What's new

Papi and Natty time.

Blackberries!

Cook-out with our favorite Cochabambinos.

Grass at the guesthouse.

Taking off from El Alto- a plateau at 14,000ft.

Well, I don't have much profound to say today...I'll save that for another time when I've had a few quiet moments to think about what might be going on in my mind and heart with regard to Zion.
Today, I'll just fill you in a bit on what we've been up to- just for the sake of those who kindly check my blog and want to know how we are doing. We just returned from 6 days in lovely Cochabamba. The weather was on and off rainy all week, which made for just enough sunny and warm days along with some nice, cooler, rainy days that were perfect for book reading, or when Natty was up, movie watching. Scotty was in meetings for the mission from morning to dinner time, so the in-laws and I enjoyed hanging around the SIM guest house. My favorite part is the beautiful, large, grassy yard. Natty woke up every morning and immediately demanded that we go outside. Most days she could roam with bare feet and would run as fast as her chubby legs would take her to chase after a bird or look for the dog or just because she could. One day, she spent an hour or so throwing her dog to me and then dramatically falling down and rolling around in the grass when she missed catching him as I returned the throw. On one of the walls was a glorious blackberry vine that she would also insist that we pick from anytime she noticed or thought about it. Scotty's parents happily took care of Natty one morning while I went to the used clothing section of the cancha- Cochabamba's enormous market. It was a joy to be by myself and slowly browse the stores without interruption. And, Scotty and I even managed a date at our favorite restaurant. Other than this trip, we have been mostly around the house or nearby running errands. Every room in our apartment now has a couple painted walls, thanks to my father-in-law and Natty continues to enjoy the extra playmates that our parents have been to her. IBM's women's Bible study started up last week with a whopping 20 ladies in attendance! We'll be studying Beth Moore's Jesus the One and Only in Spanish and I'm looking forward to getting back in touch with some of the women from church through this time together every 2 weeks. I also feel like Spanish sounds like a foreign language again because of how much time I've been with my English speaking family and really need the speaking outlet. Natty is as pleasant as ever- we are oh so grateful for the lovely personality God has given her. She has just started the "why" phase- asking that often complicated question about half the time we tell her something. She loves Clifford books, playing in dirt and water, taking walks, sculpting with play-doh, eating and dancing/singing. She's starting to enjoy other kids more, too, and I am thinking of finding a class to enroll her in after our parents are gone in order for her to have a more creative outlet and make new friends. Overall, we are feeling so thankful for the time we've had together as a family and know it was so important for us as we continue to wonder what the future looks like for us and our ministry. Thanks for continuing to pray.

One day...

I've been feeling bad lately about not blogging- knowing that many of you are wondering how I am doing (thank you). I have to tell you that I haven't had much of a chance to process how I am doing at the moment. My parents were here for almost 3 weeks, we had 4 days to clean and prepare for my in-laws visit, and now we are busy hanging out with them. Both visits have been wonderful and such a blessed time to see our families and do everything and nothing with them. Neither set have much interest in travelling or filling up the time with touristy things so we spend the days running errands, playing play-doh, cleaning, cooking, eating, and just "being". It's nice and I'm happy to have this large chunk of time filled with something so easy and important as spending quality time with your family is. So, all that to say, I haven't really focused much on my feelings or where I stand in the grieving process. I know that there are still many sad days and moments. I know I still miss Zion so, so much, think about him constantly, imagine what it might have been like had he been here at this time, remember the few and precious days we had with him and what it felt like to touch him, wonder what the future will be like without him and what it might turn out like as we think about having more kids down the road, and generally feel like my life will never be the same. That I know. Without needing to think about it too hard, I also know that God is working in my heart to help me come to a better place about it all. I don't understand it any better than I did, I still don't think whatever I might learn is worth it, but I am starting to really believe that one day it will be OK. And one day I will see and experience and proclaim that good has come from it. And one day my faith will be so much deeper than it could have been if it hadn't happened. One day things will feel normal again. I suppose I believe this now because God has allowed me to experience tiny glimpses of it. Glimpses of hope and joy that I haven't experienced until recently. I know the journey continues to be long and as I am quite accustomed to now, the path might be smooth and relatively straight for a bit and then it suddenly and unexpectedly takes a sharp turn and becomes dark and full of pot holes. But, I can walk in the dark and hope for the light, believing it will come.

