring feels like for the next 6 hours.  Something crazy was going on that night because they'd checked in two other moms set to have c-sections on that Friday and all the operating rooms were booked until 8am.  So as long as I didn't progress too quickly that would be the time and my Dr would be there to do the surgery then.  So we waited...  (and contracted!)

They got me all set for surgery.  My IV had to be done 3 times and my spinal had to be done twice (!) but other than that things smoothly progressed and by about 9 it was show time!  "Let's have a Birthday Party!" is what my Dr always says.

Just before we went in I talked to the nurse about my past and the traumatic delivery I experienced the last time and expressed my desire to have the baby back with me as soon as possible.  Usually after a c-section you see the baby (VERY briefly) then the baby is taken to the nursery where all the adoring family can look on and watch it get its first bath and meet the world and the mom is laying on the operating table and in the recovery room.  The nurse said due to the construction in the hospital they'd started keeping the babies with the mom the whole time!  I was thrilled and wanted to start crying then... I might have.

The whole operation was everything and more than I'd prayed for.  Everyone in the operating room was so excited that we were having a surprise.  They told us they'd let dad announce the gender as soon as the doctor was ready.  So the surgery began and a few short minutes later it was time.  I heard my Dr say, "Ok, Dad..."  Daniel stood up looked over and said, "It's a GIRL."  I started crying immediately.  She started crying that good strong fresh new born cry that was everything I longed to hear.  The funniest part of this moment was that as soon as Daniel said that the Dr turned her over upside down and then Daniel said, "Or is it...???  Oh yeah, it's a girl"  We'll have fun telling her that one day! ;)

The nurses asked if I wanted them to immediately clean her off or if I wanted to have her all ooey gooey.  I said bring it on, I wanted her asap!  So they brought her straight over to us and she was so beautiful even in the mess!  She immediately quieted down when they put her next to my face.  It was so sweet and surreal.  I was almost worried because she got so calm.  The nurse, seeing my concern  said, "She's fine, I can see her breathing, she's just happy to be next to you."  In a few minutes they took her over to clean her off and weigh her, I could hear all the nurses saying how beautiful she was.  They told us she weighed 7 lbs 8 oz (more happy tears).  Then they asked if I'd like to have skin to skin time with her while they finished the operation.  Of course!  (Again this was NOTHNG like any of my previous experiences!)  So they laid her on my chest and we were in awe.  She was completely alert and aware, wide-eyed and beautiful.  It was one of the most precious moments of my life and I hope I never forget it...

We were in love.

They moved us to a recovery room for a while and agreed to let in anxious visitors one by one for the next couple hours, even allowing the kids to come in to meet her.  Daniel had gone out and told the party we'd had a girl.  Ryder really had his heart set on a boy, but the moment he saw her she had his heart.

We took a few hours getting to know her and looking at her before deciding on a name.  Of course we had a list of a few for each gender, but really weren't certain, going back and forth in the days leading up to it.

Stella meaning "Star" had been our first girl choice for a while and it seemed fitting.  I blogged a good while back about how you can see stars brighter in the dark and was reminded this week of that thought while gazing at little Stella.  God has truly sent her to shine brightly in our lives and we are so grateful for that light.  

Wren is an English name for "the little song bird."  The Druids called it the "prophetic bird," and the early Irish considered it the "magical bird." 

We've had a good couple weeks getting to know her.  She's sweet and snuggly.  She already smiles, and she loves her crazy siblings.  She sleeps... maybe a good bit in my arms and eats well and is gaining weight.  

Thank you to everyone for your love, prayers, kind words, support and HELP during this pregnancy, delivery, recovery, and now the adjusting to new life.  We are extremely blessed for sure.

I'm so excited to see how this little one fits into (and changes!) our little family.

Stella Wren we're so happy you're here, love.

