Together

 May we always believe in the impossible. May we embrace every little sparkle of life.

But what happens when we lack that sparkle of life. What about the times when belief eludes you. What happens when you stumble over what is behind you. What about the times when you cannot balance holding on with letting go. What happens when the loudest sound you hear is the sound of letting go, and the noise is so deafening that it pulsates pain in every part of you.

Far be it from me to not believe, but it is true. I have cursed God. Damn You! Damn this life! Damn this mountain of regret and pain. Damn the very breathe I take. The breath that my son was denied. Damn you for breathing life into those undeserving.

Because you see, this demon of sadness came long before I lost Nathan. I have been plagued by pain from very early on. Nathan’s passing was a catalyst to seek and find something that I never knew existed. Living a life in a constant state of pain, is much like death. Every single moment of every single day.

Suicide is the 10^th leading cause of death in the US. Each year 44,965 American die by suicide. It makes me wonder how many of them have lost a child? I would guess, it is an alarming number, and I would bet that a great many of these have previous trauma on top of that.  For parents the death of their child defies the natural order of life events. It challenges our basic existential expectations. It certainly did for me. It is a dark place that sometimes a person cannot come out of.

Therefore, for this, I am illuminating my own truth.

Many years ago, long before Nathan, and long before I became the woman I am today, there was a lost, young, girl in hiding. There was a dark demon that whispered lies into my mind. There was un-diagnosed depression, and mania filled episodes. The atmosphere was thick in desperation. This was in a space and time before the state of a person’s mental health was openly discussed in family settings. Through no fault of my family, it was overlooked and untreated. It manifested over time and became a darkness I could not escape. Those whispered lies led me to a serious attempt on ending my life.

 I survived, and over the decades that followed, I pushed it further and further down. Only a select few knew of my moment of desperation. I didn’t speak about it. I didn’t seek resolution. I pushed it further and further into a space of bewilderment and shame.  I pretended to move forward. I existed in a space of secrecy and survival. On the outside you would never know that every day I wanted to fade away. You would never know that this believer did not believe. You would never know that every time I walked into a room, the air was sucked out. You would never know that I walked in a perpetual state of shadows. You would never know that I believed in God but despised him at the same time. You would never know that I was plagued by nightmares, and restlessness.

And then Nathan died. And in that moment when his heartbeat ceased, I whispered a threat to God.

“You had better be real to me. You had better show up right now. You had better save me from this because I do not want to breathe again. If not, I will never believe in you or anything again. This time I will not live.”

This is the genuine conversation I had with God at that moment, and I have not fully shared it before. I have only shared it on pieces. But I feel that it is time. I feel that someone reading this needs this transparency. I need this transparency every day.

Through the shadows light appeared. I did not have an audible experience with God that day. But a supernatural experience did occur. A blanket of peace covered me from my head to my toes. It was a peace that saved my life.

Many of you tell me how brave I am. How much I inspire you to keep going. You say the most amazing and affirming things. But I need you to know that anything powerful you see in me does not come from me at all. It comes from that blanket of peace. It comes from my surrender. It comes from empty hands held high. It comes from finally being honest about my weakness. It comes from a moment when every part of who I was died. I have met the devil. I have met God. I know which craved my death. I know which craved my life. I know what is real because I have met both.

I still struggle with darkness and depression every moment of every day. The demon still whispers in my ear and now with a more urgent persistence. It presses the weight of the loss of my son into my heart and is unrelenting. I carry this weight every single moment of every day. I still cry and scream at God. But he never screams back, and this is what saves me.

Today I fight back.  I seek wise counsel. I seek professional help. I do not live in shame because I choose medication and therapy. I live with a bold transparency now that was not possible before Nathan passed.  I measure time differently now. Everything is Pre and Post Nathan. Post Nathan is not without struggle, but it is possible. 

I have lived a lifetime in the almost 7 years since Nathan's passing. However, I have finally lived. 

It is possible for you too. You can feel healing in your bones. You can overcome and not have to fake it any longer. You can live abundantly, even in the struggle. If you cannot find your way, come find me. We can stumble together. We are not meant to carry mountains. We are meant to climb them, and we can climb them together.  

The River

Mother’s Day is always a difficult day. There is always a subtle ache just beyond my peace. I think about what Nathan would be making me in school to celebrate the Holiday. I think about what He and Daddy would cook me for Mother’s Day breakfast. I think about all the moments that could have been.  But honestly, I don’t think about Him any more or less on any given day. The ache is the same no matter what day it is, but Mother’s Day can hold a particular sting for me.

 I have been blessed by adoption on my journey. Through it, I have been able to bring a child home and experience all of the little moments I dreamed for. My heart overflows with gratitude that I have been blessed with such a miracle. I sometimes feel guilty that I ache at all. I have been beyond blessed and provided for on my grief journey. How dare I complain when so many others are not as fortunate? But then I remember that unrest is the human condition and quite normal. It does not negate my gratitude, and I should not feel guilty for my moments of grief. The LORD understands, forgives, and restores.

