Easter and His story and Ours

Easter is a heart wrenching experience for me.

I adore Sunday.  Adore it.  The sweet breath of resurrection and celebration and joy- my favorite, even beyond the twinkle of a star over a stable in late December.

Easter is my favorite.

I adore celebrating on Easter Sunday.

But to get to Sunday, we have to get through Friday, and the depth of what He gave today melts me into the floor.

After saying goodbye to my daughter last year, this Holy week takes on such new depths of meaning.  After praying unceasingly that the Lord would spare my daughter suffering in those days before she left, God's willingness to lay down Jesus and submit His son to enormous suffering sends my heart into a tailspin of grief and humble gratitude and mama tears because how?  How could He love us that much?

But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by His wounds we are healed. Isaiah 53:5

And then I'm filled with the greatest sense of awe because it was that very suffering and love that brought us peace and sent us to the alter at my daughter's funeral to pull off the bandaids we had prayed over for so long.  We sat there as a family and removed the bandaids we had placed on Jubilee's bunny to explain to our two year old son that his little sister was sick in those months before, and it was His grace, His grace that gave our fingers permission to ease those bandages off and explain with grateful tears in our eyes that Jubilee's bandaids were all gone and she was healthy and whole and happy in Heaven.

By His wounds we are healed:

God made Him who had no sin be sin for us, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God. 2 Corinthians 5:21

Miracles of miracles.

It was His grace that gave me permission to explain to my son that morning before we left that we were having a Heaven party for Jubilee when I couldn't look my precious toddler in the eyes and choke out the word "funeral", and it was His grace that made it true- we were celebrating.  Celebrating what He had done for us and for her and giving thanks for her resurrection because of His.

It was His grace that enabled me to raise my hands in joyful, thankful worship that day, while my daughter's casket sat in front of us and wet eyes filled the room.  It was His grace and the gift of Him that sent tears streaming down my cheeks as we sang, "You are the One who saves, You are the One whose hands lift us from the grave".

The tomb was empty.

But before all the good was the bad.  Before the tomb was emptied, it had to be filled.  Before all the celebration was the heartbreak, and I am a mess of tears.  Because I know a grave.  I pressed my lips to a casket for one last goodbye, and I know the ground where she's laid.  I know ache and tears and pain, and its because I know them that I'm so grateful I know Him.  Really know Him.  And its the knowing Him that makes my knees weak and my heart beat fast today because how could He love us that much? And my heart is in a puddle on the floor and my hands are trembling because I know the cost of the celebration, and I am grateful beyond words for what He did so that I can go to my daughter's spot at the cemetery and know that the cold stone and the damp ground is not the end of her story because it was not the end of His. 

And then my heart swells in endless praise because death is not the end of His story or the end of hers, and because it doesn't have to be the end of ours either.  I am a trembling heap of praise because He has written us into His story and the gift of the end being only the beginning is ours to open and taste and eat and rejoice in.

"Where, oh death, is your victory?

Where, oh death, is your sting?"

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law.  But thanks be to God!  He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.   1 Corinthians 15: 55-57

I'm astounded by His grace and overwhelmed by His love and so very grateful that His ending was only the beginning and that He passes that gift on to us if only we'll open our hearts wide to see ourselves and see Him and know our need for His rescue.

Kneeling at the foot of the cross in awe and wonder today, heart broken and beating with gratefulness for a God who saves and lifts us from the grave, and in desperate prayer that the reality of what He's done seeps into every moment of my life- that the gift of His story becoming my own radically transforms who I am and what I do.

Praying this weekend finds you reveling in His peace and taking hold of a hope that will not disappoint us.

xoxo,

Brittany

Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have obtained our introduction by faith into this grace in which we stand; and we exult in hope of the glory of God.  And not only this, but we also exult our tribulations, know that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us. Romans 5: 1-5

The Binky Fairy

Happy Monday!

The sun is shining today, and after a heavy few posts about my sweet girl's birthday last week, I'm excited to have some happy pictures to share about what we've been up to in our neck of the woods lately.