Fall re-do: RENEW

Yesterday afternoon while looking at the calendar on the fridge I said to the kids, "I can not WAIT to change this to OCTOBER!  You know what comes in October?!?"  Paisley said, "FALL!" and Ryder said, "BABY!" And I said, "YES!"  Then we went on to all do a 'baby dance' and I went on to say something about how we get to bring the baby home in a few weeks.  Ryder immediately interrupted and said, "Well, maybe... unless..."  At which point I stopped him.  I knew what he was going to say and his innocent heart only knows what it knows, but my hopeful, emotional (basket case of a very pregnant heart) couldn't handle hearing it.  Sometimes it's just plain hard to believe what you haven't seen (or can't remember in his case!)

Have you ever asked God for a do-over a re-do?

The months after Gibson was born (this same time of year 2 years ago) I would walk in and out of the hospital multiple times a day.  Usually rushing after dropping kids somewhere or heading to pick them up, on the phone giving Daniel and family updates- tired, drained, heartbroken and insecure all bottled up into one.  But one of the most excruciating things was that the entrance you have to go in as you head to the NICU is the same entrance that moms go home with their new (healthy!) babies.  You know, the happy, tired, blissful, starry-eyed moms.  It goes like this: the dad drives up in the mini-van or SUV of choice, he anxiously hops out surveying his crooked parking job in the circle drive.  He then pops around the car and checks the carseat base for the 50th time just to make sure it hasn't magically come unlatched (you know because those things are SO easy to undo).  The nurse wheels out the the mom & baby and all their gifts & junk from the past few days - flowers, balloons, boppys, blankets and more.  The mom gets in the back with the baby, of course.  They check the carseat... again (it might have come unlatched...), nurses give hugs and smiles and the mom and dad sit in the car for several minutes contemplating how they're going to possibly drive their precious new cargo home.

And I walk on by.  I think about the day we left the hospital and him in the NICU.  The anxiety of it.  The panic attacks as I laid in bed at home without him near me.  I think about the fact that I want a do-over.

We planned G would be our last.  3 was our number, he was it.  I'd never have another do-over of the happy hospital experience and I'd never leave like those moms.  I clung to the moment I'd finally leave the NICU with him and NEVER EVER come back.  But it didn't happen that way... I went home months later on a dark December night, just Daniel and I, empty-armed, brokenhearted and hurting, walking to the car alone trying to figure out what to do next.  And Gibson got to go home whole and healed, in a much grander way, to a much more glorious place.


I didn't ask God for a re-do for a very long time.  I've mentioned in previous blogs it took my heart a while to get there.  And once we learned of our new blessing I chose (and still do choose) not to see this baby as a replacement, but as an addition to our family.  I quickly correct if someone calls this my "third." ;)  Yet, I've thought many times about those days walking in and out of the hospital, those nights alone in our hospital room and our bedroom at home.

What I have asked God for was to RENEW.  To renew my heart, mind, spirit, JOY & HOPE.  Sometimes we want the easier solution and that seems like a Re-Do.  If we could just not remember our pain or mistakes or tragedies life would be so much easier.  Would it?  I truly believe with all my heart God reaches down and pulls us through the muck and mire of life and he does not intend for us to forget what we've come through.  He intends for it to grow us and change us and those around us no matter what the outcome.  And yet He is so gracious to renew us and renew LIFE in us.

And it all somehow makes that renewing that much sweeter.

But those who HOPE in the LORD will RENEW their strength... Isaiah 40:31  

I've obviously thought about my hospital stay this time, but hadn't convinced my heart it would happen yet.  A couple weeks ago I passed the "Gibson mark" of 32 weeks.  I thought about his size and his health and prayed this baby would keep growing and developing.  I hadn't been into the specialist in 6 weeks (the longest I've gone this pregnancy) so I wasn't exactly sure where we were at this point growth-wise.  As we looked at the sweet CHUBBY cheeks on the screen that day the sonographer told us the baby was weighing in at 5 pounds 8 ounces with (hopefully!) 5 weeks to go.

This week I bought diapers.  Seems like a simple enough, normal step at this point.  But actually setting that little bag of pampers newborn swaddlers in my cart took a lot of courage and a lot of faith.  The last time I had diapers in my cart was a day I'd like to forget.  They'd been stacked in my laundry room, I couldn't deal with them and didn't want my family to have to either, so the week after Gibson died my girlfriends loaded them all up - teary eyed & brave to target we went.  There was a fiasco with the registry system and the poor workers were baffled with what to do and had to re-explain the situation every time a new worker came over (thus the puppy dog sad face looks to the grieving mom & her friends...) That day I probably would have said I'd like to never see a diaper package again.  But I happily set them in my cart this week.  And much to the urging of said girlfriends I started packing a hospital bag as well.  Because... it's REALLY happening.