Quiet

It's so very quiet today. My parents went to the airport early this morning to return home. It was a wonderful visit and I already miss their presence in the house. Natty misses them too, although I can tell she doesn't exactly know how to express it. The morning was busy cleaning up and almost finishing my second sewing project (much harder than I expected) then going to the packed pool to be totally and completely annoyed by the kids there. There's absolutely no managing of spaces for those of us who would like to swim laps and are paying good money every month to do so. Grrrr... I was reminded as I drove home in a cloud of aggravation of the sermon Scotty preached on Sunday. He used a guy holding a cup of water as an illustration. The cup is our heart and the water is what we fill it up with. Scotty would bump his arm and the water would spill out. He explained that life is going to give us bumps of all kinds and what is stored up in our heart is going to spill out, either blessing those around us with clean water, or getting everything all dirty and yucky with the sewer water that comes out when we haven't spent enough time in the Word and prayer. I was seeing a lot of stinky water coming out today. Anyway...it's quiet now. Scotty is running errands and Natty is napping. I am thinking of Zion. I'm tired of being sad and yet, I know it is necessary. I want to move forward in life, but I'm not sure exactly where I need to go next. I should be involved in community again but I'm pretty sure people aren't too sure how to interact with me, nor I with them. I guess I'm just trying to figure out how to do life now. How do I allow myself to be sad while still spurring myself on to have relationships and get out of the house so I'm not swallowed up by the sadness? How do I express my emotions and share my thoughts without making people uncomfortable? When is it better to just not bring it up? Grief leaves you in this strange, separate state. I was reading lately how a person who is grieving will always do it differently than someone else because we are all unique. You can build community around you to go through the grief with you by sharing your feelings and letting people hurt with you. But, ultimately, you will always do it alone because no one will understand the pain like you do or know exactly what it is like. It's a lonely road. Even Scotty has no idea what I'm going through. Too easily I forget that God knows. He not only knows what it's like to lose a son, He knows me intimately and personally. I need to work on trusting that, even when I'm not sure what to do with it. I need to really believe that God knows what I need and will give that to me.

Music

We got home from a short trip to Lake Titicaca this afternoon. Leaving yesterday mid-morning, we were excited to introduce our parents to this beautiful, enormous lake that has always been one of our favorite places to go for short little trips outside the city. We were praying for good weather, as it is rainy season now, and it's cold and not so pretty at the lake when it's raining. We had a mix of both and a nice time of relaxing, throwing rocks in the lake (Natty's favorite pastime) and Scotty and I did a tough hike to the top of a nearby hill. We had yummy, fresh trout and generally enjoyed the beauty of the Andes of Bolivia.

Tonight we're all pooped and I decided to take some time to myself to read and listen to a few of the new CD's that dear friends sent me for Christmas. One is JJ Heller's "When I'm With You". I noticed when I first got it, as I was reading the lyrics before actually hearing the music, that there was a song she had written for a little girl baby who had died shortly after birth. I found the blog about Olivianna and have related much to the families struggles and grief in the time after they lost their precious daughter. Tonight I listened to the song and found it could have been written for my Zion, just changing the name and the length of time spent on earth. It was so very hard to hear but so good, too. When life gets busy, the freshness and reality of my son can fade a little, even though the emptiness remains. Sometimes I need that new reminder of how real he was/is to match up with the hurt that remains in my heart for things to feel right- somehow. Appropriately, the next song on the CD is called "No Fight Left". The lyrics perfectly describe how I often feel:

"It's hard to tell if my eyes are open

when all I see is dark.

And it's easy, it's easy to lose my step...

There is no fight left on the inside

But maybe that's where I should be

I've given up trying

I'm giving it all to you

And I used to dream of a life so lovely

there'd be no room for tears

Now letting go, yeah,

letting go is the hardest part..."

Letting go is the hardest part. Isn't that right? I don't ever want to let go of Zion. Sometimes I fear that his memory is being lost or that by being more busy than sad, I am erasing his valuable existence... I know that God does not ask me to give up the memory of or love for my son, but my desire to control how it all turns out. My thoughts are a bit of a jumble tonight...I just miss Zion.

Wrestling and Learning

Loss strips you. It takes away the superficial pillars that you leaned on for happiness. It makes you question everything you always thought you believed but when tested by fire, you realize how shallow that belief was because it was never tried. It makes you realize that maybe your hope was not where you thought it was but was mostly based on your situation, the blessings God had given you, or the people around you that made you content. It's like God removes the false front of your life that you always thought was real and shows you the disaster that was behind and then asks you if you still trust Him. And sometimes the front is your true reality, it's the only thing you've experienced, it's valid. But, maybe it's not meant to last. Maybe you need Someone to show you that your faith isn't as deep as you thought or give you the opportunity to make it more firm and lasting. Ever since Zion died, I've been wrestling with questions about who God is and how He interacts with His children. I'm asking Him and myself questions that I thought I had answered. I believe He is in control and totally sovereign and ordains all events- so how does that truth also blend with the truth that He is good and loving? Although I know it is a mystery we won't ever fully understand on this side of eternity, I know these things go hand in hand without contradicting each other. But, I don't always feel that way. There's a song we keep singing at church lately that I can only sing half off. The beginning talks about spending one moment with God and how it doesn't matter what happens or what we have to wait for if we can just spend a moment with Him. I don't agree. It DOES matter what I go through- it does matter what I have to wait for. If someone had asked the writer of that song, "would you be willing to sacrifice your son for one moment with the Lord?" I'm pretty sure he would not answer, "it doesn't matter- as long as I get my one moment." So, I have a hard time with that and I ask myself, "is that wrong?" Is it wrong to not want to give up my loved ones? Does God ask us to give up our loved ones to spend a moment with Him? Thankfully, He doesn't always. He freely gives of Himself whether we sacrifice or not. It is not a result of what we do, but of His grace. However, I know that He has asked a great thing of us in giving Zion. I was wondering as I tried to sleep last night how taking Zion was part of a loving plan. I believe God loves me, but I am desperately trying to understand that love in the death of my son. It dawned on me that maybe God is using my child to try to teach true happiness- which is a loving thing. As long as my happiness is based on my relationships, the health of those I love, how easy life is- I will be disappointed. If I begin to realize that God's glory is my ultimate good and joy (Man's chief end is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever- Westminster Shorter Catechism), than that is a good and loving lesson to teach me. And, I know that the Lord has formed every one of us and numbered our days. He numbered Zion's days to 18 and when he reached that number, his purpose was complete. He was used for a noble purpose- for many that I might never know. But, I believe loving me by showing me that my happiness might have been put in the wrong place, was one. I don't want to miss the purpose God had in taking my son. To know that He died, but not allow myself to ever see any good in the situation, would be accepting that Zion died in vain. This would be a truly tragic reality. However, my hope is that God will continue to redeem the short life of Zion by using Him for His great and wonderful purposes- in my life and in the lives of others.

