"When darkness veils it's lovely face, I rest on His unchanging grace." ~Edward Mote

I’ve been mulling this over for quite some time, so I apologize if it doesn’t come out right or make sense. Frankly, I’m not sure if it make sense in my own head and it may only make sense to a few folks. So, if it doesn’t make sense to you, I’m really sorry that I may have wasted your time.

I struggle with relationships with others. I feel like it’s been a struggle for a good portion of my life. Not that I’m socially awkward, but when it comes to deep, meaningful, authentic relationships it’s been a struggle.

Before Tullie and Eli were born, I think that I was content to be where I was. I had friends. We talked. We hung out and brought each other meals for the birth of our babies, but I think I was missing some real authenticity in my relationships. Life is was good. Some financial harship, but nothing really tragic. Typical stuff.

After Tullie was born, something in me started to churn. I felt like we were dealing with something really HUGE, and we were, but I felt like some relationships were beginning to fall apart. I think though, that a lot of it had to do with me. I glossed over a lot of my feelings regarding Tullie. I wasn’t honest that I wasn’t really happy with her diagnosis and I became a lot more factual then usual. Relaying information to friends would be emotionless. Like this: Friend: “How’s Tullie doing?” Me: “Ok. Her oxygen was turned up last week at her last appointment.” Friend: “Oh, I’m sorry. “Why?” Me: “Oh, she was retaining to much carbon dioxide, but the oxygen is helping. She may be off of it next month.” Friend: “Well, I hope that she is. I’ll be praying.” Me: “Thanks.” Really emotional, huh?

I honestly did not know how to respond. Tullie’s diagnosis was such a BIG deal and I didn’t want others to pity us, but I had no idea how to suffer through this. It wasn’t something temporary. This would stick around forever. People wanted to know how I really felt, and frankly, I didn’t want to tell them. Because if I did, my real and ugly heart would be revealed. I knew all the Christian tag lines to keep folks happy.

By the time Eli was born and passed away, I think I had just built a nice brick house around myself. I didn’t feel like I had a lot of people to really talk to and the few people I did, I think that my grief was really burdensome. I started to pull myself away from just about everyone. The only person I talked to was Mike. I figured, that he was the only one who “got it”, so I’d just stick with him. However, by doing that I wrecked some relationships that I did have.

I really struggled with Galatians 6:3, “Bear one another burdens or so fulfill the law of Christ.” Seriously, what in the hell did that really mean? Did we even get that idea as Christians? I was in the middle of grief, barely keeping it together, and everyone around me, seemed to be doing just fine. I felt lonely and isolated. And I realized that I didn’t know how to serve others. I really didn’t. I would serve folks in the past with meals, but really serve folks in the grief and suffering. I had no idea what to do. How to relate to those who were suffering. That was until I was in the midst of my own…

During the last five years, I’ve learned something. I’ve learned that I need authentic relationships. But I’ve also learned that that is really one of the hardest things in the world to maintain. I’ve found that it’s really hard for me to have superficial relationships. I give up early. I have a hard time getting through the, Where-are-you-from’s, I like to jump right in, “So, what has Jesus brought you through?”

In this, though, I struggle. I struggle with my pride. My pride in my pain. Thinking that somehow my pain in inferior to others. When really it’s not. Pain is pain. What our pain is in our life is going to be different. But pain is pain. We’ll all just feel it differently. And, by golly, we will feel it! We will not escape this earth without pain. But in that, how do I have authentic relationships and the patience for those relationships that may be viewed as superficial? It’s hard and I struggle. I struggle with inpatience and with my pride.

A friend convicted me today. A lot has changed, but she convicted me today and showed me that I’m still prideful and locked up in my brick house. Well, that’s not really good is it?

