Pursuit

He is Jealous for Me

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Tue, 12 Apr 2011 19:07:14 PDT

Having a "moment" right now.

Job:
I teach at middle school after-school girls groups as part of my job right now. We talk about the choices we need to make to have healthy lifestyles. The importance of eating good foods, getting exercise, supporting each other, laughing.

Home:
Matt and I are also licensed foster parents. We haven't ventured down the road of a full placement but have found a niche doing respite care (which is foster care for short-term periods of time).

Where I am going... I am going here. To my fingers that are resting on the computer after a day of work. The kids in our house are winding down for bed. Barak threw one huge fit tonight. He is jealous for me. If I look at anyone his eyes well up with tears. And I find myself reflecting on the conversations I have had with my 7th and 8th grade girls today. They are BOY CRAZY girls. But they were excited to take plums and soynuts home to have their families try them.

And my mind wanders back to the song... How He Loves.

If I could take the tears of Barak and combine it with the energy of boy crazy girls. That is how much God loves me. Me. Humble, unqualified me. He has given me a unique opportunity to sow into the lives of so many kids. Some that I only know for 4 weeks at a time. Others for 2 days at a time. But every single face has inspired me to give all that I can. And while I give all that I can, I draw on the truth of just how much God loves me.

He is jealous for me
Love's like a hurricane, I am a tree
Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy
When all of a sudden, I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory
and I realize just how beautiful You are and how great your affections are for me.
Oh, how He loves us so
Oh, how He loves us
How He loves us so.

Yeah, He loves us
Woah, how He loves us
Woah, how He loves us
Woah, how He loves.

So we are His portion and He is our prize,
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
If grace is an ocean we're all sinking
So heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss and my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way

That he loves us,
Woah, how He loves us
Woah, how He loves us
Woah, how He loves

He loves us,
Woah, how He loves us
Woah, how He loves us
Woah, how He loves

As promised...

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Tue, 22 Mar 2011 21:24:01 PDT

my collection of memories of a night that most of the time I don't dwell on or want to think of. On occasion, like this year, it tugs away at my heart and I know that I want, I need to write it. Writing is how I deal. It is how I cope. It is time for me to validate my own hurt and to let it go.

On February 19 Matt and I had played a game of Starcraft that landed us up and getting ready for bed around 1 a.m. As I do with all my children to this day, before I go to bed I sneak into their rooms and make sure all is well. I did that on this night. I went into Zach's room to check on him. He was sleeping soundly but something stirred in my gut. To Matt's dismay, I picked up Zach and determined he needed a new diaper. He was sleepy and not happy with me. As I changed his diaper, I noticed a bright red rash all over his body. He hadn't had a high fever, low grade, yes. It freaked me out. After some discussion, we packed up and headed to the hospital. Hospital A.

We got there, did some waiting. Had some discussion about how it seemed that he wasn't breathing quite right. They did an x-ray - during which he screamed the WHOLE time. After an evaluation it was determined that he was okay. We went home.

Now, I have to pause here. God had his hand on our lives during this time. I don't believe He took my child. I believe my child is in heaven with God. So I place no blame on Hospital A or Hospital B for how our weekend went. I DO struggle from time to time with my own guilt. I feel like a mother's job is to protect their child and I failed. BUT God is good to me and I know that the truth is that I am a good mother. I could have done more, yes - will explain later. Would it have mattered? Probably not.

Fast forward maybe 12 hours... it was a Sunday. Zach was struggling even more to breathe. He wouldn't take a bottle. Sometime during early evening we realized things weren't right, he wasn't getting better. Understand we believed doctors were the authority. And not that doctors aren't, but we didn't ever take into consideration that they are human. They work long shifts. They miss things. So we wrestled with another ER trip after being sent home the first time.

But as I got ready to give Zach a bath I experienced the truest definition of lethargic. Zach looked toward Matt after Matt called for him and his eyes were stale, blank and not focused. Neither one of us has forgotten that moment, that look in his eyes. The eyes that were so full of life just a day before... held nothing in that moment.

We went to Hospital A. Immediately they took him to a room. Something like 20 neubulizer treatments back to back to back and an IV in his head, Zach and I got on an ambulance for Hospital B. I fault neither place. Every hospital in Des Moines is equipped to handle emergencies and give great care.

Matt and I were so disillusioned about what was happening. Zach had polished a sippy full of green Gatorade after one of the neubulizer treatments. We thought that was a great sign. We thought we'd be going home.

I remember that the nurses and docs never left us alone but they let me continue to hold him. They arranged a transport via ambulance. I remember the sirens. Zach was strapped to the bed thing and I sat beside him. I still think we took some gravel road in DSM.... it felt like an underground tunnel from one hospital to the other. Matt assures me it was not. Zach's eye had perked up just a bit and I remember him scanning the inside of the ambulance searching for the sound.

We arrived at Hospital B. Matt hates needles and I kept encouraging him to take his time. I truthfully have no idea what he thought or how he was coping during the time he was driving or parking the car. I go with Zach to a room. We talk and they work fast and furiously. I experience what I think is one of the coolest machines ever... the one where they just stick it up the nose and suck all the gunk out. Why they won't do that for me when I get a sinus infection beats me!

And then the doctor starts talking to me. Am I okay in the room? Do I need to go sit? I truly thought this was a dramatic showing for a cold. Truly. And then a strange conversation... we are going to sedate him and put a tube in him to breath for him. His body is fighting and it is getting tired. We want to breath for him so he can use all of his strength to fight. Fight what? An infection, we don't know where or what yet. Are you okay with that? Yes.

That's it... this moment. This is the last time my son made eye contact with me. I held his arms in my hands as they put a tube down his throat. I watched him fight the whole process before I had to walk away. My baby was fighting!! Why did they tell me his body was tired? I didn't get it. I needed a moment.