Christmas Eve

I hardly know what to think about Christmas this year. I am excited because my parents arrive on Christmas morning and I know having them here will be a great distraction and such a fun time for them to be able to interact with Natty and get to know her now in this fantastic stage where she is learning and talking and doing the cutest, funniest things. She is truly a blessing and I know I would be horribly depressed if she weren't around. However, I can't help but think constantly of Zion- which really is no different than any other day, Christmas or not. How many times did I picture myself sitting by the Christmas tree with him, resting on the couch and looking at the lights glowing? How many people did we ask to pray that he would come home by Christmas? I know he is home- his eternal home- but that's not quite what I was hoping for. The whole point of my parents coming at Christmas was so that they could be here for the birth and help us in the first few weeks. Everything is so very different now. As long as I stay busy, I manage. But the moment I have quiet, my heart becomes very heavy and full of sadness. I posted an article on my facebook that talks about Christmas not being what everyone pictures in their mind- a happy, jolly day when families get along and sip hot cocoa around the Christmas tree and laugh and open presents. It's great if it can be like this. But, the point of Christmas is that we are all broken, we all suffer in some way, we are all needy and have issues. That's why Christ was born. The Word was made flesh so that He could experience the sadness, the brokenness, the pain that we go through and so that He could redeem it all. This has been one comfort to me this holiday. A good friend told me that it's OK if Christmas is sad this year, if it's not full of joy and laughter. How strongly I recognize my own brokenness, my need for a good Savior this year. As I think about Zion and how his death has profoundly changed my view of the world and of life, I am so much more thankful that Christ came to bring hope and to understand our suffering. And so part of me is ready for Christmas to hurry up and get over with while another part of me wants to understand more deeply what it is all about.

THE conversation

So, I knew it was bound to happen soon. I've started going back to the pool and I ran into one of the older ladies that swims the same time I do and who watched my belly grow rounder and rounder in the last months. Of course, she asks today in the changing room, "So, was your baby a girl or a boy?". Uh, oh. I immediately wonder how this is going to work out- will I cry? will I tell her he died? will I run into the shower and pretend I didn't hear her? It was a boy, I answer. Oh, congratulations! And you're already back at the pool? Well, I tell her, here's the thing. And I proceed to explain how Zion was born early and that he died. And I manage to do this without the threat of tears. What makes it possible to talk about in a matter-of-fact manner one moment and another moment it threatens to tear my heart apart? So, she listens politely with a "poor thing" look on her face as I blather on about how strong he was and how long he lived, etc... I find it nice to talk about him when I can keep my emotions under control. And then, her response. I'm ready to hear it again. Most people answer with one of two things: my personal favorite, "But, honey, you're young. You'll have more kids". Love that one. And then, "God knows what He's doing." The second one doesn't upset me as much because at least they recognize God in all of it, even if it's not to the extent I do. But, it can still be annoying sometimes because most people feel the need to make themselves feel better by throwing out a one-liner that is supposed to make me feel better. As if a one sentence answer to this great tragedy that has come upon us is all it will take to perk me up. I totally understand that people are wanting to be helpful and encouraging. I get that. But what is most helpful is just to agree that it's a hard, sad, terrible thing. This woman even preempted her statement with, "This all must be very difficult." Yes! Thank you. Leave it at that, please. However, mentioning God did give me the opportunity to tell her that I do trust that the Lord has a good plan in all this and that with His strength, we will make it through. As I showered, I wondered when the time will come when I can speak more about all that God has done through taking our Zion. I trust that neat things will come out of it but I still feel that I'm walking in a fog of grief thick enough to keep me from seeing it all clearly. I look forward to the day that the fog will lift and I might truly begin to give God the praise He deserves.

