January 12, 2015

Spirit of Defeat - Moms Against Manic Mondays

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Lord, we need You! We come against a spirit of defeat that attempts to shroud us this Monday morning in the name of Jesus, the resurrected Christ!

Bless us, Lord, with a spirit of VICTORY --
In our hearts, in our homes, in our marriages, in our children. 

Ignite a spirit of victory of passion and ease. 

We are inconsistent children loved and pursued and taught with completely consistent, never-stopping Love. 

We CHOOSE to breathe You in, Holy Spirit, and exhale defeat and the manic that we've accepted to be apart of this day. SURELY this is the day that The Lord has made! I WILL rejoice and be glad in it!

I bless you with eyes to see them and hearts to recognize them - the blessings, the gifts in disguise. DARE to joy in the mundane. Eucharisteo!

December 22, 2014

Coming to the End of My One Word 2014 Resolution: FAITH {a semi-conclusion}

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As the year end approaches I continually entreated to The Lord about not feeling "done" with this year's word He gave me at the beginning. My husband and mother and eldest daughter and closest girl-friend all said the same: "I feel I've barely scratched the surface of this."

I wonder, though, if any of us should ever feel "done"? I wonder, actually, if not feeling ready to move on to the next One Word Resolution for the coming year is actually what makes us ready? I wonder if it may have been our verbal confession that we weren't "done" that opened the door out of readiness to receive the next word from Him. Ann Voscamp talks so much about what prepares us is realizing our inability to prepare ourselves - how that shows our humility and dependence upon Him. 

FAITH. Faith has been my One Word for 2014, and I wrote about it at the beginning here. And these were the verses God gave me, the ones I've hung my hat and heart on this year:

"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." -Hebrews 11:1

"Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us." -Romans 5:5

At the beginning I was where I've always been: afraid to hope. Afraid to believe. Afraid to extend faith. AND BE DISAPPOINTED.

I have lived believing such a horrid, horrid lie, that The Lord Himself was the one choosing to disappoint me because I wasn't enough of who He wants me to be and that truly deep, deep down, questioning His daddy-love for me. That's a fully loaded history of hopelessness. 

I didn't know what the heck to expect when He gave me this word and these verses. But I anticipated growth at least in some fashion from where I was at. 

This has been a year of the Holy Spirit undoing the lies. Uprooting the earth in the garden of my very soul. Some like pulling out splinters that were close to the surface, some like they had been infected for a long time, and some like surgically removing steel beams impaling my heart. 

This has been a year of searching hard after The Lord. The ache that comes along with the gasp for air in suffering that prones our hearts to wander, to search, to find answers and understanding that satisfies. 

We are met with cliches of certainty about God's will and "at least it wasn't worse," as if our very souls aren't hollowed out with a dull blade during a season that leads us to seek His heart HARD to understand where in the world He has been in all of it. 

"You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." 
- Jeremiah 29:13 

When we wander in search for God, and we begin to realize nothing satisfies that longing for "why" in us except to just be, resting, sitting, soaking in His presence, we very slowly begin to realize two vital truths: 

(1) That through it all, whether an earthly answer is gratified, HE is my answer. 

(2) He loves me. 

I'm His precious girl. He aches when I ache and He cries out when I'm torn in two. Not because He didn't see it coming, nor because He doesn't already have a plan in play for redemption, for good, for hope. No, He just loves me. He. Just. Loves. Me. Tight and hard and the most fully "love you ta' pieces" anyone could ever, because He sees my ugly. And is STILL waiting there in our Secret Place for me. Always simultaneously seeing me right where I'm at AND His original design in me, with the complete work of Christ in me the Hope of Glory as the very perfectly stroked oil painting backdrop to my entire being and life here on earth, this temporary place. 

“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.” 
2 Corinthians 4:16-18

Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines… yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation. 
-Habakkuk 3:17-18, ESV

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
-1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

And there it is. Eucharisteo. The triune word again that cannot be simply understood, but felt in the very fibers of who we are. Eucharisteo. Grace. Thanksgiving. Joy. 

