Another Chapter...

I look back over the past five years and am amazed at all that has taken place in my life.  Five summers ago, life was a blur as the grief was fresh and pain ran deep in the shadow of Chloe's birth and death.  Then, there were days that I didn't have the strength to even move myself from the couch.  I'd lie in bed at night waiting for Justin to fall asleep before I let the tears fall.  Sometimes, I'd shake so hard from crying that he'd wake up and just hold me.  The only words I could muster were, "It's not fair!  I just want her here!"  Some days it seemed there would be no reprieve from the grief.

View from my conference hotel room.

As I write this evening, I peer out the window of a hotel room in Wisconsin overlooking the Mississippi River and I feel an overwhelming sense of peace as I marvel at God's creation.  Without going into much detail, I will share that I am here for a conference as a part of my work, which is a two-day training to offer a hospital-based support group for couples who've experienced the loss of a baby through pregnancy or infant loss.  

It's odd being on the "other end" of this sort of thing; to sit in a room full of professionals who companion bereaved parents such as myself but who very likely have never experienced the loss of their own babies.  The presenters show videos, share stories, and provide information about how to help these families.  I take in the information, but my heart and my mind are in rewind as I remember.  I think back to the mementos created for Chloe and I feel bittersweetly blessed.  I think of Jesse who left this world far too soon; my baby who only few know about.  Then I remember miss Riyah Mae whose little heart stopped beating at the beginning of my second trimester.  So much loss.  So many memories.  So much pain.

Yet healing has come and peace envelopes me as I embrace this new chapter that God has written.  I would have never weaved these stories into the fabric of my life.  Still, my heavenly Father knows each and every detail as it has come to pass and as the pages turn.  He knew that He would use precious Chloe to help form Mommies with Hope.  He knew that her life would bring me back to His Son.  He knew that her life would lead her earthly daddy to eternal life.  He knew that He would build His kingdom through me.  He knew that doors would be open for the ministry to grow.  He knew that He would provide a way for me to share His promises with a world of mommies who so desperately need His Son.  He knew that He'd use me in my work at the funeral home - a place I would have never dreamt of working!  He knew that a partnership would form in a secular world where He could use me to really reach out and help others.  Only He knows how He will continue to use me, use this ministry, and use the stories as I embark on this new endeavor.  I am so thankful that He alone is the author and I trust Him as the pages continue to turn in yet another chapter...

"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you; plans to give you a hope and a future.'"

When it Hurts

I am no stranger to grief and my guess is, neither are you. It has not been an easy road to say the least. As a child, I recall my grandpa's death. Mom was making pancakes when the phone call came informing us of his heart attack. Next thing I knew, she was gone and days later my cousins and I were all together under the careful watch of a babysitter while the rest of the family gathered for the service. Just a couple short years later, my childhood friend's big sister was shot and killed the summer before her senior year of high school. I was afraid of death. Afraid of what happened. Sad for my friend. Frightened by the nightmare I vividly remember having after attending the funeral. I remember looking next door one early morning in the aftermath of her death, only to see her daddy outside crying. He was so sad. I was sad for him.

It wasn't until college that grief truly rocked my world. At the vulnerable age of 18, I was new to the college scene, living in a different town with different friends and scenery. It was a welcome change. Then, I got the call from mom that my step-brother had been in a terrible car accident. He was hit by a drunk driver. Oh, the injustice. One week later, he died. My brother came to my college dorm and along with his fiance, who he was to marry that very week, and they told me the news. I was broken. Thinking back, I wonder, how did we do a funeral on Friday and a wedding on Saturday? It hurt then and it hurts now as I remember.

A few short years later commenced the beginning of the painful path of Chloe's death and pregnancy losses of two more precious babies, Jesse and Riyah Mae. Different children. Different gestations. Different experiences. The same love for each one. The same pain. The feeling that it just wasn't fair. How can someone miss a baby she never even knew? I promise you - she can. And she does. I miss every one of them. Last year, grandma went to be with Jesus. Dear Grandma, tell them how much I love them so. Tell them what their mamma is like. I remember when I visited Grandma in her hospital room. She took my hand and she said to me just a few words that I will always cherish: "Teske...you're a good mommy. You're a good mommy." That means the world to me coming from a woman who raised 14 children and who experienced the death of three babies of her own.

Today is one of those days when it hurts. It hurts to remember it all. It hurts to think about the reality of the circumstances we face; a result of living in a fallen world. Sin abounds. Death stings. Grief runs deep. People fail us...over and over again. People hurt us...over and over again. Situations remind us of the reality of the injustice of it all. The grief is real and raw and can't be avoided. It just hurts in the most tender spot. It's a deep down to the core kind of hurt. It can't be numbed or stuffed or put off for another day. Today is one of those days when it hurts.

I am at a place where right now, today on one of those days when it hurts, I need to park my heart and mind on the Truth of God's Word. I need to saturate myself in the reality of Who He is and Whose I am. I need to remind myself of the goodness of my God in the midst of my mess. Even when it hurts, here is what I know about my Jesus...