P.S. Many of you have written me beautiful, scripture-filled notes or emails or have just reminded me that you are praying. I appreciate these and don't look at them the same way and just want to say "thanks".

Christmas poem

I wanted to share a poem I found on Kristi's blog- a mom who has also lost precious babies.

First Christmas

I hear that on the Earth below
This is a special season
With lights and songs and gifts and such,
And Jesus is the reason!

In the place I would have lived
Are strings of light that blink and shine,
But you should see the light up here
That glows from Jesus all the time!

In the place I would have lived
Carols play, and special songs,
But you should hear the music that
The angels sing here all day long!

In the place I would have lived,
Gifts are giv’n on Christmas Day,
But you should feel the joy we feel
Because God’s gift is here to stay!

In the place I would have lived,
Tears have flowed because I’m gone.
My family wishes I were there
To see and hear and feel it all.

But in this place where I now live,
It’s Christmas all day, all year long,
And the sights and sounds I’d see with them
Are pure, unblemished by all wrong.

So on this day that would have been
My first Christmas on the Earth,
Mama, Daddy, you need to know
I’m celebrating Jesus’ birth!

When you sing songs to worship Him,
I’m singing with the angels, too.
I’m never closer than when we all
Praise Him for our life anew.

I know that life began for me
Sooner than you thought it would.
I know your hearts are hurting now,
And you would change things if you could.

But in this place, where you’ll come, too,
We’ll be together, forever.
And there will be no more good-byes
When we celebrate Christmas in heaven – together!

Moments

I have a bit more energy these days. Until recently, I was still going to bed around 9 or 9:30, like I did toward the end of my pregnancy, because I was so physically and emotionally drained everyday. I feel like I'm getting some strength back but I'm finding it difficult to know what to do with my evenings. I'm not a night person and would be just as happy going to bed and enjoying some good sleep in order to wake up early and have some quiet time before Natty wakes up. However, for the sake of my husband, who would probably like to hang out with me sometimes at night, I am trying to retrain my body to stay up until at least 10. Pretty sad, I know. We've gotten slightly addicted (is that possible?) to Boggle these days after Natty goes to bed- even though I'm pretty sure I've never beat Scotty. But, I've gotten close a couple times, so that keeps me in the game. Sometimes it's annoying to be married to someone who is smarter than you and better at most things. But, it's also one thing I admire about him. Anyway-I decided I should blog since it feels like it's been a long time. Than I noticed it's only been 5 days. I suppose I was blogging so frequently for a while because I felt like I was constantly emotionally charged- which is when I prefer to blog or when I am most "inspired". I don't feel emotionally charged at the moment, so this might be a bit dull. However, I just wanted everyone to know I'm still here. I'm still sad a lot of the time. I'm still struggling to understand and to evaluate myself and my circumstances and God's work in my life and the meaning of all of it. I know some of these things are too big to figure out but it seems as though anything smaller just doesn't matter to me right now- so I ponder the big things. And that's one thing that is annoying about grief and makes me feel like a bad person sometimes- you tend not to care about much else but your own circumstances. How self-centered is that? But, as much as I try- I really can't make myself think too much about other things. I find even when I pray (even prayer was next to impossible to do for a while), I can't think of anything else to pray about than God help me get through this. I think I'll pray for other people and then I end up being overwhelmed by how much I miss Zion and knowing that this awesome God I'm talking to is the One who took him, and everything falls to pieces. And then I am just a heap of tears begging God to help me and wondering how I'll ever be normal again. It's also annoying how grief can surprise you and overwhelm you at any moment. For example, I'm driving to the grocery store thinking how nice it is to have the desire and energy to cook again (but only some days) and Natty will say out of the blue, "I miss baby Zion." Then my heart breaks in two and I wonder if I should just pull the car over and pray for the ground to swallow me up. Or, I'm playing with Natty and marveling at her budding personality and extreme silliness and I see a puzzle on her shelf that I picked up thinking it would look good hanging in Natty and Zion's bedroom when they are a bit bigger. And I get angry all over again that life did not work out according to my "perfect" plan. And, seriously- my whole day is ruined. However, there are quick moments that God can speak so clearly and although the words might be a bit muddled in my less than sharp mind, the idea is conveyed- "I love you. I am here. I know. I will make it OK again." He's done that a couple times lately and it's nice. I'd like it to happen more but sometimes I think I'm too busy wallowing that I don't even want to hear it, because I'm afraid I won't believe it. But, God is good and He finds ways to tell me and when I hear it, I can't help but believe it. Just like when He calls us to Himself- we can't, we don't want to resist because we know He is real and He is who He says He is. I hope to have more of these moments.

A tough date.