On Mother’s day and Father’s day , I often think about parent’s that have to choose to let their children go. This always makes me reflect on how fortunate I am. I did not have to choose. The decision was made for me by the LORD. I could focus on that fact and begrudge Him. However, I choose to see it as mercy. I cannot imagine what it would be like to have to choose to let go of your child. Parents have to make this heartbreaking decision every day. They have to watch their children suffer. I was spared this anguish, and the mercy of that is not lost on me. I lift these parents up every day. I pray that they be comforted and covered in peace with their decisions. Why was I spared, and they are not? I will never understand this, but perhaps it is so I can minister to them.

I wonder a lot about parents over the ages. So many have lost children. So many have had to let them go. One story that resonated over the years is Moses’s Mother, Jochebed. She set Him afloat to preserve His life. Many are familiar with the story of Moses. Here is my take on His Mother's courage and strength.

    1. The reigning Pharaoh, at the time, was determined to stamp out the threat of the Hebrew people; and issued his command to the Hebrew midwives, that they should destroy all the newborn sons of the Hebrews.

      2.    Moses, was born during this time, and was hid  for three months by his parents.

This means that Moses and his parents bonded for three months. His Mother nursed Him, sang to Him, and cuddled him for 3 months. The cry, and giggles of a healthy child would have betrayed his whereabouts, and the day arrived when she could hide him no longer. So after probably much anguish, and prayer she set him afloat on a carefully made vessel. When the water was calm, the little vessel might ride safely, but any flood or even rise of the water might float it to the mid‐current, and carry Him off course, and into danger.

Can you imagine? The fear during the time of hiding Him? Then deciding to set him afloat? No matter how big Jochebed’s faith was, she had to have fear and doubt. She was entrusting Her son to the safety of a physically unseen God.

     3.  The daughter of Pharaoh came down to bathe in the river, and her maidens walked along by the river side. Probably some movement of the child, or some cry, may have drawn her attention to the vessel. She decides to take the child as her own.

     4. Moses’s sister Miriam had been watching, and then said to Pharaoh's daughter,

 “Shall I go and call a nurse for you from the Hebrew women that she may nurse the child for you?” 

Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, “Go ahead.” So the girl went and called the child’s mother.”

I imagine Moses’s Mother, Jochebed, was at home in anguish. Undoubtedly sick with worry.

Beside herself. Wondering if she had done the right thing. Questioning her Faith. And then here comes her daughter summoning her to the Pharaoh’s daughter. She probably approaches seeing her holding her baby. She probably had to restrain herself from reaching for Him. Because to do so would be the final proclamation that He was, in fact, a Hebrew male, and feared He would be slaughtered.

5.  Then Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, “Take this child away and nurse him for me and I will give you your wages.” So the woman took the child and nursed him.  The child grew, and she brought him to Pharaoh’s daughter and he became her son. And she named him Moses, and said, “Because I drew him out of the water.”

This is the part that really sticks with me. Back then a baby was nursed anywhere from 3-5 years of age. The lack of nourishment in foods made nursing crucial to infant and toddler survival.

So Jochebed, continued to raise her son for at least 3-5 more years. She continued to care for him, teach him, comfort him, and all that exists in the journey of motherhood. All the while knowing that she had to again let him go. If she denied the Pharaoh’s daughter her son, then He would have been slaughtered. He would have at that point simply remained a Hebrew Male. And his very existence was forbidden.

Can you imagine all the years of caring for Him, knowing that their time together was limited?  She rocked him and nursed him over the years, knowing that one day they would be separated.

Jochebed, to me, must have been a Mother of extreme faith. It is the only explanation for her strength.

Can you imagine the day she held his little hand, and took him back to Pharaoh’s daughter? I imagine she bathed him, and sweetly whispered in his ear, all the things she prayed He would remember. Would he remember being called a different name by his birth parents? (seeing as they did not name Him Moses) Would He remember her face? Would He always know how much she cherished him, from the very beginning? As she hands him over, I stop and wonder, did she hesitate. Was she crying? Was Moses afraid? Was she allowed to comfort him? Can you imagine the pain in this second transaction? To let him go not once, but twice?

When I read this story I am filled with so many questions about Jochebed.   I am overwhelmed by her strength and resolve. As a mother I cannot fathom what it took to travel this particular journey. At the end of her life, I wonder if she was at peace with her decision so many years prior. I wonder if she had peace beyond understanding.

Perspective can change through the years. Since Nathan’s passing, when I feel torn between gratitude and grumbling, I turn to this particular Bible story. I look at the grey areas of it, and find reflection.  I always walk away in awe.

To choose, to let your child go, does not diminish parenthood. If anything it makes the light of parenthood shine brighter. Whether it be physical or metaphorical, all parents of lost children must at some point let go. That is not to forget. We never move on. We always hold on to them in our hearts. But we let go of the physical. We let go of the tangible. We hold on to the spirit. We hold on to the song that their lives played in our hearts. Letting go, makes breathing possible. Letting go does not make us less of a parent. Letting go, comes from a place of faith. Letting go simply liberates our hearts. Sometimes the faith is big. Sometimes it is as small as a mustard seed.

Some of us are spared the choice, and others are forced to make it?  Perhaps it is so we may all come together and see from different sides of the river. Each angle of the ripple is viewed differently.  But when we minister to one another, all waters of the journey, reflect the same love and peace. 