He heals my broken heart and binds up all my wounds. (Psalm 147:3)

My help comes from Him. (Psalm 121:2)

Because of Him, death has no sting. (1 Corinthians 15:54)

He never changes. (James 1:17)

He is my refuge. (Psalm 91:2)

He gives me peace as I place my trust in Him. (Isaiah 26:3)

He will work all things for good because I love Him. (Romans 8:28)

He wants me to come to Him and rest in Him. (Matthew 11:28)

I can do all things, even this, through Him because He alone is my strength. (Philippians 4:13)

He has a plan for my life. (Jeremiah 29:11)

When I seek Him, I will find Him. (Jeremiah 29:13)

He is near. (Philippians 4:5)

He gave His life for me. (John 3:16)

None of this really matters because He has overcome it all. (John 16:33) I belong to Him...Hallelujah, there is victory in Christ!

These truths and so many more wrap me in a blanket of peace as I experience, feel, and remember. Today is a day when it hurts. The pain is real, but so is my Savior, who redeems all things for His glory and my good. Trusting Jesus...even when it hurts.

Perspectives on Peace???

One of my all time favorite verses in Scripture is Isaiah 26:3, which states:

"You keep his heart in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because He trusts in You."

It's a verse I have to go to repeatedly as the craziness of my world and my circumstances are seemingly always spinning in a million different directions. Sometimes I verbalize it out loud as a call out to God in prayer, petitioning for a piece of His peace. Other times, I quietly whisper "perfect peace, perfect peace, perfect peace" in a desperate distress as I refocus my mind on Him, the One true peace-giver.

In the aftermath of loss, peace may seem like an unattainable goal, far off in the distance. Wounds are fresh and the pain is real. Grief is raw as it roars its ugly head. Peace is what we know our babies are experiencing in His presence, but those of us who are left here to grieve may feel nothing but turmoil.

Experiencing the peace of God is a tremendous blessing in the midst of pain. I have found myself praying for peace a lot lately. Peace for my family in the busyness of life. Peace in my heart about sacrifices and priorities, as I try (and fail miserably) to strike a balance in family, work, and ministry. Peace for the many women who I encounter every week whose babies have entered into eternal peace with God.

I have decided to add a chapter to my book on the topic of peace. And by the way - if you didn't know, I'm working on a book, which you can read about here. The chapter focuses on the promise of His peace in our lives in the shadow of pregnancy or infant loss...

So, I would be curious to hear from you about how you've experienced God's peace in the midst of your grief? Do you have any stories or examples to share? Please post them in the comments or shoot me an email!

Peace and Blessings!

Teske

Facing Death All Day Long

Death. I face it daily. In my work. In my ministry. It seems morbid to some. “How can you work in a funeral home?” they question. “What do you do there? Isn’t it depressing?” Depressing? Sometimes. Rewarding? Always.

The accolades spew forth, “You’re so strong. I don’t know how you do it. You are a blessing to so many." You are this and that and fill in the blank. Humbled, yes indeed.

In my life, death is never lacking. I see it every day. People – young and old, alike. Too many. Too young. In just the last two weeks, too many children. Too many babies. At least ten. Maybe more. Some born too soon, others gone too soon. It never gets easy.

I face death all day long. Every day I see death, I feel death, I know the pain death brings. I offer a gentle embrace to grieving mommy. I explain death to children who have to see their baby sibling in a casket. I pray boldly for them all.

It never gets easy. I never become immune. I cannot be desensitized. Yet, when I am weak, I am strong (2 Corinthians 12:10). I can do this job because it is He, my Jesus, who gives me strength (Philippians 4:13). Yes, I face death every day, so too, I boast in Christ (1 Corinthians 15:31). I work with all my heart for Him and no other (Colossians 3:23). He alone has equipped me by the comfort He has given (2 Corinthians 1:3-4). So yes, I share in the sufferings of many (2 Corinthians 1:7), but my HOPE is in HIM.

Birthday Party in Heaven...

I see it so clearly; an innocent laugh, flowing brown locks and eyes as deep dark as the sea, her round face lit up by the light of the candles as angels sing nearby. Many people are there, young and old alike. Her baby siblings are with her too, held by Grandma, as they watch their big sister smile and blow out the candles. It's her special day; a celebration of the day Chloe was born and went to be with Jesus. He is with her. She seems so happy. Today, there was a birthday party in heaven.

I can't assert to know exactly what heaven is like or claim to know how people look or whether or not they celebrate birthdays. However, it brings me comfort to think about what it might be like. I think back to the time of Chloe's birth. That was the best day and the worst day all at once. It seems like yesterday that I felt her tiny fingers clench around my thumb. She opened her tiny mouth and took the tiniest little breaths as I nuzzled close to her and kissed her cheeks. I remember the warmth of her body's skin against my own. She was fragile, but so strong. Strong enough to be born. Strong enough to hang on for 45 minutes, all the while being cuddled and hugged and kissed and loved. She fit perfectly across my chest and her head rested against my cheek as Justin lay by my side embracing us both. I remember it all so vividly and I would not trade a moment of that time for the world.

The breathing became sporadic. Movement began to cease. I knew she was fading fast and nothing could be done. All I wanted was more time. When our nurse checked her heartbeat upon my request, she despairingly gazed at me and said, "She's gone." I knew it was coming, my mind was prepared for those words, but my heart ached with a piercing blow as they spewed forth from her mouth. It was real. She was really gone. This fact was solidified when just moments later the nurse announced, "Time of death: 3:55 p.m." Still I knew that though she was absent from her physical body, a precious vessel, the special part of Chloe was with her Jesus. In that, I found great comfort. Yet, the pain was real and remains a reality to this day...five years later.

