The Real Life of a Red Head

Bits of Healing and Lots of Faithfulness

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 26 Dec 2015 17:08:00 +0000

As I'm sitting here this morning, I am overwhelmed with peace.

It's been a long time since I've felt such peace.

Surprisingly, after Joshua died, I experienced a time of God's hand upon me. I felt like he was holding me and comforting me in the times that I simply didn't know how I was going to survive. His peace came upon me and sustained my every breath. And as time passed, the overwhelming sense of His presence slowly faded away and I began struggling with my faith. However, through all of it, God remained faithful and clung to me even when I didn't want anything to do with him.

About a year ago, I experienced some difficulties within some significant relationships in my life. I had to make some tough decisions regarding my emotional health and some relationships that were damaging to me. Without going into detail, I had to make decisions and set up strict boundaries that were extremely difficult and heart wrenching. These decisions left me feeling emotionally stronger than I had ever felt, but also like a crushing weight. It meant that everything I had known was going to be different and I had to let go dreams of reconciliation and work on forgiveness. I struggled with finding peace in all of it and trying to make decisions based on biblical truth rather than emotions and impulse.

I spent countless hours praying that I was doing the right thing, trusting that God would give me answers or that he would provide the reconciliation that I desperately wanted. I sought godly counsel in an effort to figure out what God desired and how to handle things in a biblical way. However, answers didn't come and I didn't feel peace.

I went through a time of wondering who I had in my life and discovering that relationships that I didn't think I had were actually in tact. I went through a time of feeling forsaken and completely alone. I prayed that God would help me find my identity in Him rather than in my perceived lack of community.

I also began the process of repentance and reconciliation with people who used to be in my life but for one reason or another were no longer in my life. I began to humbly seek out relationships that were lost to me and ask for forgiveness for my role in the deterioration of our relationships. Short of saying good bye to Joshua, this is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do- admit my fault in things and ask for forgiveness from people that I wasn't sure were going to forgive me.

But God was so faithful to restore what was lost to me. Just as he has begun restoring my broken heart from losing Joshua, he has also been restoring relationships in my life that were lost as well as strengthening relationships that were previously weak and unimportant to me. I was welcomed with open arms and given the opportunity to begin redeveloping the relationships that I so desperately wanted.

What was once broken, is becoming whole. What was once ugly and burdened by sin, is now beautiful and becoming more pure as He continues to heal the hearts of everyone involved.

As I spent time with this community of people this Christmas, I was overwhelmed by the love I thought I would never know. God provided forgiveness where it was desperately needed. He has given me new perspective and has provided healing to the relationships that were once lost.

As we drove home, I was overwhelmed and brought to tears by the love that I experienced. I was able to see the people that I love in the light of Christ's love for all of us. A love that was willing to die for us despite our failure and sinfulness. I was able to taste and see God's desire for reconciling us to himself through the blood of Jesus. I was able to get a small glimpse into the very nature of God- loving, faithful, forgiving, merciful, and just.

The pain of lost relationships is still very real in my life. I think it will always be. But God has been faithful to restore what was lost, and I continue to pray for reconciliation and forgiveness in the broken relationships. I continue to look to Him for my identity and trust that he will continue to be faithful in making me more like Jesus.

I am continuously blown away by how good He has been to me, even when I don't deserve it. He has been faithful to provide healing in so many areas of my life. It's been a long and painful journey, and I'm sure there will continue to be pain in the growing, but I'm so excited to see where God will lead me.

Rest

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 06 Dec 2015 22:56:00 +0000

About 6 months ago, Shane accepted an Assistant Store Manager position at his work. He has worked retail his entire working life, and this position is something he is very proud of. He has worked from the bottom (a cart boy at the age of 17) up and has moved through the ranks in hardware store retail ever since. This position is something that he has worked hard for, and it's something he loves doing. However, like any position, it comes with its ups and downs. While it brought more monthly income into our home, it also requires 50 hours or more of work every week.

Our entire married life, Shane has worked retail, and it has been difficult to say the least. Retail requires nights, weekends, and holidays. When we were first dating, I had no idea how difficult this schedule would be for a family, but we have made it work.

His schedule seems to become a bigger burden for our family as the kids are getting older. When they were tiny and not in school, his hours were a lot easier to manage because the kids were home all the time. Now that they are in school, they go days and sometimes weeks at time seeing their dad only for an hour or so a day.

Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful for the tiny amount of time they do get. I realize there are a lot of children in this world who would give anything to have even a few minutes with their dad every day. However, our reality is that he's not home much and it's difficult for all of us, Shane included.

As a "retail wife" I, daily, carry the burden of juggling schedules, housework, kids, extracurricular activities, small group, church, homework, meals, and the day to day operations of our home and family. I do 90% of the child rearing and discipline. I do all of the home work, housework, and discipleship work with the kids. I've gotten used to going to social functions without him, never being able to make plans, and working holidays around his schedule. It's a job that I have the privilege of doing for my family, but it is also exhausting.

Not only do I carry a majority of the load in regards to our every day family life, but I also have a chronic illness that I have to manage on top of everything else. About a year ago, I was diagnosed with Interstitial Cystitis- a chronic inflammation of the bladder lining. If you have ever had a urinary tract infection, imagine that pain times 100. I have pain flares that leave me in bed for days at a time, writhing in pain. A typical pain flare lasts anywhere from 9-14 days. The only treatments for the pain are pain medications or bladder installations (catheter directly into the bladder with lidocaine, and other medication to help calm the bladder.) Sounds fun, doesn't it?

As the days have been getting harder in regards to Shane's work schedule, the kids activities and homework, as well a managing my health, I often find myself feeling utterly exhausted. I don't take my responsibility and obligations to my husband and children lightly, and I am often told that I have way too high of expectations for myself.

I work hard to ensure that our family runs smoothly, eats homemade meals as often as possible, and that my children are discipled and in the Word as much as possible, all while trying to allow Shane to lead our family.

Let me tell you. I fall into bed daily, exhausted and often unsure of how I will get through another day.

But God daily reminds me to find my rest in him.

It has taken me years to figure out how to find my rest in Him. What does that even mean? Does it mean that I will just float through my days with some sort of supernatural power that doesn't allow me to become tired? Does it mean that my faith isn't strong enough when I can't do one more thing? Does it mean that I have failed as a wife and mother when I am so emotionally drained that I can't get through another minute without screaming and crying like a crazy woman?

No.

God tells us to come to him, all who are heavy burdened, and he will give us rest. But what does that rest look like? I can tell you it doesn't mean that I will have a never ending supply of energy. It doesn't mean that I won't fall into bed at night, unable to make it through the "Dear Heavenly Father," part of my prayer before falling asleep.

It means that I have hope. Hope that all this hard work will produce fruit. Hope that God will give me the strength to get through another day because He wants me to. Hope that He will supply my every need- sometimes that need is simply holding me and telling me that I was enough for that day. Hope that God will be faithful to complete the good work that He began, not only in myself, but in my children and husband as well. Hope that when I am not enough, either to my children or my husband, that He IS enough.

It means that, some day, I will receive an eternal reward. I will stand before my maker, and He will see me through the lens of Jesus' death on the cross and he will say, "Job well done, my good and faithful servant." Even though I have failed more often than I have succeeded. Even when I have sinned over and over again. He will give me rest because he is faithful and so very gracious.

My rest may not come on this earth. The rest of my life might be exhausting and burdensome. There will be trials and struggles that will knock the wind out of my sail. But he WILL be faithful to give me rest. I trust in that daily and that is where I find my strength.

Foggy Hope

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 05 Dec 2015 13:00:00 +0000

I've been in a general fog lately.

I don't know why. I keep wondering if it's the change in the season. Or maybe PMS. Or maybe it's just the general fog of anxiety combined with the holidays. I'm not sure what it is, where it came from, or when it will go away.

I'm having a hard time focusing on things. I have been waking up every night at 1:30am and haven't been able to fall back asleep. My days seem long and exhausting (even more than they usually do.)

I'm not sure what is going on.

As I muddle my way through the fog, I'm continue to seek God's comfort. He knows what is going on, and surely he will sustain me through it. He has before, and he will continue. Psalm 34:17 says "The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; He delivers them from their troubles."

I continue to struggle with the blah-ness that I'm feeling, I continue to try and focus on Philippians 4:8 that says, "Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable, if anything is excellent or praiseworthy- think about such things."

I have so much good in my life. I have a God who has been my strength and my healer. I have a husband who adores me and has stuck with me through the best and the worst of times. I have 3 beautiful, breathing children. I have a home that keeps me warm, has been my sanctuary, and is an undeserved gift from God. I have a church and a pastor who faithfully preach the gospel week after week. I have friends who encourage me. I have hope of eternity not only with Joshua, but worshiping Jesus. I have so many good, right, and lovely things in my life.

I continue to cling to the truth that God will use this for his glory. Struggles are never fun. They are never an enjoyable experience. But the growing happens rapidly when we endure struggles. I don't like being in the fog. It's not something I enjoy for myself or for my family. But God promises there is a purpose in all of it. I just pray that I will be willing to be used according to his will.