It Is Well - Bethel Music (lyric video)

Through it all

I have endured nightmares for as long as I can remember. I have been attacked in the night for countless years. Through therapy and years of self- reflection, I have come to believe these nightmares are the result of trauma. Trauma at an early age that has followed me and plagued my dreams. Sleep is so difficult for me, but strangely enough only at night.  During the day, I can nap like a boss. There is something about the cover of night that brings about a restlessness that is difficult to overcome.

Often, I wake up in physical discomfort. My body seemingly fights the battle raging while I “sleep”.  Early this morning I woke in a sheen of sweat. My head was pounding, my hands and toes were clenched, my back was seizing, my legs and arms cramping.  My breathing erratic; as if all the air was seemingly sucked from the room.  But “grander earth has quaked before”.

This is nothing new to me; and become something even my husband has learned to comfort me through. It is simply a reality. I am blessed to have a love that seems to know just what to do. He effortlessly rubs my body, retrieves cold water, and is even learning what essential oils to bring me. He often does not speak a word.  Over the years, it has transformed into a silent dance between us.

After Nathan passed away this dance between us became more frequent. The intensity of the nightmares increased. The physical reaction, sharp and agonizing. But we soldier on. I know what you are thinking; “My God Sam!”. Yes, my God indeed. I do not endure this because I am strong. I am not a champion, nor a martyr. I consider this nothing compared to what others endure. Many of them endure while awake. This evil attacks them during waking hours.  I consider myself blessed through it all. This “bravery” does not come from within myself. It is a spiritual gift, only achieved through God.

I have also come to believe that my nightmares are a form of a spiritual attack.

Not all of my friends, loved ones, and readers are believers. You come from all walks and faiths. However, I must proclaim what I know is true. I believe in God, and subsequently, in the Devil. I know they exist because I have met them both.

 I have met with Christ in indescribable ways. The best I have been able to articulate, is His presence the night I learned of Nathan’s passing. He washed over me and covered me in a “peace blanket” of sorts. It was a supernatural experience for me. God revealed himself to me in a way that was beyond real.  He made himself physically tangible to me. I know it was Him because He is who I cried out to. I have cried out to Him countless times before, and He has come. But this particular time, He knew I needed evidence of His protection. He knew the warfare for my mind had begun, and he showed Himself in a big way.  Remembering the realness of God in this moment, is breathtaking. It is a moment that stayed with me for many, many days. It still covers me today. While the supernatural element has faded, the physical calm is ever present. I really do feel His holy spirit. It speaks to my heart without a single audible note.

Warfare of the mind is a devil in and of itself. The Devil does not appear to us with scarlett skin, and horns, but I promise you that He does indeed breath fire. He breathes it into our minds. He attacks us with a raging heat of despair. I have met the Devil. I met Him at an early age. He has been relentless in His pursuit. He has poked and prodded my mind; urging me to reconsider my faith. He has dug his proverbial talons into the flesh of my ankle, as I clawed to the top of the pit. Simply put, He is as real as you and I. He does not come to us with smoke and mirrors as there is no magical element to His existence.  He reaches into our minds because that is where we are most vulnerable. He is not a cartoon on the shoulders of society, but He does indeed whisper into our ears. He whispers a darkness more powerful than that of any physical presence. Suicide, acts of violence, hatred in its darkest of forms, is His thumbprint. And so, because He has failed to sway my faith, He attacks me while I sleep.

However, He does not have power over me. My body even know this; as it fights for me during the night. The fight is temporary even though it comes over and over and over. Eventually my body relaxes. Eventually there is reprieve. It is temporary even though He is relentless in his advances. My mind is similar to a glass of water. He attacks the glass at every angle, but He cannot penetrate. My glass mind is shaken, even tipped over at times. But not an ounce of water escapes. He has power, but is powerless all at the same time.  My faith, my God, is impenetrable. Not because of myself mind you, but because I am not my own. I am a child of God. You cannot defeat that, no matter how much you shake me. You can crack my glass, but it will not leak.  I cannot be separated from God. You would think he would have learned that by now.  This must be why He attacks me at night; because He is a clueless, coward underneath it all.

 I believe that is why I was gifted the ability to write. From an early age, I have been able to speak on paper; words that otherwise would be suppressed. What my mouth cannot utter seems to flow effortlessly onto the page. I praise God for this gift. It has no doubt been my saving grace. It is how I fight back. I write these words, and I share them with you, and you hopefully share them with others. Hopefully the raw, honesty impacts you in a way that gives you strength to fight when you are attacked.

I believe that the transparency of my inner struggles are not for nothing. My struggles and nightmares do not have power over me. God uses them to plant seeds in the lives of others. When I say “If it helps at least one person, then it is worth it”, I am sincere. If my words give even one of you the courage to fight, then I am grateful. Because, you see, they are not my words. My glass is not my own. My water does not spill because it is not my water. I find this refreshing. I am not in control, but that does not mean I do not have the power to impact lives.

Your story, your pain, your loss, can be used for great things. There can be life after pain. There is a life worth living. Losing a child is by far the most agonizing trauma of my life. There is never a moment my heart does not ache for my boy. However, the ache is temporary. One day I will be reunited. One day I will see that through it all, God had a purpose. I believe when my day comes, God will reveal all the lives changed by sharing Nathan and the journey with you. I believe because I have seen. I have seen without the human eye. I have seen through a shaken glass, that has never, ever, failed to be full. Through it all.  