First of all, Newbie is potty trained.  Yes, I tried a couple months ago and then a couple months before that, but I only lasted a few hours because it was just so obvious that homeboy wasn't feelin' it.  This time, it took half a day when we started a couple weeks ago before I stopped setting the timer altogether and he just waltzed into the bathroom himself.  He's been a CHAMP, and I could not be happier to kiss diapers goodbye....for a few months. =)

Second, today we sent Newbie's binkies off to the Binky Fairy.  We tried to ditch the bink last summer, but it looked like he was going to boycott naps if he didn't get it back, and I decided 2 was too little for mama to have to forfeit nap time all in the name of no binkies.  So he won.  But I've been prepping him for a couple weeks now about giving his binkies to a baby who needs them since he's a big boy now.  He always replied that he didn't want to give his bink to a baby.  So...this morning I threw in the towel on generosity and compassion for our fellow binky-less man and totally sold out to the Binky Fairy.  You mail your binkys to her, and homegirl sends a toy back to you.

(I'm gonna miss seeing that plug stuck in that sweet little mouth...*sigh*)

(Classic: Blankie tucked under his chin when he gets snuggly)

(Bye, bye, binks.  You've been a good friend to us!)

Newbie scored some Matchbox cars in the mailbox, but the verdict is still out on whether or not he will ever sleep again.  There's been a lot of spontaneous "MY BINK!" drama around here this morning, and its not even nap time yet.  But I'll take an easy potty training experience over an easy binky ditching experience any day.  (I'll just have to remind myself of this in about 45 minutes when the nap time boycott begins...)

That makes two biggies off my list of to-do's before Miss Mowgli arrives.  Next on the list is moving Newbie to a twin size bed.  Which I think will prove to be the easiest feat on the list since we've got a big boy baseball room in the works for him that is sure to be a crowd pleaser.  Who can say no to a big boy bed when you have your own scoreboard and baseball bedsheets?  In. the. bag.

****
The past week or so has been filled with all kinds of fun.  Which was a really nice treat considering Newbie and I locked ourselves in the week before in the name of potty training boot camp.  Also, we've been fighting booger monsters on and off for six weeks now.  It was nice to find a few windows of a fairly dry nose to get out and party a little bit between the Kleenex box pit stops.

The Hubs and I went to see Broadway's The Lion King together.  It was a gift from my MIL and FIL, and we really felt fancy.  It was a fun day together, complete with a two hour stop at IKEA because IKEA.  I never say "no" to IKEA.  It just ain't right.

Newbie hit up his first swimming lesson of the season.  Turns out his mom is a nerd and signed him up for the class that has 6 month olds through 3 year olds...he was a little big.  As in, it is the same class he was in two years ago. We might be bumping him up to the 3-5 class as long as it doesn't mean we'll have to pull it out of bed any earlier than 8 in the morning because Momma and Daddy-O are SO not game for being in the pool before 9 am.  It just ain't right.

I've been picking out nursery paint colors for Mowgli.  Decorating a nursery is a little too much fun.  We're waiting on the basement reno to be finished before we really hit the ground running in the nursery, but I'm pulling colors and fabrics together and having a real good time doing it. =)

GiGi came by one afternoon on a snowday to make a snow lady with Newbie.  He. had. a. ball.

(Please let this be the last snowy picture of the season!)

We've been hitting up the gardens weekly.  We ADORE this place, and its so fun to bring a friend and spend the morning chatting while the kiddos run around breaking the rules walk nicely through the exhibits.  If you close your eyes and shove your nose right into an orchid in the tropical conservatory, it feels like summer. Really looking forward to some warmer weather when we can set Newbie loose in the children's gardens and enjoy the outdoor gardens.  Not long now, I hope!

(Hi, friends!  Hi, Miss Mowgli!)

(Newbie and his buddy were checking out a caterpillar...boys are awesome.)

Newbie has himself some seriously fabulous grandparents.  He loves both sets of his grandparents to pieces, and the Hubs and I have so much fun seeing Newbie's relationship with his grandparents grow. He's one blessed little man!  This weekend we celebrated his uncle's birthday over at GiGi's house and Newbie ran in wearing his new light-up Woody cowboy boots.  A few minutes later, Grandad snuck upstairs and came back down sporting these babies:

Newbie was beside himself with excitement that Grandad had cowboy boots too...but a little confused about why Grandad's boots didn't light up like his did. =)  Grandad must have forgotten his "birfday helmet", but other than the missing headpiece, these two looked like twinners.