And the hard eucharisteo? 

"Thanksgiving doesn't devour your sorrow, but it acknowledges the Glory that will." -she reads truth

Yes. This. Because the deepest, most full and restoring praise I've ever felt has been in suffering. 

"God doesn’t ask us to silence our sorrow in favor of thanksgiving. Rather, He uses our sorrow to proclaim a type of thanksgiving we wouldn’t be able to express otherwise." -shereadstruth

It can seem irrational and impossible. It is a sacred act of obedience. Easy in moments when it doesn't hurt, and blind obedience in the times of ache. 

The hard eucharisteo. 

It's radical. 

And I've always been a bit of an all or nothing girl at heart, frustrated by a grey world and my grey actions to fit into it tied up with a neat little grey bow of pretending.  

Radical Gratitude takes the sting out. It is a sacred transaction where peace and joy beyond circumstance is tenderly deposited in our very depths as our perspective shifts in the light of His presence alone. 

"Isn't it our suffering that initially led us to The Lord? It is suffering that CONTINUALLY drives us to Him. And THAT is the gift in it."
-Darla Rakes

And THAT is the gift in it, indeed. Lack of peace makes me wander and seek in a dry and thirsty land where there is no water. The hand of God ALWAYS leads us home to His heart. Always. And in it the gift to see more of who He is in every area of our lives. 

The result of radical gratitude is a more radical faith. Faith that says EVEN IF the worst happens, I am SURE you did not do it TO me, Lord, and I am SURE you will ache with me and carry me through because You are faithful, and the gifted result WILL be greater intimacy with You. 

Come. What. Freakin'. May. <--- I'm not editing that word out, friends. Ache is ugly. Let's not belittle that. Rejoicing in spite of circumstance does not equal pretending crap didn't happen and wasn't the ugliest you've felt. It's just that: the "in spite. " The AND YET. -- "And yet I WILL rejoice in the God of my salvation." Hallelujah!

I have barely scratched the surface and yet... I. Am. Changed. 


Will you be joining me, sweet friends, in seeking The Lord for a One Word Resolution for 2015? Tell me about your 2014 word and how it has changed you. I'm so looking forward to hearing it. :)

December 11, 2014

My Rainbow Pregnancy Journal {week 27}

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"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born, I set you apart."
{Jeremiah 1:5}

"I prayed for this child, and the Lord granted me what I asked of Him. So now I give him to the Lord."
{1 Samuel 1:27-28}

We're in the third trimester, friends! :) 

And... it's totally a girl. :) We're just absolutely tickled and look forward to welcoming our 5th daughter in March!

I'm enjoying an intentionally slow Christmas, and reveling in the Truths and mysteries of Advent currently. I'm feeling quite expecting, spiritually as well as physically, like an unsuspecting bubbling joy. You need Ann Voscamp's book, "The Greatest Gift," in your life. Let it sink way down deep in your bones this Advent. 

This is the first week that I've begun to notice baby girl's weight. I've been doing transverse abdominal and alignment exercises daily with fit2b studio to keep a strong core to support her and not let her growing weight cause my back to sway. Non-flaring rib cage over neutral hips, people! Ha. ;) (use my code to get a special discount on fit2b.us: rivkareverer)

The third trimester's arrival brings with it a wide range of feelings and thoughts:

-Anticipatory excitement growing to meet her when she's ready.
-Feeling the incling to "nest" but actively choosing to wait until after Christmas. 
-Feelings of hesitancy in actually getting things ready or thinking too far ahead of TODAY. 

The last is new to me this pregnancy. I'm sure because our last child, Jane, was born too soon. 

I'm thankful that now that we know this she is a she, that the gender questions of, "what I'm hoping for" have ceased. My go-to reply? "I just want a person." 

I'm also thankful I never vomited the more ugly sounding truth on some unsuspecting, well meaning person: "Oh, boy or girl? Actually, I'm just hoping this one stays alive."

