Sunday, January 27, 2013
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Proof Of Life
A new year has begun. When I think back on my life, I imagine that the little girl I once was could never have imagined where I am now. Little me could not have imagined climbing such huge mountains. But climb I did, and not alone I might add.
The past few weeks have been building behind my eyes. It was a strange pressure that all at once was there and then was gone. It was like a gust of wind that comes and refreshes the landscape. I didn’t realize the pressure had passed until I was on the way to North Carolina to visit my folks. We were in the car and I was talking about the memory box I have containing Nathan’s things. In it is the blanket, hat, and gloves he wore, and they are beyond precious to me. I never travel without them. Even if just for a night, I carry at least one of these items. It has always made me feel closer to him.
So I am in the car talking about the box, and it hits me that I have forgotten them. I am three hours into the trip, we can’t turn back, I don’t have his blanket. I don’t have anything of his at all. My heart sinks and I tell James what I have done. He asks me how I feel about it. I take a deep breath and say “Well I am not sure. I guess it wasn’t an accident I forgot.” I am quiet for a few minutes and James holds my hand. We are both expecting me to cry and need to turn around to get it. But a strange thing happened.
I didn’t cry and I never asked that we turn around. I took deep breaths. I sat with a bit of pain, and thought. I thought that maybe our minds and our hearts misfire exactly when they are suppose to. Maybe this was my minds way of making me takes steps my heart wasn’t ready to take. Maybe this was just life’s natural progression.
It is natural to hold on to things most precious to us. It is natural to not like change at some capacity. I think the problem is when it turns into fear. Fear holds us back from what God has for us. What was I so afraid of? Did I think that if I didn’t take a physical part of Nathan, that he would be left behind? Did I think He would be forgotten? I thought about these two questions the rest of our car ride, and it is only a few weeks later that I have the answer.
It was not that I thought He would be left behind. It was not that I thought He would be forgotten. It was because I needed something tangible to prove Nathan was here. The closer I held his “things” the more it felt like I was holding Him. My memories of Him come in flashes. His blankets and pictures and such, are my proof that He was here. They prove that this was all real. I did have a baby. I did have a son. He was here and he was beautiful. I know these things in my heart of course. But often my mind flip flops in trying to make sense of it. It wasn’t until our car ride that I was forced to accept that I do not have to have anything of Nathans to be his mother. His blankets are not what binds us together. I felt that if I let go of his things I was letting go of Nathan too.
In the weeks since, I have noticed a shift in my spirit. Being Nathan’s mother is very important. But it is not all that is important. I am a Mother, but I am also a child of God. Meaning I have a journey to fulfill. A journey designed for me. Nathan and even the absence of Him is part of this journey. He is a miracle I can carry with me if I can stop over thinking everything about Him. If I let go of his blanket I am not letting go of Him. I am simply putting down things I cannot carry all the time. It is ok to look around a bit and change the scenery. Nathan will be right there with me even without the physical proof.
Stories are not told by the final chapter alone. Stories are a continuation of thoughts
One line at a time.
One step at a time.
One lesson at a time.
One breath at a time.
Nathan is never without my love. He is proof of love, no matter where he is. Nothing I will ever do will change His purpose. I don’t need to do things to prove He was here.
God breathed life into Nathan, and he continues to breathe life into Me, Nathan’s Momma. That is really all the proof I need.
The past few weeks have been building behind my eyes. It was a strange pressure that all at once was there and then was gone. It was like a gust of wind that comes and refreshes the landscape. I didn’t realize the pressure had passed until I was on the way to North Carolina to visit my folks. We were in the car and I was talking about the memory box I have containing Nathan’s things. In it is the blanket, hat, and gloves he wore, and they are beyond precious to me. I never travel without them. Even if just for a night, I carry at least one of these items. It has always made me feel closer to him.
So I am in the car talking about the box, and it hits me that I have forgotten them. I am three hours into the trip, we can’t turn back, I don’t have his blanket. I don’t have anything of his at all. My heart sinks and I tell James what I have done. He asks me how I feel about it. I take a deep breath and say “Well I am not sure. I guess it wasn’t an accident I forgot.” I am quiet for a few minutes and James holds my hand. We are both expecting me to cry and need to turn around to get it. But a strange thing happened.