I took Newbie out for breakfast last Friday.  I like to sneak in some special Mommy-Newbie dates every once in a while to shake things up.  Even though we're together all the time, its fun to carve out some time to do something special.  Like eat a stack of pancakes dipped in a rainbow of different syrups.  IHOP was a win.

Looks like I'm off to engage in the binky-less nap time extravaganza.  Should be really fun.  My plan is just to hit the chocolate potty treats pretty hard if things get out of hand.  For me, not Newbie.  Brother's gotta earn those treats.  Momma?  Momma can sneak a treat any time she wants to, and I'm here to tell you, those Ghiradelli chocolate chips just might be the only thing that get me through this monumental nap time today. 

Here's wishing you a happy afternoon!  And thanks again for hanging in there with me last week while I shared my heart and Jubilee's birthday story.  I've been waiting for a long while to find the time to sit down and write about all of the ways God was faithful to us on May 2 of last year, and it was such a blessing to finally get to share.  Thanks for reading!

xoxo

Brittany

This Shore, Part III

Continued from This Shore, Parts I and II

*****
Jubilee was born around noon that day, and that afternoon we shared her with our family and friends.  We passed her around and kissed her and held her and just looked at her for hours and hours, memorizing her sweet face and the weight of her tiny frame.  

Her brother came, not long after she arrived.  And, my goodness, the blessing that meeting was to my heart!  In his overalls and his blond curls, he came running into the room, so happy to see his mommy and daddy, and crawled up into my lap. 

His daddy held her and he peered into the blanket and drank her in just like we had.  “Her yiddle nose!  And yiddle fingers!”  And as he looked, I reminded him of all the praying we had done and the bandaids we had put on Jubilee’s bunny, and I explained with tears in my eyes and the greatest joy on my lips that Jesus had taken away all of her bandaids and that she was in Heaven now with Jesus and his other little sister Eden and that she was not sick anymore.  And my sweet boy didn’t see any brokenness or hurt, he heard only his momma’s happy words and saw only the beautiful craftsmanship of his God and he felt only pride for his new title as big brother and love for the yiddle nose and fingers that he couldn’t look away from.  In those moments, my son taught me how to see the world the way God does- with eternity in mind and beauty and grace and gifts abounding, and only joy joy joy because God is always good.

We snuggled as long as a two year old in a hospital room full of people can snuggle, and then he went home with his grandparents.  We took more pictures and gave more hugs and slowly the room cleared out and it was just us and our girl.  

And I just held her.  I just drank her in and smelled her whispy blond hair and gently kissed her forehead.  I tucked her blanket more tightly around her, slipped my finger into her tiny ones and did everything I could to capture every last detail in my memory. My eyes couldn’t soak in enough of her, and I desperately worked at memorizing all of her.  Her daddy took her and I watched him do the same.  We took turns holding her for a while and then we knew it was time to say goodbye.  We prayed over our girl and we read Psalm 100 again because you can never, ever have enough reminders to shout for joy and can never be reassured enough that God is faithful to all generations.

The hardest moments followed.  I held her wrapped up in the soft blanket in my arms and the tears began to fall.  I wept because I didn’t know how to hand my daughter to a nurse, knowing she would not be coming back.  I didn’t know how to send her off out of the room and not chase her down and hold her in my arms forever.  I looked up at her daddy and told him so.  And I’ll never forget his words to me, and he’ll never know the gift he is to me or the depth of my gratitude for the way he carried my burden for me that day.  

Through tears I tried to articulate the words of my heart, “I can’t do it.  I don’t know how...I don’t know how to let her go and just give her to someone to take away for always.”

And that’s when my husband touched my arm, looked into my heart, and took my yoke, carrying it as his own.  He has never looked more like Jesus.  He told me I didn't have to- that I could just hand her to him and that he would take care of her for me.

Tears slipping down my cheeks, I passed her to him.  I could hand her to her daddy.  Her daddy’s arms were safe and strong and he knew her and loved her as much as I did. I could surrender her to them.  And with longing arms, and a breaking heart, I did.  And he held her there, kissed her, and stood.  I watched them then, taking one last picture of her with my heart.  Her tiny blond head resting on blankets in her daddy’s arm- and from that angle, she looked just like a healthy little newborn baby.  And that’s how I wanted to remember her- just like that- safe and loved in her daddy’s arms.  