Friends, don't say that to people. They mean well and won't know how to handle that. Say it instead to someone who knows and understands. Who will not assume you're "still" stricken with grief or fear. Who will sigh and smile and tell you that's okay or normal or acceptable. Who will hold you with their arms, if you need, and with their eyes. Who will be honored that you felt safe with them to get that off your chest. 

It's healing. :)

 #rainbowpregnancy #pregnancyafterloss 

October 9, 2014

Journal {capture your grief - day five}

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In the 6th grade we learned how to write "descriptive writing essays," and I fell in love. We sure learned how to "unpack our adjectives." ;-) I started taking in papers I had written in my free time to have my teacher give me constructive feedback. All I knew at 12 was that it made me happy and that I wanted to get better at it.

Writing was nothing more than the occasional hobby as I grew and enjoyed even less into adulthood as I was busy learning the newness of both wife and momma. It wasn't until about four years ago that writing became something so much more, something I think I recognized about myself at just 12.

Writing thrilled me deep to my core and more importantly, for me became a way of finding truth.

Writing in my journal unearths truths of myself that I wouldn't have gotten to just thinking or talking. Writing in quiet solitude allows my pen to flow on into words on a path undesigned because I let go. I've found that I am my most honest self when I'm bleeding a bit of myself out on paper.

Writing in quiet solitude, my attentions captured only by the simple stroke of my pen, allows my spirit to be quiet too before the Lord and primed to hear Him. He speaks to me there in our Secret Place most because the outside world is not competing for my attention and while I am writing my thoughts are not distracted with what in the world am I going to cook for our dinner guests because I did not go to the store. So I write and He whispers to me of His Truths from His Word and of His heart for me though I desperately don't deserve it.

Writing is also about something bigger than myself. I want women to read my jabberings and feel seen, encouraged, and inspired right where they are in their everyday lives or heartache. We need to know we're not alone and that there is HOPE worth sinking into.

I've grown exceedingly passionate about writing concerning pregnancy loss/miscarriage, honesty in grief, healing, journey, and Hope that is Christ, my Source. My prayer is that my words in this teeny tiny corner of web space might not only reach the hearts of bereaved parents, but also to shine light on truths and lies about miscarriage for those who haven't experienced it but might have the opportunity to provide support to a loved one.

So I write, listen, learn truths, discover, heal more, and share it. It has grown to become an art of honesty for me and a ministry I am so grateful to the Lord for.

October 4, 2014

NOW {capture your grief - day four}

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I wrote to you Friday about before. It's been four years of change now. Four years of scratching the surface of who the Lord's made me to be. Four years of #1000gifts, of heart swelling, no, learning to swell, with love in the mundane, every-day. Fours years of pouring into callings. Loads of pouring and sowing, and loads of reaping. As my soul pours out in its hardest work, I begin to recognize myself more as if my spirit already knew from communion with His Spirit, and is rejoicing inside me as I learn so desperately to "hold myself to a standard of grace and not perfection," and continually find myself more and more in love with being their momma and his wife and HIS fully accepted, blameless daughter and servant of the King. And there is such peace and thrill in knowing I have SO far to go. I am excited by the mysteries of God now and laugh at the future because I feel the reality of being firmly rooted. May my roots always reach further for the Source of quenching waters in Him alone, like a tree firmly planted in the desert.

Yes, this is my hardest work, but it yields the greatest return. And so I do the hard things. And there is joy unspeakable.

Some days down right stink. Some don't work. at. all. Some days I forget so easily about being intentional, forget about hunting for His joy dares. some days my soul is just tired. Some days theirs are. Some days my physical body cannot perform the intentionality my soul is ready for.