I didn’t cry and I never asked that we turn around. I took deep breaths. I sat with a bit of pain, and thought. I thought that maybe our minds and our hearts misfire exactly when they are suppose to. Maybe this was my minds way of making me takes steps my heart wasn’t ready to take. Maybe this was just life’s natural progression.
It is natural to hold on to things most precious to us. It is natural to not like change at some capacity. I think the problem is when it turns into fear. Fear holds us back from what God has for us. What was I so afraid of? Did I think that if I didn’t take a physical part of Nathan, that he would be left behind? Did I think He would be forgotten? I thought about these two questions the rest of our car ride, and it is only a few weeks later that I have the answer.
It was not that I thought He would be left behind. It was not that I thought He would be forgotten. It was because I needed something tangible to prove Nathan was here. The closer I held his “things” the more it felt like I was holding Him. My memories of Him come in flashes. His blankets and pictures and such, are my proof that He was here. They prove that this was all real. I did have a baby. I did have a son. He was here and he was beautiful. I know these things in my heart of course. But often my mind flip flops in trying to make sense of it. It wasn’t until our car ride that I was forced to accept that I do not have to have anything of Nathans to be his mother. His blankets are not what binds us together. I felt that if I let go of his things I was letting go of Nathan too.
In the weeks since, I have noticed a shift in my spirit. Being Nathan’s mother is very important. But it is not all that is important. I am a Mother, but I am also a child of God. Meaning I have a journey to fulfill. A journey designed for me. Nathan and even the absence of Him is part of this journey. He is a miracle I can carry with me if I can stop over thinking everything about Him. If I let go of his blanket I am not letting go of Him. I am simply putting down things I cannot carry all the time. It is ok to look around a bit and change the scenery. Nathan will be right there with me even without the physical proof.
Stories are not told by the final chapter alone. Stories are a continuation of thoughts
One line at a time.
One step at a time.
One lesson at a time.
One breath at a time.
Nathan is never without my love. He is proof of love, no matter where he is. Nothing I will ever do will change His purpose. I don’t need to do things to prove He was here.
God breathed life into Nathan, and he continues to breathe life into Me, Nathan’s Momma. That is really all the proof I need.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Perspective
I don’t have to look too far in life to get some perspective. God always puts a certain person directly in my path just when I need reminding or reflection. Today I read the words of a friend of mine in regards to her precious little girl in Glory. Her story echoes what my heart speaks. Her understanding of it all somehow validated my hurt.
My father in law once told me that “the difference between pain and misery is the lack of growth”. Something about her precious words struck a chord. Something about it planted a seed of healing and I believe the gap between pain and misery is a bit smaller today. It wasn’t any one thing. Perhaps it is because she has such a sweet spirit, despite her loss, and I hope to be like that. I hope to be a beacon for others. I hope that others look at me, despite my loss, and see my faith in action.
Each night, like clockwork, I have flashes of my hospital stay. It hits me as soon as I turn the light off and close my eyes. I can feel each sting like it is still happening. I can see each color that I focused on. It is an extra sensory thing I pray one day dulls. I pray one day I will close my eyes to sleep and I will just drift off without painful memories.
Today as I read her words something struck me that I think may help with that, and maybe even help my dear readers. She wrote of her sweet baby girl… “this one precious little soul has brought all of these people together to worship, God was Present”….. I had forgotten that part. I had forgotten that from the moment we learned Nathan had passed, we were surrounded by believers. It started with our first nurse, and ended with the nurse who helped me to the car. There was not one person caring for me that was not a believer. Even my visitors commented on the spirit in the room. God was indeed present, even in our agony. There was so much love and peace in our room despite Nathan’s absence. We could all feel it. Even the few nonbelievers in my close circle could feel it. This presence changed us. This presence sustained us, and still does.
How could I forget this? Perhaps this will be the key to my sleepless nights. When those flashes come..because they will…to remember those moments of God’s presence instead. To remember those moments when God used Nathan’s life for such a purpose as worship. To remember how we all cried, and laughed at the same time. To remember the scriptures being brought to life, and the faith that was in motion. To remember all of this is a blessing. The fact that I have peaceful memories when I choose to train my brain to search for them is a gift.
Isn’t it just like the enemy to only remind us of the pain? Isn’t it just like him to poke and prod us with the loss? Isn’t it just like him to distract us from the glory that was and is still surrounding us? Sometimes I am so focused on trying to breathe, I overlook that God has not forgotten how to breathe for me. Sometimes I am so focused on trying to gain understanding, I forget there is peace beyond it.