And so they worked and we sat in "the room." Once you have experienced "the room" you know what it means. When it is your first trip there - it makes no sense. And they kept asking us if we wanted a Chaplin or for someone to call our pastor. We thought it was so weird.

Then we moved up to the 4th floor - the Pediatric ICU. They put us in a waiting room up there and continued to work. It felt like hours before I finally got tired of waiting and walked through the doors and down the hallway to find my son. He had all sorts of tubes and things hooked up to him. They knew he had Influenza A and complications - severe pneumonia in his left lung caused by a bacteria that was already in his blood. More testing.

At this point, Zach looked peaceful. The machine was breathing for him and people were always coming and going and working and discussing. Nothing seemed significant. We made some calls and told family we were in the hospital. I don't remember who, but I think my mom asked me for how long. I remember asking the doctor how long he thought we'd be there. We thought Zach would overcome and we'd go home. We believed that.

So I asked the doctor... do you think we will go home Monday or Tuesday? And another milestone moment. He put both arms on my shoulders, squared me up to him and looked directly into my eyes. He told me to call my family and tell them to leave the house immediately. He said that Zach's body was failing. His blood pressure barely existed and his heart was beating something like over 200 beats a minute. He wasn't going to make it but we would continue fighting like hell. They had just lost a 10 month old girl about 8 hours before I walked in with Zach and she had the exact same symptoms.

This was a reality check that I hadn't even considered. Not for a moment did I believe he wasn't going to overcome. I walked down the hallway, out the doors to the bathroom and I puked. I sat in that bathroom, on the floor until nothing was left in my body and Matt was knocking on the door. Deep breath. My son would not go this alone. I would be there.

Matt and I talked. We called our families. At some point his mom showed up and was in and out of the room with us and with Matt. Mostly I remember her being there for Matt. Remember he doesn't like needles and such so while they continued to draw blood and work on Zach it was overwhelming. He never came too close to the bed but was always in the room.

At some point my mom and dad arrived and were in the room with us. I fell apart when I saw them. I instantly became a baby who was losing my baby. And I went into the bathroom in Zach's room and sat on the floor and puke again. This time there was a knock on the door and in came the woman who drove the ambulance earlier in the night. She sat on the floor with me. Her shift was over and she had come back to find out how he was doing. I don't remember her name but I remember her love, her kindness. She wrapper her arm around me and I just sat on the cold floor and bawled.

After a few deep breaths I came out and resumed my posting next to Zach with his hands in mine. I was sitting there around holding his hands and I kept finding myself singing....

I can feel the presence of the Lord
and I'm gonna get my blessing right now

I can feel the presence of the Lord
and I'm gonna get my blessing right now

Pastor Ed at our church once taught that blessing in the bible didn't mean blessing like thing but rather a Word. To get a blessing from God was to get a Word from God.

As I sang that song in my head and softly to Zach I received my word. God granted me immediate peace in that moment. It didn't make any sense to me but I knew what I needed to do.

It was around 5ish when I took both hands of Zach's. I kissed his forehead and with my Word from God in my heart I told my son to go home to his daddy God. I promised him I would be okay. We would all be okay. That I was not disappointed in him and I would never be upset that he went with God.

A few minutes after I gave Zach permission to leave his body rapidly deteriorated. They brought the crash kit in and asked me to back up so they could try to shock his heart back into a normal rhythm. It didn't work. They gave it a good faith effort to do chest compressions to see if that would work. The whole time the doctors and nurses were good to me. They told me what they were doing and why. Around 5:45 they warned me that they were at the end of trying everything they could. They were going to remove the tube and I could hold him until it was over. He might breathe on his own for a bit, he might not. They unplugged him from the machine and I sat on his bed with him in my lap. His body didn't try... he was gone. His time of death was called at 6 a.m. In my arms, my son took his last breath.

Everyone cried. Doctors. Nurses. Our families. I do not recall there being a dry eye in the room. I remember Matt's family didn't linger with Zach's body but went downstairs to get something to eat and get a break. I remember lingering with his body until my family had had their time and then it was just me and Zach. This lifeless, semi-stiff body in my arms. Already he looked nothing like him. The color was gone. I know it is so morbid but to live it. So amazing to grasp the body and how quickly it shuts down and begins to decompose.

I became somewhat protective of his body. Yes, I would let them do an autopsy. Yes, I understood the infection was in his blood, no organs could have been saved. Please nurse, please don't leave his body. My baby can't be left alone.

And that's it. I walked out of the hospital without my child. He was gone.

**This is an emotional posting for me... so while I normally read and re-read and edit and then add my better thoughts. This posting will just be raw like this. Every time I read it I remember more and more detail and some are just boring details. I will continue to add back the layers of what transpired in the days after his physical death as future posting. Things about the funerals - in Des Moines and Hospers. The hard conversations Matt and I had about future kids.

9 months and 27 days

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Wed, 02 Feb 2011 18:54:20 PST

As time passes, my mind remembers only the very best of Zach. I remember he was big for his age but I don't really remember what he felt like in my arms. For a long time that gave me a sense of pain. I felt like I was forgetting him. And this year it is different.

Today Barak is 9 months and 27 days old. He is the very age of Zach when we said goodbye. And as I look at Barak I don't long for Zach. But I do realize how small, how young 9 months really is. I find myself thinking of the simple things Zach never did... crawling, walking, talking. He was such a big, brave boy who went to heaven. That's how I think of him.

This year is 5th year anniversary of him passing... stay tuned. I want to write the story of the last weekend with him this year. I feel led to share it with you.

But for today - just appreciated the miracle of life. The accomplishments and determination of a child. So cool.