You see, some days being intentional actually means laying to-do's at rest. Let us eat those last bit of odd pantry and fridge items that don't go with anything when I'm just too tired to go to the grocery today. It teaches them and you of gratefulness and creativity. Let us call "teacher 'work' days" from homeschooling and watch their confusion as you pack a picnic lunch and their glee when you stay at "the awesome park" all day long. It teaches them and you to always make time for play. Let us put our feet up once in a blue moon and eat pop corn all day long because they laugh so hard as the hot air popper blasts strays away from the bowl and they dash to collect them. It teaches them and you to make time for needed rest.

Oh, but don't you yet still see it? The intentionality and commitment even in that?

"Be intentional, not regimental." -Beth Learn

I desire to be more intentional with their hearts than a to-do list, and especially during a to-do list, may I not lose sight of purpose. Because you know, things must get done. Intentionality and commitment; washing the same dishes every day, the same laundry every week, teaching them of school and of life constantly, answering never-ending questions. And it teaches them sacrificial love, diligence, discipline. And you.

Four years of change so far, but it's been this year that's changed me most. These last almost eight months of continuing to live since Jane didn't.

There has been so much more hunger for the Lord's presence, so much desperation to simply sit inside His heart, some days just to keep breathing. There is a new tenderness I feel in me, a good tender. No longer a fresh wound kind of tender, but a kind of humility to my core as I recognize more and more of my need for Him and I learn to rest firmly and rejoicingly in faith that is only found whole in Him. Still there's more to this new reality I muddle down to an inadequate word: tender. There's a quiet surety, a kind of firm strength I didn't have before, meekness. And I know I want to grow in it all my life.

I am not glad for her death or this never-ending but always-changing grief journey just because there has been good change. God is transcendant in faithfulness. He would have been faithful to grow me out of intimacy with Him without my children dying. Yet because He is faithful without waver, He never wastes a moment to work His love into all our hidden rooms of soul and open doors within us we didn't even know were there, let alone capable of walking into. I believe I have changed and grown in Him per His plan all the while. But sometimes how we respond to circumstance speeds it along. ;-) He did not cause it for my growth, but is always, always, always faithful to carry us through when we fall on Him.

I am exceedingly grateful for how I have been irrevocably changed since Jane's death this year, for the change that got me on this road when Caleb died eight years ago, and the four years after that when I realized it.

Carly Marie asked of today what do we want to become. I want to become...more. More growth from more of His presence, more faith from more rest in the hard things, more love from more seeing husband and children, friends and strangers through His eyes, more intercession on their behalf, and more worship. Always more worship. :-)

October 2, 2014

BEFORE {capture your grief - day three}

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Wow. That picture was a long time ago. Back when I was pretty successful at being who I thought I wanted to be at the time: the fun, young, hot Christian mom. It's kind of hard for me to share because my life and my person are so far departed from this. I am feeling a little nervous and vulnerable about this post, but I feel like there are two messages in this that need to get out. I desire to have a willing and obedient heart towards the Lord, and this is what immediately came to mind when I thought about who I was before my children died. Or rather, in between my children dying.

I still loved the Lord, though I looked an awful lot like the world in my dress and manner. I still loved my husband, though I was far from honoring him. I still loved my children fiercely, though I had no desire to commit myself wholy to nuturing, teaching, discipling them. I still loved my home, though I believed housecleaning was a stereotypical, legalistic mold that I needed to have good boundaries against.

You see, I loved. I've always loved deeply. But I wanted to love easy.

Sarah Mae said once upon a time, "Being intentional is super hard. Really loving is also super hard. I want to do the hard things."

I thought I loved well. But I lacked intentionality, commitment, calling. NO, I had calling. But callings take intentionality and commitment and doing hard things, and not just seeing the joy in it but choosing to count it all as joy.

But all that was after our first loss.

When I was 22 Caleb died and I felt life drain from me in every facet, and I wanted to grieve my baby. But we were so, so young and surrounded by young like us and younger. No one told us that grieving would be good and right, there was just silence and encouragement that we'd have another. And that's not their fault. They didn't know, same as us. So my hard-labor preacher husband bottled like it never happened. And I? I made a label-less box, neatly tied with ribbon in my soul to stuff it all in. And it stayed in a back room collecting dust, and I had forgotten where I put that key.