Lord,
Thank you for giving me perspective. Thank You for using my sweet friends and family to get my attention when I ignore you. I am sorry for ceasing to Praise you for a moment. Thank You for your sovereignty and for never ever abandoning me. Thank You for working in our waiting. Thank You for building a bridge to you, and for allowing Nathan to cross it. Thank you that I not only get to cross it one day too, but that I will see our precious Nathan there. We will praise you together, and I will see with new sight.
My father in law once told me that “the difference between pain and misery is the lack of growth”. Something about her precious words struck a chord. Something about it planted a seed of healing and I believe the gap between pain and misery is a bit smaller today. It wasn’t any one thing. Perhaps it is because she has such a sweet spirit, despite her loss, and I hope to be like that. I hope to be a beacon for others. I hope that others look at me, despite my loss, and see my faith in action.
Each night, like clockwork, I have flashes of my hospital stay. It hits me as soon as I turn the light off and close my eyes. I can feel each sting like it is still happening. I can see each color that I focused on. It is an extra sensory thing I pray one day dulls. I pray one day I will close my eyes to sleep and I will just drift off without painful memories.
Today as I read her words something struck me that I think may help with that, and maybe even help my dear readers. She wrote of her sweet baby girl… “this one precious little soul has brought all of these people together to worship, God was Present”….. I had forgotten that part. I had forgotten that from the moment we learned Nathan had passed, we were surrounded by believers. It started with our first nurse, and ended with the nurse who helped me to the car. There was not one person caring for me that was not a believer. Even my visitors commented on the spirit in the room. God was indeed present, even in our agony. There was so much love and peace in our room despite Nathan’s absence. We could all feel it. Even the few nonbelievers in my close circle could feel it. This presence changed us. This presence sustained us, and still does.
How could I forget this? Perhaps this will be the key to my sleepless nights. When those flashes come..because they will…to remember those moments of God’s presence instead. To remember those moments when God used Nathan’s life for such a purpose as worship. To remember how we all cried, and laughed at the same time. To remember the scriptures being brought to life, and the faith that was in motion. To remember all of this is a blessing. The fact that I have peaceful memories when I choose to train my brain to search for them is a gift.
Isn’t it just like the enemy to only remind us of the pain? Isn’t it just like him to poke and prod us with the loss? Isn’t it just like him to distract us from the glory that was and is still surrounding us? Sometimes I am so focused on trying to breathe, I overlook that God has not forgotten how to breathe for me. Sometimes I am so focused on trying to gain understanding, I forget there is peace beyond it.
Lord,
Thank you for giving me perspective. Thank You for using my sweet friends and family to get my attention when I ignore you. I am sorry for ceasing to Praise you for a moment. Thank You for your sovereignty and for never ever abandoning me. Thank You for working in our waiting. Thank You for building a bridge to you, and for allowing Nathan to cross it. Thank you that I not only get to cross it one day too, but that I will see our precious Nathan there. We will praise you together, and I will see with new sight.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Keep It Open
Today was a good Nathan Day. James and I use that type of blanket phrase because we have to have constant communication between us about Nathan. Any moment can be good or bad and it can be different for each of us at different times. If one of us is having a good Nathan Day we have to be sensitive if the other isn't and vise a versa. Resentment builds otherwise and who needs that?
When one of us is "off" the other needs to be "on". We have to be each other’s soldiers. This is the fight of our collective lives thus far. Because of our open communication about Nathan our marriage has never wavered. Our marriage is strong. Our marriage is solid. Keeping our focus on strengthening each other is how we can fight "The Enemy". Satan wants Nathans death to tear us apart. He wants the worst possible things for us. That is why he is referred to as "The Enemy".
The day of Nathan's funeral we sat amongst our parents and asked for prayer over our marriage. I asked that they pray a blanket of protection that we not loose each other in all of this pain. Over a year later I can say that this prayer of protection is still in full effect. This is a prayer in action.
Today we were not just able to talk to two sweet ladies at the bookstore about Nathan, but when we walked away we had a glow. A glow we now call a "Nathan Glow". I started telling these sweet ladies about our loss, and I instantly felt James beside me. I don't know how long he had been there, all I know was he was there, and that gave me strength. For the first time I understood what James means when he says " I love talking about Nathan with people, it never makes me sad, I am proud of my son."