I meet up with a couple of ladies every week. A couple of wonderful ladies. A couple of ladies who are grieving the loss of their babies. They are very honest and raw with me each week and for that I am very grateful. Grateful that they feel that they are in a safe enough place to share their hearts and that with them I can still talk and work through the hard stuff since Eli passed away, that I may on many other occassions, push aside and try not to think about because it would hurt too much. But with this situation, I’ve been forced to think about stuff that maybe I’ve felt like I’ve dealt with, but maybe I hadn’t fully. Grief is a long process, and still nearly four years out, it still hurts and I’m still a grieving mamma. I’ll probably be a grieving mamma till the day I die, but the grief changes as time goes on. More of an acceptance that it’s there and that my heart will always have a deep scar on it.

I’ve mentioned before how each week folks will share evidence of God’s grace with the congregation at church. It’s neat to see what God is doing in people’s lives. Providing jobs. Friends and family getting saved and knowing Jesus. People healed. Seeing God provide financially for people who are in a rough spot. These are amazing and wonderful things! It’s wonderful to see how much Jesus loves us and how He provides.

God’s grace is also evident when there seems to be no answer and through tragedy. It’s harder to see, but it is evident. A public place is not always the place to show how God’s grace is evident in tragedy and in the midst of grief and suffering.

This, I guess is a public place, but I would love to hear how Jesus has been gracious to you in the midst of tragedy and suffering. Whatever it may be, a child who received a bad health diagnosis. A death of a child, close friend or loved one. Having a relationship struggle and seeing no end in sight. It’s all really hard stuff and God’s grace is evident in the midst of it.

I’ll go first. And second, because I think I have two (for now). Meeting up with my two friends each week, has been Jesus’ grace. He knew long ago, that nearly four years after Eli’s death that I would still need to talk and work out some really hard things. I still have a lot in my heart that I need to work out and Jesus has been gracious enough to bring these ladies to my home once a week. I’m so sad about why we started our relationship and how we’ve become so close in such a short amount of time, but it Jesus’ grace has been evident in our time together. I hope in a small way they can see Jesus’ grace in it too.

Tullie was a 31 week preemie. Her arrival was a surprise to say the least. We were extremely unprepared! Extrememly is an understatement. Her diagnosis was a shock, but what was invovled with her arrival was just as shocking. She is was in the hospital for six weeks. The day after Tullie was born my parents hopped on the next plane. And my dad ended up staying the entire summer in order to help care for Josiah while Mike and I were back and forth to the hospital and work. Knowing that Josiah was being cared for and loved during that time was really important. Jesus was extremely gracious to us through my parents, even though at the time I took advantage of it and was probably too self-absorbed in my own pain and sorrow to recognize it. We’re extremely grateful for my parents and AAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL they’ve done for us, because really that summer is just scratching the surface. But, mostly I’m grateful that I’ve been able to see Jesus’ grace to us during some of the darkest times of our life when I really didn’t think that Jesus’ grace had been evident. It had been evident all along….I was just too blinded by myself and doubt to actually see it.

So, please share how Jesus has been gracious in the midst of pain. In the hard darkness of it. Because it is there. Sometimes it’s hard to see, but it’s there.

My favorite boy.  My first born.  My funny boy.  My gentle boy.  My tough-guy boy.  My smart boy.  That is my Josiah. 

We had been trying to get pregnant for a  year.  We found out that I was pregnant at the Grand Canyon.  Suddenly, that Canyon didn’t seem so grand after we got the most amazing news of our life! 

It was the most typical and boring pregnancy.  He was also 6 days late!  He got kicked out.  When Mike said that the baby was a boy, I cried!  My boy.  My favorite boy.  I had wanted a boy.  I thought of sword fights, car races, trucks, trains, building blocks, legos, dirt, trees, bugs…all of those wonderful boy things.  He was a perfect boy.  Beautiful and handsome.  (He still is)

In the morning, Josiah will be six.  SIX!  6!  It will take two hands to show his age!  It’s hard to believe that it’s been six years since he cried his first cry.  He’s had many scraps and bumps, and cracked heads since then.  (Well, he only cracked his head open once, and that was taken care of with 3 staples.)  He has also lost 6 teeth in time for his six birthday!  I think that most have grown back, but hey, he’s lost six teeth before he turned six!

