I love the story of Abraham offering Isaac up to God. I love that the Bible paints a beautiful picture of how beloved Isaac was to Abraham. I love that Abraham shakily laid his precious son on an alter as a sacrifice to God. I love that he was willing. He was crying. He was scared... But he was willing.
I have had a huge prayer request laying on my heart for the past few months. I have been praying, of course, but I've also done some humanizing. I've wondered what I'd do if God said no. You see, I held this request so dear to my heart that I even rehearsed what I'd say if He said no. The longer I prayed for this one thing, the more I felt Him tell me to lay it down. But it's too precious to lay down, I kept thinking. I wrestled with Him about it for awhile, but I eventually did what He asked. I had my moments where I freaked out, but I kept trying to lay it down. Day by day. Again and again. Then one day, He answered my prayer....And with the a "yes!" And as beautiful as the "yes" was, it paled in comparison to the journey to that "yes."
I realize not every prayer is answered this way. Believe me, I know what it's like to have a door slammed in my face. But I've learned a few things over the years, especially as I've asked for things so dear to my soul. I truly believe that God cares about the heart of our desire more than the desire of our heart. I also think God wants to bless us. Truly bless us with things that have us singing and dancing. I also think He wants to bless us with things that will break our hearts. I have had great joy and great loss in my life, and I can say this with certainty: never ever ever do I want to get to a point where I care more about the gifts than The Giver. Where one "no" will thwart me into rebellion. I want to always pray for the things dearest to my heart. I want to boldly ask for the things I desire. But I also want to trust The Lord as I shakily and nervously lay them down.
My "yes" made me dance. It made me smile. It made sing. But the coolest thing it did was show me that God heard my pleas. He was always going to do what He planned to do, but through my desire He was working on me. He was waiting for me to hand over my "Isaac" so He could hand it right on back. What a beautiful Savior!
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Friday, April 11, 2014
An Unlikely Gift
My son isn't coming home. I have imagined this day since I got pregnant. He was gonna be an April baby. I dreamed about taking his picture in the blue bonnets. Easter Sunday. The beach this summer. Those dreams are gone. Henry's not here. And I'll never see him again on this earth. I will never hear his laugh. I'll never rock him or nurse him. I'll never wipe the tears from his face or kiss his boo boos. I am so sad. And mad. And frustrated that I can't turn back time. Or change what happened. Yes, I have the hope of heaven. Yes, God will use this. Yes, there is good in it. He is good, but I'm a mother! A mother who delivered her lifeless child. There are no words in the world that can comfort my heart. It's my worst nightmare. It's something I never dreamed would happen to me. When I was pregnant with Benjamin I had no clue to be afraid of this. We live in a world with cutting edge medicine. Babies don't die in your womb. Or so I thought. Yet here I am. On the eve of Henry's due date. Flat bellied, empty armed and heavy hearted. I actually don't know why Henry's due date is so hard for me. I probably wouldn't have even had him on April 12th. I guess it's the end of a chapter. It feels so final.
I've said this before, but I believe God took Henry from my womb. I don't think He allowed it or the nature of sin caused it to happen. God knew Henry would die before I was born. He knew when I became a Christian. He knew every time I lifted my hands in worship. He knew the day before it happened...when I was praying for my son's salvation. But He, too, was praying, only it was for me as he watched Henry take his last breath on earth. I thought something might be wrong, but I felt a kick Sunday night that gave me hope. I had no idea it would be his last. I was probably sleeping when Henry passed away, but God wasn't. He was up all night, praying fervently for me. When I woke the next morning with a lifeless child in my womb, I had no clue that Jesus was holding Henry in His arms. He was praying for me as I drove to the doctor's office. He was holding my son as I was told there's no heartbeat. He was holding Henry as I held his lifeless body.
While I believe God took Henry, I don't think this makes Him a cruel God. His ways are higher than my ways. That's a written truth that I'm clinging to. Of course this does nothing for my mother's heart. My human heart is shattered, and I think God knows that. God can handle my angry days. He can handle my sadness, and He can handle my confusion. But make no mistake. This won't be the wall that ends my faith. Where I quit. This won't be the moment I claim atheism or agnosticism or rebel against God. That would make Henry's life a waste. And it wasn't. His short life and untimely death has blessed me and taught me more than anything in this world.