As I think about the significance of the day, I am flooded with emotion. I look back and could never have imagined the impact she'd have. I could never have known how much she'd teach me. It would have been preposterous to think that her tiny little life would have made such a big impact. Our God is a big God. He does things we don't expect. He takes something terribly ugly, like the death of a baby, and turns it into a thing of beauty.

God did some amazing things in my life during that time. He continues to amaze me over and over again! I could go on and on about the many ways in which His handiwork unfolded, but today, I want to leave you with one precious story that I cherish...

Just months before we received the news of Chloe's diagnosis and impending death, God formed a very special friendship between me and an unlikely friend. Jen, over a decade older than me (yup, I said it!), and I were placed together in an office during our graduate studies at Iowa State. During that time we spent together in the office, God used her in a miraculous way to minister to my hopeless soul. Grief-stricken and desperate for comfort, He placed her in my path for a purpose. I didn't know at the time that it would be to point me back to my first love, Jesus, from whom I had strayed. I couldn't have predicted it would be to invite me to a church where I would hear and respond to the Truth of the Gospel. I would never have guessed that just a few short months later she would stand in a school hallway hand in hand with me and my husband, Justin, as he surrendered his life to Christ as tears streamed down each of our faces. It was unfathomable to think that she would pick up the pieces when I went through two subsequent miscarriages. There with me to pray and cry and stay up all night talking, on her birthday no less, when I miscarried Jesse at 6 weeks along. Then just a few months later to clear her schedule, cancel her classes and take my kids for a few days when Riyah Mae went to be with Jesus. She herself has a baby in heaven, gone too soon, yet loved and remembered. Friend. Mentor. Fellow Mommy. Sister in Christ. This is what she is to me...such a blessing.

Now, today and forevermore May 11 is a cherished day to us both. Today, May 11, 2011 her dad ~ the man who pointed her to Christ ~ went home to be with Jesus. This calls to mind a treasured memory I have of Chuck, a man of God with a boldness for Christ. Shortly after I met him, within a few months of when Chloe died, he shared these verses with me to provide comfort...

"The righteous man perishes, and no one takes it to heart; devout men are taken away, and no one understands that the righteous are taken away to be spared from evil. Those who walk uprightly enter into peace; they find rest as they lie in death."

Isaiah 57:1-2

What an amazing thing to be able to share this story and these verses with Jen as she stood by her dad's side last night after a fight with cancer, waiting for him to depart and be with His Savior. Today, I received word from Jen of his earthly death, followed up by a praise that He was with Jesus and with Chloe on her special day. I think about this heavenly birthday party... and amidst the glow of the candles, surrounded by children and angels and our blessed Savior, there's Chuck ~ heaven's newest resident, holding a grandbaby in his arms, telling Chloe about the legacy she has left on earth. All the while, his legacy continues on earth, in life and in death, all for the glory of God.

Bittersweet Days...

For those of us who have endured the loss of a baby, Mother's Day may be anything but happy. Bittersweet seems to be a better descriptor in light of my experience. Regardless of how we may describe it or individually experience it, I think we would all agree that Mother's Day truly is a special day.

I would like to tell you that I had it all together this Mother's Day weekend. I wish I could say that my days were filled with joy and remembrance as I honored my three babies in heaven and cherished my two on earth. I long to share a hope and encouragement to each of you who are grieving this Mother's Day.

Can I honestly tell you that I had it all together? Not even close.

Can I say that my weekend was joy-filled with remembrance? Remembrance - yes! Joy-filled, not so much.

Did I act as though I truly cherished my two living children on earth? Confession - I did not.

Can I share a hope and encouragement with each of you this Mother's Day? Yes, I can! Not on my own strength, but on the strength of God alone in whom I find comfort and peace.

I reflect back on the weekend with mixed feelings. I did all the things I thought I should do. We purchased flowers for our memory garden, an annual tradition always to take place Mother's Day weekend. I spent the day planting flowers, filling my pots, and pulling weeds. The landscaping was finally beginning to take shape and the house exuded some much-needed curb appeal. I worked hard, I kept busy, and the job was complete. I had done my thing. In and of itself, this was a good thing. Unfortunately, the Mother's Day tradition that I had come to love as a way of honoring and remembering my three babies in heaven, had failed to incorporate one very important thing; a tending to my attitude.

I was merely going through the motions. I didn't stop to pray and thank God for His blessings. I failed to show gratefulness for my two living children. I treated my husband with a sense of entitlement, failing to acknowledge his grief. I was irritable and mean, robbed of the joy I claim in Christ. I was throwing myself a pity party, yet putting on a strong facade, going about my garden work. The work needed not be done in my garden, but in the very soil of my own heart. Instead of planting flowers and filling pots, I needed to be planting seeds of gratitude to my family and filling my heart with God's Word. Rather than weeding out my lawn, I needed to weed out the bitterness that had taken root.

As I contemplate over the events of the weekend, I am reminded of Psalm 118:24, which says:

"This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it."

Really? Today? A day that celebrates Motherhood, when I have three babies in heaven? God so gently whispers to my soul, "Yes, today." Others of you may pose a similar line of questioning, wondering if you should be celebrating when you have no living children or possess a longing for a child that is yet to be conceived. Again, the answer is, "Yes, today." I would even go so far as to say, today and tomorrow and the next day. Each and every day. It is hard and bittersweet and that's okay. Let us not, however, let the difficulty of the situation give root to bitterness in our hearts. Instead, may our hearts be filled with thanksgiving for all that God has done for us, chief of all is the fact that He willingly sent HIS OWN SON to die for each of us. What a humbling thought to ponder in light of my own loss; that Jesus would die on the cross for a sinner like me. Thank You, Lord. Help me to always remember and always be thankful for Your sacrifice, even on the bittersweet, difficult days like today.

