Catching my breath

Its hard to know where to go from here.  With all the heartbreak in Connecticut, and then several heart wrenching situations close to my family and friends, I find myself bent in a constant ache of grief and hurt for those around me.  A constant awareness of the brokenness of here and the fragility of this life has been walking with me.  The tears fall and the heart squeezes and after praying for the broken hearts and all the aches and the what-nows, its like I don't know what to do.

And then, just this afternoon, I remembered.

When I experienced my own heartache, I remember hoping for everyone else to just go home and love their babies.  To go and snuggle longer and drink deeper and be there with them.  I remember hugging one of my dear nurses before she left and telling her to go love and snuggle on some healthy newborns today.  I wanted the world to do what I couldn't.  I remember aching to tell the world, please, please know what you've got- don't miss a moment.

I was ever so very grateful for prayer and love, but what I wanted most was for anyone who heard my story to drink more deeply of their own- to love harder, longer, wider. To see The Author in everything and to enjoy what He had written for them.

So, once again my Jubilee girl has taught me how to do life.  (Thank you, precious Jubi-girl.  Jesus is changing me through you, and sweet girl, because of you I will never, ever be the same.)

I know what to do now- how to catch my breath and breathe when I'm hurting so hard for those around me.

I'm going to breathe deeper.

I'm going to give myself permission to grieve and find joy at the same time because that's what I wanted when my heart was shattered to pieces.  I was so grateful for those who wept with me, but I didn't want them missing out on their own opportunities to find joy. I wanted them to breathe deep.

Everyone has their own story, and this isn't an attempt to try to compare my own story with the heart-wrenching stories surrounding me- to scribble any of my notes onto anyone else's pages.  But when my grief for others is so strong and I am desperate for a way to keep walking, I find that I can work off of what I know.  And what I know is that there was a little girl who taught me a whole lot about hurt and healing and finding joy when I couldn't see for all the tears.

The next step?  The next step is allowing grief and joy to share my heart.

On a practical level, it means I'm going to love harder and longer and wider.

The loving harder looks like a lot of different things.  First, it looks like the rescue.  Jesus is our Rescuer, and His Spirit is in us that we might share the blessing of His rescue with others.  Loving harder looks like the rescue.  It looks like a handwritten letter, a warm meal, a prayer from a hundred miles away.  It means doing. He has put His children on a rescue mission, and I'm ready to be His hands and feet, because I've seen those hands and feet before, and they were life where there was death.  They were breath when I couldn't breathe.  They were God when He was hard to find.  Loving harder means reaching out where we can.

The loving longer looks like drinking it all in.  Keeping it in perspective.  Being grateful for those piles of laundry because it means there's a pile of people to wear them.  It means inhaling the scent of his little forehead because by God's grace, today I have a little forehead to smell.  It means playing trains instead of doing the dishes or getting online because the blessing is waiting there on the floor in a pile of plastic train tracks and I don't want to miss it.  It means coming to the door with a smile and letting dinner get cold because he's been working hard all day, and I want him to know I love him.  It means making every single moment count.

The loving wider looks like remembering the groans of the wounded and not getting lost in my own little world. It means looking beyond my own story and remembering the stories of others. It means that on Christmas day, my family will stop in the midst of our celebration to hold hands, quiet our hearts, and remember the precious families that are hurting that day.  It means rejoicing with those who rejoice and weeping with those who weep. While we rejoice at the gift of our Rescuer born on that day and drink deep of our blessings, we will also take the time to be still and weep for the broken hearts. Loving wider means standing in the gap and asking that He come quickly to heal the broken hearted and bind up their wounds. (Psalm 147:3).


I'm breathing deeper.  And when I find myself paralyzed with sorrow for the families in Connecticut and aching with grief for the dear families close to my own, I'm going to close my eyes, catch my breath, and take the next step.

I'm loving longer, harder, and wider.

Will you join me?

A Christmas Prayer by Max Lucado

I have such a heavy heart this morning following the horror in Connecticut yesterday.  There are several other stories this weekend that have just broken my heart for those around me.

At my home, we are weeping with those who weep today. We know the pain of a broken heart, and hearing of another and another and another just makes the soul groan and ache.

A friend posted this prayer written by Max Lucado on her Facebook page, and it resonated so much with my heart that I thought I'd share it here.  Just a beautiful plea to our Rescuer:

"A Christmas Prayer from Max Lucado

Dear Jesus,

It’s a good thing you were born at night. This world sure seems dark. I have a good eye for silver linings. But they seem dimmer lately.

These killings, Lord. These children, Lord. Innocence violated. Raw evil demonstrated.

The whole world seems on edge. Trigger-happy. Ticked off. We hear threats of chemical weapons and nuclear bombs. Are we one button-push away from annihilation?

Your world seems a bit darker this Christmas. But you were born in the dark, right? You came at night. The shepherds were nightshift workers. The Wise Men followed a star. Your first cries were heard in the shadows. To see your face, Mary and Joseph needed a candle flame. It was dark. Dark with Herod’s jealousy. Dark with Roman oppression. Dark with poverty. Dark with violence.

Herod went on a rampage, killing babies. Joseph took you and your mom into Egypt. You were an immigrant before you were a Nazarene.

Oh, Lord Jesus, you entered the dark world of your day. Won’t you enter ours? We are weary of bloodshed. We, like the wise men, are looking for a star. We, like the shepherds, are kneeling at a manger.

This Christmas, we ask you, heal us, help us, be born anew in us.

Hopefully,

Your Children"

Come quickly, Lord Jesus.  

A Christmas Tree Story

We went on a Christmas tree hunt with GiGi and Grandad last weekend.  The Hubs and I are still using the fake tree we got at our wedding, but we're always game for living vicariously through people who don't mind vacuuming up allusive pine needles all month long.  Its all the fun of a tree hunt and Christmas carols without the mess.  =)

(When did my baby get so big?!)

(Hi, Sugar.  Sorry Momma's no good at finding a hat that matches your coat.  It could be worse.  Her socks didn't match that day. I don't know...is that worse?)

(If you look closely, you can spy Mowgli in this one...Hi, Baby!)

(Victorious!)

*****

Its looking a lot like Christmas around here, if Christmas involves oddles of decorations and lots of sitting on the coach sucking on peppermints to ward off the yuckies.  We've been playing it super low-key the past several weeks because that first trimester nausea will reeeeeally take it out of a girl.  The Hubs has been a champ and cooked dinner night after night because I can't stand to look at food after 3 in the afternoon.  Which I actually love.  I love feeling this icky sick stuff because it means there's a little somebody tucked away somewhere just growing and growing and growing.  Its nice to have the reassurance that Mowgli's doing well.  Momma can't make dinner? Awesome.  Baby's lookin' good!

(Daddy and Newbie taking over the kitchen for Momma. My heroes!)

Newbie's been a real champ entertaining himself while I try and hold it together.  I hate having to turn down so many of his offers: "Mommy wanna play?" but I'm grateful that he's such a trooper and willing to harass Opie or play cars on his own when I can't muster the energy to be a good sport.  

Its so fun experiencing Christmas through this little guy's eyes.  Every year it just gets better and better. He's starting to really get that its Jesus' birthday, and he's been loving all the twinkling lights.  Takes me back to being three feet high and the hours that could be spent just taking in how cool the Christmas tree is. =)

All is well in this neck of the woods.  Thank you all for your congrats and most especially for your prayers for Mowgli!  We're enjoying every day we've got with these kiddos, and are looking forward to watching God's story for this newest little one unfold.  It is so encouraging knowing there are so many cheering us on and praying us through.  Thank you thank you thank you!

Happy December!