Today for the first time I could hear above the noise in my mind, and in my heart, and hear the holy spirit say "Go ahead and talk about your boy".
I believe we planted seeds of peace today, and it all began with the strength we give each other on a daily basis. That strength goes straight from God to us, and we pass it along to each other. Perhaps we may have even changed someone's perspective today. Our talk on the way home was how Nathan is so much bigger than we will ever understand. He is so important in this life, and he doesn’t have to physically be here to leave His mark.
Nathan,
You are such a lucky little booger. We love you so much, and are very proud to tell people that you are part of us forever.
Love , Mommy and Daddy
When one of us is "off" the other needs to be "on". We have to be each other’s soldiers. This is the fight of our collective lives thus far. Because of our open communication about Nathan our marriage has never wavered. Our marriage is strong. Our marriage is solid. Keeping our focus on strengthening each other is how we can fight "The Enemy". Satan wants Nathans death to tear us apart. He wants the worst possible things for us. That is why he is referred to as "The Enemy".
The day of Nathan's funeral we sat amongst our parents and asked for prayer over our marriage. I asked that they pray a blanket of protection that we not loose each other in all of this pain. Over a year later I can say that this prayer of protection is still in full effect. This is a prayer in action.
Today we were not just able to talk to two sweet ladies at the bookstore about Nathan, but when we walked away we had a glow. A glow we now call a "Nathan Glow". I started telling these sweet ladies about our loss, and I instantly felt James beside me. I don't know how long he had been there, all I know was he was there, and that gave me strength. For the first time I understood what James means when he says " I love talking about Nathan with people, it never makes me sad, I am proud of my son."
Today for the first time I could hear above the noise in my mind, and in my heart, and hear the holy spirit say "Go ahead and talk about your boy".
I believe we planted seeds of peace today, and it all began with the strength we give each other on a daily basis. That strength goes straight from God to us, and we pass it along to each other. Perhaps we may have even changed someone's perspective today. Our talk on the way home was how Nathan is so much bigger than we will ever understand. He is so important in this life, and he doesn’t have to physically be here to leave His mark.
Nathan,
You are such a lucky little booger. We love you so much, and are very proud to tell people that you are part of us forever.
Love , Mommy and Daddy
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
A Peaceful Tapestry
A few weeks back James and I were flying back from Texas. My teary eyes were closed, thinking about Nathan. Grief just hit me, and opened my eyes to the most amazing thing. Out the window to my left was a portrait from God. Rows and Rows of peaceful, safe, perfect clouds. There seemed to be no end. I cannot describe the peace that fell over me being amongst those pillowy clouds that morning. But I can tell you that it was the closest I have felt to Nathan in quite a while. I wanted to share the actual picture with you in the hopes that it will comfort whomever or whatever you may be missing today. Hope is always there where you least expect it. Sometimes Hope begins with a memorable moment. Mine just happened to be clouds :)
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Brave in progress
I have been working on being brave lately. I have been unable to put "grown up" furniture in the room that was to be Nathan's. I have moved the remaining furniture around a dozen times. I was able to recently turn a different crib into a toddler bed for the little ducklings that come to visit. But I could only handle putting up an air mattress for our adult visitors. For some reason putting a "real" bed, in what was to be his room, seemed very final to me. A big bed made it a guest room and seemed to put the final stamp on it.
Today was a huge milestone and very painful. Today we did just that. We set up our guest bed, and made that final gesture. My heart was not ready to do this but mind was. My mind said "Samara it is time". Maybe it wasn't my mind at all, but the voice of God. Either way it has been done.
I have let it sink in all day. It was a beautiful, breezy, sunshiny day so I did yard work. I mowed the lawn and cried the entire time. My heart just broke. Later while watching T.V. one character said to another...
"The pain never goes away, you just make room for it."
It was a completely unrelated show to my life. It was just a line in a script. But it really clung to me.
So after James was all tucked in, and I of course was wide awake, I went in and sat in our "new room". I rocked and rocked and cried and cried. And I stared at that big painful bed. And I remembered that line from T.V. today. And I thought to myself. It's true…because that is what I did today. I made room for pain.
You see… it is not going to go away. Nathan is never going to come home and sleep in this room. I must make room for the pain of growth. I must start making those final gestures of acceptance. I am going to cry…a lot. It is going to hurt beyond measure. I am going to ask God “Why?” countless times. However, in the end I must keep doing these things that are hard to do. I must face all the proverbial beds that I simply have to put up. I must be brave and keep trying.