Losing my child just about killed me. At times, it seems like a sick joke, but I can't deny that it was a gift. A gift I was forced to embrace. It has changed me in ways I can't even explain. It has taken me from a mere Christian who relied on her parents, her husband, modern medicine, and the securities of this world to a woman who knows that Christ drives everything. Everything else is a false sense of security. He is and was and will be and that's all that matters. And if I truly truly believe that this life is about nothing else than serving God, why wouldn't I embrace suffering? Why wouldn't I thank God for this gift? After all, didn't He give me the ultimate gift, a gift He wouldn't return if given the chance?
Not a lot of people know this, but Henry probably saved my life. While the doctor is unsure of the exact cause of his death, we found out 2 things. 1. He had hydrocephalus. 2. I had a huge clot in my placenta that was causing an abruption that would have been life threatening to both of us. Had Henry not died, they likely wouldn't have seen it, and I would have hemorrhaged internally. I may have survived, but the treatment usually involves a hysterectomy, making more children impossible.
It was an absolute honor to carry my son. I don't regret a moment of it, even knowing the outcome. I am so proud to be his mother. To have carried him his whole life. It's one of my proudest accomplishments. Hearing his name is the sweetest sound on earth. I love to talk about him. I may no longer carry him in my womb, but I will carry that child for the rest of my life. I obviously don't want to leave Benjamin, but if I were to die tomorrow I would be so happy to see my second born. I crave heaven for that reason.
Don't get me wrong, I still have my moments. I heard a baby cry at Old Navy the other day and it knocked the breath out of me. Pregnant bellies, baby showers, newborn clothes, they are like pouring salt on a bad cut. Sometimes, even today, I wonder why me and not someone else. Why does she get 3 healthy babies? Why do things come easier for her? Why didn't God ask her to walk this path? While these questions will forever turn in my mind, I don't think they're the right ones to ask. I'm actually the blessed one. God chose me to walk with Him in a way others will never know. And worship is somehow so much sweeter. All the things I cherish on this earth, even babies and loved ones, are second to fellowshipping with the King. I think my mother's heart will always want to give the gift back if given the choice. I don't know if that makes me a bad person or just human, but I'm so thankful for a God that is sovereign and sees past today. Who sees the final picture. Who understands that all this is light and momentary in comparison yet is patient enough to provide me with comfort as I wrestle with His perfect will. A God who makes beauty from ashes. And above all, a God who sent His Son to die so that I will see mine again.
I've said this before, but I believe God took Henry from my womb. I don't think He allowed it or the nature of sin caused it to happen. God knew Henry would die before I was born. He knew when I became a Christian. He knew every time I lifted my hands in worship. He knew the day before it happened...when I was praying for my son's salvation. But He, too, was praying, only it was for me as he watched Henry take his last breath on earth. I thought something might be wrong, but I felt a kick Sunday night that gave me hope. I had no idea it would be his last. I was probably sleeping when Henry passed away, but God wasn't. He was up all night, praying fervently for me. When I woke the next morning with a lifeless child in my womb, I had no clue that Jesus was holding Henry in His arms. He was praying for me as I drove to the doctor's office. He was holding my son as I was told there's no heartbeat. He was holding Henry as I held his lifeless body.
While I believe God took Henry, I don't think this makes Him a cruel God. His ways are higher than my ways. That's a written truth that I'm clinging to. Of course this does nothing for my mother's heart. My human heart is shattered, and I think God knows that. God can handle my angry days. He can handle my sadness, and He can handle my confusion. But make no mistake. This won't be the wall that ends my faith. Where I quit. This won't be the moment I claim atheism or agnosticism or rebel against God. That would make Henry's life a waste. And it wasn't. His short life and untimely death has blessed me and taught me more than anything in this world.