God is renewing.

This morning with 3 weeks to go the doctor said everything looks great.  Baby should hopefully stay snug and happy in there till October 17th.

After the doctor Paisley and I went to Trader Joe's and bought up all the pumpkin stuff in sight.  Because you know what's coming this month?  FALL...  & BABY!    

Glad he was born.

Through it all, through it all, my eyes are on You.  Through it all, through it all it is well.  Through it all through it all, my eyes are on You and it is well... with me.

I sat on the shore a few weeks ago, feet in the sand, swelling belly wiggling with new life below, watching the tide come and go.  The same ocean we'd brought his ashes to a year and a half ago... those lyrics wandering through my mind.

The kids jumped and squealed with delight in the waves, the sun shining brightly on their faces.  

The tide is a peculiar thing. It's constant and unchanging, yet wildly unpredictable. Kinda like grief.  It washes in and out but you're never exactly sure its power until it hits you. And you're never quite certain what it may bring in with it or take back out to sea.  Sometimes coming and going as quickly and quietly as he came into our lives and then left us.
But there is One who knows. And only one who controls the turning of it.

It was a hot sunny day, just like today. I left the kids with a sitter and went on my way. A few errands to run before my appointment.  The weekend before I'd done a huge yearly party, so the house was in shambles but I'd have weeks to clean up and prepare for baby, so I thought. The night before I'd felt a weird sense of urgency and late that night I went out and bought Ryder school clothes and purchased a diaper bag I'd been eyeing.
That hot day I wore a purple & gray tie dye looking skirt & a tank top and got a much needed pedicure. I then unassumingly went to the sonogram. It had been two weeks and the last visit was a good report. I laid on the table alone for 2 hours, texting Daniel that I was irritated these sonographers couldn't figure out what they were doing. They kept sending a different one in, each time leaving with a more confused face, until finally my Perinatologist came in. Calm yet worried she looked... and looked some more. She asked me a few questions that seemed out of the ordinary, but still I wasn't getting it. She sat me up, took my hand and told me I needed to deliver the baby. 12 hours she said. I had 12 hours and they were going to get steroids in me first. Well, that's not exactly how things proceeded and within 45 mins we were waiting to hear him cry...  
No idea what the next months would hold.  No idea what the next couple years would bring.

Sometimes I selfishly say I wish I could erase everything that happened.  But I don't mean it really.  Then there are moment like Tuesday when we're standing in a store and Ryder exclaims loudly to the register girl, "My Mom's PREGNANT..."  "I see," she says smiling, and then without warning here it comes, "We already had a baby, but he DIED."  
There were times during his pregnancy I begged God that if G wasn't going to make it to take him then because I didn't want to live through the after.  But...  

I'm glad he was born.
  
I'm so thankful for those moments and months we had that changed all of our lives.  But sometimes the pain of walking through the after is harder than the joy of the moments gone.  

I want to celebrate his life today because I'm so grateful God sent him to us.  But sometimes the waves just want to bring in other feelings.  And sometimes I've found I have to let go of my courage and feel them.  God is angry too in those times.  His heart is broken with mine.  He's not looking away from me in my grief. He understands I truly wish I were holding him to celebrate his life today instead.  But He knows I still trust that it truly IS well.

We'll celebrate as a family tonight.  We'll let balloons rise to the heavens.  {We will not have a piñata as the kids requested-kids have the weirdest ideas sometimes!}  But we will love each other a little bit more today and hold each other a little bit tighter.  

And we will be thankful that he was born.

Happy 2nd Birthday sweet Gibson.  This momma misses you every second of every day.  

Hesitant Hope.