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all of our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too."
2 Corinthians 1:3-5

Anxiety

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 04 Dec 2015 13:00:00 +0000

I'm going to be completely open and transparent here for a second. Bear with me.

A few weeks ago, I wrote letters to my children for their birthdays for the next 10 years or so. I spent a few hours, tears streaming down my face, pouring my heart out to my children, telling them of my love for them, encouraging them to continue to seek the Lord in all they do, and reminding them that they have hope in Jesus- even when times are hard.

Why?

Because I thought was dying.

Dramatic much? I think so.

A few weeks ago, I found a dark spot on my back. It was in a place that I couldn't get a good look at it. I was terrified.

I thought for sure I had stage 4 melanoma.

Remember how I struggle with anxiety? Ugh.

I don't really tell Shane when I'm struggling with anxiety any more. I am usually good at discerning when it's rearing its ugly little head in my life, but this time I was legitimately concerned.

After a few days of stewing about the spot on my back, I finally asked Shane to look at it. This was a big deal to me because I know sometimes Shane wishes I didn't struggle with anxiety like I do. He never makes me feel crazy or bad about it, but I know it's hard for him to see me struggle like I do.

Shane took a look at my back and told me that the spot was nothing but a scab. He knew I was struggling and spent the next few minutes trying to reassure me that it was nothing. I guess I did a decent job of hiding my continued anxiety, because he had no clue what a dark path my mind was going down.

A few days after continuing to worry, yet refusing to get it checked out, I began to feel like I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. I was spending extra time loving on my kids, taking stock in what is important in my life, and assessing where God was. This was when I had myself convinced that I was going to die.

If you don't struggle with anxiety, let me tell you, it is awful. The smallest things get blown out of proportion and you go from having scab on your back to being dead and your children growing up without their mother. Your mind takes you to figuring out who you can set your husband up with in hopes of allowing him to remarry and have some happiness in his life again. You go to places where you feel the need to write your children and husband letters telling them how much you love them and are so sorry you are gone. You spend countless hours carrying the burden of fear, panic, and loneliness. It's a dark and isolating feeling with out any hope of finding your way out of the fog.

Did I know this was anxiety? Yes. Could I do anything to take my thoughts captive and focus on the truth? No. Did this lead to a feeling of guilt for not depending on the sufficiency of Christ? Absolutely.

Anxiety is no joke.

However, (I feel like I use the work however in my writing a lot) God was faithful. (Do I say that a lot also? I think I do...but it's true!) He continued to beckon me to Him. His Spirit continued to remind me to dig deep into His Word to find my hope. He gently called me to lay my anxiety down and trust in what is true.

~~I've slowly been climbing my way out~~ God has been slowly lifting me out of the the dark pit of anxiety. I have long periods of time when I don't struggle at all, and then BAM...it hits and it lingers for a while.

He has been faithful to remind me of his promises for my life and that my hope can be found in Him. He has been faithful to provide me with a pastor and his wife, as well as a small group, who gently encourage me to continue seeking him when it feels like my world has turned to darkness. He has been faithful to forgive me when I lose sight of Jesus' death on the cross for me in all of it.

I'm still struggling, but I know there is hope. The anxiety is a powerful force in my life that I constantly struggle with, but I know that my God is bigger and stronger than that darkness. I just need to continue to rest in Him as he gently leads me closer to Him.

My Identity

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 03 Dec 2015 13:00:00 +0000

I'm at a weird place in life.

I've been a stay at home mom for 5 years now. That is 5 years of giving of myself to my children and my family. It's been the best yet hardest 5 years of my life.

I began staying home just after Joshua died. Caleb was 4, Hannah was 2, and just 2 months after I started staying home, I became pregnant with Lukey. I won't lie and say that I have loved every minute of it. I haven't. It's been hard work. It's been years of sleep deprivation. It's been 5 years giving of myself sacrificially, putting my children's need and husband's needs before myself. But I wouldn't change it for anything in the world.

However, our family is at the cusp of change, and I can't help but think about what is in store for us.

Lukey just turned 4 last month. He has been my constant companion since he was born. He has been the only child of my 4 that I have had the privilege of being home with from birth until school. However, our time is coming to an end more quickly than I expected. Next year, he will be in preschool a couple days a week and then the following year, he will be in Kindergarten.

This freaks me out a little bit. It's a big change for me. I can't imagine having free time. I can't imagine not having to spend the time, as we get ready to leave the house, getting shoes and socks on a child, packing a snack, knowing where all the closest bathrooms are wherever we are going. I can't imagine not going on playdates and watching Power Rangers for hours upon hours. I can't imagine what my life will be like while all three of them are in school!

To be honest, as I've been processing the impending change that our family is facing in the next year, I am at a loss. I don't know what it means for me. Will I continue to stay home and care for the house and my family? Will I get a job? Will I finally be able to volunteer for Hospice like I've been hoping to do?

I won't lie and say that this transition doesn't scare me to death. I'm not sure what it will be like to not have a small child around constantly. Sending Lukey to school seems so scary to me. It seems final. No more babies. No more diapers. No more naps, snacks, preschool tv shows, or lugging a carseat around.

However, through all of it, I feel like God has been nudging me to start thinking about my identity. He has been slowly peeling away the layers of sin that has taken over my life and He's been asking me to hand them over and place them at His feet.

This includes my identity. I have, over the years of staying home and caring for small children, come to put my identity in my children. I place my success and failure in their successes and failures. My biggest struggle with anxiety has been in regards to their health- the thought of something happening to them literally knocks the wind out of me, rendering me useless.

A few months ago, Lukey fell off a set of bleachers and fractured his skull. We were admitted for a 24 hour stay in the hospital and were watching for signs of brain bleeds.

I. Was. Terrified.

I couldn't function. I couldn't stay in the hospital alone and make all the decisions I needed to make for him. I know a lot of that anxiety was based on the experience we had with Joshua, but I couldn't bear the thought of losing another child.

When we were released from the hospital, I was told that he COULD NOT hit his head again for another week or so. If he hit his head at all, we would have to take him back to the ER immediately. That week of following his every move left me panicking every time he moved too fast or came to close to a table top. I carried such a heavy burden of making sure he was safe. It was all I could focus on.

All the while, Jesus was calling me to trust Him. But sometimes trusting Him is scary. Sometimes trusting Him means pain and sorrow. After all, I trusted him with Joshua, and look what happened.

But He remained steadfast and true. He continued to patiently encourage me to let go of the burden I was carrying and to just simply trust that He was sovereign over Luke's life. He also revealed to me that maybe I was placing too much identity in my child and my ability to keep my child safe rather than in Jesus.

Ouch.

It wasn't until I reached a point of complete surrender with Luke's life that I was finally at peace. Now, don't get me wrong. That's not to say that I didn't still protect Luke's head with paranoia, but I was able to rest in Him while doing it.

As I look at the transition ahead of me, I hear Jesus telling me to surrender my identity at His feet. He has a plan for my life, and I need to trust that He will carry me through it. It feels very scary to not know the future, to not know what my life will look like or what I will do. I like to plan. I like to have a general idea of what I'm going to do. But I don't have any idea.

So, I just continue seeking Him in it, trusting that His plans for my life are for good and that He will bring glory to himself through my wandering. I continue seeking Him and trusting that he will be faithful and steadfast in his love for me. I continue to lay down my identity and ask him to make me more like himself, even if that means a bit of pain and suffering and brokenness. I will just continue trusting that he who begins a good work in me will be faithful to complete it.

I'm back?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 02 Dec 2015 19:41:00 +0000

It's been just about 8 months since I have blogged. Seems crazy that for such a long time, I was blogging daily, sharing so much of my life with my readers and now I, often times, forget that I even have a blog!

This has been a good place for me to write out my thoughts on life, my struggle with grief, and my search for healing.

I've been missing writing. I've been missing the vulnerability that my writing brings. I've been missing writing out my thoughts and processing through things.

Life has been good. I've been a stay at home mom for 5 years now.

5 years.

Can you believe that?

Caleb is celebrating his 10th birthday in a few short months. Hannah just turned 7 and Lukey has made the jump from the terrible 3's to the rotten 4's. ;) My babies are growing up and I am so proud of who they are becoming.

This also leads me to the fact that Joshua would have been 5 this past August. Another birthday and anniversary have come and gone. We survived the season, but it wasn't without many tears. I don't think August through October will ever be a happy time in my life- thats just the way of grief and loss. I'm content to grieve when I need to. I'm slowly coming to realize that there is healing in the continued tears and God draws close to me through them, sustaining me and reminding me of the eternal hope I have in Him.

God has been so very faithful to me. He has been healing me in ways that are truly nothing less than miraculous. He has been working on my heart, drawing me closer to him, and binding up my wounds one by one.

He has been teaching me what it means when he says, "My grace is sufficient for you, my power made perfect in weakness." There have been so many times over the past 5 years that I just did not have the strength to go on. There have been so many tears, so much sorrow, and incredible heartbreak. But He has been sovereign over it all. I am finally at peace in knowing that I don't have to understand the "why's" of everything, I just need to place my faith in him and he will be faithful to complete the work in me.