Scotty and I decided to go out on a day date today. I can't remember the last time we had a date and while our house help is around, it is easier just to leave Natty with her and go out during the day instead of finding a babysitter for the evening. So, we ran a few errands and then headed to the nice movie theater with plans to do some window shopping after the movie. Lately, movies are a nice distraction from the often gloomy reality of life, and I was especially looking forward to escaping for a couple hours today. We bought tickets, popcorn and a big drink for about $8! Love that. The movie was interesting and I was excited for a few more minutes to hang out with Scotty when we ran into a friend we haven't seen for quite some time. Not being very connected to us or Facebook very frequently, he didn't know anything about Zion. It came up and, of course, I started crying in the middle of the mall and wondered how I could escape quickly without anyone seeing me. But, there also happened to be an entire table full of people we knew and had to say hi to them as well. So, the date was quickly terminated and the car ride home, silent. When telling someone for the first time about Zion's death, I'm not just sad because he's gone, but everything that is sad that I've mentioned before comes to the surface. Everything that at any given moment can ruin my day is brought before me again. I thought I could avoid reality for enough time to have a good date with Scotty, but there's no escaping the hard truth. If not on the surface, it's always lurking shallowly beneath. The "why-me's?" were haunting me all the way home. Why can't I just have a date out with my husband without having to be reminded my son died. Why can the sheer mention of Zion sometimes take all joy out of my day? Why does grief come up at the most inopportune times and send me reeling when I felt emotionally stable 5 seconds earlier? And so, the journey continues... Somewhere along the way, I feel like God has given me more peace in and acceptance of His continued goodness and His love. It doesn't seem as hard to believe as it once did, but the pain is as real as ever and presents itself in many different dimensions- a seemingly infinite number of new ways each day. But, I know I must hold on to this faith, however lacking, and know there is light at the end of the tunnel.

Randomness

Today it's gloomy outside. Matches my emotional state. I'm listening to somewhat melancholy instrumental Christmas music and trying not to cry in front of Natty again. I'm looking at the Christmas tree and thinking how I wish this would be a happy holiday this year. And I start thinking again the most random thoughts...this seems to be happening a lot lately. I wonder if Christmas, or Christ's birth, was a little melancholy for the Lord, too. For us, it means the birth of our Savior- the only one that can bring us life. For God, it meant sending His son to die. That must have been a little bittersweet, too. So, I'm glad we're in this together.

The other night I wondered if they celebrated some form of Christmas in heaven. I mean, they're celebrating Christ all the time, so I can't imagine they do. But I was thinking about Zion and I wanted to think he was having the most amazing Christmas there in the Lord's presence. Maybe he could even play baby Jesus in heaven's reenactment of Christ coming to earth. He was supposed to be born at Christmas, too...

A few nights ago I was praying on my way to bed and telling God again how much I just want Zion back. I started wondering how I would react if God said, "Ok, Lisa, you can have Zion back. But, remember, if I give him life on earth, he will have joy, but nothing compared to being here with me. What's more, he will have suffering that he would never experience if he were to stay in heaven. Do you really want him back?" I realized how true that is. My son was saved a lot of pain by being able to go to his eternal home "early". As much as I would be overjoyed to have my son with me, as a mother, I would sacrifice that for him to stay by the Lord's side. Although if I could have stopped him from dying- I surely would have.

Beach distraction

I love the beach and sometimes lament the fact that we live at high altitude (read: cold) in a country that is land-locked. When we lost Zion and many people asked us if we would go home or get away, I thought: the beach. So, we looked into going back to the nice, affordable condo on the beach we spent a few days at several months ago. We found great airline tickets and had all the support of the people around us to get away and relax. I wondered if it would be helpful, if I'd really forget all that has happened and be able to enjoy myself. But, I knew that Natty would love it and that we could use some time to focus on our family and not feel the slight guilt of not being involved in life and ministry as we usually are. When we first got there, it was cold. On our previous trip it was cold. I wondered if God just didn't want us to enjoy life. Yes, this was my horrible thought. We sat on the beach in our jackets and Scotty and I were both struck with how off it felt. We were missing a part of our family. As we watched Natty happily digging away in the sand like a little crab, we recognized again how much we wanted Zion to be a part of that. I spent one of the first nights sobbing in Scotty's arms for about an hour or so. Then, things started looking up. The weather got warmer and we were both able to really relax and enjoy each other. Natty found delight in everything. She loved the sand, the water, the washed up jellyfish, the shells, the rocks, the food, the TV with cartoons, the hotel, the old people that had taken over the hotel that week. She would wake up every morning, come out of her room, look through our sliding glass doors that had a beautiful ocean view, put her hands in the air and shout, "THE BEACH!!" She was full of life and that is exactly what I needed. I found myself able to be happy for longer than a couple minutes at a time. Happy hours went by (and not the 2 for 1 beer type) and although I never forgot about my little boy- I was able to enjoy myself. This was truly a gift. Scotty and I slept in- thanks to the lower altitude and lots of hard play on the beach helping Natty sleep later- we read, we ate, we played games, we soaked up the sun. I wasn't ready to leave today and neither was Natty. Usually, at the end of a trip, I know that our time is up and I am ready to get back to my house. I knew the day was drawing near for us to come back to La Paz, but I also knew what awaited me here. Reminders everywhere of Zion. Uncomfortable conversations. My own fear of people not understanding that I am still sad. Being more sad as I return to life as usual without the fun distraction of the beach and a different place. We put up our Christmas tree today. How many people did I ask to pray that Zion would be home by Christmas? How long did I picture our family with a newborn around the Christmas tree? As the bits of tree came out to be put together, my heart began to sink. This is not what I imagined this holiday- just the 3 of us. No pregnancy. No baby. These will be hard days, but I think our time away has given me a chance to breathe, a chance to gird up and begin the fight of faith anew, a chance to be reminded of how much God has given me in my loving husband and wonderful daughter. The holidays will be bittersweet in so many ways but I know that our God is faithful, even when I am not.