Memory Box Milestone

Intertwining the here and there can be difficult. You are not alone. Hang in there and always Bel;ve friends.

Angel Dash 2016

Happy 5th Birthday Nathan. We miss you so very much. Today we celebrated your life. Mommy and Daddy tried not to be sad and focus on how lucky we are to have had even a short time with you. You are still such a miracle to us. Never a day goes by that we do not think of you, and thank the LORD for such an amazing gift. We love you to the moon and back, and back again.


https://youtu.be/X4eAz65MYYI

Samara Brennan - Book interview - Good Grief When Grief Meets Grace

Happy Birthday Beautiful Boy

Today we celebrate Four Years of Nathan’s Birth in Glory. It is a strange celebration. A strange, painful, and yet all at the same time peaceful day. After Nathan’s passing we had a Remembrance Ceremony instead of a Dedication. I love the wording in the ceremony….

”We, James and Samara Brennan, in memory of our son Nathan Dean Brennan and Having full faith that Nathan resides with our Lord Jesus Christ, commit ourselves to the continued service of the Lord, with the knowledge that we to will one day be with our Savior and with our son Nathan”

We stood before our friends and family and we declared that we would continue to serve the LORD. Four years later… We are firm in our faith. We are strong in our marriage. We are lifted up daily by an extraordinary support group of friends and family. We have not come this far alone. We do not take for granted those that have traveled this journey with us. We are grateful for the accountability. We are humbled in serving the LORD. Serving a faithful God is a reward in and of itself. In serving Him, we have been blessed with true peace beyond understanding. This peace has carried us through, and it is most precious to us.

My grateful heart does not mean my days are without the ache. I just acknowledge the ache. I wake with it, I breathe it in. The ache never leaves me. The best way to describe it is a balloon that floats above me. It is tethered to me by an almost invisible string. Some days it is quite high above me. Some days it is hovering right at my shoulders. It floats up. It floats down. But I am never unaware of its presence.

Each morning is a choice. I choose to take shallow breaths, until I can breathe deeper. I choose to praise the LORD. I choose life, because Christ fills me with purpose and strength. I am very weak on my own. There is no earthly reason why I have come this far. The peace in my heart is unexplainable. It is a gift. It is God’s Grace. I believe it is because, through it all, I believe. I believe in the miracle of God himself, and all that implies. I believe in His power in my life.

I do not understand the why of it all. I cannot say that I am grateful for Nathan’s passing. However, I will say I am grateful for the undeniable presence and revelation of God, through Nathan's passing. I have a clarity, a perspective, a self- awareness, that I did not have before. My entire world changed. I changed. My heart changed. My faith changed. A new day had come. Through Nathan’s life, God revealed Himself to me in a way I cannot deny. I believed before, but it was through clouded expectations. So many times my faith was conditional, situational even. I believed, I sincerely confessed Him as LORD. But I did not know Him. Like a distant relative of my salvation.

The past four years I have been undergoing a marvelous transformation. It is producing a peculiar acceptance. Today on Nathan’s Birthday I close my eyes and I know. I know He is safe. I know that the first face He saw was Christ’s. I know that I will be reunited one day. I know, without a doubt that the LORD is forever faithful. He is working in my waiting. I am grateful for Nathan’s life. I am grateful for each breath we took together. I am even grateful for the breaths I take without Him. I am grateful even in the valley. Because you see, although Nathan and I share the earthly tether, and subsequent ache of loss. We also share an anchor. The anchor of Christ cannot be destroyed.

Lord,
I thank you for Nathan’s life. I thank you for knowing Him before time. I thank you for holding Him even beyond time. You are wisdom unimagined. Thank you for transforming me. Thank you for meeting me where I am. Thank you for endless grace. Thank you for your promises. Thank you for a new day.

Decisions, Decisions

Miriam Webster’s Dictionary defines FAILURE as

1) Omission of occurrence or performance; specifically: a failing to perform a duty or expected action
2) A state of inability to perform a normal function: an abrupt cessation of normal functioning
3) A fracturing or giving way under stress: falling short: Deficiency
4) One who has failed


For the longest time after Nathan’s death I felt I was a failure in the biggest sense of the word. Actually, it began even before that during my many years of infertility. I felt defective. While my womb was to be closed, other women conceived seemingly without effort. Reproducing is the one thing women are supposed to be able to do right? It is our bodies design right? Why didn’t mine cooperate? Why was I consistently failing at this? What was wrong with me? Fix me Jesus! After many years I came to peace with it, and accepted that my purpose must just be on another path. I accepted that my step daughter was to be my only child, and poured into her instead of living with sadness.
So imagine after all those years, the joy to have conceived Nathan. Imagine feeling defective no longer. Imagine finding your most desperate prayer answered. Imagine the grace, the gift of it all. And then Nathan was gone, and I felt like a failure all over again. My body had failed me in the most devastating of ways. My body had an “abrupt cessation of normal functioning”. Giving birth to a live, healthy child was a specific function I just could not perform. Even still I was never resentful at God. Rather only at myself. I poured all my anger, disappointment, emptiness, inward and blamed myself secretly. When others said that it wasn’t my fault I nodded, even agreed aloud, but on the inside I wanted to rip my defective womb from my body. It is a private anguish I haven’t truly written about until now. The definition of failure intersected my situation seemingly at every turn…except for the last example.

One who has failed.