Blessed.

Today, in this season of my grief, I am blessed. Let me be the first to say that being "blessed" is not the first thing that typically comes to mind when I think of the losses I've experienced. Over time, I have been able to proclaim this truth more and more, but it has not always been this way. When I rewind five years and recall all that I was feeling in the aftermath of Chloe's terminal diagnosis at twenty weeks along, many other choice words come to mind...

Shocked.

Devastated.

Numb.

Anguish.

Tormented.

Depressed.

Angry.

Heartbroken.

Shattered.

Oh my, the list could go on and on. "Blessed" was certainly not on included! In fact, my pregnancy motto was "It's not fair!" Sometimes those were the only words I could utter. Occasionally, this little phrase may have been followed up by, "I just want her to live...that's all!" The truth is, that's where I was at the time. I was drowning in my grief. And guess what? That was okay.

Some of you may be in that very spot today. My heart hurts for you, precious friend. Tears well up as I think of you and your precious baby in heaven. I rejoice in God's mercy that welcomes that baby into His arms, yet I ache in knowing the reality of your pain. Let yourself feel all that you need to feel. Grieve deeply, as you are. Know that you are not strange or wrong for feeling the way you do. You are not alone. There are others who have traveled this road. We are here.

Galatians 6:2 commands us, "Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ." Other "Mommies" are here to carry the burden. Even more importantly, I urge you to give it to God. In Matthew 11:28-30, Jesus says, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." He wants you to lay it at His feet!

Right now, we are all at different places in our grief. I trust that God is working in and through your circumstances to bring beauty from the ashes. Our God is a God of goodness, working all things for His glory and purposes. Trust Him. He has great and precious plans for you. I, simply a humble servant of Christ, am a living, breathing testimony of His promise to work all things for good (Romans 8:28). Five years ago, my list looked just as I so plainly stated it above. Today, my list has but one word:

Blessed.

'"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart."'

Jeremiah 29:11-13

A Sneak Peek...

With great excitement and and admittedly anxious heart, I want to share some "news" with you, my fellow "mommies." No, it's not that kind of news. Although a dear friend did tell me just this morning that it is kinda like having a baby...

Ahem.

Anyway, the "news" is that I have officially agreed to a contract to write my first book! The book is provisionally entitled, Becoming a Mommy with Hope: Living God's Promises in the Shadow of Pregnancy and Infant Loss. The book itself is actually a bible study that weaves in teaching, women's stories, prayer, journaling/reflection, and application. Each chapter focuses on a specific promise of God, related to loss.

Here are the promises I am focusing on in the book:

The Ultimate Promise ~ Jesus

The Promise of His Abiding Love

The Promise of His Goodness

The Promise of Purpose

The Promise of His Comfort

The Promise of Refinement

The Promise of Restoration

The Promise of Hope

The Promise of Eternity

During this season of life in the shadow of my own losses, I am feeling incredibly blessed. I am seeing purpose in the pain, like our dear Sister we learned about in the previous post. I would appreciate your prayers as God continues to do a work amongst us!

Aftermath...

My wholehearted attempt to continue on with this story over a week ago has proved unsuccessful. I am, however, excited to share more with you today! :) To read the previous posts and get up to speed, click here and here.

***

What do you think of when you hear the words funeral home? If you're anything like I used to be, your mind wanders to horrendous decor, odd smells, and an eery feeling of unease. This was my perception prior to my experience with Hamilton's. I was thankful to be proved wrong. To experience a place associated with death as a place of beautiful remembrance. To see a funeral service worker in a pale yellow suit. To feel comforted.

In the days and weeks that followed Chloe's funeral, I learned that Hamilton's was much more than a funeral home. I expected that they would care for Chloe's body, do the service, and that would be that. But it didn't stop there. I learned that there was a division of the company called the Academy of Grief and Loss, which provided a whole array of aftercare services to the families they served as well as to the community. By the time summer was coming to an end, just three short months since Chloe's death, our family was blessed by the opportunity to participate in three of their aftercare services; the Coping with Grief Symposium, Little Hands children's grief program, and Children's Tribute.

Coping with Grief Symposium

Shortly after Chloe died, we were invited to attend this event by Ann, our perinatal hospice nurse. She would have a display up at this event, and so would many others in the community. I could have never imagined that just a couple short years later, I would be standing at a Mommies with Hope display at this very event. Anyway, the grief was so fresh. It was just 3 1/2 weeks after Chloe had died and Justin and I attended this event. It was fabulous. We learned about how to effectively cope with our grief. For us, I think it was just helpful to have permission to grieve and to know that we were not the only ones experiencing it. At the end of the program, we were able to honor our precious Chloe with a candlelighting. As each person passed the flame of their candle, they said the name of the person whom they were remembering aloud. I light this candle in memory of my daughter, Chloe Marie. The words still ring in my mind. I've said them many times over thees last five years.