What happened next, the tear-filled, gut-wrenching moments and days and months that followed, are miraculously erased by the hand of Grace when I remember where she is now: safe and loved in her Daddy’s arms.

*****

Its time to swim back to shore.  I stand up in the sand, the waves lapping at my feet, always lapping.  And I’m dripping with the salty waters of remembering, the sea water softly sliding down my cheeks in this little corner of the coffee shop in town.  And this place along the beach, standing here soaking wet again, knees red and skinned from the battering and lungs burning from the swim, I have never been more grateful for this place.  This place where the shores of joy and the ocean of sorrow meet.  I’ve never been more grateful for The One who knows when I need to feel again, to swim in the deep and grieve and feel and remember, and the One who firmly plants my feet back on the sand. I’ve never been more grateful for The Story He’s written- for hers, and for His, because hers is His, and I want to forever be a part of it, this beach and His story. I forever want to find myself walking along this shore, feet planted on the foundation of joy, waves of heartache lapping over my feet so I never forget where I’ve been, what He’s done, and where I'm going.  

Its the ocean that reminds me how desperately I need my Rescuer.  

I look up, and the snow is falling slowly in large flakes outside.  My husband and son are waiting for me, curled up on the couch at home this morning, and there’s a little flutter in my belly reminding me of another one who will soon be here.  And there it is- the sway of the palms against the brilliant blue sky and the rest of the breathtaking view.  Still dripping, hair matted by the waves and lung tired, I start walking again, drinking in all the gifts of now, and I am singing His praises as the waves lap at my feet.  

Praise the Lord, my soul; all my inmost being, praise His holy name. Psalm 103:1

This Shore, Part II

...So its with wet hair and tired lungs that I write today, from the deep, where I remember and feel and where I can share the story of how the day she was born was the same day she left and of how He is only ever good.  

Continued from This Shore, Part 1

*****

My water broke on a Tuesday afternoon, just two days after Jubilee and I were baptized.  Even then, His timing wasn’t lost on me.  Just enough time to surrender, to submit, to trust, to know Him just that much more before she left.  Only me and my little ones in the house that afternoon, my trembling fingers striking wrong key after wrong key trying to call her daddy and her grandmother- to tell them it was time.  

Months before we had been told we shouldn't expect even minutes with her- that her body was too small, her growth too slow.  It was then that we had been given the option to terminate the pregnancy,  and we knew immediately that we wanted to be her parents for as long as we could- that we wanted to see what the Author of life had in store for our sweet girl, and we cherished every moment of the time we had been given.  We loved her so much and experienced so much joy in the space between then and this moment...and now the time had come.

We had waited and we had wondered and we had prayed.  We didn’t know how much time we’d have with her or what it would be like for her. I had begged Him not to let her suffer, but we knew it was a good possibility.  We had prayed for time with her, but we knew the chances were slim.  We had hoped for a miracle, and we knew it was possible. We had begged and prayed and hoped and it was time.

“I’m so afraid," I got out just before getting off the phone with a friend who was suppose to come by that evening with a meal.  And I was.  I was so, so afraid because it was time, and there was so much we didn’t know, and could it be that the waiting had been so long but that now it had all come so soon?

They came quickly, her daddy and her grandmother, and the breathing was labored when we entered the hospital- my fear escaping in long, short, long, short breaths as my heart wondered what was to come?

My dad had come straight from work and beat us to the ER.  He stood at the counter, asking about me and I tapped him on the arm from the wheelchair.  There was an urgency in each of us- today was the day. They led us upstairs, a rag tag gang consisting of a laboring mother, an anticipating daddy and a just-from-work Grandad.  I’m convinced the other two were as afraid as I was then, and I knew there was a network of family and friends, all wondering the same.  All this waiting and wondering and now its time and what is He going to do? 