Failure seemed to be the result of an action or series of them. The act of falling short; the act of giving way; the state of inability was not something I controlled or acted in. The failure; the lack of a live birth was not something my body and I discussed. There was no negative action on my part, only a negative result. I was living the result of a cataclysmic event. This tragic event did not box me into the label of a failure. I did that to myself. I labeled myself a person who has failed. I am a logical person, but illogically attacked myself. In the medical community, our loss is considered an “unexplained fetal demise”. It sounds harsh but that is simply the way science explains the unexplainable. They give it a label. But they didn’t give it the label of Failure. Nowhere on any of our paperwork will you see “Mother is at fault” or “Mother is an epic failure for not producing a healthy child”. Even science does not blame me. So I had to stop blaming myself.
In a few weeks it will be three years, and it took me the better part of it, to fully understand that I am not a failure. This was a secret burden that only a few knew I carried. Saying it out loud was the ultimate attack on myself. Admitting I felt this way was a huge part of our decision to try again or not. I had to face this darkness before I could really move forward. It seemed to be the biggest mountain. The feeling of failure was all around me. If I decided to not try for another pregnancy was I failing? Would this make me a quitter? Was I failing to fully trust God, and allow my fear of another loss to decide for me?

The decision to “try again” or not to “try again”, after the loss of a child requires a lot of prayer. For me, it was early on that I felt I did not have the desire to try again. Especially with the feeling of failure hanging over my head. The doom of it had to be processed and healed from before a final decision could be made. To me moving forward with incomplete healing would be a disservice to myself and also James, and that would actually be the failure.

Nathan was a miracle in our minds and the most perfect pregnancy imaginable. I enjoyed every part of my pregnancy, and have wonderful memories of my experience. There wasn’t a single part of pregnancy I felt I had missed, and up until the last moments, I could not have imagined anything better. I did not expect to become pregnant, so when it happened it was the best from the get-go. Even though Nathan was stillborn, I don’t feel jilted necessarily. I dreamed of being pregnant, and got to live that dream. Pregnancy was not a rainbow I felt I needed to chase any longer. Even though Nathan is not here now, I cannot say a single bad thing about the pregnancy aspect. After much healing I could whole heartedly say I had not failed, and I quit blaming myself and my body for Nathan. Because of my step-daughter, I had experienced being a Mother. So for me, it was not as if loosing Nathan left me childless. Even though Arlene was grown when Nathan passed, I still experienced raising her from a very young age, and did not feel as empty as I could have. I believe this may be the core to why “trying” for another baby just was no longer a passionate desire. I had a sense of parental fulfillment.
James was on the fence about it, but he was completely supportive, and allowed me the time to process my feelings. We decided to give it a year, and while I still did not feel the need to carry another child, I could see that James would like to give it a go. Through some excellent therapy I had defeated the failure demon. I wasn’t necessarily against trying again, just not passionate about it either. So we decided to stop birth control and see what happened. We gave it about 4 months or so, and then one day it just hit me. I just looked at him and said…You know, I’m Ok, You’re Ok, and We’re OK, can that be enough? We have survived this. We have this awesome marriage, ministry, and life together, why not just let it be? And so we did. Not because of failure just because of peace. It hit us both at the same time, and we just knew.

Pregnancy was officially off the table for us. It was a relief, a weight was suddenly lifted. Pregnancy was not the missing piece to our particular puzzle. For some it is, and for some it isn’t. Some people feel complete peace and also the desire to conceive again. Some people do not, and either choice is individual, and acceptable. When you know… you know, and for us, we knew. We have peace about Nathan’s passing, even though it sucks, and we don’t understand it. But we believe than God is what makes us whole. Even Nathan isn’t the missing piece to our happiness. He is joy to us, a blessing we cherish, our butterball miracle, our gift from God, but He Himself is not what makes us complete. God does that. God is in control here. In the end, God can allow us to conceive even with prevention, if He so chooses. I am not saying that James and I are the sole deciders. I say with complete absence of arrogance, we simply decided to not pursue it, and be at peace.

Peace is a gift. It is a gift that comes from pure and perfect Grace. I don’t claim to understand it, but I did choose to grab it when it was offered to me. To move forward, to carry this loss, you have to decide to grab hold of peace. Grabbing hold of it leads you to acceptance. Acceptance is the opposite of failure. It simply means raising your hearts to the LORD and saying here I am…I don’t get it…but I am here…and I believe. And he will make himself real to you. It is a realness that cannot, and will not, ever fail.

Never Forsaken

for·sake
verb
to give up or leave (someone or something) entirely


Thank You LORD for never forsaking me..Never ever!

He Gives

Sometimes I need a reminder that my suffering is not for nothing. If I can remain obedient to God's direction, through trials, my misery can reveal things most glorious. Compared to eternity my pain is momentary in the great time frame.

That is not to downplay this pain. Suffering is valid, but it can bring peace and purpose. Sometimes, most times actually, I wonder Why, Why Why? But then I am reminded that Why not? I am no different from others who loose children. I am not promised a life without struggle. I am a fallen soul in a fallen world. The only thing that sets me apart is my faith in Christ. But that does not make me immune to tragedy. Actually because I follow Christ I am swimming upstream. Going against the grain will undoubtedly create confusion at times. We can think because we believe lightning cannot strike.
But we are not safe from affliction because we believe. We would be afflicted either way.