I imagine I will live my whole life and never understand all of this. But I really do believe that one day I will be in Glory, and all of this will be revealed to me. There will not be any more confusion or pain. I believe that if I keep running the race, eyes fixed on the prize, that I will hear “Well Done”. Nathan will be there also and all of this will not have been for nothing. God has a purpose for it all.
While I wait, I must keep on living. I must remember that my story will always matter, and those that read these words matter a great deal. One day someone will have to face this very same thing, and maybe, just maybe, they will try to be brave too. I am learning that sometimes brave is a process.
Today was a huge milestone and very painful. Today we did just that. We set up our guest bed, and made that final gesture. My heart was not ready to do this but mind was. My mind said "Samara it is time". Maybe it wasn't my mind at all, but the voice of God. Either way it has been done.
I have let it sink in all day. It was a beautiful, breezy, sunshiny day so I did yard work. I mowed the lawn and cried the entire time. My heart just broke. Later while watching T.V. one character said to another...
"The pain never goes away, you just make room for it."
It was a completely unrelated show to my life. It was just a line in a script. But it really clung to me.
So after James was all tucked in, and I of course was wide awake, I went in and sat in our "new room". I rocked and rocked and cried and cried. And I stared at that big painful bed. And I remembered that line from T.V. today. And I thought to myself. It's true…because that is what I did today. I made room for pain.
You see… it is not going to go away. Nathan is never going to come home and sleep in this room. I must make room for the pain of growth. I must start making those final gestures of acceptance. I am going to cry…a lot. It is going to hurt beyond measure. I am going to ask God “Why?” countless times. However, in the end I must keep doing these things that are hard to do. I must face all the proverbial beds that I simply have to put up. I must be brave and keep trying.
I imagine I will live my whole life and never understand all of this. But I really do believe that one day I will be in Glory, and all of this will be revealed to me. There will not be any more confusion or pain. I believe that if I keep running the race, eyes fixed on the prize, that I will hear “Well Done”. Nathan will be there also and all of this will not have been for nothing. God has a purpose for it all.
While I wait, I must keep on living. I must remember that my story will always matter, and those that read these words matter a great deal. One day someone will have to face this very same thing, and maybe, just maybe, they will try to be brave too. I am learning that sometimes brave is a process.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
The Shack
I really find it hard to recommend books related to grief. Grief is different for each of us and what helps me may not help someone else. I am careful not to take “too much” from grief support books whether they be fictional or non fictional. I find that a lot of the time the things I am highlighting can be found in my very own Bible, and I feel horrible when I overlook God’s word and hit the bookstores instead. But I also believe God inspires books that truly help people so I think a healthy balance of both is a wonderful idea.
That being said I recently read The Shack by: William P. Young.
I am admittedly late in the game reading this book. It seems like everyone has read it. I happened to see a copy on a goodwill shelf, and knew my sister had read it so I decided what the heck. I guess the best summary is that it is about a man who looses his young daughter to a violent crime. Later he receives a letter from God “Papa” inviting him back to the shack where she was killed. He does go and in turn has a personal journey with God and His three Persons, that changes him forever.
There is so much in this book that has been reported as controversial. I tend to swim upstream so controversial doesn’t bother me at all. But it may bother you so take heed. The writer makes God and His Trinity very personalized. So I only would recommend it if you are in need of healing your personal relationship with god and put religion aside.
Ok now that that is out of the way… there were two main points that struck my heart with some real power. I struggle with why God doesn’t stop our pain, loss, suffering? You know the real ugly stuff that hurts to your bones. The reality that God had the power to keep Nathan alive!
Character Mack has a similar question
“You may not cause those things, but you certainly don’t stop them.”
God “Papa’s” response
“There are millions of reasons to allow pain and hurt and suffering rather then to eradicate them, but most of those reasons can only be understood with each person’s story”
Doesn’t that just hit home. We will never understand loosing Nathan this side of heaven. But the reasons seem to be sometimes all I can focus on. It will never make sense, but it can be made good. In Nathan’s story there are moments of pure peace. There are moments of pure sadness. Sometimes there are just pure moments. I think the point is that there are moments at all. There is a story to be told, and every time I tell it, a seed is planted for something only God can grow. God has His reasons, and for me to understand them would take away from the miracle of grace. The grace that I even know God at all. That He knows I want to know the reasons and knows I am going to be angry, but He loves me anyway and is patient and helps me tell Nathan’s story despite not getting what I want.
