God recently told me no to something I wanted so badly. It was shortly after I lost Henry so you can imagine my devastation. My very first thought after He closed the door was, "God hates me." I've never thought that before. Sure I've thought He was being extra hard on me or withholding a blessing, but I've never truly believed He hated me. It was a hard place.
I've learned so much since becoming a parent. One of those things is the deep deep love I have for my child. It's so deep I can't even explain it. As a mom, there's not much that would hurt me more than my son truly believing that I hate him. Especially since I love him more than my own life.
After throwing a temper tantrum for a few days, I examined my heart. And what I found wasn't so pretty. In the back of my mind, I believed that God owed me my request because He took Henry.
Part of being a good mother is telling my son no. Even when he's so convinced that what he asks is a good idea. What I asked God looked perfect on paper. I was so convinced it was His will for me. When He said no it felt like a punch in the face.
I can't even begin to know the heart and thoughts of God, but I do know we have this in common..We will protect our children at all costs. But God is so much better at it than I. He truly knows what's best. He doesn't make mistakes. He so willingly takes the brunt of our anger because He is so loving. I believe it hurts His heart when He stands His ground because He knows our pain. I also believe He gets excited about the day when we willingly submit to His plan because He know it's gonna be good. It's gonna be so much better than that which He may have said no to. I have to admit that I have had a few weak moments where I give in to my son's demands for whatever reason. Maybe I'm tired or feel guilty, but this is what makes God a perfect parent. He doesn't have weak moments. He doesn't get tired or feel guilty. He stands firm in His answer. I'm so thankful for a God who is so stubbornly in love with me that my pity parties can't sway Him.
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Hallelujah, He is Good!
I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of The Lord in the land of the living. Wait for The Lord, be strong and take heart and wait for The Lord. Psalm 27:13-14
As Henry's due date approaches, my heart aches more and more. I would probably be done with his nursery by now. I'd probably be FAT and oh so excited! But I'm not. I'm sad. And envious every time I see a round belly. I just want to run up to every pregnant person I see and scream, "Do you know how blessed you are!"
When I was playing with Benjamin the other day, I couldn't shake the feeling that I failed him. I so badly wanted him to have a little brother, but my body failed. When I lost Henry, a sweet friend who lost her husband told me that even now, decades later, she walks around feeling different than everyone else. I couldn't agree more. There's a loneliness in grief that makes you so different from everyone else. Only others who have lost can relate in theory, but not directly to your loss.
My mother reminded me that God would not allow pain unless He has great purpose in it. I want to believe that and I do most days, but some days I just feel cheated. Some days I wonder how the God of All Creation, my God who I've walked with for years, would take that which I hold dearest to my heart. I know all the church answers. I know this is light and momentary. I know Henry's in heaven. But that does nothing for my heart. My pain. I still find myself comparing my life to others. I'll tell God that it's not fair that this person has everything while that person has nothing. I still find myself wondering what I did wrong. Did God take Henry because I gossiped too much or turned to food instead of Him? Or maybe because I love my kids too much? Maybe he took Henry because he would have been a false idol. I know none of this is true, but it does enter my mind. Every day I fight the battle of these thoughts.
People have asked me if I'm a little thankful that God took Henry because he may have suffered or been handicapped. My answer: absolutely not. Besides, He could have healed him. My uncle is a prominent physician and he had severe hydrocephalus as a child. But these thoughts aren't helpful. They actually make things worse. So here I am, 3.5 months later, still training my mind to turn my thoughts to Him. After all, He knows what it's like to give up His Only Son. He could have done things another way. He's God! He didn't haven't to sacrifice anything. But He did. He did for me. He did for Henry.