The enemy is against me from the start. But this is not why tragedy happens. I am not being punished. Nathan's death is not for punishment, that is just a lie the enemy would have me believe. Nathan would have passed regardless of if I followed Christ or not, it was God's plan for Him. For a greater purpose than I will ever understand this side of heaven. So often tragedy makes us turn from God, our faith, our promise. The enemy clouds our minds, and would have us believe that if God loved us He would prevent such things. But this is simply not the case. We do not believe because it will keep us "safe". We believe because He is TRUTH. We believe because He is worthy of our belief.

I am promised to be comforted. I am promised healing arms. I am promised the great promise of glory one day. In Glory I will be reunited. I am given Grace everyday and gifted with peace beyond all human understanding. However, I am not promised a life safe from harm. God does not fit in a box. We cannot consider him "safe" as far as our human definition. We cannot define safety as never hurting. That is just not possible. Just as children fall, and learn to get back up, so must we as adults. Safety is not avoiding the fall, but whom we can fall into. Christ relentlessly pursues us. We are not alone. This is what we are promised. He promises to never abandon us. He promises that nothing can seperate us. If I followed Christ only when life went smoothly, then I would never follow Him. If my worship is conditional then it is not really worship at all. I must praise in the dark times as well as in the illuminated ones. It doesn't make sense to me at all. How can I worship a God who takes from me?

I can because He gives. He gives more than I can describe. I can because the Creator of everything regards me. He knows my name, my steps, my hurts, and He gives. He gives, and gives, and gives.

Strange Puzzle

I haven’t written in such a long time. Sometimes I go through periods where I process but don’t share. Not that I am undergoing a deep spiritual awakening I don’t want to share, but more because sometimes the words just don’t materialize. Sometimes the things that are revealed to me, are so painful and profound that it takes me a while to process it, and all I can do is breath deep, and sit in it for a while. My words about Nathan and this journey are often not selected. I normally don’t choose what I write. They just seem to jump out at me, and recently the words haven’t formed. I wondered if this was because I have settled into my loss. Not to say that I am healed, over it, wise beyond my years. I think I have just settled into it. It’s either that or go insane. Insanity only looks good in movies.

It is a strange thing to settle into. It becomes part of your daily existence. Every day I wake up to thoughts of Nathan, and every night I fall asleep to thoughts of Him. There is never a moment his absence is not known to my heart. How on earth this loss, this absence, this torture has become endurable I will never understand. I can only attribute it to my relationship with Christ. Somehow he wraps this crap in peace (Note to self Copy write the Phrase “Wraps this Crap”) I don’t understand it at all, but I am grateful. It is a dull ache I carry, but not in vain. I genuinely carry it with pride. It is not as easy for others in my circle though. Some have told me that they feel that something was ripped from them, and they have not been able to live with the loss as easily. On the outside I guess it would appear that I am beyond it. “Wow she is so strong” they say, but not really. I am actually very weak, but lucky for me God is strong in my weakness. Satan still pokes and prods me on a daily basis, and would have me believe that somehow Nathan’s death is my fault. He attacks me during sleep, and I have night terrors about my hospital stay several times a week. Sometimes I even dream He is alive, and then is taken by death later. It is a vicious attack that I undergo daily. I struggle and struggle, and then I cry out the only name I have ever found to save me. I genuinely do not have the words to pray most times, and so I simply repeat the Name of Jesus over and over until the battle has subsided because I am finding that the battle is already won for me, I just have to fight because it is not yet over here on earth. Satan would have me fail, and fall into the darkness of depression. Depression is a real and terrible force that He intends to use to destroy me. In this battle I am confident He will always loose, but I do have to fight. I have to say everyday “You cannot have me, nor control me, You have no power here Sucka” (I like to address Him as Sucka because I feel it is the final kick in the wazoo)

I regard Nathan very openly, and with ease. I talk about him with a smile, and can even tell our story without crying most times. Actually I usually only tear up when others do. And it is not because of pain, but rather because I am so moved that He meant so very much too so many people. I can only attribute my progress again to my relationship with Christ. It is the only way I can explain how James and I have been able to move forward, and be at peace. We feel overwhelming ache, the kind that takes you to your knees. But somehow we are able to process it and use it to help others. Grief is such a strange beast, and when I hear that others are still in the beginning stages of their grief journey I ache for them. I want them to be where I am. I want them to feel the peace I feel.

It is so hard to see other people hurt. We all have to process this in our time, and in our own way. Grieving is one of the few things in life that is truly individualized. There is no specific set of steps to get better. The only tool I think we all have to start with is honesty. Being honest about your pain, your joy, your restlessness, your peace, is the key to healing in any traumatic event. In all post traumatic lives there is a moment when talking about it is just too painful, and then there is a moment when talking about it is something you desperately want to do. The road from one to another has no time frame. It can happen at different times for each person, and strangely enough you can bounce back and forth between the two. Like I said Grief is a strange beast, but it is not a beast you cannot stare down. It is BIG and SCARY, but it is possible to look it directly in the eyes and say “You will not destroy me”. Don’t misunderstand me; I know it is harder than it sounds. The only reason I am successful is because I have Faith, Family, and Friends that support me, and keep me strong. Those things along with therapy and the right medication have helped me not just cope but thrive. I think the key is being honest with the need for help, and then reaching for it. We cannot do this on our own. God provides what we need; we simply have to be willing to do the work.