Yesterday morning I was in the kitchen when I heard Paisley coming down the stairs.  Just about the time she got to the bottom I heard a crash... followed by sobs.  I turned to see that she'd dropped one of her favorite treasures, a sweet little princess snow globe given to her by her favorite friend.  I think she'd just found it since the move and was bringing it down to show me.  As she stood there sobbing I knelt down and began to wipe up the glittery water running all over the tile.  With each wipe she sobbed harder.  I kept telling her it was ok, it wasn't her fault, stuff like this happens...  As I began picking up the little shards of glass I saw the most gentle and kind picture of God picking up the little pieces of my brokeness.  Broken hope, my broken heart, my broken me.

I went over and sat with her on the couch and held her.  She was literally limp in my arms.  I gazed down at her sweet tears and again assured her it would be ok... I remembered what my friend Carrie said when Paisley opened that present containing the snow globe... She piped up over the chaos of the gift-opening at the birthday party and said, "Paisley, be careful with that, it's real glass and Finley's already broken hers!"  I reminded Paisley of that moment... That her friend had done the same and she was not alone in this sorrow.

Sunday morning at church I led a new song and the words came from John 16 so I was asked to read that and briefly say something to start the song.  As I read it the part that stood out to me was not the main part the song came from, but what Jesus said right before...
"In this world you WILL have tribulations, but take heart I have overcome the world."
He didn't say IF.  He said you WILL.  Once again I'm reminded as I have been so much in the past year that God is not surprised by our heartbreak.  He's not put off by my grief.  He's there to pick the pieces up and hold me.

A few weeks ago I laid on the table in the perinatologist office once again.  This time 16 weeks along.  The same office I sat in for hour upon hour two years ago as my world was changed forever.  I laid there and held my breath.  Literally.  I held my breath as the sonographer began to measure blood flow in the baby's brain.  It flashed in red and blue.  We watched as the sweet little one twisted and shifted around within.  I watched as they moved the image around in the dark caverns on the screen, slowly scanning the areas of the head over and over.  I'd seen it before.
But this time I wasn't naive.
And if we're being completely honest, this time I was much less hopeful.  I wanted to be.  EVERY thing in me wanted to be hopeful that there would be only good news...
that I was holding my snow globe completely intact and that it wouldn't fall and shatter into a million pieces again.  But my soul knows the true pain of this life.

When we found out we were pregnant this time we just kinda sat and stared at each other.  There was a weird almost reverent mix of joy & fear.  It wasn't like I wanted to run out and tell the world this time, even though there was so much joy in this news.  I'd finally gotten myself to the place of trusting that it was even possible.  Even though I'd been told by doctors it was possible to have a healthy baby over a year ago I hadn't convinced my heart of that quite yet.  And maybe I still haven't completely.
So, grateful for this new life within, but fearful of the road ahead we began the journey again... With hesitant hope.

There we sat waiting for the doctor to come in and give us the report.  Paisley played in the floor completely carefree and unaware of the tension in the room.  But Daniel and I sat silently.  The doctor came in a few minutes later.

The last time I saw her I was clinging to her chest crying as she'd just told me I would deliver immediately and that she didn't know if he'd be ok...

She sat in front of us explaining the blood flow they were measuring.  At the end I finally just blurted out, "Is there fluid in the brain?"  "No," she said, "Not at all."  I could breath again.  She went on to tell us that everything looked good at this point.  We would continue to come in for check-ups each month.

So we carry on with hope.  Maybe hesitant hope, but hope that I will hold onto my snow globe.  And in the end hold this sweet healthy baby.  But I do now know more than ever that trials will come, but take heart, God is faithful.
And unlike anything I could do for Paisley's treasure, He pieces the shattered parts back together and makes them complete and new.

Turning SIX.

Our sweet first born is turning 6 today!!!  How could that be possible?

We've been in our new house for about 10 days and last night after he went to bed I lined the stairway with streamers & balloons.  The grin on his face this morning was priceless.

Sunday I took him to a friend's birthday party after church so I had a little one on one time with him, which is rare these busy kindergarten days.  We sat and ate lunch at La Madeline and I stared across the table at his cute shaggy headed, wiggly tooth, bruised & scratched up little self.  If there's one thing I know for certain about the little guy is that he will make an amazing husband one day.  He thinks and worries about who he's going to marry, when he's going to get married and where he will live with his children more than any kid I've ever known.  He looked up at me sweetly and said, "So Mommy, are you having a good date?  What do you wanna talk about?"  I laughed and told him he was the second best date ever.

