A God Moment

Some days are harder than others.

And then, there are the moments within the days that are unbearable. Some are expected, but the worst are the ones that overwhelm without any warning. Without any reason.

Yesterday afternoon I was picking up the house. Nothing major, and then without warning, the wave engulfed me. I was dodging the puppies when I realized I should have been juggling a six week old.

Not carrying six months worth of grief on my shoulders.

I have learned to just stop. If I let the wave come and I just ride it out, then I regain a sense of control much quicker. So, I went to Aidan's room. I sat in the recliner and looked at his things. I looked at his pictures. I missed him. I let myself cry for the things I am missing. I prayed.

I thanked God for Aidan. I thanked God for giving me the strength to love him and share him. I asked for a sign; reassurance that there is a purpose. I just needed a moment.

God talks in all sorts of ways. Previously it has been in a blooming flower, the sun shining through the rain, his birth date on the clock. God winks.

Other times he comes in loud and clear.

I wrote previously that I had been asked to write a devotional. I wrote it and sent it in. However, I NEVER expected it to actually be published. 

I found out today that it was indeed published. Aidan's story is moving, changing and impacting people all throughout the world.

God answers prayers. Not always with the answer we want. Not always in the time frame we want. But, he ALWAYS answers.

Answered Prayers

 

Sisters

“Sisters function as safety nets in a chaotic world simply by being there for each other.”
― Carol Saline

 

My first friend. The only other person who knows the secrets of our childhood. My baby sister.

 

We couldn't be more different. I couldn't love her more. She is everything that I am not. She makes me want to be everything that I am.

 

I would do anything to protect her. I am her first defense. I am a force to be reckoned with.

 

We have had our ups and downs. That comes with such different personalities. But, without a shadow of a doubt, she is my built in best friend.

 

Throughout the years, we have been one another's support.

 

In September, she was my coach, she was my strength, she was my hope. And then, when I couldn't speak for myself she was my voice. She held my hand at Aidan's service.

 

She shares her most precious little boy with me. That boy brings such light even to the darkest of the dark.

 

I will always try and protect her.

 

I know I cannot always save her from hurt or disappointment, but I will always stand beside her. I will always walk with her. Cheering her on in the highest of highs and carrying her through the valley's that are just simply too deep.

 

Together, we have done amazing things. We will continue to do so. Because after all, she is a gift. She is my little sister.

 

James 1:2-4Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.

 

Hope

What do you write when you are asked to write a devotional? I have pondered this for the past two days. Another amazing opportunity has been offered to me. A dear friend has asked me to write a devotional for UMCOM and their Lenten devotional series for "Imagine No Malaria." What an amazing honor.


I really wanted to do it right. I wanted to convey that even in the darkness there are beautiful moments of peace and hope. Here is what I came up with.

Jeremiah 29:11

I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out – plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for.

Life changes in an instant. In the time it takes to answer your phone, shut a door, or look at an ultrasound picture.

In the instant we heard the words, “It’s a boy”, a future was planned. Hope bloomed and our lives were forever changed. We were going to be parents.  

Just weeks later, time stood still. I was going into premature labor. It was too early for our precious boy to survive outside of my body. And just like that, we were making different plans. Our hearts were broken. Our lives were forever and inexplicably changed.

In the immediate days and weeks, we were surrounded. People were constantly coming by, bringing us food and sending us words of encouragement. We were being upheld by those who hold us close; those who could physically enfold us into their arms and ensure for that second that we were safe.

As time passed, we had to learn how to care for ourselves. We had to trust in this new path that had been laid before us. It was in these days that I was truly beginning to be able to process our loss and to try and understand what role God was playing in this.

Did he take Aidan from me? Did he look down and choose that I would be the one that would live without?

I searched and read and learned. I poured myself and all of my grief into my faith. And then, it hit me. I wasn’t alone. God had walked this path ahead of me. He was carrying me through familiar territory. And at the end of this journey, there is a promise. A promise of hope.

I will see Aidan again. I will hold him again.

I will get to rock Aidan and sing him his lullaby one day because Jesus went before him. God sacrificed his son so that one day, I will get to hold my own again.

So, on the darkest of days, I hold onto that. I search for the hope and peace that is promised and I put one foot in front another. I find the strength to share Aidan’s story. I allow Aidan’s impact to change me. I listen for God’s guidance.

I am a mother. I am the mother of a child in heaven. Aidan is surrounded by glory and peace. One day I will embrace and love him like not a moment has passed; all because of a God who loves so deeply he sacrificed his son to ensure that we were never alone or without his hope.

“I want to take a moment to thank you, Lord. Thank you for all of the blessings in my life. Thank you for allowing me to be Aidan’s mom. Thank you for your promises and for the assurance of being reunited one day in your glory. Thank you for walking this path before me. Thank you for showing your hope for me in the darkest of days. In your name, Amen”

Today was a big day on this journey. It was the first step on what will be a giant leap of faith. Prayers were heard and were answered. We have been blessed with the ability and hope of a rainbow amidst this storm. There is hope that one day we will get to bring home a sibling for Aidan. I still cannot say the words out loud without crying.

Tears of relief. Tears of joy. Tears of hope.

Answered prayers through an email

Tomorrow is five months. The last two weeks of them have been almost as rough as the first two. Seriously.

It was taking everything I had to get up and go to work. Let alone be a good friend, sister, daughter, wife or mother. I just wanted Aidan back. I wanted to be a mom that is easily recognizable because my child is in my arms. I just want others to know him and be in awe of his milestones.