Little Hands

Another program we learned of in the aftermath of Chloe's death is Little Hands. This is a children's grief program for young children. We wanted to do all that we could to help Gabe, then 4-years-old, understand his grief and remember his baby sister. The three-day program was like everything else we had experienced at Hamiltons ~ wonderful! Gabe, though shy, was able to be around other children who had someone special in their lives die. As a family, we were encouraged to honor and to remember. Yes, remember! I've had others question this where Gabe was concerned. Comments like, "At least he's very young and maybe he'll forget all this happened" or "Are you sure you want him to be a part of all this?" referring to memorials or services. My response? Why would I not want my son to remember his sister? Chloe is a part of our family...she always will be. We will remember her. We will honor her. In Christ, we will see her again.

Children's Tribute

Held in late summer 0f 2006, after having experienced the Coping with Grief Symposium and after Gabe having attended Little Hands in July, we were invited to a Children's Tribute at the funeral home where Chloe's services were held. This tribute was to serve the recent families who had had babies die and who had used Hamilton's Funeral Home. The garden had been dedicated a year earlier in honor of baby Alan. His mommy, Holly, was the one who had helped us with Chloe's service. This particular location houses a beautiful garden, adorned with a 'garden dancer' to represent the children who have died. Each garden dancer has the child's name etched out of it. I know my words do not do justice to explaining this wonderful event, or the beautiful garden dancers, so be sure to click on the link above to see and read more about it. Here is a picture of Gabe in the garden next to Chloe's garden dancer...

An interesting thing happened at the Children's Tribute. Funny, really. We had experienced a beautiful afternoon of remembrance, enjoyed the best butterfly sugar cookies you could imagine, and were blessed by the gift of Chloe's garden dancer to bring home. All of that was wonderful. But another thing happened...something I'll never forget. After the program and while spending some time outside in the garden, I struck up a conversation with Trudy. I had seen Trudy a couple of times by now through all the events we had gone to at Hamilton's. Trudy helped lead the symposium and was one of the helpers at the Little Hands program. Trudy was the Director of Hamilton's Academy of Grief and Loss. I was so impressed by the Academy's services and so blessed to be a recipient, that I had to know more, so I kept asking questions. I remember asking something about employment in the Academy and Trudy informed me that she had a part-time Coordinator, but that the position was vacant and would need to be filled in the near future. Without hesitation, I boldly stated, "Hire me!" While I wasn't hired right away, I did find myself employed as the Academy Coordinator 6 months later!

***

More to come in the days ahead...stay tuned!

Another Year...

If you've known me for a while, then you probably know that I've often remarked about how New Year's tends to be a difficult time of the year for me, personally. In fact, I recall the first year of holidays after Chloe's birth and death and was shocked by the impact of New Year's. After all, it's a time for new beginnings and resolutions. For a grieving mommy, however, it can be a reminder that time and people are moving on, yet she continues to long for her baby.

This year marks the fifth New Year since Chloe's birth and death. The first two years were the most difficult, with the second year being the worst. Last year wasn't the greatest either, in light of my miscarriages of Jesse and Riyah in 2009. Yet, with each passing year, I am able to sense God's peace and purpose through each of my babies' lives. Several months ago, a dear and precious friend gently reminded me that on earth, it would literally be impossible to have all of my children since some of the pregnancies overlapped. However, I can rest in the knowledge that God, who is rich in mercy, has welcomed each one of my babies into His Kingdom already! Because my husband and I know Christ as our Savior, we have full assurance in reuniting with each of them when He calls us home. Lord willing, our two living children will come to know Jesus at the earliest possible age, and they too will be with us all for eternity! What a family reunion that will be!

Especially in difficult times, I believe it is important to have an eternal perspective. That being said, it can be tough when the grief is so raw and the pain is so real. So if you're like me, you may just be wondering HOW to face the day. With the New Year upon us, I want to focus the next few posts on truths from God's Word as well as ways in which we can practically live out such truths. So, today, and throughout the next week, each post will present a biblical truth and a corresponding practical tactic for living it out. The purpose is to comfort and equip us with God's Word, while also challenging us to do something with meaning as we usher in the New Year.

Without further ado, let's begin...

Biblical Truth

"Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail; they are new each morning. Great is your faithfulness."

Lamentations 3:23-23

I love these verses! At times, grief may seem to be all-consuming. God's love is greater. Because of such great love, we are not consumed! He has compassion for each one of us, whom He loves. Other translations use the word "mercies" in place of compassions...each of which are new each morning. Every day when we wake up, the Lord is near. He loves us. He never fails us. He is faithful. He wants to bless us each and every day with His mercies. Though we know this to be true from Scripture, it can be hard to feel this way. That's why it's important to rely on what is true, rather than our feelings. The next verse in this passage goes on to say, "The Lord is my portion." Here are some questions to ponder in light of this verse...Is He your portion each and every day? Do you rise each morning with the knowledge of God's love and compassion for you? Is He enough? The biblical truth shared above may seem to be "good for the moment" but how can I live like I know it to be true? How can I live victoriously, proclaiming "The Lord is my portion?" What does that even look like?

Practical Tactic

There are many ways that the questions posed above can be answered. In fact, the answer may be different for each one of us. I'm not here to offer a one-size-fits-all approach to living out God's truths in difficult times. I will, however, offer some practical tactics that everyone is able to try. I would love to hear additional ideas from you, my fellow mommies! Here are just a few of my thoughts...

1) Purpose to wake up 15 minutes earlier than usual each day. Begin your day in prayer, pouring your heart out to God. Remember, He has compassion for you!

2) Saturate yourself in God's Word. When we feel consumed by our grief, His Word is our ammunition and gives us the ability to "take captive every thought, making it obedient to Christ" (2 Corinthians 10:5). We can combat irrational thinking with God's Truth!