After we went to the birthday party we were driving home, it was a beautiful day, Ryder was quiet (again - rare!) and I was just thinking how lucky I was to be driving to our new home.  Suddenly he broke the silence and pierced my heart out of nowhere, "Did they try every medicine in the world?"  My heart sunk and I thought for a moment.  Assuming I hadn't heard him he said, "On Gibson, Did they try every medicine in the whole wide world?"  "Yes," I said, "They did everything they could for him."  He paused for a moment then said, "So then what was really the problem?"

An inquisitive six year old has questions.  Hard questions.  That rip off scars you think are healing while warming your soul at the same exact moment.  Because as much as I didn't want to have that little conversation at that very moment, it told my heart that his little tender heart was staring out the window on that sunny day thinking of his brother.

I wrote a blog almost exaclty 2 years ago called Celebrate Life.  It was a little before Ryder's birthday and although it was not public knowledge at the time I was pregnant with Gibson.  And the party I was helping out on that weekend was for a friend who had walked a similar path as I was unknowingly about to embark upon.  The blog was nothing fancy, just about parties and why I like to do them and the importance (that I knew little about at the time) of celebrating life.

This morning after he walked down the stairs we gathered around him for donuts & presents.  I took him to school and reminisced in the car about how he was THE cutest baby I'd ever laid eyes on - squishy, round, smiley and adorable in every way.  (That was before he could talk back, sass me & drive me completely bananas!!!)  As I drove home I thanked God for SIX healthy years!!!  Something in me ached as it always does on days like this.  That haunting thought of never celebrating a 6th birthday with G.  That question of what he would be like at 6.  Sometimes I watch moms with healthy little babies running around and something in me cries, "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA what a miracle they are?!?"  Seriously, it is a miracle they grow inside of us and overcome everything they do and thrive and grow.  It truly is.

I'm just once again reminded they are ours on loan.  They are truly HIS.  A gift... and one worth celebrating.

We celebrated all day and tonight Ryder said, "Mom, I'm gonna remember this day for-EVER."

Me too, buddy.

Exciting home video

We are on the final countdown of moving into our new home!  It's been an interesting few months but we've ALMOST made it. We are set to close next Friday (fingers crossed!!!!)
The kids made this little video of our house last week that we're excited to share.
Make sure and watch till the end...

http://vimeo.com/88520736

That's right!!!!!!!!! :)

Thanks for all you love & prayers as we anxiously but gratefully enter this new season.

Do angels have shovels; Guilty as charged.

Yesterday I sat outside Paisley's dance class listening to a conversation between two moms who do not know me, my life, or my story. Completely unaware of the words coming out of their mouths with me sitting a couple feet away floods of guilt covered my soul once again.

I don't even know who they were talking ab but their story resolved with the tough decisions at the sudden end of a life. The moments of deciding that's all their loved one could take, that's all they could take or allow their family to bear. The decisions to have family there or not. The decisions that come flying in your face faster than life could possibly prepare you for. Things that get dealt to you that seem so far beyond your means... Too fast to brace yourself for the fall. The frantic calls, the anxious breaths. I could feel it in my lungs again as I heard the unassuming words seep from their lips.  I heard sniffling. And I feel the wailing deep in my loins.

The guilt of each move I made that night attempts to haunt me.   Will it ever not?

I've sworn to myself I will write in detail every single thing I remember about that night. Every time I try I fail and curl up in a ball. Just as I did that night.

I know that I know that I know God is sovereign and powerful and in control far beyond anything I will possibly hear, see or learn in this life, but does that ever prevent us from seeking some sort of revelation or asking the hard questions to our grieving, guilt-filled hearts?  Will it ever satisfy?