I like to think that heaven was praying over me the night before I lost Henry. That Christ and the angels prayed around the clock as Henry took his last breath in my womb. That they welcomed him in heaven while praying for my broken heart. I have great joy that my son is in heaven. I have great joy that he didn't suffer a bit. And I have great hope that this pain will be redeemed. That it will be used in a beautiful story that will bring great joy and comfort to others. Some days I lack faith to think like this. I doubt in ways I've never doubted before. What if this whole Christianity thing is a pretty red bow we wrap around our problems just to make us feel better? I'm embarrassed to say I've thought this quite a bit since losing Henry. I mean, how else can you sugar coat losing a child in your womb as you're praying for their sweet soul? These thoughts come straight from hell. Satan would love nothing more than for me to lay down and die. To turn from the One who I've walked with for so many years. Jesus has reminded me through my doubt that I know Him. Sure there are moments that He seems so far away that I doubt everything I've ever believed. But thats where our relationship comes into play. You see, I have a track record of His faithfulness. I have a history of His divine intervention in my life. That's what I cling to when I lose faith. And while losing Henry is the most horrific thing that has ever happened to me, I have to look at the big picture. Not the church answer that God is good all the time. But the consistency of His goodness in my life over the last 3 decades. After all, didn't Jesus say: You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.
Hallelujah, He is good. Even when I can't see in the moment, Hallelujah His Word declares that He is good.
As Henry's due date approaches, my heart aches more and more. I would probably be done with his nursery by now. I'd probably be FAT and oh so excited! But I'm not. I'm sad. And envious every time I see a round belly. I just want to run up to every pregnant person I see and scream, "Do you know how blessed you are!"
When I was playing with Benjamin the other day, I couldn't shake the feeling that I failed him. I so badly wanted him to have a little brother, but my body failed. When I lost Henry, a sweet friend who lost her husband told me that even now, decades later, she walks around feeling different than everyone else. I couldn't agree more. There's a loneliness in grief that makes you so different from everyone else. Only others who have lost can relate in theory, but not directly to your loss.
My mother reminded me that God would not allow pain unless He has great purpose in it. I want to believe that and I do most days, but some days I just feel cheated. Some days I wonder how the God of All Creation, my God who I've walked with for years, would take that which I hold dearest to my heart. I know all the church answers. I know this is light and momentary. I know Henry's in heaven. But that does nothing for my heart. My pain. I still find myself comparing my life to others. I'll tell God that it's not fair that this person has everything while that person has nothing. I still find myself wondering what I did wrong. Did God take Henry because I gossiped too much or turned to food instead of Him? Or maybe because I love my kids too much? Maybe he took Henry because he would have been a false idol. I know none of this is true, but it does enter my mind. Every day I fight the battle of these thoughts.
People have asked me if I'm a little thankful that God took Henry because he may have suffered or been handicapped. My answer: absolutely not. Besides, He could have healed him. My uncle is a prominent physician and he had severe hydrocephalus as a child. But these thoughts aren't helpful. They actually make things worse. So here I am, 3.5 months later, still training my mind to turn my thoughts to Him. After all, He knows what it's like to give up His Only Son. He could have done things another way. He's God! He didn't haven't to sacrifice anything. But He did. He did for me. He did for Henry.
I like to think that heaven was praying over me the night before I lost Henry. That Christ and the angels prayed around the clock as Henry took his last breath in my womb. That they welcomed him in heaven while praying for my broken heart. I have great joy that my son is in heaven. I have great joy that he didn't suffer a bit. And I have great hope that this pain will be redeemed. That it will be used in a beautiful story that will bring great joy and comfort to others. Some days I lack faith to think like this. I doubt in ways I've never doubted before. What if this whole Christianity thing is a pretty red bow we wrap around our problems just to make us feel better? I'm embarrassed to say I've thought this quite a bit since losing Henry. I mean, how else can you sugar coat losing a child in your womb as you're praying for their sweet soul? These thoughts come straight from hell. Satan would love nothing more than for me to lay down and die. To turn from the One who I've walked with for so many years. Jesus has reminded me through my doubt that I know Him. Sure there are moments that He seems so far away that I doubt everything I've ever believed. But thats where our relationship comes into play. You see, I have a track record of His faithfulness. I have a history of His divine intervention in my life. That's what I cling to when I lose faith. And while losing Henry is the most horrific thing that has ever happened to me, I have to look at the big picture. Not the church answer that God is good all the time. But the consistency of His goodness in my life over the last 3 decades. After all, didn't Jesus say: You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.