3) List the ways in which God has shown His love to you. Read over and reflect on this list and thank God in prayer.

4) Thank God for the blessings in your life. Purpose to find something to be thankful for. Ask God to be your portion for the day...the hour...the moment. He is faithful!

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I'd love to hear your thoughts...feel free to post in the comments!

Thankful for the Thorns...

At the request of the ladies who attended our recent "Hope" Meeting in Polk City, I am posting the following story that was shared, titled Be Thankful for the Thorns, author unknown. I shared this at the meeting to challenge women to think of what they can be thankful for this Thanksgiving...even in the midst of grief. Even in light of their loss. Even in the aftermath of something so very difficult. Some of the ladies plan to share this with their families as a way of acknowledging their babies this Thanksgiving.

"Give thanks to the Lord for He is good, His love endures forever."

1 Chronicles 16:34

BE THANKFUL FOR THE THORNS

Sandra felt as low as the heels of her Birkenstocks as she pushed against a November gust and the florist shop door. Her life had been easy, like spring breeze.

Then in the fourth month of her second pregnancy, a minor automobile accident stole her ease. During this Thanksgiving week she would have delivered a son.

She grieved over her loss. As if that weren't enough, her husband's company threatened a transfer. Then her sister, whose holiday visit she coveted, called saying she could not come. What's worse, Sandra's friend infuriated her by suggesting her grief was a God-given path to maturity that would allow her to empathize with others who suffer. "She has no idea what I'm feeling," thought Sandra. "Thanksgiving? Thankful for what?" she wondered. For a careless driver whose truck was hardly scratched when he rear-ended her? For an airbag that saved her life but took the life of her unborn child?

"Good afternoon, can I help you?" The shop clerk's approach startled her. "I ... I need an arrangement," stammered Sandra. "For Thanksgiving? Do you want beautiful but ordinary, or would you like to challenge the day with a customer favorite I call the 'Thanksgiving Special'?" asked the shop clerk. "I'm convinced that flowers tell stories," she continued. "Are you looking for something that conveys 'gratitude' this Thanksgiving?"

"Not exactly!" Sandra blurted out. "In the last five months, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong."

Sandra regretted her outburst, and was surprised when the shop clerk said, "I have the perfect arrangement for you."

Then the door's small bell rang, and the shop clerk said, "Hi, Barbara ... let me get your order." She politely excused herself and walked toward a small workroom, then quickly reappeared, carrying an arrangement of greenery, bows, and long-stemmed thorny roses. Except the ends of the rose stems were neatly snipped. There were no flowers!

"Want this in a box?" asked the clerk. Sandra watched for the customer's response. Was this a joke? Who would want rose stems with no flowers! She waited for laughter, but neither woman laughed. "Yes, please," Barbara replied with an appreciative smile. "You'd think after three years of getting the special, I wouldn't be so moved by its significance, but I can feel it right here, all over again," she said as she gently tapped her chest.

"Uh," stammered Sandra, "that lady just left with, uh ... she just left with no flowers!"

"Right, said the clerk, "I cut off the flowers. That's the Special. I call it the Thanksgiving Thorns Bouquet."

"Oh, come on, you can't tell me someone is willing to pay for that!" exclaimed Sandra.

"Barbara came into the shop three years ago feeling much like you feel today," explained the clerk. "She thought she had very little to be thankful for. She had lost her father to cancer, the family business was failing, her son was into drugs, and she was facing major surgery."

"That same year I had lost my husband," continued the clerk," and for the first time in my life, had just spent the holidays alone. I had no children, no husband, no family nearby, and too great a debt to allow any travel."

"So what did you do?" asked Sandra.

"I learned to be thankful for thorns," answered the clerk quietly.

"I've always thanked God for good things in life and never to ask Him why those good things happened to me, but when bad stuff hit, did I ever ask! It took time for me to learn that dark times are important. I have always enjoyed the 'flowers' of life, but it took thorns to show me the beauty of God's comfort. You know, the Bible says that God comforts us when we're afflicted, and from His consolation we learn to comfort others."

Sandra sucked in her breath as she thought about the very thing her friend had tried to tell her. "I guess the truth is I don't want comfort. I've lost a baby and I'm angry with God."

Just then someone else walked in the shop. "Hey, Phil!" shouted the clerk to the balding, rotund man. "My wife sent me in to get our usual Thanksgiving arrangement ... twelve thorny, long-stemmed stems!" laughed Phil as the clerk handed him a tissue-wrapped arrangement from the refrigerator.

"Those are for your wife?" asked Sandra incredulously. "Do you mind me asking why she wants something that looks like that?"

No ... I'm glad you asked," Phil replied. "Four years ago my wife and I nearly divorced. After forty years, we were in a real mess, but with the Lord's grace and guidance, we slogged through problem after problem. He rescued our marriage. Jenny here (the clerk) told me she kept a vase of rose stems to remind her of what she learned from 'thorny' times, and that was good enough for me. I took home some of those stems. My wife and I decided to label each one for a specific 'problem' and give thanks for what that problem taught us."

As Phil paid the clerk, he said to Sandra, "I highly recommend the Special!"

"I don't know if I can be thankful for the thorns in my life." Sandra said to the clerk. "It's all too ... fresh."