Lastly Character Mack and I share the want to shed the “Great Sadness" His character states…
“The great sadness would not be a part of his identity any longer. He knew that (Missy) wouldn’t care if He refused to put it back on. In fact, she wouldn’t want Him to huddle in that shroud and would likely grieve for him if he did. He wondered who he would be now that he was letting all that go -to walk into each day without guilt and despair that had sucked the color of life out of everything”
This spoke so loudly to me. A little over a year it has been now, and I still catch myself feeling guilty if I am not sad a whole day. If I laugh to loud do I hurt Nathan’s feelings? If I decide not to lay in bed and enjoy the sunshine am I a horrible mother? If I want to become a new me, and leave the coat of sadness behind, what does that say about my love for Nathan? These have been my most painful innermost struggles in all of this. How do I move forward without hurting Nathan?
Dear Ones,
I think I have an idea. Our children are with the Lord in their glorified state. The state of Glory is so wonderful it is beyond anything we can imagine. Our children have experienced the presence of Glory. I am not certain if they can see us or not, but if they could see us, I doubt they would want to see us huddled in despair. They are in such holy presence that sadness does not exist. When we pick ourselves up and experience the color of life once again we do not offend or hurt them. If they could reach down to us and wipe our tears away. And in that moment we could see their sweet faces we would never feel guilty again.
We would see the safety that holds them every moment never letting go. We would see peace beyond peace. And I may be alone in saying this, but if I ever saw Nathan that safe and that happy with my own eyes I would send him back up on a very chubby cloud.
That being said I recently read The Shack by: William P. Young.
I am admittedly late in the game reading this book. It seems like everyone has read it. I happened to see a copy on a goodwill shelf, and knew my sister had read it so I decided what the heck. I guess the best summary is that it is about a man who looses his young daughter to a violent crime. Later he receives a letter from God “Papa” inviting him back to the shack where she was killed. He does go and in turn has a personal journey with God and His three Persons, that changes him forever.
There is so much in this book that has been reported as controversial. I tend to swim upstream so controversial doesn’t bother me at all. But it may bother you so take heed. The writer makes God and His Trinity very personalized. So I only would recommend it if you are in need of healing your personal relationship with god and put religion aside.
Ok now that that is out of the way… there were two main points that struck my heart with some real power. I struggle with why God doesn’t stop our pain, loss, suffering? You know the real ugly stuff that hurts to your bones. The reality that God had the power to keep Nathan alive!
Character Mack has a similar question
“You may not cause those things, but you certainly don’t stop them.”
God “Papa’s” response
“There are millions of reasons to allow pain and hurt and suffering rather then to eradicate them, but most of those reasons can only be understood with each person’s story”
Doesn’t that just hit home. We will never understand loosing Nathan this side of heaven. But the reasons seem to be sometimes all I can focus on. It will never make sense, but it can be made good. In Nathan’s story there are moments of pure peace. There are moments of pure sadness. Sometimes there are just pure moments. I think the point is that there are moments at all. There is a story to be told, and every time I tell it, a seed is planted for something only God can grow. God has His reasons, and for me to understand them would take away from the miracle of grace. The grace that I even know God at all. That He knows I want to know the reasons and knows I am going to be angry, but He loves me anyway and is patient and helps me tell Nathan’s story despite not getting what I want.
Lastly Character Mack and I share the want to shed the “Great Sadness" His character states…
“The great sadness would not be a part of his identity any longer. He knew that (Missy) wouldn’t care if He refused to put it back on. In fact, she wouldn’t want Him to huddle in that shroud and would likely grieve for him if he did. He wondered who he would be now that he was letting all that go -to walk into each day without guilt and despair that had sucked the color of life out of everything”
This spoke so loudly to me. A little over a year it has been now, and I still catch myself feeling guilty if I am not sad a whole day. If I laugh to loud do I hurt Nathan’s feelings? If I decide not to lay in bed and enjoy the sunshine am I a horrible mother? If I want to become a new me, and leave the coat of sadness behind, what does that say about my love for Nathan? These have been my most painful innermost struggles in all of this. How do I move forward without hurting Nathan?