They wheeled me into a room where they hooked me up to the ultrasound machine, and my husband and I saw Jubilee's little heartbeat just swooshing away as always, and they confirmed that I was in labor.  My dad waited outside our room, and that’s when he saw her- in the hallway, and asked her to be my nurse.  My dad had spoken at a ministry retreat that weekend, just two days before.  He had told them about Jubilee’s story, about how God was teaching us to shout for joy and give thanks in all things- about how He is always good, even in this.  He had shown them her picture and shared her story and when he was done, they knew her, and to know her is to know Him because her story is His story. 

And he saw her, a woman who had been at the retreat, who had heard Jubilee’s story, standing there in the hallway in her nursing scrubs.  Trembling in the room down the hall, I didn’t know that He was already at work. He always is. 

The doctors confirmed we would be having our baby soon, and they left the room.  My head and heart reeling, wrapped up in crisp white hospital blankets, my hands still trembling with the questions, desperately clutching her daddy’s hand,  my dad walked into the room with her.  He told me about how she had been there just days ago- that she knew our girl and that she was going to be my nurse.  He introduced her to me, and I looked into her eyes, and I don't know how I didn't just fall apart right there.  He was already at work. Relief washed over me and a peace entered my heart that didn’t leave for hours and hours.  Tears stung behind my eyes as the fear slipped away and my heart heard what He was saying, I’m here.  I’m always here, and I’m only good. This is the day I have made, Beloved, rejoice and be glad in it.

What a gift God gave me in giving me permission not to fear.  In giving me permission to trust Him.  There’s no way to describe the long moments that followed other than to say He was there, in every little detail, in every little way.

My mom soon caught up to us, leaving Jubilee’s sweet brother with dear friends at home to rest and play Tuesday evening and into Wednesday. They moved us to another delivery room, a big one, and gave us the room next door too- a generous gift of a private place for family and friends to stay and wait. Wednesday came, and with it my sister and brother in law, my husbands’ parents, and my closest girlfriends.  The pains were dull but intense, the progress slow, and then there was an epidural because I didn’t want the increasing pain to distract me from what was coming- I wanted to be able to focus on the few moments I had with her- not the pain of bringing her here.  

Those hours of waiting and wondering were filled with prayers and peace.  My heart was full knowing I would get to hold her.  I didn’t know or mind how long- I just wanted to meet my girl.  The joy of finally getting to hold her in my arms overshadowed any fear.  In fact, I didn’t think about any of the what-if’s at all- and there could have been so very, very many.  Had we not met with children’s hospice?  With the NICU doctors?  With the social workers?  All in preparation for the vast array of what-ifs?  And now, here we were, at the dawn of her birthday, and not a single question came to my mind.  I just wanted to see her, hold her, love her on the outside.  

He was in all the waiting and the wondering.  Every moment it seemed, was filled with a gift wrapped by the very hands of God:  

For months I hadn’t been able to feel her move because she was so tiny, and in those hours before her birth, she moved freely, and I felt her almost constantly- her daddy too.  We could see her rolling under my hospital gown, and for the first time in seven months, we saw and felt her movement- her life- such a gift.  There aren't words to describe the joy in feeling my daughter moving inside after months of longing to know her better and not being able to feel but the tiniest flutter.  She was whirling and twirling that day, and I like to think its because she knew today was the day, and sister knew where she was going.  Is there anything to do but dance when you know you are about to stand in the presence of the King? Such a gracious gift feeling our precious daughter dance so very much that day.

Then there was the anesthesiologist who administered my epidural in the early morning hours.  They had told me there would be a long wait, that there was only one doctor, that there was a possibility he wouldn’t make it in time.  Then the nurse came in and said another doctor had arrived and I would be his first patient.  There were at least five women ahead of me in line, and there he was, standing at my door ready to ease the pain so I could be fully there for her birthday.  And he knew too. He knew our Jubilee because he, like my sweet nurse, had been at the retreat and heard my dad share her story. I can’t describe the praise that filled my heart in witnessing the details of God’s plan unfold.  One of my biggest hesitations going into the hospital was that no one there would know- they wouldn’t know her, they wouldn’t understand how much she had taught us- what a gift this darling girl was- what a day this birth day was- and right there, in the midst of my pain and my doubts, the Author of the story places another one who knows.  Grace upon grace.