Without a strong support system I would be lost. Without God’s grace I would be destroyed. Without having an open honest relationship with my Husband I would be in turmoil. My journey is not over, I will travel this road my entire life. It is not a road I would wish on anyone. But that doesn’t mean I have to travel it alone, and in vain. Nathan’s life counts. He was here, and He lives on in each person we touch with God’s peace. This crazy mess does not make sense, but it can be useful. We can use it to reach the hurting. We can show people that God is real, and cares. We can show people that infant and child loss is not a punishment. There can be life after loss. You can live and not just exist. You can thrive in the face of utter disappointment. The death of a child is not a failure, and subsequently neither are you. There is nothing we could have done to prevent Nathan’s passing. He lived the days he was meant to live here on Earth, and I am at peace with that. I may not be at peace with every part of it, but I am at peace with at least that. Sometimes if you can be at peace with just one piece of the puzzle, the rest comes together on its own.

I truly try to always seek wise counsel before making decisions.

Proverbs 24:14 says "Know that wisdom is sweet to your soul; if you find it, there is hope for you."

I find this to be more and more true everyday. Recently I was advised to let go of some anger in my heart, as it crushes your spirit, I believe this to be one of life's great lessons. Only through Christ can we truly rid our hearts of the ugliness of our humaness. Past mistakes and pain cloud our spirit.

It is true that you only live once, here on earth that is. It seems silly to even say. Duh of course right? But sometimes you need a reminder. Sometimes you forget to live at peace with others. Only then can you trust your gut, follow your heart so to speak, in your daily decisions.

It is your life after all. You don't always get what you give, sometimes you get a poo sandwich no matter how Godly you try to live. At the end of the day you just have to listen to the spirit, and trust that you can live abundantly while you're alive. Live life your way, but always strive to be at peace with others. I believe this is the key to the secret door.

Family of Two

James and I decided that each year we will go on vacation to celebrate Nathan's Birthday. I highly recommend doing this.

We prefer to be by the water during our celebration. We tried it the first birthday and it was so relaxing that we choose it again this year. Water is so therapeutic. There is just something healing about the flow and sound of water. There seems to be a sense of timelessness, and the freedom of mind not to worry.

We had such a wonderful time both years and I find it heals me to be far from his grave on his birthday. I don't want to mourn over where his body resides, but rather praise where his spirit is. I want to celebrate his Life and not focus on his death. The darkness is just too overwhelming, and I refuse to let it overtake me. I want to focus on the joy Nathan still brings us. I want to spend quality time with my sweet James, and be thankful for the precious life we created,

When I was pregnant with Nathan I remember thinking how blessed I was. I remember thinking it was such a gift that I was going to be permitted to impact this little Life. It is only now that I see the roles are reversed and that Nathan is actually the one impacting my life. I thought I would teach Nathan how to change His little piece of the world, but it was Nathan who taught me how to change my world. Not a day goes by that I don't wonder what great things he would have done? I wonder a lot about what he would be when he grew up? Would he have lived a life dedicated to his Faith? Would he love The LORD like I do? Or better yet love The LORD even more.

2 years have passed and as I sat on the beach a few weeks ago, I watched the sunset with James. I felt a huge wave of peace and realization. It suddenly became very clear the dreams of my pregnancy, the hoping of pending impact, the acknowledgement of such a gift, still impact my soul to this day. There are little pieces of Nathan all around us. Nathan is physical gone, but he remains proof of life and miracles. He remains proof of healing. and of peace.

Our most recent trip to the beach was awesome. Our favorite part was evening time. When the sun set we would start to see the bobbing of flashlights on the beach. Families were searching for nighttime treasures and baby sand crabs. The sound of giggles and flashlights bobbing was something we looked forward to each night. Dad's would catch their sand crab and the kids would cheer, that is until Daddy put it on one of their shoulders, and they would squeal and run away, Laughing the whole time. It was something we looked forward to each night. We enjoyed watching the families having fun and spending time all together.

At one point James asked me if "I thought we would have had fun like that with Nathan?"
After a long pause I said "Sometimes I imagine we are a family like they are, and we do fun things together like that" After an even longer pause, and the feel of the incoming tide on our toes, James Sweetly responded. "We are a family Baby".
It reminded me to be grateful. Sometimes there are families of two souls. Nevertheless , they are still as much a family as a family of more. Sometimes, most times actually, God's plan for our lives is unclear. But there can be moments similar to ours that night, when you know you feel complete, even if only for a moment. In that moment it is just the two of you, side by side is a beautiful way to soar. These moments I cherish. The moments when in confusion I can look to my Love and know we are meant to fly together.




"Yet those who wait (hope) for the LORD will gain new strength; They will mount up with wings like eagles, they will run and not get tired, they will walk and not become weary". Isaiah 40:31

Two Years Later

Tomorrow will Be August 8th. It will be Nathan's second birthday. As I write this there is an ache in my chest, but also a smile in my heart. There has been so much growth on this journey. Sometimes the loss seems very far behind me, and other days it is so close I can barely breathe. I recently published my story, and it has been such an honor to share Nathan with this big world. It really has been amazing grace the past two years. I have been awakened to my purpose. My purpose is to serve others, and point them to the LORD.