As they continued to talk, a pregnant woman sat just seats over from me with her hand sweetly resting on her belly. A baby sat on the floor gazing at his mother and the moments of that night flash before the eyes of my soul. Moments I long to remember each detail of-  the shape of his face and scent of his skin... but how so selfishly I wish I could permanently erase it from time. Moments I hope to never re-live but some how pray I don't loose what they have sewn in the depths of me.

This week I mentioned guilt to a friend and she stopped me and said, "What do you mean, you deal with guilt??"  It seems easy to me too. If only it weren't my story. Of course it wasn't my fault. Doctors told me over and over nothing I could ever possibly have done caused the problems he had.  Nothing I could have done could change how things progressed or how things ran their course...how life was slowly ripped from his grip. 
But do I believe that?  If it were only that easy.  This is the rub.

As a mother you long for, strive for, fight tooth and nail for your child. To protect them, to guard them, to nurture them. They take one step off the sidewalk- you jump with all your might. They get a cold- you worry what you exposed them to. They have an accident and you think of all the ways you could have prevented it.

The weeks after Gibson's death this indescribable guilt washed over me in waves.  Maybe more like a tsunami. I never saw it coming, never heard the quake and suddenly I was drowning in it. What did I do wrong?  What did I do during my pregnancy?  What did I do to deliver early?  How did I cause all the problems?  What decisions of the thousands I made regarding his care were wrong?  What more could I have done?

That night. That awful night.
Was I wrong to guard the hearts of the ones I loved, the ones that so loved him?  Was I wrong to want to run away?  Such fast and hard decisions we had to make while our hearts were in a state of shock.  Did we make the right choices?  

And then in the months following a new guilt rolled in...
Last weekend I was sick with the stomach bug and I got caught up on my favorite show Downton.  During this awful episode there was a quote that cut me to the core.  Isobel Crawley, Mathews mother, said this, 

"But you see I have this feeling that when I laugh or read a book or hum a tune it means that I've forgotten him for just a moment.  And it's that that I can't bear."

That's the guilt of it.  We move on and lives move on but with that comes guilt.  Daniel's birthday is tomorrow.  Last year he turned 30 and I wanted to celebrate.  It seemed weird to be able to celebrate anything 2 months after life had stood still.  Love, laughter, friends and life filled the lonely grief-stricken walls of our house and it was reviving, yet followed with a tinge of guilt.  For a while every good moment was such a blessing and such a confusing ball of tightly wound guilt. 

The guilt of enjoying life with these sweet ones I've been entrusted with but longing to be with the one gone before...

Usually people struggle with guilt from a sin.  So what if it is not from a sin?  Can guilt itself be a sin?  I wouldn't go that far.  But I would firmly say that it can lead to destruction.

Psalms 103:2-4, "Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits: Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; Who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies;"

I repeat those words in my head.  His plans are to prosper and not to harm me... I am to walk in full knowledge of and with Christ, it is for freedom Christ has set me free, old things passed away... all things new...  

Philippines 3:13, "...this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before."

This morning on the way to school Ryder and I had a funny conversation which I briefly referenced on Facebook.  His timing is (per normal) priceless.  And the whole way home I was dying inside with thoughts of the various things he could have walked in and told his teacher...

He says out of no where, "Mommy, turn the music down (here we go...)" 
"Do angels have shovels?"

(UMMMM. What?!?)  More calmly than that I ask what he meant as we are literally 45 seconds from pulling into the school.

"You know, to take the bodies to heaven," he says very nonchalant.

We continue in the rapid conversation of souls, new bodies - new HEALED bodies like Gibson has.  I mention that bodies are just the earthly dwellings, they can be put in the ground... the ocean... He hops out of the car and I'm stumbling over my words, retracting the ocean comment knowing he has no clue what that means and thinking of all the things that could come from that!  
He kisses me and says bye.  Unfazed.  With sweet belief he skips down the sidewalk.

This guilt & grief stricken world is not my home.  Heaven is near.  And that's the glory of it all.  Ryder's sweet faith-filled, believing heart is the relief from guilt and questioning for today.  Thank you God for answering me each day in new ways...

2 Corinthians ...we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.  Now the one who has fashioned us for this very purpose is God, who has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come....