"Well," the clerk replied carefully, "my experience has shown me that thorns make roses more precious. We treasure God's providential care more during trouble than at any other time. Remember, it was a crown of thorns that Jesus wore so we might know His love. Don't resent the thorns."

Tears rolled down Sandra's cheeks. For the first time since the accident, she loosened her grip on resentment. "I'll take those twelve long-stemmed thorns, please," she managed to choke out.

"I hoped you would," said the clerk gently. "I'll have them ready in a minute."

"Thank you. What do I owe you?"

"Nothing. Nothing but a promise to allow God to heal your heart. The first year's arrangement is always on me."

The clerk smiled and handed a card to Sandra. "I'll attach this card to your arrangement, but maybe you would like to read it first." It read:

"My God, I have never thanked You for my thorns.
I have thanked You a thousand times for my roses, but never once for my thorns.
Teach me the glory of the cross I bear;
Teach me the value of my thorns.
Show me that I have climbed closer to You along the path of pain;
Show me that, through my tears, the colors of Your rainbow look much more brilliant."

***

What do you have to be thankful for this year? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below. I will be the first to share...

Busy, Busy, Busy Grief

In recent months, I've tried to stay on top of writing on the blog consistently. My apologies for a brief hiatus this past week. As each of you can most assuredly relate, life has been busy, busy, busy! Not to mention my continued computer issues (yep, you can still pray for me on that one!).

In thinking about how crazy busy things have been and through conversations with people along the way, I honestly do think that part of my busy lifestyle has a lot to do with my grief. In the year after Chloe died, especially, I got very involved in doing "stuff." All good stuff I might add, but stuff nonetheless. For me, it was a way of coping with the loss. I had so many things to do and so many commitments to uphold that I didn't have time to grieve. Perhaps you can relate?

I find myself continuing to do that from time to time, especially when special days or holidays approach. These are tough days for me and times when I sense the loss of my babies most deeply. However, if I stay busy, especially by doing something for someone else, then just maybe I won't have to feel the pain. This all sounds like some great method for coping with loss or like some magical formula, doesn't it? In all actuality, it only delays the inevitable. The feelings still come. It still hurts. I still miss my babies. This very thought puts me in mind of something we read in our recent bible study from Becky Avella's book when she says, "Grief can be delayed, but it cannot be denied." Isn't that what I've been doing? By filling my plate to overflowing with activities and commitments, I'm only delaying the emotions of an experience that already exists.

I want to change this. I want to purpose to face those special days knowing full-well that I may just have a meltdown and that's okay. I want to let myself experience the pain when it comes, knowing that it exists much because I loved much. Won't you join me? Let us lay our busy lives aside, and if even for a moment, rest. Rest in our circumstances. Rest in our experiences. Rest in our grief. Rest in the arms of our Savior, Jesus, who walks this road right alongside us.

In the Word Wednesday...Entering the Darkness (Ch. 3)

Welcome to In the Word Wednesday! Join us as we travel through And Then You were Gone by Becky Avella. You can read the first two posts related to this study here and here. Today, we will dive into Chapter 3, Entering the Darkness. Again, there's so much to say and this chapter is filled with some awesome biblical truths! So...today's post will be about the pressure to "be strong" as we grieve, concluding with a challenge to allow yourself to truly grieve. I will continue with some additional topics from this chapter in the days to come!

***

Becky starts Chapter 3 with the following verses:

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under Heaven.
A time to be born and a time to die,
A time to plant and a time to uproot,
A time to kill and a time to heal,
A time to tear down and a time to build,
A time to weep and a time to laugh,
A time to mourn and a time to dance.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-4

A time for everything. Sometimes, such times include times of grief. Each of us embarking on this study are all too familiar with times of grief. Throughout this chapter, I love how Becky reiterated a truth about grief, which states:

Grief may be delayed, but it cannot be denied.

Did you get that ladies? Grief may be delayed, but it cannot be denied! That rang so true for me. The first several months to a year after Chloe died, I threw myself into so many things. All good things, I might add. It was a way for me to work through my grief. In all honesty, however, I was delaying my grief. I distinctly remember ringing in the New Year and feeling as though Chloe had died yesterday. The realization of the onset of a new year, combined with that fact that it seemed like everyone around me was celebrating in anticipation for what was to come, hurt so much. I felt as though everyone else was moving on, yet I was stuck in the darkest place I'd ever know. Still, I had to face it....I had denied it long enough. Can you relate?
Becky talks about facing this darkness, the Valley of the Shadow of Death (Psalm 23). Her words in this portion led me to think of a song that I've sang at church called Valley of Vision by Sovereign Grace. I shared some of the lyrics with the ladies in the face-to-face study, which state:

Let me find Your grace in the valley
Let me find Your life in my death
Let me find Your joy in my sorrow
Your want in my need
Draw me near with every breath
In the valley

The idea is to draw near to God during these valleys in life. That doesn't mean that we need to wear this strong, Christian facade! God wants us to come to Him just as we are and the reality is that we tend to put on this mask that disguises the reality of what we're going through. While we may be able to fool others, for a time, we can never fool God. He sees right through the mask into the very heart of who we are; He knows precisely what we think and feel.

