Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I wanted so much to post something "inspiring" that expresses the mixed feelings in my heart. I couldn't think of anything, but was inspired by something my brother-in-law sent me, so I've posted part of it below.
I am sad for what would have been yet thankful for what is. This month has been such a rollercoaster of emotion, just as I suspected it would be, but every wave of grief and joy have surprised me. They seem to be completely intertwined right now. I never know what to expect from myself from day to day, or hour to hour for that matter. November has been the strangest season of my grief thus far. November. It will always be Abby's month. The next few days were our last with her. It's hard to believe a year ago at this time, we were excitedly completing the final preprations to welcome our little girl into the world, completely oblivious that everything was about to come to a screeching halt. It's been a long year.
One year. There has been much joy and much sadness in our lives in the last 12 months. Benjamin has definately been the joy. I can't imagine what life would be like without him right now, how much sadder we would be. He is at the top of my "thankful" list this year (second only to Chad). I am so thankful for that little boy! I have been homeschooling him since August and today we talked about Fall, the letter "F", made a turkey puppet and talked about Thanksgiving and what it means to be thankful. Afterwards, we made his "thankful" list and he told me what to write (in this order): Jesus, pictures, Nik (his cousin), G.G. (great-grandma), Mommy, Papa, Daddy, ambulances, turkey, owls, Nana Linda, cars, fire trucks, and later he added, pickup trucks, lol. We went outside to find the prettiest fall leaf in our yard and glued it to the list and it is hanging in his bedroom right now as he sleeps. What joy he brings!
When I think of the mommies I know who have experienced the devastating loss of their first child and are now facing the holidays childless, my heart breaks doubly for them. And it gives me reason to be thankful because I have a beautiful little boy sleeping in the next room, whom I was told by an arrogant doctor 10 years ago would never exist! And I have a beautiful little girl in Heaven waiting for me that I get to look forward to spending eternity with! And future children that have not yet been conceived that God is just waiting for the right time to bring into our lives. The pain is bittersweet, because I already know how the story ends. I just don't know what will happen in the middle and I have to wait to find out.
As much as I hate to admit it, I am thankful for this year and all that it has taught me. Even in the intensity of my own suffering, I have seen God bringing beauty from ashes. Sometimes I was blinded by my pain and could not see his hand at work in my life. Other times it was so obvious that it overwhelmed me. At all times, whether I felt it or not, I knew he was there. I know that he still is. I am thankful that he is who he says he is regardless of how I feel. And that I know how to love someone who is suffering, even though I had to suffer myself in order to find out. I am thankful for the compassion he has given me for people in grief, particularly those who have experienced the loss of a child. I know how to love someone who is grieving. And I know how to grieve. Someday God will use that.
I have often questioned whether I should have been so open with my grief or if I have sounded like I am having a faith crisis. The low days are so low and sometimes it's hard to put into words what I am really feeling. I have been frustrated at times and expressed that deep frustration in my blogs. I have been touched and elated at others and have expressed that, too. Ultimately, my faith is still in tact and, in fact, growing more than ever. But I feel a deep need for people to see the real me, the human being suffering beneath the surface. A real person who loves a real God and is struggling to make sense of it all. I think people need that and appreciate that in the midst of such a superficial world. I have learned what is important and what doesn't matter. People will always have their opinions, but God's opinion is the only one that truly matters. He knows my heart. I am truly thankful for that!
My "witness" depended on me before. I knew (in my head) that it didn't, but I didn't realize how I was always "trying" so hard to say or do just the right thing. It's actually quite funny ... whenever we try to inspire others, we are usually not very inspiring. But when we're not trying, then we can be quite an inspiration. It is the only time God can really use us! Now more than ever I see myself for what I really am ... wretched and utterly unlovable ... that is, without Jesus. I have faced the hideousness of myself through the ugliness of grief. It brings the darkest of all human emotions to the surface. It pushes away and pulls back all at once. Grief must depend on God because otherwise it would destroy the soul. Without God, grief consumes.
So now I'm looking at the thorns. As I look back over the past year, I see more thorns than roses. But you can't have any roses without thorns!! As I mentioned at the beginning of this blog, my brother-in-law sent me an amazing story today about thorny rose stems and it really hit home for me. You'll see why. It amazes me how true it is. There is beauty in the pain we've endured this year and it has given us reason to be thankful. Let me share a part of the story with you ...