Hallelujah, He is good. Even when I can't see in the moment, Hallelujah His Word declares that He is good.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Being Small for God
"We are, each and every one of us, insignificant people whom God has called and graced to use in a significant way. In His eyes, the high-profile ministries are no more significant than those that draw little or no attention publicly. On the last day, Jesus will look us over not for medals, diplomas, or honors, but for scars." Ruthless Trust
When Henry died, I wanted to honor him in every way possible. I read blogs about different things people did to honor their unborn children. Should I host a race? Start a nonprofit? Write a book? I kept wanting to do all these big things and felt guilty every day I didn't. I had to do BIG things for my son. Then it occurred to me that maybe God didn't want that for me. Maybe He wanted me to be small. I don't mean small as in insignificant. I mean, maybe He wanted me to honor Henry by holding onto my faith when most days I was faithless. Maybe he wanted me to share Henry's story not to thousands on a stage with lights and big production, but maybe to the cashier at the grocery store. Or a coworker.
Then it occurred to me: Am I willing to be small for God? Again, I don't mean small as in: I don't matter. I mean small as in: Am I willing to serve God in my daily life? In my current, mundane circumstances? Because that's how life feels right now. Mundane. Sure I have joy. There's always joy, and I'm beyond blessed, but I'm not gonna lie. Life is hard right now.
I don't think all of us are called to speak at Women of Faith conferences. Or dig wells in Africa. Some of us are called to do exactly what we're doing right now: stay home, raise babies, and serve our men. Most of us are struggling for some reason. Whether it be the loss of a child, a hard marriage, debt, bad health, singleness, loneliness...we're all called to endure something, and while it's a BIG thing in God's eyes to be faithful in our mundane circumstances, sometimes it feels small. Sometimes I feel small just playing with Benjamin and making my husband dinner. Sometimes I feel small just telling my story to Bible Study, but anytime I'm faithful and choose joy when I just want to give up is hardly small. It's huge! I don't have to be the next Beth Moore or start a charity to matter. I mean, maybe I'll do something like that one day, but today I'm called to be faithful exactly where I am. So this is how I'm honoring Henry. This is how I'm honoring God! By being faithful today. In this moment.
"When God closes a door, praise Him in the hallway."
When Henry died, I wanted to honor him in every way possible. I read blogs about different things people did to honor their unborn children. Should I host a race? Start a nonprofit? Write a book? I kept wanting to do all these big things and felt guilty every day I didn't. I had to do BIG things for my son. Then it occurred to me that maybe God didn't want that for me. Maybe He wanted me to be small. I don't mean small as in insignificant. I mean, maybe He wanted me to honor Henry by holding onto my faith when most days I was faithless. Maybe he wanted me to share Henry's story not to thousands on a stage with lights and big production, but maybe to the cashier at the grocery store. Or a coworker.
Then it occurred to me: Am I willing to be small for God? Again, I don't mean small as in: I don't matter. I mean small as in: Am I willing to serve God in my daily life? In my current, mundane circumstances? Because that's how life feels right now. Mundane. Sure I have joy. There's always joy, and I'm beyond blessed, but I'm not gonna lie. Life is hard right now.
I don't think all of us are called to speak at Women of Faith conferences. Or dig wells in Africa. Some of us are called to do exactly what we're doing right now: stay home, raise babies, and serve our men. Most of us are struggling for some reason. Whether it be the loss of a child, a hard marriage, debt, bad health, singleness, loneliness...we're all called to endure something, and while it's a BIG thing in God's eyes to be faithful in our mundane circumstances, sometimes it feels small. Sometimes I feel small just playing with Benjamin and making my husband dinner. Sometimes I feel small just telling my story to Bible Study, but anytime I'm faithful and choose joy when I just want to give up is hardly small. It's huge! I don't have to be the next Beth Moore or start a charity to matter. I mean, maybe I'll do something like that one day, but today I'm called to be faithful exactly where I am. So this is how I'm honoring Henry. This is how I'm honoring God! By being faithful today. In this moment.
"When God closes a door, praise Him in the hallway."
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