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Fri, 10 Dec 2010 09:29:31 PST

Happy Birthday Bob!

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Fri, 12 Nov 2010 14:38:34 PST

Slowly and steadily I am moving the content of this blog to a new home...

Don't worry - I'll take my story with me!! But you might want to check www.ConquerYourMountains.com if this page happens to look lonely :)

I Chose You

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Mon, 11 Oct 2010 08:29:03 PDT

A friend asked me last night how I would rate the 7 years of marriage we have had so far. And my own answer kind of surprised me. I said good and hard. Harder than I ever could have dreamed. During our seven years we have had 4 children and said an earthly goodbye to one. We walked a hard road of love and support while we said goodbye to Matt's dad. We made choices we never knew existed. These things, while I know that they exist all around me, are sometimes hard to believe that they are also mine. I had kind of an out of body experience as I heard myself answer the truth to her question. I don't know that she expected the truth... I certainly didn't expect it to come gushing out.

But it put me in this wonderful place of reflection. A place of safety, a place of peace. Well into the night last night I found myself reflecting on these things. On our life. On our children and our home. On our jobs and our cars. How even through the loss and struggles we both dream. We dream together bigger than we ever did before.

I reflected on how we agreed early in our marriage that we would not wait for our marriage to be a good marriage we would CHOOSE for it to be a good marriage. We would wake up every day that we could and choose to put our best foot first. We would love and forgive, cry and laugh together as often. I reflected on how hard that choice has been. On the times I have wanted to walk away or give up and on the times that I wouldn't trade for any moment in the world.

I have had to learn to be still and lean on the support of others. Definitely NOT my strength. And Matt has had to learn to be quick and keep up with the rollar coaster of emotions that I carry with me. (Something about pregnacy hormones and such ?) LOL

And at the end of my reflection, I became aware of a truth I've been missing out on. It is okay. It is okay to be hurt, to be mad, just as it is okay to give myself permission to love and have fun. That even though I feel like I am emotional 50+ years old, I don't have to live like I am 50 :) We can choose to have that newlywed kind of love. It is okay... because

Hold Us Together
Matt Maher

And love will hold us together
Make us a shelter to weather the storm
And I'll be my brother's keeper
So the whole world would know that we're not alone

It's waiting for you knocking at your door
In the moment of truth when your heart hits the floor
And you're on your knees

And love will hold us together
Make us a shelter to weather the storm
And I'll be my brother's keeper
So the whole world would know that we're not alone

This is the first day of the rest of your life
This is the first day of the rest of your life
'Cause even in the dark you can still see the light
It's gonna be alright, it's gonna be alright

I love this song. Because it captures both our past seven years of marriage and our future. I have been his keeper and he has been mine. We have stood on the front lines for each other. We have wept together, we have fought together. We have preserved our love and that love has held us together. It has been our shelter.

And the line 'this is the first day of the rest of your life' reflects on a truth. Last night as I arrived at this place of peace... I realized that part of why it is okay, part of why this is the first day fo the rest of my life, is because we have this kind of love. Because no matter what happens today or tomorrow, no matter what we find ourselves in, at the end of the day I'd give anything for my best friend and I know that he would do the same for me. We have that kind of love :)

Living in Love

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Fri, 01 Oct 2010 11:36:52 PDT

Bob ~

Want you to know, while you live on in love above, we live on in love down here too. Billie sure misses you but the kids are trying their very best to keep her on her toes like you would.

Love this picture.

But Where is He?

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Mon, 20 Sep 2010 20:26:47 PDT

When I get where I am going... is spread my wings and fly.
When I get where I am going... I will shed the sins and struggles I have carried all these years.
I will love and have no fear.

Halleah, bless her heart. This weekend I had the sweetest conversation with her. I was tying her shoes and telling her that Opa would be disappointed in me if I didn't teach her to tie her shoes soon. It was one of those talks he gave me on more than one occasion... the idea that giving my child a leg up in a public school system started with shoe tying.

Halleah looks at me and hesitates.

Mom, where's Opa?
Heaven with jesus
And Zach?
And Zach.
Why?

Mom, Opa daddy's dad?
Yes, sweetie.
Oh. And Oma is daddy's mom! (Big smiles)

Until this conversation I didn't think she remembered Todd. I wasn't sure how I felt about it. But now, I think she does. I want to protect that memory for her. I want to bottle it up and keep it safe so she never forgets.

I Don't Know if I'd Like to Run Away or Just Cry... It's Been that Kind of Day.

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Tue, 07 Sep 2010 19:54:59 PDT

Things change, plans fail
You look for love on a grander scale
Storms rise, hopes fade
And you place your bets on another day
When the going gets tough
When the ride's too rough
When you are just not sure enough

Jesus will still be there
His love will never change
Sure as the steady rain
Jesus will still be there
When no one else is true
He'll still be loving you
When it looks like you've lost it all
And you haven't got a prayer
Jesus will still be there

I am not a big fan of this September. The harder I try the more it goes array. I'm losing hope. I'm trusting you God. Blind, childlike faith. To intervene, to turn my life around. Restore my hope, my faith, my marriage. Protect my children, help me be the best mother I can be. I am simply out of words...

Tomorrow's a new day ~ thankfully!

For Your Glory

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Mon, 23 Aug 2010 19:59:23 PDT

I spoke to a friend last night and I didn't realize the encouragement she is to me until I hung up the phone and just stood in my kitchen speechless. She has this pure and amazing trust in God. Her faith and her testimony just is hers. No apologies, no pressure. She is who she is through and through and I love her DEARLY for that!

Everything I am is for your glory. Everything I am for you alone. Everything I am is for your glory. (Matt Maher)

I don't think she knows this but this song is no doubt her heart. It is a testimony and encouragement to my life. She courageously lives her life.