"The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart."
(1 Samuel 16: 7)

He sees our hearts, ladies. The reality of what we're going through. He knows us in and out, as we learned last week when I shared in the video some verses from Psalm 139. He created us uniquely, with feelings and emotions. Let's not shield who we are, what we're going through, and how God created us to be! We talked in the face-to-face study last night about balancing our emotions and feelings with our desire to cling to the biblical truths related to our loss, like: God is in control (Sovereignty), He will work this out for good (Romans 8:28), and God has a plan and purpose (Jeremiah 29:11-13). While all of these things are true and many of us believe them with all our hearts, it can be hard to strike a balance of clinging to these truths while experiencing feelings that starkly contrast these truths, like: I must have deserved this. My loss wasn't that important. I was only ____ weeks along. I want you to know, ladies, that these are blatant lies and we cannot give in to such thoughts, as much as our hearts are tempted to entertain them. Rather, we need to stock our hearts and minds with ammunition to ward off such negative, deceitful thoughts. This ammunition is the Word of God and things only of Him. You may be wondering, how do I do that? Here are some simple ideas:

Surrender!
If you have not given your life to Christ, that's the first step in drawing near to God. He already knows we need Him...it's up to us to humble ourselves before Him and place our lives in His hands. Romans 10:9-10 says, "...if you confess with your mouth, 'Jesus is Lord,' and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe an area justified, and it is with your mouth that you confess and are saved."

Saturate yourself with more of Him!
Be in the Word. Start with the gospel of John and read a chapter per day, or over and over each day till you feel led to move on.Choose a Psalm and read through that each day and move on to another when you feel ready.

PRAY!
Rather than being tempted to go to your mom or a girlfriend with a burden right away (which I had to confess is what I often do!), go straight to God. He longs to carry your burdens.

I think about a verse that our Pastor used in last Sunday's sermon from James, which states: "Draw near to Him and He will draw near to you." (James 4:8) Draw near. Seek Him with all your heart. It starts by humbling ourselves and letting go of the facade we so often feel we have to keep up. God wants us to come to Him just as we are...broken-down, grief-stricken, in the valley kind of women. Cry out to Him. We know from His Word that "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up all their wounds." (Psalm 147:3) That's us, ladies. He is waiting for us to come to Him.

Sneaky Grief

This grief stuff sure is sneaky. We can be going about our day, fine one moment and in tears the next. Certainly I think about my babies each and every day, yet as time has passed, there are longer spans of time in between my "moments" (meltdowns). I tend to have my moment (meltdown), wipe the tears from my eyes, and carry on about my day. Typically, I expect such moments when anniversary or due dates approach, or when the holidays draw near.

It's not always so cut and dry though, ladies. Sometimes the grief just sneaks up on us. It can come in the form of a newborn baby's cry, reminding us of the cry we never got to hear. Or maybe it's the 2-year-old at the grocery store who so innocently toddles about. After all, the baby you lost should be about that age. It quite possibly may be the wonderful news of a friend, relative, or neighbor's healthy birth that spins you into questioning why you can't be in her place.

I recently fell prey to the sneak attack of my own grief. I think it's a combination of many things, all of which culminated in quite a moment (or two) for me just yesterday. It may seem silly, but the two things that caught me totally off guard were a visit to my neighbor's and a Time magazine cover. Let me explain...

My neighbor recently gave birth to a baby girl. The baby was born 6 weeks premature and spent at least a week in the hospital. They are settled in back home and things are going well for them. They aren't plugged in to a church and do not have any family nearby, so I was very eager to take some food to them, knowing how much of a blessing that has been to me in the past. Yesterday, I packed my bag with all the food I had prepared and confidently marched across the street to deliver the meal. We chatted briefly, exchanged small talk, and she thanked me for the food. Then....just across the room, I spotted her. That tiny little baby girl. I couldn't not acknowledge her! She was, in fact, the reason I was coming in the first place. So I mustered up the strength to say something, only then to find myself holding and embracing this precious little baby...all 6 pounds of her. Sneaky grief. I felt my heart sinking as I thought about how empty it was not to have a little girl of my own in my arms, as I was supposed to. It was nearly a year ago that we experienced our most recent loss of Riyah Mae. Had she been born full-term, she'd be just a few months old. I gently handed this precious little baby back to her mama and walked back across the street...empty.

Soon, my husband arrived home from work. Enter Time Magazine. This magazine laid on our island in plain sight with a front cover plastered with the image of a nude woman, posed in a manner that covered anything inappropriate, yet her full-term pregnant belly billowed out across the page. The title of the cover article stated, "How the First Nine Months Shape the Rest of Your Life." Jokingly, my husband said something to the effect of "what are you doing on the cover of this magazine?" I can't really say what he was thinking or why he would have said that, besides the fact that he was acknowledging that this woman was beautiful and was trying to pay me a compliment. At least that's what I'm telling myself! Sneaky grief. Immediately, my eyes welled up with tears and I left the room, trying to hold them back. He followed me, realizing why I was upset and just hugged me apologetically.

Later that night, after the kids were in bed, we snuggled on the couch and watched some television. The storyline of the show we were watching was that of a mother who had forgotten her baby in a hot car, resulting in the death of her child. Sneaky grief. Another moment. Tears. Remembering. Hurting. Longing.

Not long after that, my husband very lovingly said, "Maybe you should just go on up to bed and get some rest." He walked me upstairs to bed and said goodnight. I clung tight to Chloe's blankie, which was draped over my shoulder and across my face, serving the purpose of catching any tears that fell as it has so effectively done countless times before. Sneaky grief.

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Feel free to share your "sneaky grief" moments in the comments, along with any thoughts on how to cope in such moments. I'd love to follow this post up with those thoughts, as well as some encouragement from God's Word as it relates to this issue!