Kickball & Hobby Lobby

I had big (kinda) goals for this week. 
If you read my last blog you know I was planning, setting a positive outlook, going into the new year counting blessings (in the voice of Gru from Despicable Me... Goodnight Sleep tight, blah blah blah... blah blah...)
So this week didn't exactly go like that. Figures.

Ever been dead legged? Got the wind knocked out of you?

I have a vivid memory in elementary school of playing kickball on the big asphalt circle. A few things come to mind... One, although I couldn't run (previously mentioned on blog!) I could however kick that kick ball- because let's be honest if you can just make contact with the huge round empty ball you can kick it pretty far, making every non-athletic 10 year old feel like a rockstar. That's the beauty of it.  My other memory of kickball was my friend Candace's perm. She had beatiful blonde ombré hair -before that was even a thing, and the most magnificent perm I'd ever seen. (It was the 90s people!)  It was a Monday and she'd had the perm done over the weekend. She was explaining how they did it, how long it took & how it smelled while all us girls stood awestruck. I wanted one. I can now firmly blame my curly hair on her because a couple years later I got that long awaited perm.  However my long brown hair ended up looking like Kenny G and NEVER went to straight again. Totally serious. 

So there we were standing around gazing at her golden locks when suddenly I was jolted back to the reality of the kickball game with one flying ball straight to the gut. It knocked the air completely out of me.  

That's kinda how I felt this week - I was gazing into the new year and more like a few flying balls all in a row knocked the air out of me. Life got messy... ugly.  It knocked the thankfulness right out of me.  

Sunday I prepped meals & lunches.  Monday I wrote thankyou notes & filled up my fancy new little planner.  I started my new devotional all dreamy eyed and full of faith.  I started a couple new party jobs and scheduled when I'd work out 5 days this week and {fantasized} how I wouldn't eat sugar.  None (I repeat, none) of that worked out so well... Plans got messed up, goals got interrupted.  Life around me snapped, things got ugly. Things pounded down on my soul just like the erratic weather on our house progress!  Ryder (and half his class) got strep.  I didnt get to do what I wanted (whah!)  And I chose anger instead of gratitude. 

And then I went to hobby lobby.

I've mentioned before how I frequent HL. In fact it's gotten so bad that autocorrect on my phone changes JK (as in just kidding) to HL for Hobby Lobby.  For Real.  I know hobby lobby is a good company with good morals (again blah blah blah...) but their workers couldn't give a rip and are unhappy, unhelpful & rude pretty much all the time.  Except the fabric ladies. After 5 years of going to the same store I've finally woed them into at least a pleasant exchange of words each visit. I'm certain they know I really can't sew and I'm mainly bothering them for fabric I'm gonna glue, wrap or drape on something. Nonetheless they are sweet to me now. So I went in and saw Lois a sweet gray haired lady in her 70s. She's got just enough southern sap to deal with most people but just enough edge to scare off unwanted customers and keep me in the know of how to work the Hobby Lobby system.  So I smile and ask how her Christmas was. Her demeanor shifted. Not so good she said. She went on to tell me how her 50 year old son had a third heart attack and had been in a comma for 3 weeks, with little brain activity, expected not to ever come out of it.  {gulp}

She told me how she'd spent 2 weeks by his bedside in Houston and there she was... back cutting my super important fabric.  I was jolted back to the days I couldn't be by that hospital bedside and how my mind was constantly racing and consumed elsewhere. 

I asked her what his name was and told her I would pray for him. That I was SO sorry. (The BEST thing you can say to prevent saying something stupid in this situation!!!) and I told her to hold on to hope.  She said she knew all she could do was pray.  And then she said she knew I understood grief & loss & she couldn't imagine & began to tear up...

There I was. THAT was my New Years goal. To just be. When God wanted me to be- just be. What was important in the course of eternity?  Not any of my other futile plans (or changes there of) this week.  No, those didn't matter.  But that sweet little lady cutting my insignificant fabric on this mundane morning needed to hear little ol' me say that there is hope & God is good. 

Because there is.  And He is.

To bring a sacrifice of thanksgiving means to sacrifice our understanding of what is beneficial and thank God for everything because HE is benevolent.  -Ann Voskamp