"I learned to be thankful for thorns," answered the clerk quietly. "I've always thanked God for the good things in my life and I never questioned Him why those good things happened to me, but when the bad stuff hit, I cried out, 'Why? Why me?!' It took time for me to learn that the dark times are important to our faith! I have always enjoyed the 'flowers' of my life, but it took the thorns to show me the beauty of God's comfort! You know, the Bible says that God comforts us when we're afflicted, and from His consolation we learn to comfort others."
Sandra sucked in her breath, as she thought about what her friend had tried to tell her. "I guess the truth is I don't want comfort. I've lost a baby and I'm angry with God."
Just then someone else walked in the shop.
"Hey, Phil!" the clerk greeted the balding, rotund man.
"My wife sent me in to get our usual Thanksgiving arrangement . . . twelve thorny, long-stemmed stems!" laughed Phil as the clerk handed him a tissue wrapped arrangement from the refrigerator.
"Those are for your wife?" asked Sandra incredulously. "Do you mind telling me why she wants a bouquet that looks like that?"
"Four years ago, my wife and I nearly divorced," Phil replied. "After forty years, we were in a real mess, but with the Lord's grace and guidance, we trudged through problem after problem, the Lord rescued our marriage. Jenny here (the clerk) told me she kept a vase of rose stems to remind her of what she had learned from "thorny" times. That was good enough for me. I took home some of those stems. My wife and I decided to label each one for a specific "problem" and give thanks for what that problem taught us."
As Phil paid the clerk, he said to Sandra, "I highly recommend the Special!" and left.
"I don't know if I can be thankful for the thorns in my life" Sandra said to the clerk. "It's all too . . . fresh."
"Well," the clerk replied carefully, "my experience has shown me that the thorns make the roses more precious. We treasure God's providential care more during trouble than at any other time. Remember that it was a crown of thorns that Jesus wore so we might know His love. Don't resent the thorns."
Tears rolled down Sandra 's cheeks. For the first time since her baby died, she loosened her grip on her resentment.
"I'll take those twelve thorny, long-stemmed stems, please," she managed to choke out.
"I hoped you would," said the clerk gently. "I'll have them ready in a minute."
Thanking God for the thorns ...
Emily
PS - Here is my "thankful" list for 2007 ... or, should I say, my "roses" among the thorns ...
Chad, my partner in life and the person who loves me no matter how awful I am
Benjamin, a bright light on a rainy day and the joy of my heart
My family, who has given me all the grace and space I need, but lovingingly encouraged me along the way
My church family who has comforted me and allowed me to express my grief openly in front of them
The women in my Bible study who have prayed and cried and laughed with me week after week
The friends who have actually stood by me without expectations
Nancy Guthrie, for writing the book that saved my life and taught me how to grieve
The new friends I've made on this journey who also wear these awful shoes
Chelsea, my new friend and kindred spirit who gave me a place to let it all hang out while trying to figure out what God was doing
Cindy Robertson, my counselor and friend, who affirmed me when I was hurting and helped me see through my grief so I would know the "right thing" to do
My sister, Amy, one of the few people who really "gets" me and loves me anyway
My neighbor, Jennifer, who knew just what to say and when to say it
Gina, my other sister, who has cried with me and tried so hard to understand
My brother, Erik, for always calling and "checking in"
The generous people who gave us money when we were faced with huge medical bills, funeral expenses and, now, infertility
John Janis, George Martin, Lonny, Ken, Skip and all of the amazing men at Teen Challenge who have given Chad a soft place to land
Our trip to Florida in June, which refreshed our spirits and gave us time just to be together
Our trip to Great Wolf Lodge in July, which gave me a chance to reconnect, cry and share hearts with Gina
Betsy & Vic, for letting us stay in their home for our 10th wedding anniversary
Our trip to Toledo to stay with our new and dear friends, Ty & Chelsea
Our trip to the Smoky Mountains over Labor Day weekend and the renewal of our wedding vows
The movie, "Click" for reminding me not to fast forward this season of my life
Carefree days when I get to "forget" for awhile and actually feel like the old me again
The tulips I planted in the fall while still pregnant with Abby, an annual reminder of my flower blooming in Heaven
The look on Benjamin's face when he sees Christmas lights, fire trucks, a man working construction, or anything else that strikes his fancy
The deer that come to our feeder in the morning and bless us with their presence
That Benjamin still remembers his sister and asks to see her pictures and kisses them when he does
People who visit Abby's website and keep her memory alive
All of the wonderful moments we got to enjoy with Benjamin this year and the privilege of raising him and watching him grow up
That he is still little and there is still time
The hope that I have in Jesus that I will see my daughter again
Heaven ...