There were the angels at the door.  The two I saw standing there, when I glanced over to my left as the days’ events swirled around me.  Taller than the door itself, standing on either side of the frame, all light and radiance with wings long and lovely and something like a staff each in hand, they stood.  And I knew.  I knew we were safe- I knew He had hedged us in from the hurt and the broken and the darkness. I knew He had gifted us those moments to spend with her and to revel in His mercies and His goodness and His grace.  To marvel at the gift of her and the greater gift of Him, all without distractions and fears and any kind of anything that would take away from those moments.  The God of angel armies handing us another helping of undeserved grace.  

He is so good.

I got tired, fell asleep to the sound of my family and friends’ voices around me as we waited, the light of the morning streaming in through the windows.  And when I woke up, the pain was instantly more intense, and with a word to the nurse, there was a rush from the doctors, and a swift gathering of my husband, my mom, my sister, and a friend, and she was here.  

My heart was as full as it was the day her brother came into the world.  She was beautiful, and I spoke over her as they placed her immediately on my chest.  Through a torrent of desperate and happy tears, a flood of emotion, I spoke to her.  I told her to go with Him.  I told her she could because He was so good and He loves her so much, and so do we, precious girl.  I spoke His name and I held her to my chest and I have never loved someone so little so much, and I have was so grateful to be her momma in those moments.  So grateful to see her little lips parted, her little button nose.  Could it be, Lord, that she is mine?  Lord, take her and hold her and love her and thank you thank you thank you for letting me do the same right now. 

The gift of now had never been more precious to me than in those moments holding her.  Tears filled her daddy’s eyes, and I don’t remember looking at anyone else but her and him and once to my nurse to ask if she was gone, and she placed the stethoscope on our daughter's little chest, and nodded that yes, yes, she was, and we had known.  But it wasn’t all sorrow because she was here- we were holding her, and we were gazing at her and drinking every last bit of her in while we could.  And He must have taken her just as her little self came into this world because, even through the epidural, I had felt the joy of her tiny movements right up until that moment when her little frame arrived. Graces of graces- born right into Heaven, that precious gift of a baby girl. No wonder she had been dancing!  

Her daddy took her then, wrapped her in a blanket and walked with the nurse to the warmer where they gently bathed her tiny frame.  I couldn't take my eyes off of her.  Her little arms and legs so small, just like they had said after looking at her ultrasound.  Her wispy blond hair, so pretty and curving over the softest of foreheads.  She was so tiny, so fragile. And those little lips, parted just so, making her look so much like her big brother when he slept.  I cherished the resemblance between the two and thanked the Lord for such a darling little girl. They weighed and measured her- one pound, ten ounces and ten inches long, and every bit a gift from the Father of Lights.  

Her daddy brought her back to me, and I held her, doted over her, drank her in as he read her Psalm over her. 

The words of Psalm 100 poured into the room, and my heart shouted for joy as we entered His gates with thanksgiving and praise because no matter how much we would miss her or how much the breaking would hurt, to think of where she was then while I held her small frame and loved the portion of her that was still there- to think of where she was- really was- of the company she was in, of the things she was seeing and hearing and breathing, to think of where she was, was the greatest gift of them all.  That God loved us so much that He sent Jesus to rescue us- that He, through His abundant grace, would give her lifeless body life in His presence and glory and one day welcome us into the same- the joy that comes with that grace and truth fills my heart even now with unending praise.  

He is only, ever always good.

Even in this. 

Shout for joy to the LORD, all the earth.

Worship the LORD with gladness;

come before him with joyful songs.

Know that the LORD is God.

It is he who made us, and we are his;

we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.

Enter his gates with thanksgiving

and his courts with praise;

give thanks to him and praise his name.

For the LORD is good and his love endures forever;

his faithfulness continues through all generations.

Psalm 100

*To be concluded this week in Part III

**all images created by TrudyHoltzPhotography

This Shore, Part I

I remember when I walked out onto this beach, sands of joy and an ocean of grief lapping up on the shore.  It was just over a year ago.  I remember their words, sensing something was wrong. I remember squeezing my husband's hand- the only one in that doctor's office who loved her like I did and the only thing that made it all real.  I remember telling him through the fear and trembling that if who He is ever mattered, it mattered now.  That if we were ever going to trust Him despite our circumstances, it was going to be now.  And there I was, on this shore, staring out over a great ocean of heartache and pain.  