Dear Ones,
I think I have an idea. Our children are with the Lord in their glorified state. The state of Glory is so wonderful it is beyond anything we can imagine. Our children have experienced the presence of Glory. I am not certain if they can see us or not, but if they could see us, I doubt they would want to see us huddled in despair. They are in such holy presence that sadness does not exist. When we pick ourselves up and experience the color of life once again we do not offend or hurt them. If they could reach down to us and wipe our tears away. And in that moment we could see their sweet faces we would never feel guilty again.
We would see the safety that holds them every moment never letting go. We would see peace beyond peace. And I may be alone in saying this, but if I ever saw Nathan that safe and that happy with my own eyes I would send him back up on a very chubby cloud.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Shaken
There are times when the pressure behind my eyes is to great a thing. It comes mostly at bed time. When I close my eyes it is impossible to not see sad images. The harder I try to push them out the more they seem to stay. A lot of the times it is flashes of my hospital stay or Nathan's funeral. I say flashes because the whole scenario seemed like an out of body experience at times. Sometimes I only have pieces in my mind. Other things jump out at me and I remember every horrible detail. I work very hard to control my thoughts and focus on the positive. Most of the time this is when I write to you all. I also read book after book. There is a constant flow of the written word in my life. It does help distract my mind.
But there is this horrible image I just cannot shake. No matter how many blogs, or late night prayers, this horrible image of the nurse shaking my belly that hits me every night like clockwork. It is a terrible memory and has been very traumatic for me. Why do they do this? I get the idea of it, move the belly, and the baby will move. But what about the times when the baby does not move? What about the effect this has on the mother? This is what I remember most. I cannot speak for every mother, but I would bet that this is the one thing they remember most. It is that moment when you realize what they are checking for. In that moment you hold your breath, and are not sure you will ever breath again.
But alas you do breathe again. It is a different way of breathing, but breath all the same. I think a lot about that moment. That is when I knew in my heart that He was gone. Before all the monitors and machinery. I guess I knew because a mother just seems to know about her child. He always moved. He moved until he simply didn’t.
It is this particular memory where I struggle the most. Sometimes I wish I could wipe it from my memory. But I know I really wouldn’t. Because to wipe away any part it would take away from the time I had with Nathan. Unfortunately I must take the painful moments just as I do the wonderful. The painful ones are a part of my story as well, and just as important. The painful parts remind me that it was real. Nathan’s heart did beat and the silence of it in the end does not erase the beginning.
Sometimes late at night that is what I focus on. The beginning of Nathan….
And I can keep going because Nathan WAS before I even knew he WAS. He is such an important beginning and in Glory there is no end. He did not cease to exist, and no amount of shaking, can shake that he was “fearfully and wonderfully made” I carried Him and the LORD carried Him the rest of the way.
But there is this horrible image I just cannot shake. No matter how many blogs, or late night prayers, this horrible image of the nurse shaking my belly that hits me every night like clockwork. It is a terrible memory and has been very traumatic for me. Why do they do this? I get the idea of it, move the belly, and the baby will move. But what about the times when the baby does not move? What about the effect this has on the mother? This is what I remember most. I cannot speak for every mother, but I would bet that this is the one thing they remember most. It is that moment when you realize what they are checking for. In that moment you hold your breath, and are not sure you will ever breath again.
But alas you do breathe again. It is a different way of breathing, but breath all the same. I think a lot about that moment. That is when I knew in my heart that He was gone. Before all the monitors and machinery. I guess I knew because a mother just seems to know about her child. He always moved. He moved until he simply didn’t.
It is this particular memory where I struggle the most. Sometimes I wish I could wipe it from my memory. But I know I really wouldn’t. Because to wipe away any part it would take away from the time I had with Nathan. Unfortunately I must take the painful moments just as I do the wonderful. The painful ones are a part of my story as well, and just as important. The painful parts remind me that it was real. Nathan’s heart did beat and the silence of it in the end does not erase the beginning.
Sometimes late at night that is what I focus on. The beginning of Nathan….
And I can keep going because Nathan WAS before I even knew he WAS. He is such an important beginning and in Glory there is no end. He did not cease to exist, and no amount of shaking, can shake that he was “fearfully and wonderfully made” I carried Him and the LORD carried Him the rest of the way.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Even silence has a song
In the times of silence it helps to remember that silence is not a punishement. It is a time for us to be still and know. How refreshing to be reminded that it is O.K. to just be still and not have to figure it all out.
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