Kinda Thanksgiving

Here we are today at SIM Thanksgiving. We celebrated on Friday instead of Thursday and enjoyed the usual spread and all ate more than we should have. These were hard days. So hard. You'd think from the picture all was well... It's strange to go through a holiday that is so family oriented and feel like a part of your family was gone and that they'd never be there to celebrate with you. It's very hard to think of something you are thankful for this year when all you can think about is how very much God has asked you to sacrifice and let go of. It's very hard to pretend like everything is OK. I'm sure no one knows if you want to talk about it or even if they should ask for fear of you feeling obligated to answer or to say, "I don't want to talk about it". And maybe I don't all the time. But, I still feel like I'm not capable of participating in normal activities without starting to feel at some point that Zion is the elephant in the room. The thing that everyone knows is there but is gingerly walking around. Some days I feel like he died a long time ago. Lately, it's as if I just said "good-bye" this morning. I had to see my regular doctor today and he saw me, patted his tummy and asked, "how is everything going?" I paused for a moment, trying to decide how to answer him and then tearfully told him what happened. Why does a mother have to explain to an almost stranger that her baby died a couple weeks ago? He was shocked and asked questions that I couldn't answer and made me wonder, for the first time, if Zion would have lived if we were in the US. I've always felt strongly that God has us in Bolivia for a purpose and in the child-bearing years and that, although things aren't as technologically advanced here, this is where we'll have our family. That was before God asked me to give up so much. It feels like too much. I waver between the "what ifs" and the understanding that God is sovereign even with things turn out devastating. Between knowing that circumstances were ordained to include pain and yet He does not enjoy bringing suffering upon us. I know God is refining my faith, but I sure wish it didn't have to come this way.

A long night

I've been reading off and on through a book by C.S. Lewis called A Grief Observed, which are notes he took after losing his wife to cancer. This quote struck me:

"Talk to me about the truth of religion and I'll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I'll listen submissively. But don't come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall suspect that you don't understand."

I felt directly in complete agreement with this sentiment when I first read it, even while wondering if it was correct. But, as with a lot of thoughts that occur when you are grieving, they might not be complete truth, but they are the truth of what you are feeling as a result of the pain. I have been struggling with the hard truth that God's words are not consoling me as they once have but at the same time, I have not lost hold of what I know to be true about the Lord. The Christian faith promises suffering and pain. Jesus himself suffered greatly on this earth and we are called to participate in His suffering. He wept also when loved ones died. And there are so many examples of godly men and women who waited, who suffered physically and emotionally, who grieved and mourned, who cried out wondering when the Lord would answer. These truths are not comforting to us who want a religion that promises warm fuzzies and easy times. And so, I don't feel that Christianity is always comforting. We are given permission to mourn with those who mourn (validating the process of mourning). And yet, we are also told that "weeping may tarry for a night, but joy comes in the morning" (Psalm 30:5). We are told that God is our strong fortress, our rock, our refuge. He is the lifter of our heads. He brings joy. But I fully believe that the weeping of the night might be a long night. I haven't quite reached the morning yet, the dawn that brings relief. And so, I think I agree with Mr. Lewis.

The aftermath

I've been given permission by many friends to continue to post about our journey of grief. In some ways, I feel that it might be getting old to hear about what we are going through but I can't say I've moved on yet and there really is nothing else going on in my life than working on getting through this. And maybe that's all I want to say in this blog: I am truly surprised by the new challenges that each day brings. I thought that once the intense grief of losing Zion was over, things would start looking up from there. But, I'm realizing that some days, the intense grief comes back. And some days, it's not there- but the reality of his absence and how that affects each day and what I'm doing and what I would have been doing and how he would have played a part in all that- is just as hard. There are so many new emotions I have never experienced and even questions of faith that arise in my mind and heart that I'm not even sure where to start processing or how to put it into words for other people- or for myself. I know that I am struggling more now than I did when Zion was living to really believe and hold tight to the promises that the Lord has given me. There was hope in those promises when he was hanging on, but now that he is gone, that hope is wavering (not in truth, but in my heart). Before I went into the hospital, I had started reading through the Psalms and they were powerful in a new way in my life. When I was on bed rest, they brought comfort and hope and joy. When Zion was in the NICU, I would often read them to him and tell him of His awesome, loving Lord. I finished the book a few days before he died and since then have not found a new place to start reading in the Word. A friend encouraged me to go back to the Psalms and really study the many, many times the faithfulness and the steadfast love of the Lord is mentioned. It is hard to do that because that will remind me so much of his last days and, if I'm honest with myself, because I feel like the hope they gave me that all will be alright did not play itself out. All was not all right. All is not all right. And yet, I know that way of thinking comes from a limited, finite perspective. In the infinite wisdom of the Lord, He chose a way that must be perfect, because we know He is perfect. And so I must believe that this was all right for Zion- this was the best for Him and for me. This is loving. Oh, how I want to feel the love in this decision and not just accept it as a fact...