Josiah is a smart boy.  He enjoys school (most of the time) and he enjoys his sisters (most of the time).  There have been many times where he has told us things that have made us stop in our tracks.  He has corrected us when we were wrong.  Sometimes in the middle of our sin.  Like, “Mom, why are you talking at me like that?”  or “Mom, that’s not a patient voice.”  I stop in my tracks and try to pull myself together.  Apologize to him when I’m pulled myself up off the floor.   Aren’t our children little “convictors” sometimes? 

Josiah is a protector of his sisters.  Sometimes, I think we’ll put too much pressure on him to be more then he is.  To demand more then maturity will allow.  Having a sister with special needs will do that to a kid.  I try not to make him feel like he’s “in charge”, but yet we also want him to have a sense of “protector” over his sisters.  To love them so much that he wants to take care of them.  I see this coming out more and more.  He’ll hold their hand crossing the street.  Or hug them after a wrongdoing and apologize.  Sometimes I’ll walk into the family room while the kids are watching a show and Josiah has his arm around one of the girls.  He’ll talk about them too when their taking naps or not in the room, “Mom, I really love Tullie.”  or “Mom, isn’t Ellison funny.  She’ll eat everything!”  Don’t get me wrong, there is sibling rivalry, but when I see him or hear him treating his sisters lovingly and watching out for them, it warms my heart.  I know that he loves them. 

Josiah has a tender heart.  He loves his brother.  He misses Eli.  He brings it up and random times.  He asks to see Eli’s pictures.  Sometimes he’ll mention that he wishes that he could play with Eli.  At these moments my heart hurts for him.  The loss of a brother.  The loss of brotherly love and playing cars together and lightsabers.  However, he will quickly add that he’ll see Eli in heaven and they can play together there.  It’s at those times, that I am reminded of simple faith. 

Josiah loves Tullie and knows no different.  Tullie is Tullie.  She’s going to take longer to learn things, but Tullie is his sister and, well, she’s pretty cool.  Josiah is Tullie’s encourager!  He’ll call me when he sees Tullie do something new or say a hard word.  Even when he was two and three, Josiah came running to tell me that Tullie rolled over or sat up.  Those were exciting times. 

Josiah is snuggly.  I’ve been blessed with three snuggly children.  Josiah will come and ask, “Can we snuggle?”  He has been a wonderful comfort.  When words would not suffice, he could snuggle with us and I knew that I was loving my son.  It was healing for us both.  Through much of our grief, I don’t know if Josiah understood what was going on, but he knew that something was wrong.  Those snuggles are special.  If my six year old still wants to snuggle, I’ll snuggle, because in a year he may be done with that. 

Josiah, you’re mamma and daddy love you very very very much.  You’re our favorite boy.  We’re proud of you.  We’re thankful for the things that you’ve taught us in these last six years.  We pray that you’ll have Jesus’ heart.  That you will seek Him. Love Him.  Desire Him.  We pray for your mind to continually be opened to Jesus and His creation that He created.

Welcome to year number six!  You’re our favorite boy.

Several years ago a dear friend of mine, who I know prayed for us very very often in the midst of our grief, met up with us in church one Sunday.  We had just walked into the building and she said that she had something for us.  She had told her mother-in-law about the death of our son, and her mother-in-law had been praying for us.  My friend handed me a small bottle full of water and wrapped in toile and held together with a ribbon.  With the verse attached to it, “You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?” Psalms 56:8   When she handed it to me, she said, “This is from my mother-in-law, do whatever you’d like with it, but she’s thinking and praying for you guys.”  I took it.  Said, “Thank you.”  And put it in the diaper bag. 

I’m not a really sentimental person.  I don’t always keep a lot of stuff that holds a lot of value to me.  I tend to keep things, thinking that I may have some use of it in the future.  