And tonight I am overwhelmed. Totally overwhelmed. My baby should be starting kindergarten this week. I should be going to get school supplies. I should be calming his nerves. And I'm not. I can't. I imagine in heaven he is home schooled. Makes sense to me. But Lord, I miss him. I celebrate the lives of those given my friends. I cherish the miracle each of these babies are. And it causes the ache deep in my heart to pulse. And yet in the midst of my tears I am in awe of the plan God has for my life.

I listen to the song over and over again and I reflect on my chat last night... Everything I am is for your glory.

I realize that I need to just stand in the presence of God and give the hurt back to him. It's kinda like a yearly revival... slowly over time I make life about me and my hurt. And I wake up one day to realize that I need to lay it down, let it go, and God - my heart's prayer is that everything I do is for your glory.

Barak. Barak Jeremiah. For four months now I have been frustrated by the people who think I named my child after the president. And last night, while talking to this dear friend I heard her say that she thought Barak's name was cool. That it was such a cool way to open doors for conversations and to share my story. SEE? She's TOTALLY this song... Everything I do is for YOUR glory God.

And she's right. Every time someone asks me about Barak I go hesitantly down the road of "well, my first son, he passed away, and um, his name was Zachariah Barak so we named this boy Barak." No more. This is my life and everything I do is for YOUR glory. My son's name is Barak. He was given Barak to honor the life of my son Zach. He was given Jeremiah because I serve a LIVING God who conquered death and who wants GOOD in my life. (Jeremiah 29). All of my children are proof of the promises of God in my life and Barak is no exception.

Barak is proof that God delivers, God restores, God desires good in my life.

Halleah Grace is proof that God gives grace. Grace flows freely over my life. Nothing I did or could have done would have saved my son Zach, but Halleah Grace, she is proof that grace washes over me. Hallelujah!

Mattalyn Karar is proof that God delights in dancing with us. Karak can be interpreted to mean to dance - to dance a Godly dance. Mattalyn, is proof that there is life and joy after loss. There is dancing and music in my heart.

Everything I do is for your glory. Everything I am for you alone.

*God I pray that daily you remind me that everything I do is for your glory and give me courage, unashamed courage, to tell my story and be part of Your glory.

Heaven Frees You Dear Friend

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Sun, 15 Aug 2010 07:46:18 PDT

Bob Muilenburg

HOSPERS, Iowa -- Robert "Bob" Muilenburg, 66, of Hospers died Saturday, Aug. 14, 2010, at the Orange City Area Health System Hospital.

Memorial services will be 10:30 a.m. Tuesday at the First Reformed Church in Hospers. Burial will be prior to the services in Hospers Cemetery. There will be a prayer service at 9:30 a.m. Tuesday at the church. Visitation will be after 4 p.m. Monday, with the family present 5 to 8 p.m., at the church. Arrangements are with the Oolman Funeral Home in Hospers.

Teach Him to Fish... Would You Do that For Me?

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Fri, 13 Aug 2010 17:34:29 PDT

Time is seemingly short for a dear family friend... A friend I've heard my dad speak highly of for a long time. He speaks of their journey together, through weddings and funerals, golf league and business. Tears and laughter have paved the way for this family and ours. And while I find myself removed via physical miles, I find the tears unending and feel the tidal wave of grief creeping closer and closer threatening to overtake me at any moment without notice.

And last night this thought occurred to me. You can spend your entire life knowing that heaven waits for you. That loved ones who have gone before are living in perfect health, in perfect life eternal. And yet while you wait for your moment to walk/run/fly through those gates it seems nearly impossible to not be fearful and sad of the earthly goodbyes. To know what you might be missing in lieu of the splendor completely unknown.

All times of grief bring my son to my mind, and they bring to my mind the loss of Matt's dad... They bring to mind those rehearsed conversations, those "what would I say if I get to say goodbye." I always find myself in this place. In my mind the words I'd say are: Go. Go in peace. Do what you need to do and when or if you get to choose - go celebrate. Run to your Daddy God, run to your complete healing. The wake that gets left behind... will never be the same without you. But we will carry on. We will celebrate your reunions while we grieve our loss. I will imagine you throwing my boy in the air. Being a grandpa of sorts to him. To this particular friend I imagine my son sitting in a chair on the porch (of the old lake house) with you right beside him. Laughing and smiling. Teaching him to fish.

But all I can really do... is cry.

Love & Faithfulness

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 19:29:44 PDT

So many things running through my mind tonight. But the ache in my heart relates to cycle of life. Watching my family walk step by step in faith and love supporting a good friend during a time of difficulty.

I reminded of Proverbs 3:3 - Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart.

It sounds so simple. Like a quote you might glance over in search of something 'deeper.' Unless you've been here. That place where tomorrow is not certain and today seems to overwhelming to reflect on. That place where love and faithfulness are all you have. Written on the tablet of your heart they sustain you when nothing else makes sense.

I like it. I find comfort in those words. Let love and faithfulness never leave you.

Grieving Together

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 21:15:25 PDT

I watched the news tonight and it opened a flood gate of tears inside my broken heart. A full emotional accumulation of the past year and a half of my life in combination with the reality of life. The reality of loss.

A few years ago Matt and I sought some counseling because we wanted to be sure that neither one of us harbored some feeling we were afraid to tell each other. I say we and really I wanted some peace of mind. I wanted to know the roller coaster we were on after surviving Zach was normal. What I was not prepared for was what I learned at those few sessions. It is what I am reflecting on tonight.

Grief and Loss applies to ALL things. To jobs, to people, to pets, to cars, to houses. To ALL things. But yet I find that people treat them very differently.