As I continue to journey through the ups and downs of parenting, being a wife, and the hard work of grief, God continuously reminds me to look to him for my strength every single day. He has been a constant companion who patiently listens to my complaints, comforts me when I struggle with anxiety and grief, and rejoices with me in my triumphs. He has given me hope for my future.

There were so many days that I felt like all hope was lost. It feels good to finally be able to say that I have hope.

All that to say, God is working on me. He is revealing some places of sin in my life and he continues to break me in an effort to make me more like Jesus. I can't say I particularly enjoy some of the things he is teaching me, but I know in the end, it's for His Glory.

I might be back to blogging again. I might be back to sharing some of my struggles as a wife and mother. I might be back to writing out my daily thoughts, struggles, and triumphs. Will you join me?

Just Breathe

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 15 Apr 2015 18:32:00 +0000

April 20.

In and out.

Just breathe.

5 years.

In and out.

Breathe.

The diagnosis.

The beginning of the end.

The day we found out that our lives were going to be changed FOREVER.

I've become an expert at living again.

But I've also become an expert at hiding the grief.

Most people have forgotten.

Most people have moved on.

Most people say, "It's been 5 years. It's time to move on."

But it's impossible for me.

Yes, I live.

I breathe.

I laugh and love.

I can pray again.

Thank you, Jesus.

I can worship again.

Thank you, God.

God is, indeed, good.

But there is a part of me that will NEVER forget.

The pain will never go away.

April 20, 2010.

"Your baby has Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome…….

blah blah blah…mumble mumble mumble….

100% fatal without intervention…..

mumble mumble mumble….blah blah blah….

open heart surgery immediately after birth…

blah blah blah…mumble mumble mumble…..

unknown life expectancy…."

Everything else from that point forward was just a blur.

I ~~cried,~~ ~~sobbed~~.

No, wailed for days….

And now, here we are 5 years later.

I don't grieve without hope.

My hope is found in a resurrected Savior.

BUT…

my heart hurts.

My soul longs for a baby that isn't.

The black pit of despair threatens to overtake me.

How can it be that 5 years is upon us?

Just breathe, Jill.

Just keep breathing.

Complete Brokenness

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 15 Mar 2015 02:25:00 +0000

A post in which I show you what an ugly person I truly am. I'm almost embarrassed to admit most of what I wrote here, but I have Shane's permission to share and I feel like it could be helpful to some of my readers. Not to mention, that it's always SO good for me to write things out. It helps me process my grief and my awe of God in such a significant way.

I don't write here often anymore. Thankfully, I don't need to. I spend my days raising my children, loving my husband, caring for my home, and loving my God. My life is full of love, laughter, and light. Healing has transformed my tears into laughter, my brokenness into strength. God has been faithful- so very faithful.

This weekend, Shane and I participated in a marriage retreat through our church. We were asked to examine where we fall short as husbands/wives. We were asked to examine our strengths. We were asked to look at ourselves before trying to "fix" our spouse.

This got Shane and I to talking about our marriage and where we are now compared to where we were before Joshua. It seems that everything in our lives is measured in "Before Joshua" and "After Joshua." Joshua seems to be the turning point for every aspect of our lives.

As we were talking, we discussed our relationship in our early marriage (before Joshua). I was controlling, impatient, spoiled, inconsiderate, greedy, selfish, and blind. Don't get me wrong, we lived under the illusion that we were happy, but looking back, we can both see how miserable we were. We were young, inexperienced in life, overwhelmed, and just barely surviving. Most of the issues we had were because of me and my pride.

And then Joshua came.

It was through our discussion last night that I realized how drastically God broke me through Joshua's life and death. He didn't just break me in my faith (more appropriately, my lack of faith), and He didn't just allow my baby to die and allow me to grieve the most painful grief imaginable. He broke me of me.

Looking back, I see God's hand of protection over me and our family. (I speak of only myself because all I can speak of is my own personal outlook, I'm not neglecting Shane and his loss or the kids and their loss or lessons learned.) God knew my heart better than I did back then. He knew that Shane would be more patient and understanding with me than I would be with him if our roles were reversed.

He knew that I needed someone to blame for Joshua's death, and he provided a way that I had no one to blame BUT God. (God is the only one who would be big enough to handle my blame and anger.) He knew that if I could blame someone, I would. And He protected our marriage, our family, and our life by orchestrating the specifics of Joshua's life and death.

I look back to the day that Joshua died:

I was alone with Joshua. Shane was 2 hours away at work. Caleb and Hannah were in daycare. I arrived in Joshua's room that morning and he immediately coded. God knew that if he coded while I was away from him, I would have blamed the doctors. I would have searched for any possible break in the chain of command or quality of care, and I would have blamed them and myself for not being there when it happened.

When Joshua coded that morning, and there was no hope. The previous few times he had coded, there was always hope. This time, there was none. I didn't have to make the decision of when enough was enough. Joshua was ready to go Home, God's timing was perfectly orchestrated, and there was nothing I could do about it. He allowed me to come in and hold my baby as he was ushered into the mighty, loving, and healing arms of Christ.

Shane was not there that morning. How easy it would have been for me to go home and spend time with the older children and allow Shane to care for Joshua. This is where it gets really ugly and I'm making myself really vulnerable with you… How easy it would have been for me to blame Shane for Joshua's death, had he been there that morning instead of me. My heart is so ugly that I could have easily blamed him for not doing enough to save Joshua, for not being responsive enough, or thorough enough with his care. It's awful for me to admit this, but looking back, I know I would have blamed him. My heart is a wicked awful, dark, and dirty heart, and I am NOT proud to admit these things.

God knew that Shane would not even imagine blaming me. I can't even begin to tell you what an amazing man Shane is and how completely and utterly undeserving of his love I truly am. He knew that Shane's love for me was patient and kind. He knew that Shane's love for me would not blame me for not "being enough" to save Joshua. God knew that Shane would carry the weight of Joshua's death gracefully and with patience. (A few days after Joshua died, and in the midst of the personal attacks on our family, I was terrified to admit to Shane that I was SO worried that he blamed me for Joshua's death. Shane was completely and utterly FLABBERGASTED that I would even THINK such a thing. he's the one with the good heart here- not me, that's for certain.) God didn't even allow my mind to go down that dangerous and ugly thought process.

God orchestrated protection over our marriage that morning. He knew how ugly and horrible my heart was. He knew I was too blind to see it until almost 5 years after the fact. He knew how strong Shane could be (giving him His strength when needed), and he orchestrated each of our roles in Joshua's life perfectly. He took away every single person or thing that I could have possibly blamed, knowing that I would eventually take out my wrath and grief on Him. God knew that He was the only one strong enough to handle my blame- Shane would not have been, our marriage would not have been. Remind you much of Jesus' sacrifice on the cross, carrying the wrath of our sin?!

God saved our marriage. God saved my life. God pulled me out of the darkness, carried me when I was weak, healed me when I was ready to receive healing, and continues to break my pride and selfishness.

I am not at all proud of admitting how deeply God broke me through Joshua. I am not at all proud of how ugly and awful my heart was and is. I pray daily that God would transform that ugliness into something that would bring Him glory. And He is. Hewill.

As Shane and I spoke of our marriage before and after Joshua, we both broke down in tears at the reality of what our marriage faced back then. We broke down in tears when we realized how deeply God broke us and how fully He protected us from ourselves (or me, mostly). We rejoiced in the love and vulnerability that we share so openly and completely.

But most of all, we are in awe of our all knowing God who protected us, broke our ugliness, and bound us up to fashion us into something beautiful that radiates His power, mercy, and glory.

The complete brokenness I experienced, after Joshua died, was excruciating. I wouldn't wish the pain of that time in our lives on anyone. But I rejoice in the Glory of God that has been revealed through it all. What a good and mighty God we serve.

Not Connecting

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 01 Oct 2014 10:51:00 +0000

October.

It's already October.

The time period that Joshua spent alive is coming to a close…again.

October 6 is when my world changed forever.

It's a day that represents the loss of my ignorance. It's a day that thrust me into an unknown world of grief, disbelief, anger, mistrust, and questioning.

It's a day that I saw the ugly side of humanity.

It's been 4 years since I lost it all.

4 years….

A lot has changed since then. New home, another child, new jobs, new vehicles, relationships dissolving, relationships strengthening, a new church home, another loss. My life looks nothing like it did 4 years ago, and for that I am thankful.

But it's difficult to connect that old life to the new life.

My mind has forgotten the pain. It has forgotten the trauma. It has forgotten the details. It tricks me into believing that none of this happened. It allows me to step outside of my pain and think rationally again.

My mind has freed me from the grips of slavery that grief held over me.

But my heart has not.

I have such a difficult time connecting my head and my heart. How can a heart continue to hurt so badly, even after the details of the mind have become fuzzy? How can a heart hurt so deeply while the mind has freed itself from the pain?

How does my heart continue to feel so broken and empty while my mind tells me how full my life really is?

I just cannot connect the two any more. It's impossible to reconcile the two "lives" that my head and heart live.