That little bottle has reappeared a few times over the last several years.  I had kept it on the windowsill behind the desk for awhile and then we moved some things around.  Josiah found it yesterday in a drawer in the kitchen.  He pulled it out and held it up and said, “What’s this, Mom?”  In the moment, I didn’t know what to say.  I said, “Just a bottle of water.”  He said, “Can I drink it?”  I said, “NO!!!!”  I suddenly became very protective of that little bottle.

I think that at the time when I received that bottle, I understood it’s symbolism, but I didn’t believe it.  At this point in my life, I had felt like Jesus had abandoned us.  The tears were flowing quickly and frequently, and I felt like they were landing on scorched land and they were absorbed quickly into the dirt.  I was a little bitter when I thought of the fact that Jesus was just holding onto all of my sorrow, but nothing was coming from it.   I didn’t understand Jesus’ purpose, and I honestly can’t say that I understand a lot right now, but I was mad.  Just really really plain old mad.  Everything was working against us and it seemed that Nobody was doing anything for us.

A couple of years ago, our church started singing this song: “All My Tears” by Emmylou Harris.   When they first played it, I thought, “I can’t wait to get to heaven.  I want to go right now.”  I had this get-out-of-dodge attitude.  My heart was not in the right place.  I wanted to go to heaven because I was sick of what was going on in my life and I wanted to escape it all.  But today, when it was sung, I felt so much more joyful about the idea of heaven.  I was thinking that Jesus has seen each of my tears.  He’s wept with me.  He’s wept alongside of me.  He has them stored up in a HUGE ‘ole bottle.  (There is no way, a little bottle could contain all of the tears that I’ve shed!)  And right now that is really really comforting. 

All My Tears by Emmylou Harris

“When I go don’t cry for me

In my Fathers’ arms I’ll be

The wounds this world left on my soul

Will all be healed and I’ll be whole.

Sun and moon will be replaced

With the light of Jesus’ face

And I will not be ashamed

For my Savior knows my name

It don’t matter where you bury me

I’ll be home and I’ll be free

It don’t matter where I lay

All my tears will be washed away

Gold and silver blind the eye

Temporary riches lie

Come and eat from heaven’s door

Come and drink and thirst no more

So weep not for me my friend

When my time below does end

For my life belongs to Him

Who will raise the dead again

It don’t matter where you bury me

I’ll be home and I’ll be free

It don’t matter where I lay

All my tears will be washed away.”

Today, I was encouraged that Jesus has seen my sorrow and that I will see my son again.  He does not promise that I will not experience more sorrow as long as I live, but He does promised that He will be with me.  I trust that.  As simplistic as that may sound.   I trust that, and I’m ok with  that. 

My tears are stored up in a bottle.  They were not shed for no purpose.  He knows my hurt.  He understands.

Last week was a bit crazy.  Not the whole week, but the last two days of last week.  Thursday and Friday. 

On Thursday morning, Mike was up feeling really gross.  He ended up taking the second part of the day off from work.  Josiah got home from school and was not himself.  Acting tired and irritable.  He had a dentist appointment and I told him that after the appointment he could take a nap when he got home.  So, after the appointment he hung out with Mike falling asleep watching movies.  By dinner neither was feeling much better.

Josiah had just finished 15 days of antibiotics the previous week for strep throat.  I didn’t think it could come back so quickly.  Especially after just finishing everything.  I looked down his throat and couldn’t see anything, so off to the ER we went.  He was complaining that he could only breathe through his nose and that his throat hurt really bad.  Josiah and I were there till about midnight.  He had strep again.  Got put on some killer antibiotics and home we went. 

The next morning, I made an appointment for Mike, because he was still feeling gross.  Josiah hung out at home for the day.  Tullie, Ellison and I were fine so far.  I put Tullie on the bus then ran off to the drugstore to fill Josiah’s prescription.  After 30 minutes, the drugstore didn’t have the killer antibiotic.  They called around to three drugstores and none of them had it.  So, I get home and call Children’s Pharmacy to get it going at the hospital.  A friend was so kind to come at the last minute so that I could keep the girls at home and I could take Mike to the doctor. 