When we grieved the loss of our son, people came along side of us and grieved. They prayed with us. They upheld us. They walked with us no matter how painful and slow the steps were. No matter how senseless our decisions.

But when Matt lost his job over a year ago we never felt that sense of together. It was in part our fault. We didn't know how to process the feelings of disappointment, of guilt. Could we have somehow "tried" harder. And unlike losing a child, losing a job was humiliating. We had this distorted reality, one where it felt like hardly no one came along side of us while we grieved. While we fought to learn what this "new" family life-style was. While we fought as we figured out how to work together, how to trust each other in whole new ways. We felt looked down upon. We felt criticized. Even now, I think the first leaf of this journey has just turned and I'll be the first to admit I had almost given up hope.

But it hasn't been all doom and gloom. We have learned to value each other in what some would call flip-flopped roles. Me the worker and him the stay at home dad. And it always makes me smile. If you know us well, you know that this is us. I am the type A, can't sit still, wildly emotional person. He's the fun guy. The consistent, strong yet gentle, dad and husband. We have learned that together - we so truly are one. I look at him and know that He was hand selected by God just for me. He is everything I am not and I like to think that I am that to him. God is good to us and He gave us both a passion to stay together, through it all. Together we can survive and even thrive.

And back to the news tonight. Jobs. More losses. Tonight I wonder how I can support those I know that are grieving this new loss. How can I share my story and give you hope. None of this journey has been easy for us and I'd hate for it to be a complete waste. Share with me so we can lean on each other. Matt and I both have successful families and friends and we long to be part of that inner circle again. We know the frustrations, the hopes, and the disappointments of this grief. We know it WAY more than we ever have wanted or admit to.

So tonight, please know that I am grieving with you and for you. I grieve tonight for the losses in my life and I give Praise for the successes that are on the horizon. And I petition God on your behalf my friends. For the people I know whose lives are being turned upside down. I pray that God put his hand on your lives and touch your life in ways you could never have imagined. New opportunities. New dreams. And the courage to pursue them!

God is faithful - keep your chin up. We will do this adventure - together!

All in a Year

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Tue, 25 May 2010 20:26:27 PDT

Sometimes I forget how short time really is. In a year a million things have changed and yet the same old stresses remain. I still wake up every day and wonder what I will wear. My patience still gets worn thin by the end of demanding day at work.

A little over a year ago now we said good-bye to Matt's dad. It was the first goodbye I've ever had to say to someone who was awake and could squeeze my hand in acknowledgment. It was just another one of those "hardest things I've done" milestones. It is still hard to know that my husband doesn't have his dad to encourage him or lift him up. It is hard to think of my son being in heaven with grandpa. All the pictures I am missing. All the hugs and kisses.

And out of the blue late last week I remembered things I had put away. I remembered that Scott & Megan told us they were expecting Mia the week before Todd passed b/c everyone wanted Todd to know. It crossed my mind that we never got that chance. We never got to tell Todd that we were pregnant. Barak is not only my second son, he is my first child that Todd has never held. Barak is the first one that I have no pictures of him with his 2 sets of grandparents.

In a year...

We've said goodbye to diapers
only to say hello again.

We said goodbye to the only home that Zach new
And hello to a house designed to accommodate Todd's wheelchair

We said goodbye to Matt's career
And hello to the best childcare provider the kids have ever known (him).

We said goodbye to Todd
And hello to Mia and Dalton and Barak

What's in a name anyway?

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Thu, 22 Apr 2010 20:30:43 PDT

One of the first years that Matt and I attended Cornerstone Family Church they sang a song named Shabach. Instantly we both loved the song.

When we became pregnant with our first son we started talking and this song kept coming up in our conversations. It spoke to us. Always makes me laugh b/c when I read the lyrics I know it doesn't convey the truth we found in the song. It just seems crazy silly.

Our son was born April 24, 2005 - and we named him Zachariah Barak Wennerstrom. He passed away on February 20, 2006. Barak: a judge in the Bible and more literally lightning, a flash so brilliant and gone so quickly. Our Zach was a bolt of lightning in our lives and a few weeks after he passed we learned we were pregnant again so we turned back to the song. How do we recover? How do we trust ourselves again?

We were in the car driving and talking and we went back to the song. Halleah was derived from hallelujah. It was appropriate and unique. We wanted to continue to put our praise and faith in front of us. We wanted to continue to believe in grace. Halleah Grace was born on December 9. She was in part a leap of faith on our behalf as much as she was a blessing straight from heaven.

When Halleah was around 6 months old we decided we were ready to grow the family again. Now it seemed like something natural. We looked at the song and our life. The blessings we have and the grace we live in. Originally we wanted to name our Matty, Madalyn - spelled just like the very popular name. Except as we again were talking one day Matt suggested Mattalyn or Matty. I laughed. Yes, the first time I laughed at him. And as I went to bed that night I thought of our son. I thought of the father that Matt was and I knew at that moment it had to be Mattalyn. She had to be named, or at least spelled, for him. Her middle name needed to bridge her to her siblings... so we went to the song. Karar: to dance, specifically to dance as a form of praise. Mattalyn Karar was born March 13.

And most recently we have a new arrival in our house. Barak Jeremiah Wennerstrom. His name is close to my heart and it pains me that people want to question our loyalty to a party (democratic/republican). I look at my son and I am so thankful for his name. It reminds me to hold fast to what I know, to what God has promised. One of my very favorite versus is Jeremiah 29:11 (New Living Translation) - For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope." And I don't believe in coincidences. I believe in God and God's timing. This year at Cornerstone we are focusing on God as the great "I Am." Time and time again Pastor Dan references this verse and every time my strength is renewed. God desires good in my life. Barak Jeremiah Wennerstrom is proof of that desire. Living proof. Barak is a tribute to Zach, a small simple way to remember my first. To remember a child that some will never remember and certainly some will forget. And Jeremiah - because no matter what political party you think I am a member of or not of - God desires good in my life. I serve a living God and my hope is in Him!