Losing my child just about killed me. At times, it seems like a sick joke, but I can't deny that it was a gift. A gift I was forced to embrace. It has changed me in ways I can't even explain. It has taken me from a mere Christian who relied on her parents, her husband, modern medicine, and the securities of this world to a woman who knows that Christ drives everything. Everything else is a false sense of security. He is and was and will be and that's all that matters. And if I truly truly believe that this life is about nothing else than serving God, why wouldn't I embrace suffering? Why wouldn't I thank God for this gift? After all, didn't He give me the ultimate gift, a gift He wouldn't return if given the chance?
Not a lot of people know this, but Henry probably saved my life. While the doctor is unsure of the exact cause of his death, we found out 2 things. 1. He had hydrocephalus. 2. I had a huge clot in my placenta that was causing an abruption that would have been life threatening to both of us. Had Henry not died, they likely wouldn't have seen it, and I would have hemorrhaged internally. I may have survived, but the treatment usually involves a hysterectomy, making more children impossible.
It was an absolute honor to carry my son. I don't regret a moment of it, even knowing the outcome. I am so proud to be his mother. To have carried him his whole life. It's one of my proudest accomplishments. Hearing his name is the sweetest sound on earth. I love to talk about him. I may no longer carry him in my womb, but I will carry that child for the rest of my life. I obviously don't want to leave Benjamin, but if I were to die tomorrow I would be so happy to see my second born. I crave heaven for that reason.
Don't get me wrong, I still have my moments. I heard a baby cry at Old Navy the other day and it knocked the breath out of me. Pregnant bellies, baby showers, newborn clothes, they are like pouring salt on a bad cut. Sometimes, even today, I wonder why me and not someone else. Why does she get 3 healthy babies? Why do things come easier for her? Why didn't God ask her to walk this path? While these questions will forever turn in my mind, I don't think they're the right ones to ask. I'm actually the blessed one. God chose me to walk with Him in a way others will never know. And worship is somehow so much sweeter. All the things I cherish on this earth, even babies and loved ones, are second to fellowshipping with the King. I think my mother's heart will always want to give the gift back if given the choice. I don't know if that makes me a bad person or just human, but I'm so thankful for a God that is sovereign and sees past today. Who sees the final picture. Who understands that all this is light and momentary in comparison yet is patient enough to provide me with comfort as I wrestle with His perfect will. A God who makes beauty from ashes. And above all, a God who sent His Son to die so that I will see mine again.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Questioning God
I would have delivered Henry this week. I know that's hard to predict but bring a control freak, I would have induced. Control. That's a laughable word to me these days. My husband has always told me that control is an illusion. He's right. We think we have it, but we don't. I was so upset about Henry the other day that I got in my car and screamed at the top of my lungs. I've never done that before. It actually felt pretty good. I also had it out with God. Some people may call that irreverent, but I can't help my feelings. My heart is broken. No. It's been ripped from my chest. I cried and asked God how He could do this. I asked Him what kind of Father rips a baby from a mother's womb? I know all the Christian answers, but this does little to soothe my heart.
I see Facebook posts of God's blessings over so many women's wombs. I understand people have struggles I don't know about, but reading about healthy 3rd and 4th babies makes me wonder why God took my son. I know all the church answers, but some days I don't feel like hearing them. Especially not this week. There is not one thing any human being can say to make me hurt less. To be honest, screaming in my car and being honest with God has been the most helpful. I know others are where I am. Maybe not with babies and pregnancy but in other pressing circumstances. Others know the pain of seeing people flourish in God's blessings while they're putting on a brave face, smiling through heart ache. Through unanswered prayers. Through waiting rooms. Through anger and disappointment.
I don't think God allowed Henry to die. The whole, God needed my baby in heaven is hogwash. The whole, He allowed it because we live in a fallen world is also a load. I believe God took Henry. The same way God took Job's family. He took him for a purpose, of course. Just like He took His Only Son for a great great purpose. But I can't help but wonder why He didn't teach me another way. Or been glorified another way. Why was my sweet Henry a sacrificial lamb to some greater cause? Why not another way? Why do some people get their prayer request or their miracle and others don't?
I know losing Henry means there's a great purpose I know nothing of. God never allows pain without purpose. In the midst of my pain, I truly truly believe that. But some days this doesn't bring me comfort. Some days I hit a wall and wanna quit. But what a long life of losing faith if I camp here. If I throw in the towel and shut God out for the rest of my life. What uselessness Henry's life would have been if I let this be where my faith and hope die.