I sit down to eat something at 1:30, and the phone rings.  It’s Tullie’s school.  She fell asleep on the bus.  Acting lathargic.  Sucking her thumb and just wanting to be held.  Can I come get her?  (I start laughing.  Couldn’t believe it.)  We need to leave for Mike’s appointment in 30 minutes.  So, I race over to the school (a good 10 minutes away), pick her up.  Keep her in the car, run in the house and get Mike so I can take him to the doctor.  I figure maybe I can get the doctor to look at her too while we’re there.  Josiah stays home instead with Ellison and our dear friend who is willing to hang out in our sick house.

We get to the doctor, Mike looks terrible.  They take his vitals and the nurses no sooner leave the room and Tullie pukes all over the floor!  I’ve never seen her puke so much.  And I’ve never seen Mike so sick.    Now there are three down.  Mike is diagnosed with strep throat and Tullie, they weren’t totally sure about, but put her on penicillin just in case, because she did have a swollen lymph node. 

On the way home, I pick up the prescription at Children’s, that almost causes me to have a heart attack when I saw the price of it.   Then we get to the pharmacy to fill Mike’s and Tullie’s prescriptions.  Mike’s is filled easily.  They don’t have Tullie’s.  So, Tullie’s is at another pharmacy that’s not far away.  At this point, I’m taking a few deep breathes and I don’t want to leave my house again and I had two sick people in the car.  

So, I brought Mike and Tullie home.  Mike got in bed.  Put on Veggie Tales for the kids and ran out to grab the prescription.  It wouldn’t take more then 15 minutes.  I got there and all they had to do with mix it.  Three minutes right?  They said, “That’ll be 15-20 minutes.”  What?!?!  I lost it.  I said, “I don’t have 15-20 minutes!”  I was tired and my family was sick.  I don’t like crying to get what you want, but I only waited about 5 minutes and it was done.  Maybe my minor meltdown helped speed things up???

Everyone is now on the mend.  Within 36 hours everyone was feeling better.  Not 100%, but better and still taking it slow.  Ellison and I have been feeling fine, and hopefully it’ll stay that way. 

When the family is sick it’s really stressful and really annoying.  Hard.  Everyone is sick.  Everyone is tired.  Everyone is cranky.  Everyone has a VERY short fuse.  It’s miserable being sick. 

I decided something before this last go around of sickness.  I had decided that I was going to try my best not to complain about the minor sickness.  It’s hard not to.  Instead, I’d try to take it in stride.  Little things in the grand scheme.  Colds, flues…etc.  Things that go away relatively quickly. 

I had been thinking about that verse in Proverbs: “Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come.”(31:25) On Friday afternoon, while I was picking up Tullie, I thought, “Am I suppose to be laughing now?”  Really, I was laughing in disbelief.  It was like everyone was dropping like flies and so quickly. 

There was a time when I couldn’t laugh at the future.  It seemed too bleak.  The idea of waking up each morning was daunting and overwhelming.  It all seemed so hopeless.  But now, over time, I’ve learned to “laugh at the time to come.”  I think that that really means, that I can embrass it.  No matter how annoying, sick or stressful.  It’s a day.  It’ll be over.  The real test I think, is my attitude toward the circumstance.  My family is sick and miserable, how should I act?  Annoyed that they’re here coughing on me and puking all over?  Or react lovingly and patient toward them?  I tried to this last week.  I don’t know if I did.  I know there were times that I snapped at Mike, because I felt tired and overworked.  I was trying to love my family, but there were several times I was counting down the minutes to bedtime.  When it would be quiet and peaceful and everyone would be in bed. 

Can we laugh at the days to come?  I hope so.  ‘Cause I don’t know what else is in store.  I know that Jesus will take care of us no matter what the circumstance is and I know that He’s sovereign and I trust Him.  It seems too simplistic, but I guess in a way it sort of is…