With those stories told and some venting on my son's purposed name... I leave you with one of our favorite songs:

Shabach Hallelujah
Barak Praise the Lord

Yadah extend your hand
Todah Lift up your hands
Tehillah means to sing
Karar means to dance dance dance

Shabach
Shabach

Shabach Hallelujah
Blessed be the Rock

Shabach

Shabach Hallelujah
Blessed be the Rock

One Big Deja Vu

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Wed, 14 Apr 2010 20:00:40 PDT

I am sure there are times when everyone feels this way but my life feels like a dream. I hold my son - Barak - and I remember Zach and I don't remember. It is like the strangest deja vu ever. Both Matt and I on more than one occasion have called him Zach and we chuckle when we do. Because it isn't like we call him Zach b/c of some memory we do it out of some strange deja vu. Like hollaring Mattalyn when I really want to Halleah.

Holding Barak makes Zach seem like a dream... like a story I read a few years ago.

And then I say that and every time I looked at Barak the other night I cried. Tears of joy and sadness. Refreshing tears. Tears that reminded me that love, the love I have for my children is truly unconditional and never ever ending. Tears that remind me that this life is a journey that I continue to take one step and one day at a time.

He Has Arrived!

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Wed, 07 Apr 2010 02:39:53 PDT

Barak Jeremiah Wennerstrom
Born: April 6, 2010 @ 3:16 p.m.
9 pounds, 1 ounce
20 inches long

We had a deal - or so I thought - that he would only be 8 pounds... so much for that!!!

A little note about his name... Matt and I have always loved the name Barak and his name is even more special to us because he shares this in common with his older brother that he will have to wait an entire lifetime to meet - Zachariah Barak Wennerstrom.

Jeremiah is a name and a Bible verse that I have always found great comfort. God desires great things for my life - good, not bad. He is "I AM." as we would say at CFC.

Barak Jeremiah is the manifestation of this promise in my life... to hold him and love him is more proof of the good in my life. The good that started long before Zach and Halleah and Mattalyn and now Barak. The good that in so many ways started in my childhood and has continued to bless my life with the fulfillment of my husband, Matt. I consider him to be one of the greatest blessings and to share this journey with him... to see my family continue to grow... proof every day in my life that God is "I AM."

The Smell of Peace

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 14:35:11 PST

I am a planner. Big time minute by minute planner. Pregnancy totally brings this part of me out BIG time. But I know it... so hopefully not to many of you think I'm too wacky. I work hard at trying to not be so over the top (note: only during pregnancy do I excuse my behavior or work this hard to correct it! LOL

Anyway, I have been working with the Chrysalis Foundation at work. We just started doing nutrition programs and some other fun things with 6th grade after school groups of girls. The first one was totally overwhelming. The issues they face are challenges that I was sheltered from for most of my life were gut wrenching.

The second meeting was this week. It is the one I want to tell you about... kind of. I set out after a stressful day at work on Monday to get my supplies (i.e. soyfoods to demo). After unsuccessfully finding some items at our "go to" Hy-Vee for soyfoods I was super frustrated and decided I would get up early and check a few other stops on my way to work.

At the SECOND store on Tuesday morning I was walking "with purpose" to the health food section. I passed by the flower display and stopped. Seriously, stopped dead in my tracks, probably left marks on their floor with my shoes stopped. The smell.

In a moment, I was at my old house just a few days after Zach passed. The couches in the front living room were facing each other. A beautiful arrangements full of silk flowers and trucks and a book 'Mommy Don't Cry' was on the coffee table. The flowers and plants from the funeral were everywhere. I was on the couch alone. There was a vase full of lilies sitting on my tv stand closest to the door. The smell.

And then back to reality. I had a mision and a deadline. But I couldn't shake the smell. I wanted to stand next to those flowers for a few minutes longer. I did. I debated buying them for myself. I just stood there.

That smell brought me back to a place that was peaceful. A place that was mine. It was as if just smelling the flowers renewed the truth in my heart and sent peace pumping through my body. A smile. Another huge deep breathe and on my way.

I confessed my wierdness to Matt last night. And prepped him... my romantic happy mind has now decided that I might need those lillies in the hospital room when I meet my next son. It just goes together for me.

A sweet memory and a new beginning.

Praise

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 12:03:40 PST

True to my own tradition I always post something this week or specifically on February 20 - the anniversary of Zach's passing. Like every other year, I have lamented over this month and this week. It is kind of like spring cleaning - you dread it and love it at the same time. You find cobwebs you didn't know existed and you find favorite shoes or toys that bring you pure delight! This is the cycle I live through every February...

It is my prayer that people don't think of me as something more than I am but that they take comfort in my story, my journey. I never post a picture of my son to bring anyone pain but instead it is a reminder to me and to others of the great things in our lives. In many ways it is my call to action. Get out, share your story, share your life. Remember, cherish, and savour the moment.

I have so many friends who share this journey of loss and we all have one thing in common and it isn't what you think... it isn't the tears. It is the love that lives deep in our hearts for those we love. It is the same love that you share with us in your hearts. Just last night I spoke to some friends and we agreed we don't need statues or holidays. We just want people to not be afraid of our stories, our journey. Remembering my son, never brings me pain. Never ever. Yes, I miss him. Yes, I wish things were different but I don't wish that he didn't exist. I don't wish that his life had never been.