The Rescuer walked out onto the sand with me that day. 

There were days when the ocean swallowed me up in its grief and tears and heartache.   I was never more aware in those moments of pain so deep I couldn’t breathe, how very much I needed a Rescuer. He never let go, but I was swimming.

A year out from that ultra sound and several months beyond her funeral, I’m back on the beach and walking along the shore.  The water is still there, the waves lapping at my feet.  A soft reminder of her, of whats broken.  A reminder that I’m on the shore and that I forever will be.  And I am thankful for the shore.  The lapping of the waves around my ankles a constant reminder that I need Him, and that He is there- Jesus is always, always there.  The waves, the pain- a gift. Give thanks in all circumstances. (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18)

Its important to look up when you’re walking on this shore.  Because if you don’t look up, you’ll only see the waves lapping, and you won’t see the rest of the gift- the beautiful scenery.  The hot sand and the vibrant sky and the light in his eyes when you say that yes, of course you want to play, and absolutely you would like to be the helicopter.  You’ll miss the green palms stark against the blue sky, the warmth of the sun beaming down on your shoulders, the strength of his arms wrapping you up in a hug at the end of the day.   

Its so important to look up, because its not all the waves- not ever.  There is always more to see.

There are days when I’m making dinner and I realize I’m knee deep in the water.  I sigh, breathe in a deep and shuddering breath.  I feel the current of the waves more strongly, pick up my skirts, and slowly wade back to the shore where I can finish making dinner.  Because as important as looking up while you're walking this beach, is to keep on walking when you can.  

There are moments when I wish I could swim.  When I wish I could go back to that place- immerse myself in the heartache and the tears if only for a moment to see her again and to hold her again and to remember it all again.  But you can’t always swim when you want to, because there are people on the beach who need you.  The little one, he’ll see the salty sea tears streaming and ask “why, Momma?”  And you’ll say, “Because, Love, I was swimming.” And you’ll explain that sometimes Mommas swim and that’s OK, and you’ll squeeze him tight and ask him if he wants to play trains, and just like that, you’re up and out of the water again, more aware than ever before that you can’t swim when there is someone waiting for you on the beach.  You can go when its quiet, when night falls and your head hits the pillow and no one is waiting.  But when someone’s there, on the beach looking for you, you have to stay in the shallows, where you can reach them and they can reach you and where you aren’t drenched in the salty wetness, too far away for their heart to find yours.

And the waves lap at my ankles and I keep walking.

Then the swell comes.  Because there is One who holds the seas in His hands, and He knows when it is time to swim- He knows that you must if you are going to continue to grow and change and become who you are suppose to be.  At His word, the swells are released from the place of His keeping and the waves crash over me and drag me out to sea.  And I’m there, in the deep.  Remembering and feeling and weeping.  The pillow is drenched, and I’m through half a roll of tissue, and I’m gasping for air because all I want in that moment under the waves is to hold her again.  All I want is to be in that place where he held her and I held her brother, and we listened to him talk about his new sister’s “yiddle” nose and he saw nothing wrong- just the sister he had prayed for and talked about for seven months.  And he loved her and we knew her and we held her and while my lungs scream for air I stay under because it feels good to feel it all again- to be soaked and submerged deep into the pain and the broken and the grace and the mercy and the love and somewhere, leagues under the surface, there’s the joy. Even here, at the bottom of this ocean of heartache and grief.  It is beautiful in the deep, because in all the brokenness, He was there.  And He is only good.  It is beautiful here beneath the waters of heartbreak because she was a gift, and to remember her is to feel the slicing pain of loss but to feel the elating joy of Life.

Today I’m swimming.  The swell came last night, and this morning He’s taken me by the arm and guided me to the surface, but before I swim back to shore, there’s a story to tell.  One must be in the deep to tell the story because that's where its raw and its real, and that’s where it is its most lovely.  Where the scars are red and the limbs are covered in fresh scrapes from being battered against the ocean floor, but where the deepest, purest, most astounding joy is found.  Isn’t it when we’re hurt that we feel the most and that His mercies become so very clear?  Isn’t it when we let ourselves feel the pain the deepest that His goodness and glory is revealed in the best of ways? 