This is a weird place for me. It's a place of deep healing, but also of deep pain. It's a place that leaves me clinging to God to find my strength just as much as when both my head and heart were in sync. It's a place that is allowing me to move forward, but at a snails pace. It's a place that allows me to both remember and forget. It's a place that leaves me feeling vulnerable, exhausted, free, and thankful.

Maybe someday, it will connect.

Birthday, Grief, Love, and His Presence

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 17 Aug 2014 19:45:00 +0000

Yesterday was Joshua's birthday.

It's a day that we are supposed to look forward to and enjoy. It's a day that is supposed to be filled with family, cake, laughter and joy.

It's a day, that so many tell me, that I need to celebrate his life instead of mourn his death.

But how can I celebrate a life that isn't here? To sit around a birthday cake made for a son that is dead is one of the most depressing things on the face of the earth.

August 16th is a day that I dread every year. It's a day that all the memories come flooding back to me. It's a day that I remember how much hope I had for my son's life. It's a day that began the last 51 days of my son's life. It's a day of sadness, not because I didn't appreciate or value his life, but because it's a day that signifies his absence in our lives and in our family.

Over the past 3 weeks, I've done a great job of keeping busy. Two weeks of vacation, summer camp, and the beginning of school have kept my mind preoccupied. But I knew it it was coming. My heart knew that there was really no true way to avoid it.

Yesterday came. The day my son should have turned 4.

There were tears. Lots of tears. Tears from me. Tears from Shane. Tears from Caleb.

Oh, the tears from Caleb. Those are the most heart breaking tears of all. Have you ever watched your 8 year old son process what it means to be "celebrating" his dead brother's birthday? It's awful and heart wrenching. It leaves you crying out for Jesus to give you the strength to make it through; to give you the wisdom and grace to put aside your grief to comfort your grieving child. It's like a sick and horrible punch to the gut that leaves you breathless.

But amid the grief and the tears, there was a Still Small Voice whispering peace. God's goodness was shown again through the kind gestures and words of others. His provision poured forth through cards in the mail, a bouquet of flowers, a cake delivered to our door, kind words on my Facebook timeline, supportive texts to both me and Shane, friends who visited just to see how we were, a family member who came and provided company when loneliness threatened to consume, a card sent to our children reminding them that their brother is loved and remembered. God knew what our needs were and provided for every tiny little detail throughout the day.

My heart is still shattered from losing Joshua. It doesn't consume me daily like it used to. In fact, if I'm not blogging here, that is usually an indicator of having a good day. My bad grief days are few and far between. But when they come, they COME. It will likely always be that way, and it's ok. It's ok because it shows how much I love my son. My tears are my way of letting my love and fierce devotion to Joshua show. It's my way of letting my heart cry out to God, begging him for peace and assurance. It's through those tears that Jesus draws me closer to him and breathes healing into my broken heart.

Happy Birthday, Joshua. Your Mommy, Daddy, brothers and sister love you so much. We miss you, sweet boy.

Don't Forget The Daddies

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 10 Aug 2014 12:00:00 +0000

It's no secret that, between Shane and I, I am the one that is more active on social media. Shane has never loved the internet. It wasn't until we got iPhones a year ago that he finally got his own email address.

He has never minded me using social media, or my blog, he just prefers not to use them himself.

Since he doesn't use social media, he doesn't have the contacts that I do. He's not as verbal (both written and spoken) about his life and his struggle with losing Joshua. I always have been.

It seems that every anniversary and birthday that comes, our friends have been very good about telling ME that they remember Joshua. They do a good job of passing on their sentiments and love, and for that I am grateful.

However, Shane is often times left in the dark.

I think that is probably true of most fathers who have lost a child. The daddies don't show as much emotion or aren't as verbal, and when they struggle, they struggle internally or to a few trusted friends. They don't blog about it (typically) or post on Facebook that they are feeling sad. They just don't.

But, they grieve. Oh, how those daddies grieve.

I have seen it for myself. In very quiet and personal moments, I've seen Shane wipe away a tear. I have witnessed him looking at the picture of him holding Joshua that hangs on our fridge, his eyes lingering a little longer than normal, often accompanied by a big sigh. Or, sometimes he gives one of our living children a hug that lasts just a little longer than usual, simply because he needs an outlet for his loss. Sometimes, out of the blue, he sits down next to me on the couch and puts his head on my lap and lets out a deep sigh. It's a sigh that, I have come to learn, is a sigh expressing his loss and his grief.

As each year comes and goes, my grief is usually more "public." People know when I am having a hard time and, graciously, those closest to me usually offer support, prayers, and encouragement. What they don't realize is that Shane is, often times, feeling the same and even though he doesn't express it, he needs the emotional support as well.

As we come closer to Joshua's birthday, or if you know a daddy that has lost a precious child, please don't forget them. Tell these men that you remember their child. Tell them that you are praying for them. Offer encouragement and support or just simply a listening ear.

These daddies struggle just as much as the mamas do. They just do it differently.

Silent Tears, Quiet Grief, and Sacred Friendships

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 09 Aug 2014 13:04:00 +0000

This week has been a week full of silent tears and quiet grief.

One week from today, my baby should be celebrating his 4th birthday.

Instead, it's just another year gone by that I am left to wonder who he would be.

Over the past few weeks, I have done a lot of traveling.

Two weeks ago, my husband and I took a week long camping trip, just the two of us. July is our anniversary month and this year we celebrated 10 years of wedded ~~bliss~~ ~~survival~~ ~~growth~~ ~~companionship~~ love. As I try to think about the words to describe our marriage, I just can't place one word on it. We have had our highs, but we have had equally as many lows. And the lows have been LOW. It seems that the past 10 years have been marked with sadness, struggle, grief, anxiety, stress, and exhaustion.

I guess that is normal when you are married at 20 years old and don't really know who you are. Add four children, jobs, college, death, and houses into the mix, and you learn who you are and who your spouse is. We have spent the past 10 years growing up together and it's been exhaustingly wonderful.

As Shane stated last night, our love is deeper and more firmly planted than it was 10 years ago. We have survived and thrived. We have loved and lost and stayed together through it all. I've cried silent tears of thanks that our love and our marriage has remained. I can't imagine losing him after everything else.

Last week, the kids and I went on a small road trip to Maryland to visit my friend Marina. Marina and her husband lost their son, Charlie, to HLHS 4 years ago also. They are now raising Charlie's surviving twin brother and also his rainbow baby sister. Marina and I met shortly after her sons were born and she was quick to offer encouragement and wisdom before Joshua was born. Our friendship has grown over the years and we have found sacred space in the deep crevices of our friendship.

The kids and I spent a week with Marina and her family last week. Even though it was chaotic with 5 kids under the age of 8, it was so comforting to be with someone who understands. She knows the pain and heartache of saying goodbye to her baby. She knows the pain of having to learn to live without him. She knows the joy of a rainbow baby, but also the struggles that accompany new life. She knows the struggle to balance grief with joy, anxiety with letting go, and raising children while in the thick of grief.

I am safe with her. I can cry without having to explain myself. She, the same. We don't have to speak about the pain. We can just sit in silence and share each others pain. We don't have to explain why we do the things we do, especially when it comes to raising our children. We understand the anxiety and the overwhelming need to keep our children close. We just get it.

One day, when I stepped out of the shower, she could tell I had been crying and she knew why. She simply followed me into my bedroom and offered a hug and shoulder to cry on. That is sacred. She understands and supports and loves because she, herself, knows.

But now, I'm home. The tears have been falling, often silently. I don't want to share them any more. I hide them. I don't talk about them. I just let them come and conceal them from others.

After four years, I've found that I'm tired of explaining them. I'm not overwhelmed with grief and sadness like I once was. But the tears are there. My mama heart hurts for a baby that isn't. Small things remind me of the loss. Big things remind me of the life that won't be. And the ache in my heart works its way out through my tears. I'm not necessarily looking for comfort from others, or searching for answers to life's big questions. My tears are simply signs of a mother missing her child.

Four years have passed. My grief has changed. Joshua's birthday is a painful reminder of what is gone- a birthday without the birthday boy; another school year beginning without my child.

My heart aches. My soul cries out. My arms yearn to hold the child that he would be. But it just isn't, and tears are all I have left.

God's Way of Pouring Out His Grace

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 15 Jul 2014 01:11:00 +0000

As time moves on, I sometimes tend to lean towards the idea that people have forgotten.

Life has moved on. That's what it does. It keeps moving.

When loss comes, our lives feel shattered and we don't know how we will ever move forward. We realize quickly that nothing will be the same. Most of all, there comes a time when people stop speaking his name.

The first year, Joshua was remembered in a way that left me speechless. People from all over remembered him. They lit candles in memory of him, they sent cards. They said and wrote his name to me. Those who got to know him in real life, reached out to me and encouraged me to remember his life and what a blessing it was instead of focusing on his death. All of the words of encouragement, love, and remembrance brought peace. My baby was remembered.

Then there was year 2. Some relationships fell apart, while others began to blossom. Joshua was remembered again, but not by as many as the first year. I know it's wrong to expect people to remember, but it hurts when they remembered the first year and not the second. It was a painful reminder that life goes on.