I do wish that people talked more about death and life. I wish that we weren't always so intimidated of emotions and tears... everyone reading this post has a story, a journey. Every one of you have helped me somewhere along the way. Imagine the reach we would have if we took those leaps of faith that much more often! When your heart prompts you to send an email of encouragement or when you just feel like someone you know needs a hug... I challenge you, act on that feeling. Life is way to short to not share some tears and give some hugs. Those moments quickly become like photographs in the heart. Great memories never forgotten.

And this year my wish for this week, is not that you post a memory of my son - you may of course! - but that you post a praise report. Tell me... how has God changed your life? What miracles have happened lately? How has someone touched your life?

I know my praise report. I have a son in heaven with a family both natural and spiritual - which includes his grandpa Todd. Together they are walking hand-in-hand which is something we didn't get to appreciate here. I have two amazing daughters. Amazing doesn't even begin to sum up who or what they mean to me. And I have Matt. My grounding, my rock, and my support. A man who's devotion I never question. Together all of us are surrounding by amazing families who have carried our burdens from time to time and who always stand by us. Soon we will meet the next miracle in our lives... another son :)

As Matthew West would say... "What's your story, about HIS glory?"

Thank You

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 12:52:11 PST

Yesterday was Matt's birthday... and it was a wild day with wind gusts of up to 50 miles per hour and snow accumulation of something like 6.1 inches. And yet in the middle of all of this Matt had this big smile upon his face.

This conversation happened on his facebook page:

Dawn: Happy Birthday Matt!! Hope you enjoy your birthday gift...more snow and a blizzard warning!! :)
Yesterday at 11:29am

Matt: LOL...when I was born, my Dad had to sleep in the hospital for 3 days, as the blizzard shut everything down....very fitting!!
Yesterday at 1:18pm

Jantina: So is this your dad's way of giving you a birthday hug? Must be :-)
Yesterday at 1:49pm

Dawn: That is a very happy thought!! :)
Yesterday at 4:25pm

And as I reflect on this winter weather and the smile on his face yesterday, I am convinced now more than ever that Todd touched the very bottom of his heart yesterday.

Been There

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 13:34:29 PST

This Jonny Diaz song was playing on the radio today and while typically I turn the dial I didn't today. I don't know why. But I listened to the whole song and I realized that for all of the times I thought this song wasn't for me I was wrong.

I had this vision in my head as if I was in the audience listening to an empowering speaker. We all had on blinders, literally, a conference full of girls, women, mothers, grandmothers.

We all had on blinders. And the words of the song were being spoken to all of us:

Well little girl twenty-one you never thought that this would come
You starve yourself to play the part
But I can promise you there's a man whose love is true
And he'll treat you like the jewel that you are

So turn around you're not too far
To back away be who you are
To change your path go another way
It's not too late you can be saved

If you feel depressed with past regrets
The shameful nights hope to forgets
Can disappear they can all be washed away
By the one who's strong can right your wrongs

My past sometimes haunts me, literally :) Matt is laughing at this right now because a few days ago we saw my past at the grocery store. Yeah, that one. The one guy that I gave to much too and I trusted blindly. The one that devasted me by telling people about my mistake and by moving on conveniently without telling me. THANKFULLY he did - because although it took a few years for me to heal, I have been blessed with a second chance and with the man God intended for me all along.

And as I continue to reflect on this vision I had in my car and the moment when I saw my past I realize that I do that - I feel shame and regret immediately when I think of all of it. Yet, I have this amazing and wonderful life. With a man who like the song loves me for all that I am and all that I am not. A man who treats me like a jewel and holds no worldly expectation over my head. I am reminded to stand tall and proud, throw my shoulders back and walk with confidence. God has restored me. He is strong enough that my wrong choice, has no effect on my life except that which I give it. And I confidently, freshly, I will give it none.

I wish I could bottle up myself and my friends and drop us into a room where we all wear blinders purposely. Good blinders - the ones that remove us from the competition, from the comparisons of each other. The ones that allow us to hear God's voice for us in a room of a million people. The voice of truth empowering us to be the mothers, daughters, wives, women we were called to be.

I am 28 years old and just now, truly, arriving at a new level of confidence in my life that frees me from so much of the things I worried about before. I see others I know struggle with the weight of all of these changes in life and I want it for my friends, for my family, for my children. I want them to have this same moment... the moment you let it go and let God give you everything He has in return. That moment.

And maybe others have to learn it the way I learned it... not many will give you permission to have it. But God has. The choice is yours. Reach out, stand up, and take it. Take your confidence, take your second, third, fourth chance. Take it and grow deep in your roots. It is truly one of the most rewarding moments ever as a woman.

Human Relations

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Thu, 14 Jan 2010 08:03:44 PST

I made the mistake of following closely to the events surrounding the earthquake that has destroyed Haiti. Yesterday I saw an image of a father holding his deceased child in his arms... all day I could not shake that image. And I say mistake, because yesterday I regretted opening that door. I wanted to retreat. I wanted to hide from the pain that I understand, the pain that I can recall at any moment.

See Natuaral disasters and the death of children has been the one true thing that I have almost no ability to tolerate after surviving Zach. And something that has been lurking in the corner of my heart is the need of children that live within our community. These two thoughts combined make me an emotional mess.

I know that all types of people are needed in this world. Some need to see the world globally and some need to see the world locally. For a long time I thought I was a global person... but slowly and surely that has been changing. I am proud and happy to watch people give time and money to Haiti - and yet my heart, urges me to do something locally. To give to foster care and adoption programs. To take a stronger leadership role in the community and with our families.

This particular natural disaster has awoken something deep within my heart. And it has challenged me to revisit something I always advocate - talking and dealing with emotions. NOT retreating and hiding, but looking at the pictures and Facing the Giant as Max Lucado would say. Weeping tears and uttering prayers and allowing myself to be open to what it is that God has asked of me. To what it is that He has placed on my heart.