Fresh pain

Today it feels like Zion just died. The pain is so strong again- the desire to hold him, to have him be here. I miss him so terribly I don't even know what to do, how to respond, how to pray. Yesterday, I felt like he was already becoming a distant memory and it didn't feel right. It's been less than a week- Scotty and I both felt like it had been a long time ago that he was with us. It was as if I needed to feel the freshness of the sadness again to somehow validate the fact that I still feel that void. I spent some time looking at pictures of Zion and I wept. Despite the tubes, he looked so alive and I so distinctly remember holding his hands and feeling his warm chest and watching his heart beat so closely under the surface. I had nothing to say to God except, "I want my son back." I was comforted by the words of a friend who has suffered a similar loss and sometimes heard the Lord say to her, "I lost a child, too. And I am grieving with you." Because I fully believe that our baby didn't die by chance but at the hand of an all-wise God, I forget that my Father's decision wasn't a cold one. He grieves when His children grieve. It's so hard to understand the plans of the Lord, that they include pain and suffering and even sin, but are ultimately the most loving for us. Without realizing it, sometimes in my pain, I forget that God loves me and hurts when I hurt.

Scotty and I both have felt this need to tell perfect strangers or people we are talking to that our son just died. I think I need people to know that he existed. I want people to know that he was strong- that he fought for 18 days. I want people to know that he was beautiful and perfect and sweet and a fighter. That he had blue-grey eyes like Natty when she was born. That he had long, delicate fingers and tiny fingernails and big feet. Scotty said he had a big nose but I think he would have grown into it. Sometimes he would grip my finger in his hand and he was strong. His hair was soft and he didn't have any eyebrows or eyelashes. He is my son and will always be and it's so hard to carry that with you when you have no way to show it. Even now my body continues to produce milk and I have the lingering discomfort of a surgery that took this baby from my body. But there's no baby to show for it. I have baby weight that hangs around my middle. But no baby to show for it. It feels wrong to continue life "as normal"- everything in me wants to keep the memory of my son alive...

Zion's memorial service

The day our baby boy died, we pulled together a late afternoon funeral, of sorts, on our land. For those of you who don't know, we own a piece of property that is only a block from our apartment and have dreams to build a house there in the near future- dreams to fill it with children and we imagined our little Zion playing soccer there with the neighborhood kids. We loved the idea of burying him on our property, always close to us, and right where he might have been playing as he grew up. So, we invited our church, our friends, our neighbors to come and mourn with us. We returned to the clinic mid-afternoon to pick up our son. He was laying in the same warming tray with no tubes, no monitors, no beeping. There was only a nurse in the other portion of the nursery, tending to a baby. We unwrapped him from the hospital blanket and for the first time, saw a peaceful Zion. Although we knew there was no life in him and that what we were looking at was a shell, we were calmed by seeing him look like a normal newborn. We quietly dressed him in a pair of preemie jammies and wrapped him up in a soft blanket. We each had another moment to hold him, although it was different this time because we knew that his spirit was already in the presence of his Maker. There was room to spare in his fuzzy, white coffin and as we walked out of the hospital and placed his coffin in the car, I thought that I always imaged taking him out of the clinic in a car seat, not a coffin. Shortly later, we saw people starting to gather on our property. By the time I arrived, there must have been 50 people waiting for the service to begin. I started hugging those that I came to first and crying with each one, knowing that every body there had been long in prayer and supplication for us and with us. Our pastor began the service sharing about David pleading for the life of his son and how God chose to take him, too. David knew that his son would never return, but that one day he would go to him. We have this hope as well, that we will one day go to our savior and our little boy also. Pastor Edgar prayed for us and had us sprinkle dirt over the coffin, as they would at a typical burial. He picked out a beautiful hymn that the gathering sang as Scotty and I quietly listened and contemplated all that had happened that day. Our friends lined up to hug us, cry with us and offer words of love. Then it was over and everyone headed off to a reception that was held down the street at a friends house, while Scotty, Natty and I stayed behind to gaze at our son once more, pray and cry. It was our favorite time of day, just as the sun is starting to set and the world turns a nice, gold color. After a few minutes, we also moved on to the reception where we received more prayer and kind words. We were both struck with this incredible family that God has put around us. So many times were we assured from many, many people that they loved us, thought of us as family, would do anything for us. I knew God had all this in mind when he numbered Zion's days. We would not be alone. We are not alone and even now, we are being so well taken care of and being prayed for far and wide by those who know us and so many who don't. What a gift! What a loving Father we have to not only promise His presence, but give us the warm presence of so many others.