The 3rd year was even less. And I noticed. I noticed the ones who were intimately involved in Joshua's life and our life, who didn't even acknowledge the day. Close family and friends who didn't remember. It hurt. A lot.

But what can I expect? Life just goes on. It just does.

I let it go, knowing that I can't expect others to feel the loss like I do. I let it go, praying that God would help heal my broken and bitter heart. I let it go, just trusting that God continued to have a purpose in Joshua's life and my brokenness, and that he would reveal it to me when it was His will to do so.

Next month is year four. I am expecting the number of phone notifications to be even smaller this year. I am expecting the sting of others forgetting or not realizing the importance of acknowledging the days- even if they aren't involved in our lives anymore. Life just goes on, I can't blame others. I just can't. But it does hurt.

But this is where God has poured out his graciousness on me. This year is different.

God has shown me, in specific people, that Joshua's purpose on Earth was fulfilled.

Just a few weeks ago, a woman reached out to me. She said that because of Joshua's life and my words telling his story, that she accepted Christ as her savior just after Joshua died. Not only that, but shortly after she received the gift of salvation, her husband and 3 sons did also. Now, don't get me wrong- I take no credit for their salvation. I did nothing to bring them to it, but God worked in their hearts through Joshua's life. What an honor. What an amazing purpose to his life. God is so very good and so very gracious.

And over the past 3 days, I have had 4 separate emails/facebook messages from completely random people (that I would never expect to hear from) telling me that they remember Joshua. They have shared how Joshua's life has impacted their own, and I have been beyond blessed to know that my sweet baby boy has been remembered.

Tonight, I am in awe of God. I am in awe of a God who knows me so well and provides for my every need. I am in awe of a God who prompts others to share their memories with me. I am in awe of a God who is the creator of the universe, yet provides a way for my heart to heal through others.

I am so undeserving of his grace, yet he lavishes it upon me.

For those of you who remember, thank you. Thank you for blessing me in such a mighty way. Thank you for keeping Joshua alive in your heart and giving meaning to his life. Please don't ever hesitate to say his name to me or Shane. We love to know that he is remembered.

Heart Ugliness

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 08 Jul 2014 15:28:00 +0000

This is a post in which I am going to make myself vulnerable. I have never shied from the truth of grief, healing, and faith, and I am not going to start shying away from it now.

I have a friend who is going through a pretty difficult time. I am going to leave the specifics out because the issue I'm talking about is not an issue with her. It's an issue of my heart.

As I've grown in my love for God over the past few years, God has revealed parts of my life that need refining. The situation with my friend is showing me where I need some refining. It's showing me how ugly my heart really is.

My friend is in a situation that in a small way, is something I have also faced. It is something that I, of all people, should feel compassion for. It is something I should rejoice with the triumphs, and cry out to God in the valleys.

But I can't.

The last update I received about my friend's situation said something along the lines of, "God heard my prayers and he answered them. It's because I spoke Jesus's name over the situation that we received healing."

Where was my healing? Where was Joshua's healing? Why weren't my prayers answered?

Before I get into it, I know that my friend is wrong. I know that God answered the prayers with a "yes" because it was within His will to do so. I know he heard my prayers just as much as he heard my friend's prayers. I know His will was a "no" and "not yet" for me. I know his sovereignty is always right, and I ultimately trust it.

But my heart screams out in bitterness. And I don't want to let it go.

I am so bitter that my friend's situation seems to be resolving and has been moving towards healing. I am so bitter that God has allowed her to live in the bliss of believing that her prayers were answered by God in the way that she wanted them to go because he listened to her and accepted her request. I am bitter that she is allowed to continue believing that God can be manipulated by our prayers like so many Christians believe. I guess maybe I'm just bitter that I was taken to the pit of despair while some are left to live in ignorance. Isn't ignorance supposed to be bliss?

So where does that leave me? It leaves me looking at my heart. It's an ugly heart with ugly things hidden in the crevices and dark corners. It's an ugly heart that shows its true nature of who I am, and my desperate need for a savior. It's an ugly heart that is undeserving of the friends that I have when I feel the way I do. Who wants a friend that can't rejoice and weep with them?!

So why can't I let it go? Why can't I just bask in God's goodness and grace? Why do I allow my bitterness to fester and point it toward others who "got their way?" I don't really want my friends to suffer like I did, do I? (of course not!!!!)

It's a heart issue, with the roots seeded in my continued anger towards God for not allowing me to have my way.

They are roots that are deeply seeded and give me a sense of control in my life. They are roots from the evil one telling me that I know better than God. Lies!!!! All of those things are LIES!!!!

God's answer of "no" in my life has brought me to a deeper understanding of who he is and how desperately I need a savior. If he answered my prayers the way I wanted him to 4 years ago, I would never be able to understand and love him in the ways that I do now. I wouldn't be able to dig deeper into his word- I wouldn't have seen the need. I would have never been able to know God's love for me in the way that I do.

So why can't I fill the crevices of my heart with compassion, love, joy, and faith? Why does my heart continue to cry out in anguish over what I lost? Why do the seeds of bitterness continue to take root and spread like poison?

I have been praying the past few days about how to handle the situation. I need to just let it go and allow God to do what He needs to do without trying to get in the way. I need to trust in His sovereignty over my life and the lives of the people I love. I need to start praying that God will continue to reveal his grace to me and allow it to over take and kill the ugliness in my heart.

I know He's not finished with me. I know he will continue to refine me- I just need to stop fighting it. God, help the ugliness hidden in my heart.

Tough Grief Day

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 04 Jul 2014 16:48:00 +0000

I don't write about losing my dad much.

I don't really talk about it much either.

Losing him was different than losing Joshua.

I knew and loved him for 27 years of my live. He was my security, my friend, and my advisor.

But I wasn't the only one affected by his death. (I wasn't with Joshua either, but he was my son, so I can share what I want about losing him.) So, I try to be careful and respectful of what I write about losing him. I never want to make his death about me, it was not.

Honestly, losing my dad was, for lack of a better word, "easier" than losing Joshua. I don't know if it was the fact that I was still so tattered and torn front he grief of Joshua that I just simply couldn't process losing my dad also, or if it was because he was my dad and as all children do, we expect to say good bye to parents at some point. I'm not saying it was easy to lose him, or that I wanted him to die at such a young age, but his loss was different.

It seems that holidays are harder for me with his loss than it is with Joshua's loss. My family was really close with my mom and dad. They moved to our small town from the Chicago area just to be near us. They adored my kids and helped whenever they could. My dad taught them how to garden, drove them on the tractor lawn mower, and let them climb on his head. He was a gentle giant and my kids adored him.

But now he's gone, and we are left 2 1/2 hours away from most of our family. My mom lives a good 45 minutes from us now, also making it hard to see her at a moment's notice.

The holidays get me. Shane works crazy retail hours. It's a great job: good pay with decent benefits, not to mention that he loves what he does. It allows me to stay home with our children. But it doesn't allow for holidays with the family. And that makes it hard.

I used to pack the kids up and go hang out with my parents when Shane was working. That is no longer an option. So the task of parenting is usually left up to me alone. I don't mind it, but sometimes I just want to do something other than hang out at home. I want to be with family without having to drive clear across the state to see them.

I miss my dad. I miss seeing his adoration for my children. I miss spending fun summer evenings over at their house. I miss getting my hands dirty in the garden with him and hearing the same stupid jokes over and over. I miss the quick side hug he would give when we were getting ready to leave- even though we were just going home a few blocks away, and would likely see I'm again the next day. I miss his gentle encouragement, telling me that I am a good mom and doing a good work with my kids, reminding me that motherhood and having small children is hard. I miss his gentle giant presence.

Today I'm struggling with the loss of his presence. The tears are welling up and threatening to overflow today. It just takes a simple thought of him and they stream down my face.

Tomorrow will be better, but today, I'm struggling.

Finding My Way

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 30 Jun 2014 00:51:00 +0000

Today was a good day.

A really good day.

It was the first REALLY good day in approximately 4 years.

It was the first day that I got a glimpse of the Jill that died right along side Joshua.

Our church held a small group church cook off this afternoon. All the small groups in our congregation got together and created a menu that was to be judged. Our group picked an array of Mexican food to prepare and present.

If I'm going to be completely honest, I kind of dreaded this day. I knew it was going to require me to interact with large groups of people- something I haven't been able to gracefully do since Joshua's death. I knew it was going to be loud, hot, and chaotic. I knew it was going to require energy from me that I just wasn't sure I was going to have. It was going to require me to function normally.

I hosted most of our small group to our home after church. Our children played, we laughed and cooked and we enjoyed each others company. I was able to love my brothers and sisters by providing them with a simple, yet yummy, lunch (something I love to do). We worked together as a team to prepare the necessary dishes and we worked together to get it all transported to the park where we would meet the rest of the congregation.

And while we enjoyed a potluck style dinner with approximately 100 other people, I finally felt alive. I felt human.