Since Nathan passed I have felt this power inside me. A power to impact lives with this tragedy. A power from God that is so real I have to act, it simply pours out of me now. Two years later I believe now more than ever that Nathan’s purpose is so much bigger than I can ever imagine. Although his earthly time was short, he lives. He lives is the work God is doing. He lives in the hearts that are experiencing God for the first time. He lives everytime I laugh. He lives in each act of kindness. He lives in every moment of my day, and this is only possible through Christ.

Dear one do you know how precious it is to know without any doubt that the creator of it all holds you in his hands? To know that you are valued more than you could ever imagine? Two years later I know this. I know that I was created for this very moment. I was created to be Nathan’s mother. I was created to be the mother of a miracle that will never end. I was created to bless others who are hurting. My purpose is clear to me now, and I am humbled. I am humbled that in my mess, God still choose me to make a difference. As imperfect as I am God works through me in a way only He can. God took Nathan from this earth this is true. However, he took him HOME. He took Him to a glory beyond words. Can you imagine how amazing it was for Nathan to be safe and sound within me, and then to be born in Glory. The first face He ever saw was the LORD. It brings me to tears that Nathan is in the presence of my savior, and he has never experienced anything but the goodness of God. He has never, nor will he ever feel pain. He will never be sad, not ever. As a parent this is music to my heart. Nathan was created, born, but never really died.

God is real to me now more than ever. He revealed himself to me in a darkness I couldn’t not imagine. He continues to heal my heart, and breathe new life into me. I have to admit that even with this assurance and peace; I still have moments of restlessness. I don’t know what to do with the ache some days. This morning I had that weak at the knees moment. I had to sit on my bed and spend quite a while with the LORD. I sobbed and lifted my hands to God in anguish. I could not utter one word; all I could do was feel it. But I was not alone. God‘s presence filled the room and I felt peace wash over me. That same peace blanket that covered me two years ago covered me again. God has given me something real. He has revealed a part of Him I never knew before. He has awakened my heart with true, undeniable peace. I have peace in my anguish, and as contradictory as it sounds it is real. I can be in the middle of the storm, and close my eyes, and be at peace. I can lay and stare up at the clouds for hours. I can appreciate the breeze, the sunset, the sunrise. I can appreciate so much more now than I ever could before. I cannot change what happened. I cannot bring Nathan back. However I can trade my misery for ministry.

I can live each moment with a certantity so far beyond my understanding that I can only be at peace. There are moments of pain, but never uncertantity. I am certain there is a loving God. I am certain that I was made for such a time as this. All of the pain in the past two years does not overshadow that this life I now live is no accident. No matter what roads I have traveled, led me here. I feel as if I have lived a lifetime in the past two years. But this is something I am grateful for. In my humanness I cannot utter the words that I am grateful for Nathan’s passing, but I am grateful for the experience of it. I have traveled this road of uncertainty, and I cannot remember that I ever cursed God. I questioned him of course, but always believing. I am pressing on day by day. Some days are leaps, and others are shuffles, but I am moving. I am moving forward, not moving on. I cannot ever put this behind me. But I can carry it with me as a blessing, and remember that Nathan is still a miracle. For some reason this life was made for me. For some reason I am where I am. But the reason does not matter to me as much today. What matters to me is the journey, and the lives I impact on the road. What matters are my relationships. What matters is that I reflect Christ enough to help others.

Two years later what matters to me has shifted. I care about many things, but there are two things more precious to me than anything. First is that I serve others so that when I meet my savior I will hear “Well done”. Secondly is my promised reunion with Nathan. These two things are what keep me going. When I bless others I heal, and they see the LORD, and when I see the LORD, I see will see Nathan too.


For Me there is no question that there is a loving God, but perhaps someone reading this wonders "With all this pain in life, Is there a loving God?, Maybe?" Sometimes we are meant for things that only God can see. There is a loving God that loves you, and has plans for you....even in your doubt.

HE will help you find it

Every Little Thing

Today I was reminded that nothing we do in Gods Name, with a pure heart, ever comes back void. I really believe that one day I will hear two sweet words from The LORD "Well Done" It is all I ever need to hear. It is the most important thing I long to hear.
I have been horribly missing Nathan this week, and questioning if I am blessing others enough to help ease their hurt too. Because you see true blessing are when we bless others, and it brings about a peace in me, and makes me feel closer to Nathan than ever. Long story short I quietly blessed someone, and they returned the blessing to someone else that was strugglng. It reminded me that no gestures of kindness is too small for God. It reminded me that pain is only temporary, and when we help others in pain, it shows them who God really is. There will come a day when I will meet my savior face to face, and hold nathan again, The two things I long for the most. But until then I am going to show others that God is real. Not by huge billboards, and flashy Christianity, but just by being a servent. Just by doing the little things God asks me to do. I am finding that the more little things I can do to ease another persons heartache, heals me too, and brings me closer to God, and Nathan by proxy. And really that isn't so little at all. God knows my heart, and for the first time I can remember I am sad, but I am at peace. I have joy even with tears. I am starting to learn that God is in every little thing, becasue nothing is little to Him. He is in every Little Thing.

Book Release Party June 8, 2013

We Won't Be Shaken