And now what...?

Today has been particularly hard for me. There have not been as many tears or that sharp kind of grief that is almost suffocating, but it's as if a cloud of sadness has settled around my head and colored everything around me. I find it hard to even think about what we might eat for lunch. I went to get my hair cut today, having decided I wanted a change and I wanted it immediately...maybe I thought if I looked better, I would feel better too. Scotty had several errands to run and the cut didn't take very long, so I decided to get a pedicure while I was in the shop. Usually, having myself pampered would be a treat, but today I found no joy in it. I watched people walk down the street and wondered if any of them had just suffered a tragedy. My hair dresser told me, "tranquila"- basically the Bolivian equivalent of "relax". I've been told that many times by many people. I'm not finding life exactly relaxing at the moment. I thought again about how God lost a son and wondered what He did in those 3 days that Christ was in the tomb. What do you do once your child is gone and the pain is so fresh? How do you fill your days? How do you think of anything or at least not think of nothing? A good friend sent me an email relating the suffering of the Psalmist and how he chose, in the midst of deep pain, to call on the Lord and tell of His love and mercy. Although I'm not sure if the knowledge in my head will translate to my heart today, I still know that my Father is good and that He is love. I still find comfort in knowing that my baby is with Him- if that is the only place I find comfort in this moment.

Remains

Just received the ashes of my son. So hard.

Because the Lord has anointed me

to comfort all who mourn;

to grant to those who mourn in Zion—
to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the LORD, that he may be glorified.

Isaiah 61:1, 3

Mourning

I almost feel too devoid of emotion at the moment to write this post and yet, writing is part of how I process, so maybe it's a good time. Maybe I'll start by telling you exactly how everything played out yesterday. Interestingly, the night before, Scotty had asked me if I still feared that Zion could die and I told him that I felt like he was through the worst of what he would probably experience and that now I was just trying to take each daily trial as it came. We also read a chapter from "The Praying Life", by Paul Miller, that talked about the way God weaves all things in our lives into part of His story. Sometimes, that story doesn't play out like we hoped it would, but it is so important to continue to look for God in the story and the different ways He redeems the story and brings it all together for a greater purpose. Little did we know how much we would be thinking about those ideas the next day. I heard Scotty's phone ringing about 6:30 Tuesday morning and immediately thought it might be a doctor calling- since people don't usually tend to call that early. I had a gut feeling something was not right when I couldn't hear Scotty talking- he had shut himself in the kitchen. When I went in, he said "this isn't good" and explained that Zion's organs were starting to shut down and we needed to go up as soon as we could. I asked if they thought he might die and he said it sounded like it. A wave of despair hit and after a minute of crying and telling Scotty that he can't die, we both went into action mode and somehow pulled ourselves and Natty together to make it up to the hospital. By God's amazing and constant grace, we had just enough time to hold him, talk to him, touch him and say good-bye- probably no more than 10 minutes. His heart stopped beating while Scotty was holding him. It was the first time we had been allowed to hold him, and the last time we would do it while he was living. The rest of the day was a blur of emotions, as I'm sure you can imagine. The only thing that really brought us hope or peace was the idea that Zion was being held by Christ, that he has a new and whole body, that He will never be in pain again and that he is full of joy before His savior. Truly that brings a smile to my face.

I'm realizing that grieving is so much more than just missing a person. It's missing what would have been, what you dreamed life would be like with that person, how that person would have affected your life. For Zion, we imagined this beautiful bond and playtime between him and his big sister. We imaged our house filled again with the little cries of a newborn. I imagined hours of holding him, rocking him, putting him to bed, nursing him, watching him discover his world and develop. We imagined a bigger family and the things we would do together. We imagined what his strong personality might be like and how he would interact with others. We planned to have kids close together so we could have a big family. We planned our future house with that idea in mind. We prayed that he would become a godly man of integrity. So many expectations and hopes that we must release and believe that God has a better plan. Medically, it's not even safe for me to think of conceiving again for a year- what do I do all that time without the baby I thought I'd have?? And yet, our hope is that God knew all of those things when He chose to take our baby to Himself. He knew about the waiting, the dreams, the expectations. And he found that it would be good to write a different story. I believe we will see glimpses of how that story intertwines with different areas of our lives and thank God for His great wisdom. For now, we take each day as it comes, thankful for a healthy little girl, thankful for people right here in our neighborhood and around the world that love us, thankful that God, too, knows what it is like to lose a son. We will pray for the patience to wait on Him.