So yesterday I took action. In my own way. I revisited some goals that I have for 2010 and I scheduled appointments to put those goals in action. I don't know where this year will take me. But I know, at the end of this year, I want to look back and say that I truly impacted a life, maybe even a few lives. I know that I want to take the accumulation of life and death experience and use it to change lives.

So today, I will surf the web and look at the pictures of devastation and destruction. And I will align my heart with God's and ask he give me the courage, to live out the dream he has engraved on my heart just for me.

Another First...

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 08:00:00 PST

I am not sure I believe that time heals. But I do believe that time removes me from the intense hurt of loss and gives my heart the ears it needs to hear and receive love and healing. I live there in regard to memories and thoughts of Zach. I think of him from time to time. Sometimes the memories bring a deep longing and sometimes they bring nothing more than a moment that is mine. A moment that my heart smiles - knowing the Truth.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. ~Kahlil Gibran

Todd Wennerstrom. Dad. Grandpa. Father-in-law. I never knew what a friend I had in him like I do now. I never thought that watching my husband say goodbye to his son would only touch the tip of the grief we would see in the short 6 years of our marraige. How much we miss his shining smile and perfectly optimistic outlook!!

I never knew that baby boy Wennerstrom that lives in me right now would be a legacy all his own... the carrier of the Wennerstrom name - both surviving his brother and his grandpa. Meeting neither. I am thankful for this unborn child. For the reminder that he is that life is precious and I think often of something P. Dan tells us - God has chosen this child for us. He has given us everything we will ever need to raise him. It calms my wildest fears to know that God has a plan for my life still.

And I continue to grieve and walk just as before. Trusting God to protect my family and to give me answers when I am ready for them. I am aware so much more of the unspoken hurts of my mother-in-law. I can close my eyes and see the smile in Todd's face as my girls said goodbye to him...

And I miss him. I miss everything he is and was to my husband. I miss hearing about how much fun Matt and David and Todd have watching football togther and hanging out in his room with that sweet TV. I miss his random child-raising advice that we laugh about. And I think of him as I work diligently to raise my children kindergarten "ready" :) He would be proud - I am sure! I even bought Halleah tennis shoes with strings so I can teach her to tie... a pep talk I recieved from him on more than one occassion.

All good memories of him... the man who played his trumpet at my wedding... plays trumpets at the throne of God. So cool. And yet I miss you so much.

The Door

noreply@blogger.com (Jantina) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 07:31:26 PST

Steven Curtis Champan was a favorite of mine for as long as I can remember and on my way to work this morning as I listened to him on the radio I cried the hardest I have cried for a while. His ability to capture the words that live in my heart yet never expose themself is so truly God sent.

I am so blessed with my family. By Matt and my two girls. And we are so excited to be having a baby boy in April. But we did not set out to have a baby just to chance having a boy. We have a longing in our heart for a large family and we love to experience the simple ways children play and love unconditionally. We love the anticipation of our growing family.

And yet, the news of the future arrival of our son... stirs the pot a bit. In some ways I feel like I have a second chance. He isn't Zach. He won't ever be Zach. I kind hope he is adorable and handsome like him but I am sure, actually I already know he is his own person :-) Much more aggressive - from the excessive kicking - but he has to be... he has two sisters waiting to love him and cuddle with him and no doubt put him 'night-night' as they do all their babies :) Halleah has already assured daddy that she will teach him to play trucks. Halleah doesn't even own a truck! LOL

But it feels like a second chance. I get the chance to do all the boy things we never got to do. I get to see him crawl some day and roughhouse with his daddy and sisters...

And as I reflected on the things I miss about my first son... about Zach... I heard this song this morning that Steven wrote about his daughter and I cried so hard. For the longest time, and even now, my brain is constantly scolding my heart because heaven is supposed to be about Jesus but when you lose a child - the face of heaven is only that child. When I think of Heaven, I think of Zach. And when I think of Zach, I think of heaven. It took me a long, long time to let Jesus have that pain and even today I had to give it to Him again. To trust that Jesus - perfect aweomse Jesus - could have my son and he could care for him. A mother's love and devotion, completely unimagineable. Just like Heaven.

And I hum this song this morning... with comfort. My son is in heaven, wanting nothing, suffering not one bit. "God, I know, it's all of this and so much more, But God, You know, I just can't see beyond the door."

By: Steven Curtis Champan

Heaven is the face of a little girl
With dark brown eyes
That disappear when she smiles.
Heaven is the place
Where she calls my name
Says, “Daddy please come play with me for awhile.”

Chorus:

God, I know, it’s all of this and so much more,
But God, You know, that this is what I’m aching for.
God, you know, I just can’t see beyond the door.
So right now...

Heaven is the sound of her breathing deep,
Lying on my chest, falling fast asleep while I sing.
And Heaven is the weight of her in my arms,
Being there to keep her safe from harm while she dreams

And God, I know, it’s all of this and so much more,
But God, You know, that this is what I’m longing for
God, you know, I just can’t see beyond the door.

Bridge:

But in my mind’s eye I can see a place
Where Your glory fills every empty space.
All the cancer is gone,
Every mouth is fed,
And there’s no one left in the orphans’ bed.
Every lonely heart finds their one true love,
And there’s no more goodbye,
And no more not enough,
And there’s no more enemy (no more).

Heaven is a sweet, maple syrup kiss
And a thousand other little things I miss with her gone.
Heaven is the place where she takes my hand
And leads me to You,
And we both run into Your arms.

Oh God, I know, it’s so much more than I can dream.
It’s far beyond anything I can conceive.
So God, You know, I’m trusting You until I see
Heaven in the face of my little girl,
Heaven in the face of my little girl.