I've been realizing over the past few months how much my self confidence has slipped away from me. I struggle to care for myself the way I did before children. I don't dress up like I used to. My closet consists of cut off shorts, yoga pants, a few t-shirts and tank tops, and a couple pairs of ratty old flip flops. I spend my days with small children speaking in 5 word sentences. My vocabulary is rusty, and my writing even more so. I'm the heaviest I have ever weighed. I'm also much more timid and quiet around people I don't know well.

All that to say, social interactions have been awkward for me. Throw in the grief and it has been a difficult mix for me.

But today was different. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I'm finally forming relationships with people who would normally be outside my comfort zone? Maybe it's because I've finally reached a place in my healing that I can allow myself to love others? Maybe it's because God is moving and healing me. I don't know.

All I know is that today is the first time in over 3 years that I have felt "normal." I was able to laugh and carry on a conversation. I was able to do what I love by cooking for others. I was able to just relax and enjoy the day.

Maybe I'm beginning to find my way.

Changing The Numbers of Time

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 24 Jun 2014 12:10:00 +0000

Time is funny.

It just simply goes on and on.

It continues ticking, even when your soul screams and cries out "STOP!"

It is unrelenting, unforgiving, and ever changing.

And as time goes on, it brings change- both welcome and unwelcome.

My life changed in the year of 2010. Time moved quickly before then. I was always looking for the next best thing to do with my time. I was waiting for time to move quickly, hoping that it would bring forth money, energy, and happiness- all in abundance of course.

I didn't realize how valuable time was. How precious and fleeting it could be. And eventually, how relentless and infinite it is.

As the years have continued their steady movement forward, I have struggled with how to accept it.

At first, he was dead longer than he was alive.

Then he would have been on this Earth for one whole year. Two after that and 3 after that.

Year 3 has been the longest. His brothers and sister are growing. Sister in Kindergarten, big brother in 2nd grade, baby brother learning to talk and bringing us joy (and exhaustion). It has brought success for his daddy, and soul healing for his mama.

But now it's close to year four.

How does this happen?

How does time go by, and one simply keeps breathing? Keeps putting one foot in front of the other? Continuing to be forced to face time?

4 years. 4 YEARS since I've held him, smelled his head, listened to his growl. 4 years since I last hoped for his future, dreamed of his life in our family.

Four years of fading memories, healing, and living.

Four years of letting go and allowing God bind up my broken heart in only ways that he can.

But, four years.

Year one and two were suffocating. Year three was healing. What will year four look like?

The balance of wanting to feel, so deeply, the loss of a son and in doing so remembering him so fully, but wanting to live life without grief and pain is almost impossible. It feels like betrayal. It feels impossible.

Simply put, time has a way of healing. But it also has a way of reminding. Reminding me of what I lost and how different life is.

I am in the season of changing the numbers of time. 3 changed to 4. I'm wrestling. I'm withdrawing. I'm wading into new territory.

The World Will Never Know Him

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 01 Apr 2014 15:44:00 +0000

It's strange how grief hits.

This winter has been hard on me. We have spent days, weeks, and months locked in our houses, keeping warm, all while a thick blanket of snow covered our lives. With every inch of snow that fell, the smaller my house felt, and the more panicked and restless I became. I struggled with entertaining 3 children, 2 of whom should have been at school. Day after day after day of snow closings and pent up energy became an awful jumbled mess of stress and frustration.

As winter has slowly started losing it's grip on the land, as our pond is defrosting, geese and ducks are returning to their nests, and green grass is pushing it's way up through the earth, I have found myself breathing a sigh of relief, thankful for the reprieve.

I've spent hours in the sun, soaking up the warmth, breathing in the fresh clean air that spring has brought. I've spent hours watching my children shoot baskets, become more confident on their bikes and scooters, all while working up the courage to let them go a little further from the house by themselves.

But with every new season a small part of me silently grieves.

As the kids begin to spend more time outside, I always discover their need for bigger clothing, larger shoes, and new outside toys. Their bike seats need to be raised, the training wheels taken off, and the baby toys are slowly finding their way to new homes that are full of expectation for a little one who will soon need them.

But a sad silent voice reminds me of a child the world will never know.

He was and is my son.

Joshua.

He would be 3 1/2 this spring. He would be running and riding a tricycle and discovering the world around him.

There will be no new shoes for him. There won't be digging through boxes of clothes that have been passed down from his brother waiting for him to grow just big enough to wear them. There won't be any swimming lessons or riding bikes. No running beside a wobbly bike as we release our hands from the seat and hold our breath that he just stays up. There will be no kissing boo boos and one less dirt ring around the bathtub from a day spent outside digging for worms.

There won't be tiny hands reaching up for me to pick him up to let him rest. There won't be popsicle goo on fingers to be washed, no potty accidents to clean up. There won't be any sleepy eyes with hands around my neck as we say our good night prayers.

And next fall, there will be a preschool teacher saying hello to her students who eagerly and anxiously await the world that will begin to widen. She will be a teacher that should have had the name "Joshua" on her class roster.

My heart. It aches.

Sometimes the reality that the world will never know Joshua brings me to my knees in the sadness and finality of losing him.

My heart aches as I continue to rejoice in the life that continues around me. It weeps for a world that will never know my son.

Everlasting Memories Cremation Memorial Keepsake Review

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 14 Mar 2014 15:03:00 +0000

About a month ago, I received an email from a respresentitive from Everlasting Memories. They found my blog and wanted to offer a free cremation memory keepsake in return for a review here on my blog.

After thinking about it, I realized that Shane's birthday would be coming up. He has been diving a little deeper into his grief, and has been reprocessing some of his feelings regarding the loss of Joshua, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to give him a gift that would allow him to have a piece of Joshua with him at all times.

After looking through the website and deciding what Shane might like, and then after a few emails back and forth with the amazing and super helpful customer service representative, I had the "cremation chamber" in hand within 24 hours of ordering it.

When I opened the package and held the keychain urn in my hand, I must say that it exceeded my expectations in quality. In looking through the website, I wasn't sure what to expect. The pictures and the overall look of the site, in my opinion, make the jewlery and urns look somewhat low end and cheap. However, that could not be further from the truth. Here are a couple pictures of what we received.

This is the box that the keychain came in.
It also included an instruction sheet,
a bottle of super glue gel to seal the chamber,
and a funnel and stick to help push the cremains through the funnel into the chamber.

I was pleasantly surprised at the quality and sturdiness of the keychain and chamber.
The chamber is stainless steel and the keychain has a polished beautiful finish.

I was most impressed with the weight of the chamber.
It was heavy and study in my hand,
but not too heavy or overbearing for a keychain.

I was able to have Joshua's name engraved into the side. It's hard to see in this picture,
the engraving is very subtle and beautiful.

I waited until today to give the keychain to Shane. Today, he turned 32. I wasn't sure if he was going to be super excited about an urn for his baby's ashes as a birthday present, but I wanted to give him something special and meaningful, so I took the risk. At first, when I told him that I wasn't sure if he was going to like it, he looked at me like he was scared. Sometimes my gift giving abilities are hit and miss! HA!

However, when he opened the box, I could see the look of surprise on his face. He said it was one of the most thoughtful gifts I have given him in a long time. He told me that he has been thinking about buying something to keep a little bit of Joshua's ashes with him, but he didn't know where to even look for something like this. I told him about Everlasting Memories and how great they were to work with. He agreed that the quality, look, and feel of the keychain was exactly what he wanted! WIN!!!! ;)

I helped him fill the urn with some of Joshua's ashes. Here are some pictures.

Our first attempt at filling the chamber.
Some of the pieces of the cremains were too big for the funnel shaft.

The funnel did not work for the cremains so instead,
we poured some of the ash into the chamber using the top of the funnel.

The chamber has been filled with ash.

I wanted to show you how small the shaft of the funnel was compared to some of the pieces of ash.
I've never seen ash before Joshua's
so I'm not sure if it typically has this many large pieces,
but the funnel did not work for us because of the size of the pieces.

Again, Shane and I were pleasantly surprised with the quality and sturdiness of the keychain. After it was filled, we placed a few drops of the super glue onto the thread of the chamber and attached the lid to seal it. We attached the keychain to Shane's keys, and now he will always have a part of Joshua with him.

Thank you so much, Hallie and Everlasting Memories for allowing me the opportunity to receive a keepsake for my husband in exchange for a review. I will definitely be recommending Everlasting Memories to bereaved families in need of an urn or some sort of keepsake to help them remember their loved one.

He's Able, I've just been a spoiled brat.

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 03 Mar 2014 15:27:00 +0000

I've been working hard to figure out the root of my anger. I don't like the bitterness that has taken hold of my heart lately. I don't like looking at others lives and being angry. I don't like thinking about God and feeling anger. I don't think I am a naturally angry person.

I know there have been many who have joined together in prayer for me. There have been friends and acquaintances that have stepped up to the plate in praying for me, encouraging me, and walking this road with me. God has been with me every step of the way and in the past week or so, He has (again) shown himself faithful. It's almost been humorous in how obvious he has made it.

I have realized that the root of most of my troubles is control.

Maybe this isn't new news to anyone else. It honestly isn't much news to myself. I have run my entire life based on what I can control.