So its with wet hair and tired lungs that I write today, from the deep, where I remember and feel and where I can share the story of how the day she was born was the same day she left and of how He is only ever good. 

(To be continued this week with the story of my sweet Jubilee's birth day)

We love balloons and other Valentine's festivities

I love a good excuse to saturate an entire day in red and pink and warm fuzzies.  

(Breakfast date with this sweet little treasure.  The heart bear totally came out of hiding to join us.  Love me a good thematic stuffed animal.)

(Somebody scored a balloon at the grocery store on our way home.)

(Some love from my Valentine...as if doing all the grocery shopping around here isn't enough!  LOVE that man.)

(Handmade Valentines- a must- even if we're too late to send them to anyone-oopsies!)

(Even Miss Mowgli got in on some of the action)

(Some Valentine's stories before nap time)

(Of course I busted out the Valentine pillowcase my grandmother made for me years and years ago because AWESOME.)

(I'm such a sucker for any excuse to surprise our little guy with goodies. We get him a book each year for Valentine's day, and we've been rocking some 30 minute tub time lately to make up for the cold weather and the lack of swimming pools...a man's gotta have his bath crayons.)

Happy Valentine's Day!

The Sun is Kinda Shiny

This afternoon the sun is shining for the first time in days, and I was sure Newbie would want to play outside.  I was wrong.

Me: "Hey!  Wanna go play outside?!?!"

Newbie: "Mmm.... I don't.  The sun is kinda shiny."



[crickets]




I found myself wondering whose kid was sitting on my kitchen counter until I remembered that his daddy's favorite kind of day is a cloudy day.  My people are weird.  But I love them.

Other things I've been loving lately:

This little lady. My goodness, I just can't wait to hold her...

(Giving us the shoulder when we played peek-a-boo last week. 3D ultrasounds are my favorite thing.)

 
And her high five.

Those long arms and fingers were a welcome sight...love to see our girl growing and growing!

Afternoon snacks.

(Also loving sleepy blue post-nap time eyes)

I really treasure mealtime with this little guy.  He's so chatty at the table, and snack time is no different.  I get to hear all about what kind of dreams nap time brought and how outside is a lame idea because the sun is kinda shiny. Also, we had pb&j and butterscotch pudding for dinner Sunday night, so oranges and bananas are a big step up.

Miss Mowgli's Wardrobe.

Watching Newbie soak in the news that he's going to have another little sister...and listening to him talk about her dresses has been SO much fun! It's such a blessing to see him just as excited as we are about this little girl we've got cookin'. I can't tell you how much I smile when Newbie sits next to me and has conversations with his little sister in my belly.  "Mowgli, wanna play wif me when you come out?  Wanna play Tonkas?  Dat be fun!" ...and it gets even better when homegirl kicks back a reply.  Two peas in a pod already. My heart can't take all the awesome between these two.  LOVE! And I'm not going to lie, picking out pinks and ruffles is a really good time.  This lemons/legging combo slayed me.  Bring. it. on.

Guy time.

I love watching Newbie watch his daddy and soak in all the details of what it takes to shave or hammer a nail or feed the dog.  Little man is watching his daddy and taking it all in, baby.  Homeboy was extra careful and shaved just like his daddy did.  Better believe he rinsed his hands afterwards just like Daddy did too.

I'm constantly being reminded of the gift of right now. These are our Jubilee Days when we're soaking in every moment and finding joy tucked away in the sparkly blessings of today.  I am so, so grateful for the things God taught me through my Jubi girl.  Just absolutely dwelling in and loving our right now.

****
I'm off to discover what the evening has for us.  I just told Newbie that we might be able to go to the library tonight when his daddy gets home from work.  It went something like this:

Me: "Hey, maybe we can go to the library tonight when Daddy gets home."

Newbie:  "Hmm...Maybe we can look for crayons.  Maybe we can go to the Disney castle."

I like his suggestions better.  Mainly because looking for crayons doesn't involve touching books infected with whatever kind of nasty bug is going around this week.  And also because who doesn't love a two year old who tosses around Disney World like its a feasible option to just up and go there before dinner?

I like the way the man thinks.  We're going to stick with his plans for pre-dinner fun tonight.  I'm voting Disney World.  

Wishing you all a happy Valentine's day tomorrow and lots of things to love. =)