I believe it's more than okay to cry and grieve. I don't think there's anything sinful about questioning God. I think we all grieve differently, and my authenticity before Him is therapeutic and necessary. I have always envied people who can suffer silently, stay the course and believe God is a faithful God without any question. People who can accept what happens and though they hurt still look up without uttering a harsh word. But that's not me. That's not how I cope, and God understands that. He also knows there are days where I'm angry and have to let it out. He can take my questions. He's not surprised. After all, didn't He wire me?
I've been reading Genesis and have fallen in love with the story of Jacob wrestling God. I feel like this is what I've been doing the last few months. Jacob wrestled God and wouldn't let go until God blessed him. I'm doing the same. Only Jacob never gave up. He wrestled so long and so hard that he forever had a limp. A reminder. I want that, too.
The next couple weeks are gonna be brutal. Every day I imagine this could have been the happiest day of my life. I think about and long to know what Henry looks like with life in his eyes. I want nothing more on this earth then to turn back time and have him safely in my womb. Knowing the growth I've had in my walk, the people who have told me they are being ministered to....I'd take it all back to have my second born safely in my arms. I'd trade almost anything to have him here. But I wasn't given that choice. God knew the plans for him before he was conceived. God knew the purpose in his death before I was even born. And God has loved me my whole life, even knowing the questions I would later ask.
I see Facebook posts of God's blessings over so many women's wombs. I understand people have struggles I don't know about, but reading about healthy 3rd and 4th babies makes me wonder why God took my son. I know all the church answers, but some days I don't feel like hearing them. Especially not this week. There is not one thing any human being can say to make me hurt less. To be honest, screaming in my car and being honest with God has been the most helpful. I know others are where I am. Maybe not with babies and pregnancy but in other pressing circumstances. Others know the pain of seeing people flourish in God's blessings while they're putting on a brave face, smiling through heart ache. Through unanswered prayers. Through waiting rooms. Through anger and disappointment.
I don't think God allowed Henry to die. The whole, God needed my baby in heaven is hogwash. The whole, He allowed it because we live in a fallen world is also a load. I believe God took Henry. The same way God took Job's family. He took him for a purpose, of course. Just like He took His Only Son for a great great purpose. But I can't help but wonder why He didn't teach me another way. Or been glorified another way. Why was my sweet Henry a sacrificial lamb to some greater cause? Why not another way? Why do some people get their prayer request or their miracle and others don't?
I know losing Henry means there's a great purpose I know nothing of. God never allows pain without purpose. In the midst of my pain, I truly truly believe that. But some days this doesn't bring me comfort. Some days I hit a wall and wanna quit. But what a long life of losing faith if I camp here. If I throw in the towel and shut God out for the rest of my life. What uselessness Henry's life would have been if I let this be where my faith and hope die.
I believe it's more than okay to cry and grieve. I don't think there's anything sinful about questioning God. I think we all grieve differently, and my authenticity before Him is therapeutic and necessary. I have always envied people who can suffer silently, stay the course and believe God is a faithful God without any question. People who can accept what happens and though they hurt still look up without uttering a harsh word. But that's not me. That's not how I cope, and God understands that. He also knows there are days where I'm angry and have to let it out. He can take my questions. He's not surprised. After all, didn't He wire me?
I've been reading Genesis and have fallen in love with the story of Jacob wrestling God. I feel like this is what I've been doing the last few months. Jacob wrestled God and wouldn't let go until God blessed him. I'm doing the same. Only Jacob never gave up. He wrestled so long and so hard that he forever had a limp. A reminder. I want that, too.
The next couple weeks are gonna be brutal. Every day I imagine this could have been the happiest day of my life. I think about and long to know what Henry looks like with life in his eyes. I want nothing more on this earth then to turn back time and have him safely in my womb. Knowing the growth I've had in my walk, the people who have told me they are being ministered to....I'd take it all back to have my second born safely in my arms. I'd trade almost anything to have him here. But I wasn't given that choice. God knew the plans for him before he was conceived. God knew the purpose in his death before I was even born. And God has loved me my whole life, even knowing the questions I would later ask.
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