Before Joshua, my life was "hard." Shane and I got married at a very young age. He was working part time, I was in school full time. We chose to marry young, but it was hard. I went straight from living with my parents to living with my husband. There was no real transition into adulthood. I loved being married, and to this day, I would not change it- but Shane and I had a lot of growing up to do.

Our finances have always been difficult. We never had enough money. We lived off of financial aid from my school loans to help cover rent, food, and other necessary items. We racked up debt by buying cars we couldn't afford, and a house that was a complete money pit. We lost income because I became prideful and cocky regarding my ability as a teacher. All of these things kept piling up, and by the time Caleb came around, we were drowning. But the problems were all created by us. We could have chosen to stop spending. We could have chosen to wait to get married. We could have chosen to put school aside and work for a few years to earn the money we needed.

Instead, we cried out to God in half assed faith, begging him to fix our problem. (yes…I did just use the word ass and God and faith all in the same sentence….sorry) And when the money came, we knew he was faithful. I don't know why he carried us through those problems back then, but he did. He always answered our prayers in the way that we asked him to, and faith became easy and stagnant. (although at the time, we thought it was hard and that we were growing)

Then, Joshua. Joshua's broken heart and the hemorrhage that threatened my pregnancy were nothing that we chose. It was out of our control, but God continued to answer my prayers in the way that I wanted him to. When I was bleeding throughout my pregnancy, I begged god to let Joshua live. I begged him to save Joshua. And he did. I begged God to allow Joshua to live through his first surgery. And he answered with a "yes." I begged God to give me the strength to make it through the hospital stay. And he did.

And then the morning Joshua died, I begged God for mercy. And he answered that prayer with a "yes." However, mercy, in my mind, was allowing Joshua to live. This was the first time God had answered my prayers in a different way that I asked.

This was the moment that God started breaking me. This is the moment that my world and my faith was changed forever.

You see, up until that point, I thought I had complete control. I thought I had God wrapped around my little finger. I put God in this tiny little box and I only opened the box when I needed him to fix my messes.

This time he didn't. And I've been pissed ever since.

This morning I was reading the 9th chapter in 2 Corintians. Although this chapter is talking about giving with a cheerful heart, verse 8 hit me like a ton of bricks.

"And God is able to make all grace abound to you,

so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times,

you may abound in every good work."

Did you read that? God is able.

Being able means that He can. But he doesn't have to. God could have saved Joshua. He could have saved my dad. But he didn't.

See that? I have no control. My prayers were not answered in the way I wanted them to. So instead of trusting that he is sufficient in all things at all times, I have been digging my heels into the ground and throwing a temper tantrum like a spoiled brat. I have been pouting and shouting obscenities at God because I didn't get my way. I never truly believed that he is able but simply doesn't have to because I want him to. I haven't truly believed that God is sufficient in all things at all times so that God's glory can show through all of it. I just haven't.

I don't think God has done any of this to be mean to me. I'm not even sure that he "caused" Joshua's broken heart and my dad's lung cancer. But I do know that God has known that I am so stubborn and lost in the illusion that I have control that he used these things to break me. And even though the breaking has been painful, He has been faithful. Not only has he been faithful, but he has been patient and gentle and forgiving. All of that is way more than I deserve.

So where am I know? I am learning. I am digging deep into his word to learn more of who he is. I am trusting that there is a reason for my anger and that he can handle it, but that he will continue to teach me through it.

I am trusting that he is good and faithful and sufficient.

I have a long way to go, but I'm making progress.

A New Grief

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 21 Feb 2014 18:39:00 +0000

Over the past 3 years, it is no secret that I have struggled with Joshua's death. I have experienced every type of emotion and every facet of grief.

I have felt God's presence in ways that are inexplicable, and I have also felt completely abandoned by Him. There have been times of complete clarity, and times that I couldn't tell you which way was up. I have been able to clearly explain my feelings and my grief, and there have been times that the words just don't come.

Lately, I've been struggling again. But again, as time has gone on, my emotions and the way I process my grief has changed. I've become more private about it. I don't share it with my husband or even my best friend. I often find myself thinking that it's pointless to even express my grief any more because there is simply nothing new to say about it. It's all the same old, same old and for lack of a better explanation, I'm tired of it.

But now there is a new and festering aspect to my grief. Anger.

Not anger like the rage that I felt at Thanksgiving just a month after Joshua died. No, this is festering, bubbling over anger. It's anger that makes me feel isolated and alone. It's anger that is being directed towards everything and every one. It's anger that scares me.

I haven't written here in a long time. I have stopped writing because my grief has changed. I haven't NEEDED to write. But I'm finding myself in a place that scares me and I don't know how to fix it.

I am angry and if I don't figure it out, it will destroy me.

So what am I angry about? Everything.

I'm angry at the God that I love with my whole being. He did, after all, allow our baby to die in my arms. He allowed my husband to be 2 hours away when our baby died. He allowed me to be alone and have to tell my husband that his son died and then wait for two hours until he could get to the hospital. He allowed our family to be seperated by over 100 miles for over 2 months while Joshua was alive, only to be taken away. He allows my husband to question whether his own son even knew who he was!!!

He allowed our family to be subjected to attacks from complete strangers who blamed his death on me mere moments after Joshua died. He continues to allow those attacks to come, 3 years later after the fact. He has allowed 3 long years of painful healing and growing. He has allowed me to continue to struggle with anxiety on a daily basis- despite my pleas for refuge. He allowed my dad to die at the age of 56 just a mere 14 months after Joshua died. He allowed so many other things that have been and continue to be so incredibly painful. And I'm mad at him for it.

I'm mad at people who are guilty of nothing but reminding me of myself and my life before Joshua- a painful reminder of who I was and the person that died inside when Joshua died. I see their innocence and their faith that comes so easily- even though they think it is hard. I hear the Christian platitudes of, "I'll pray for you" and "God won't give you more than you can handle. You are so strong." (which, by the way is not even Biblical!!!!) I hear things like, "Just look to God for your answers." or "You have a wrong view of God, that is why you are angry at him." I look at people who bring hardships upon themselves and then complain about it as if they are completely helpless to fix the situation. And all of these things make me so ANGRY!!! (I know there have been so many blessings and good things that have come along the way, and I'm not diminishing those things.)

Now, I know in my head and in my heart that God is good. I love him with my whole being. I have seen his mighty hand in my life and through Joshua's life. He has given us so many blessings despite the pain and suffering.

This is why worship is so hard for me. I worship and love a God who has allowed so much suffering and pain in my life. It seems so contradictory. But I love Him. And I trust Him. Completely.

But that doesn't take away my pain. It doesn't take away the anxiety that I surrender every. single. day. of my life. It doesn't take away the fact that my baby is nothing but a pile of ashes that sits on top of my dresser instead of a wild 3 year old running around making me crazy with exhaustion.

I'm having a hard time reconciling my anger and my love. I can't begin to understand how good and faithful God has proven himself, yet how much pain I have in my life because of what He has allowed to happen. I just cannot make sense of it.

So here I am. Writing again. Please bear with me while I work this out. Be gentle with me as I tell you of my struggles. And offer your words of wisdom and your prayers.

I am determined not to get stuck. I feel like this new grief is just another part that I need to work through, and I KNOW that God will be faithful through it. He will get the glory. I just need to work through it.

Good Bye 20's… I'm glad you are gone.

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 18 Dec 2013 20:21:00 +0000

Today is the end of an era for me- it is my last full day in my 20's. Initially, the thought of turning 30 made me feel old. I haven't been super excited to start the next decade of my life. However, as I have thought back to all that I have faced in my 20's and the lessons I've had to learn, I'm glad to see it go.

At 20, I got married and moved 3 hours from home to start my life with my husband. Not old enough to drink or rent a hotel room, I was old enough to get married and was blissfully in love with my new life. I knew it was going to be hard, but little did I know HOW hard it would be.

Our wedding, 2004- 20 years old

At 21, I gave birth to our first child, Caleb. I was in full time school, working part time, student teaching, and trying to hold together a home, as well as be a good mom and wife (I failed miserably). We also bought our first home- a 100+ year old home that had rotting floors, extension cords running through the walls to power the outlets, and an ancient furnace. Let's just say our home inspector was not very honest with us.

Our first home. Lots of renovations

Caleb less than 24 hours old

At 22, I graduated college and began my search for a job. I was hired on as a teachers assistant and we tried to make ends meet. I was young and didn't know what I was doing as both a wife/mother and as a professional. My life was pretty chaotic at that point.

College Graduation!

At 23, I began my first full time teaching job. I loved teaching, but I soon found out I was pregnant with baby number 2. I gave birth to a sweet baby girl, Hannah.

Big brother meeting baby Hannah for the first time

At 24, I started teaching in my own classroom. I loved teaching, but it was not easy to balance being a young mother. Unfortunately, I chose my career over my family during this time. I also realized that the principal I was working for was not an ideal boss and I could not wait to find a full time job that was out from under him.