Today, I found out that even though Aidan isn't in my arms, he is still reaching milestones. Totally different ones than the other babies around me, but still.

I received this while at work today. I was able to share our story further.

I found what life has been beating out of me lately. Aidan's purpose.

I needed a sign this big. This public. This picture.

Answered prayers are not on our time. They are on God's. Thankfully, he is putting this one out for the world to see.

Love them like Jesus

What do you do when someone you love is hurting? What do you say when you can't even imagine the depth of pain?

You do whatever it takes to ensure they know they are supported. You hold their hand as they cry. You hug them so tight that they know you won't let them break into a million pieces. You sit in silence. You cry with them. You pray more than you have probably ever prayed before.

You don't have to say anything in particular. You've heard it before and it's true. There is nothing you can say to make it better. You say, "I love you." You tell them how many prayers are being lifted.

You try and understand where they are coming from. Even though you can't, you try.

Quite simply, you love them like Jesus.

Where I belong

Song to a Lost Lamb

Tiny boy, three months premature,
delivered in rushing waves
yet born in silence:

you are an unblinking image
or your daddy - damp, soft curls
and fingertips
like petals from withered
pink rosebuds.

As I cradle your body

 in my hot, wet arms,
I, inhaling air for two,
must sing to you declaring
you are cherished

now and for all days
as much as any
warm and breathing child.

Susan Terris
from the book Baby Blessings by June Cotner

 My sweet, beautiful, perfect baby boy. You never drew a breath. You never let out a cry. You never looked into my eyes. But...

I tested positive for pregnancy. I watched and listened to your heart beat. I watched you dance and jump around in many ultrasounds. I caught a glimpse of your precious face. I learned you were a boy and watched your daddy light up. I planned. I dreamed. I fell more and more in love. And then...

I labored. I fought. I delivered. I gave birth to you, my sleeping son. 

You forever changed me. You forever changed my world. Your force is so powerful that you literally stopped my world from spinning. You forever changed the landscape of my life.

Some days are easier than others. Every moment is learning to live again. Every breath is my determination to share you and to do my best to further God's message.

There is only one who can truly know the depth of my pain, the depth of my love. And that is because he has gone before me. He has sat back and watched his son sacrificed for the greater good. He has watched as others diminished and pushed aside his son and his importance. He has survived the storm and is currently leading me through my own.

In the book of Malachi 3:3, God is compared to a refiner. A refiner who sits in front of the fire and carefully watches over his silver. Who molds it and makes sure the heat never gets to be too much. For if he looked away for even a second it would be ruined. Someone who knows his project has reached perfection when he can see his own reflection.

These days are hard. These days seem to be surrounded by flames. And yet, I know that God is there. Watching out for me. Ensuring my safety. Waiting to see his reflection in me.

In this journey there are moments of sadness, moments of darkness, moments of unbearable pain. There are also moments of peace, comfort and I am beginning to understand this new joy. All of these moments are wrapped up in grief. Grief because I am left here to live without my son. Not because, Aidan is in heaven. He is wrapped in the ultimate glory. He is perfectly safe.

Aidan will always be apart of me. With every new twist and turn, he will be there. Nothing in my life will ever be mutually exclusive of Aidan. I can only hope for patience and understanding. I know that the rest of the world has continued to move on. Mine has been forever changed. I will forever think of Aidan and know that I have seen a glimpse of what God wants to see in all of us. Handing your child to God will do that to you.



Moments

January 14th. A big day. An important day. The day that signaled the end of one journey and the beginning of another.

The day that never got to be, but turned into something else.

It was supposed to have been all about Aidan. It was supposed to be his entry into the world. A day in which Aidan lived.

Instead, it was a day about our lives without Aidan. A day more about the hopes and dreams that will not get to be. 

It was about more than just Aidan. It was about Evan and I. The decisions we have made since Aidan's birth and the direction our lives are headed. A day to acknowledge our loss and to be reminded of those who have lost before us and unfortunately, those who will lose after us. 

So, in my true form. I went a bit overboard. I got butterflies for the other babies. I got flowers and more flowers, a big pinwheel and balloons for Aidan. 

There are orange, yellow and green ones scattered throughout the cemetery. It turned out to be quite a scavenger hunt that added some humor and excitement to the celebration.

We each had a single carnation and one by one we placed them on Aidan. I managed to get a picture of everyone except my mom (she went first so I wasn't quick enough.)

Our group turned out to be quite large and so very special. Aidan had grandparents, a great-grandparent, aunts, uncles, aunties, friends, pastor, and even his friend Jo. All people who love him and have literally carried me through.

We then wrote messages to Aidan and sent the balloons heaven-bound. The wind was fierce so I wasn't able to get pictures.

BUT, that's what best friends are for. My beloved Boyd's got to bring Savannah home on Saturday. They managed to find the time to send A some balloons from Searcy and sent me not just a pic, but a video!



We took down the Christmas at A's spot and added some sunshine yellow tulips and a special elephant his Auntie Courtney made him.

It was tough day, but it was spent honoring and cherishing our blessed Aidan. There were the warmest most sincere hugs, some tears and lots of love. More love than I could have ever asked for.

I'm sure if you are reading this, you have figured out that music plays a huge part in my life. There are moments when the only thing that calms my heart and spirit is the simple melodies and heartfelt lyrics. I've got a new favorite at the moment. "Carry me to the Cross" by Kutless. The album comes out in February and I CANNOT wait. It is the perfect song for this journey. It is the perfect song for the past few days. I have cried more tears than I have in a long time. I have been hit with a lot of emotions. Yet, still I have made it. I am embracing what is to come.