At 25, I was unemployed. The housing market crashed, there were major budget cuts within the school districts and I was lowest on the totem pole within the teaching positions. We had a house fire that required a kitchen remodel. I also found out I was pregnant with baby number 3, Joshua. I was placed on bed rest because of a placental hemorrhage. This was also the year that we were told our baby had a severe heart defect that would require surgery immediately after birth.

Joshua

At 26, I gave birth to Joshua. I spent 2 months of that year hours away from home caring for our critically ill baby. 2 months after he was born, he died in my arms. I also became a stay at home mom for the first time in my 5 years of parenting. I was terrified of this change- up until that point, I had failed miserably as a wife and mother. We also moved to a new rental home after we sold our home as a short sale. Finally, we also found out I was expecting baby number 4. Age 26 was the biggest year yet.

Joshua just a few minutes old

The only time Joshua came home- he was already gone.

At 27, I gave birth to our 4th child, Luke. Caleb began Kindergarten, and my dad was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer.

Luke, less than 24 hours old

At 28, my dad passed away just 7 weeks after he was diagnosed with cancer, and one day after his 56th birthday. We began looking for a new rental home closer to Shane's work and through God's provision found out we were able to build a home. We moved into our newly built home this year and Caleb began 1st grade. I also started working with my best friend Molly, making handmade dolls.

Working with Molly

My sweet daddy.

Our new home.

At 29, I developed kidney stones and my relationship with my mom fell apart (my dad was always the glue that kept us together). Hannah started Kindergarten and Lukey had multiple surgeries to place tubes in his ears and have his adenoids removed.

Me, now…ready to be done with my 20's

Whew….are you tired yet? It's no wonder I feel so tired from this past decade.

Tomorrow, I turn 30. It is my prayer that my 30's will be boring and uneventful and a time of rest.

God Doesn't Play By Our Rules

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 17 Dec 2013 15:00:00 +0000

It's no secret that since Joshua died, I have felt every emotion possible towards God.

At first, his love was palpable. It is what carried me through the attacks on our family and the early days of grief. I could literally feel him wrapping his arms around me and carrying me, giving me the strength to do the next thing.

At Joshua's funeral, I felt nothing but love and adoration towards God. He was still good, even if my baby were laying in a casket 5 feet away from me.

But then, a month later, my love for God turned into rage. How DARE God take my baby from me. What kind of a God would do that? How could he allow us to suffer like we did.

Rage turned to sorrow. Sorrow turned to questioning. Questioning turned into searching. And searching turned into trusting in God's sovereignty. Trusting in God's sovereignty turned into realizing that God doesn't play by our rules.

It's taken me 3 years to understand that God can still be good even when he doesn't play by our rules. In fact, I have repented of the belief that God is supposed to operate by our rules. What a tiny little box I put our almighty God in! I've done to God what I struggle with what the church does to me! Ugh...

Why do we think that God should follow our rules? What makes us think that we know what is best for our lives? Why do we feel the need to control every single situation that arrises, rather than just trust The One who Is?

My baby died in my arms. 14 months later, my dad died suddenly at the age of 55. Those certainly weren't my rules. That would not have been how my life played out. I would not have chosen either of those paths, but God chose them for me.

Over the past 3 years, my heart has been shattered. My life was turned upside down and I have had to figure out how to survive. But you know what? I didn't have to do a single thing but turn to God. Throughout it all, God was calling me to draw near to him. He was calling my name, telling me to rest in his love. He was calling me to trust him fully, and know that he is good. He was breaking me so I could know more of who he truly is.

God loves us, but he doesn't play by our rules. And you know what? It's better that way. He breaks us. He shatters our hearts. But he binds us up. He brings us closer to him through it all. He restores our hearts and minds when we have nothing left to give.

Over the past 3 years, I have felt like God has played dirty. Maybe in my mind, he has. He had to play dirty to get me to the point of complete surrender. But it's not his fault. It's mine. I have been so self centered and narrow minded that it took being broken and shattered to get my attention.

I still struggle with the grief and anxiety. I still struggle with the pain of losing Joshua and my dad, but I'm thankful, truly thankful, for the lessons that I've learned about how God operates. I'm thankful that He's been faithful and true to me. I'm trusting that he's not finished yet, and that he is still working in my life. I just pray that I'm open minded enough to remember that God doesn't play by our rules.

I can't talk about it.

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 14 Dec 2013 15:47:00 +0000

I'm struggling today.

I have always been one to openly admit to the people around me that I am struggling. I have always been one to need to talk about or write about things. But over the past few months, I can't bring myself to utter a word about my struggles with grief and anxiety- especially related to my dad.

I'm sad today. The holidays are hard. It's another reminder of Joshua's absence. We should be buying gifts for a 3 1/2 year old boy. He should be helping us bake and decorate sugar cookies. But he's not here. It's another year of not knowing my son. Not knowing who he would be, or what he would like. It's another reminder of what we lost.

Not only that, but 2 years ago, my dad and I took the kids to see Santa while Shane was working. His back was hurting the entire time the kids were decorating paper bags and gingerbread houses. He kept needing to sit down while we waited in line to see Santa. It was just a few weeks after our last outing to see Santa that we found out he had stage 4 lung cancer. Out of the blue, dad was gone.

I have an easier time talking about Joshua. He was my baby. I birthed him. I nursed him. I sat at his bedside making every single medical decision for him for 51 days. He was and continues to be my child. I still parent him even though he is dead. He is alive in our family- he's still my child.

But not my dad. I had to share him. He was mine, but he wasn't. He was a son, a husband, a brother, an uncle, and a dad to my brother. He wasn't mine like Joshua was. I knew my dad in ways that I didn't know Joshua. I had 27 years with him. He was my life, my hero, my encourager, my entertainment, my advisor and the mediator between me and my mom- a relationship that has always been rocky. Without him my life fell apart again.

I can't bring myself to talk about the grief that I struggle with when it comes to losing my dad. I cannot force the words to come from my mouth. The pain is too much.

Just the other day, Shane and I were at lunch, and there was a father and his young adult daughter at the table next to us. They were talking about her college classes, and he was talking about some mutual family friends. Their conversation was so easy. You could tell the daughter loved and respected her daddy more than anyone else. It reminded me so much of dates my dad and I used to have. He would take me to our favorite pizza place on his lunch break from work. We would talk and laugh and I would ask for advice about stupid things. He would remind me to fill up my gas tank or get my oil changed. He would tell dumb jokes and then we would give each other a quick hug as he went back to work and I went about my day.

At the meal with Shane, I looked at him and then looked at the father and his daughter and couldn't bring myself to say anything. Shane knew immediately and held his hand out to hold my hand across the table. He asked if I wanted to talk and even though I did, I could not let the words pass over my lips. Once those words come, the tears and the sadness won't stop flowing. It's just easier to keep it inside.

It's been 2 years since my dad's diagnosis. It's been two years of navigating life without him. It's been two years of trying to have a relationship with my mom without my dad being the mediator. It's been two years since I have heard one of his dumb jokes, or called him about a stupid little thing I saw or heard or thought about that day. It's been two long years….

I miss him. And I miss Joshua. And I would just rather not even talk about it. But the pain is there. It's unavoidable. I just wish it would get easier.

Thanksgiving

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 28 Nov 2013 13:00:00 +0000

It was 3 years ago today, that I had my first experience with rage.

It was Thanksgiving day, the first since Joshua died.

When I awoke that morning, I felt everything but thankful. I wondered how I would survive the day.

After the day was through, and everyone was fast asleep, I sat on the couch in my parents basement. I was avoiding sleep. I sat in that basement alone and for the first time I lost all control.

Hot tears streamed down my face, the couch alternated between providing me with a punching bag and a scream muffler. I threw things, I screamed, I raged. I fell to the floor defeated, angry, and depleted.

I had never felt rage like that before. Never. I was angry at God for taking my baby away from me. I was angry that the world was such a cruel and mean place to live. I was angry at the people who were trying to hurt my family. I had nothing to be thankful for.

Or so I thought.

Time has moved on. It's unfathomable how the world can just keep going when you are left to pick up the pieces of your shattered life.

But it has, and here I am.

Still standing. Breathing. Living. And most importantly, giving thanks.

God's faithfulness to me over the past 3 years is nothing I could have ever dreamed of. He has been good, so good.

In my moments of rage, He took my anger and He forgave.

In my moments of paralyzing anxiety, he was patient and forgiving.

In my moments of suffocating sadness and grief, he clung to me and didn't let me go, all the while showing me the everlasting love of a Father.

This is our 3rd Thanksgiving without Joshua and the 2nd Thanksgiving without my dad. There will be quiet tears wiped away in secret. There will be moments of sadness at facing the reality of an empty chair that would belong to my dad and an empty lap that would belong to Joshua. There will be moments of grief. There always will be.

But this year, Thankfulness will abound. Thankfulness for the blessings of my family and friends. Thankfulness for the love of a husband who is faithful, gentle, patient, and kind. Thankfulness for my children who gave me a reason to keep moving forward. And most importantly, thankfulness for a God who has been faithful and true.

There are so many families on my heart who are celebrating their first Thanksgiving without their loved one. As you celebrate today, take a moment to remember families who are facing today without.