We became pregnant again in less than 3 months and while she truly was a "rainbow baby," we didn't see that nor desired to. We had "gotten over" that "bump in the road." But what I didn't realize was how that neatly packaged box that held grief and my son's name and my identity as his mother would effect me. I felt like I was missing something as I struggled so hard to love and love life. I just kept busy. For years. Because I knew if I stopped, I'd break. But I didn't know what from. My forever deeply passionate momma-heart NEEDED to acknowledge and grieve and heal.

I convinced myself it was a lack of faith in God. This, this constant struggle for peace. This too is how we all feel if we're withholding forgiveness. It eats at us. And it's confusing because we love Jesus and follow Him and yet there's no peace. We have to deal and we have to heal, give Him rein to heal us.

So I stayed busy in ministry and was such a fun, young, hot Christian mom.

Four years after he died and I was pregnant again, I heard someone share of their grief over their daughter's miscarriage. It awed me listening to her talk about this baby as if it were the same to her as her living grandchild. I could barely breathe and all my insides seemed to lock up as she explained that she will always wonder who she would have been and that she asked the Lord, if it pleased Him, to give her a dream to settle her soul. She said she HAD dreamed. DID see. And while she still misses, she has peace.

I felt as though a thousand volcanos were preparing to errupt inside my soul. And I wondered if God had that for me too. I told Him bluntly and humbly that I was afraid to ask and Him say no, and confessed I had zero faith for it, but was asking anyway. The beauty of acknowledging HIS holiness is that it also acknowledges our lack, our nothingness. And it allows the self-inflicted shackles of condemnation to absolutely disentegrate. I had nothing to bring to the table and He knew it. And that very stinkin' night, I dreamed.

I dreamed of heaven, Glory, and I saw him there, Caleb. He looked straight at me, in my eyes and I knew, knew-knew, that it was my son. He did not come to me. He was where he was supposed to be. But he did smile. A smile of purity and joy and perfect peace untainted by this world. He appeared four years old! His brown hair fluttered over his eyes when he turned and he had his daddy's eyes that shone at me with a mutual acknowledgement of who I am to him.

Turns out a lot of people have experienced these kinds of encounters. A very many.

I stopped being busy. I was still before the Lord. And I wept for days. I acknowledged, I grieved, and started the journey of healing. I had two daughters before my eyes, another in my womb, and a son in heaven. I was a momma of four who could rest.

It was after that I began pouring myself into my callings and relationships, with both intentionality and commitment, and began learning to walk in the Lord's peace and fruit of the Spirit. That's when I started to scratch the surface of who He created me to be; free and full of love and love for life in the mundane, every-day. That's when I started writing. But that's for tomorrow. Today was just about before.

Heart {capture your grief - day two} and My Rainbow Pregnancy Journal {17 weeks}

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"For me, it is not a lesser experience of parenting to parent your child's spirit instead of their spirit in a physical body, it is just a different one that is equally as precious." -Carly Marie Dudley

I have a son and a daughter that live in my heart. Their names are Caleb Aaron and Jane Malise. And they are just as much my children as the ones whose faces I don't have to wait 'til Glory to see.

"A mother is not defined by the number of children you can see, but by the love that she holds in her heart."


"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born, I set you apart."
{Jeremiah 1:5}

"I prayed for this child, and the Lord granted me what I asked of Him. So now I give him to the Lord."
{1 Samuel 1:27-28}

If you interact with me on Facebook or Instagram, then you know we are expecting! This is the first I've really talked about this pregnancy here on the blog though, so no worries if you're totally like, "Whaaaa?! She pregnant?!" Yes, yes I am. :)

We lost our daughter Jane on February 17th of this year and really weren't expecting to conceive so quickly. We were surpised and thrilled and so grateful.

I am due March 12th, 2015 and am 17 weeks today. :)

I was very ill this time with severe morning sickness called hyperemesis gravidarum that has already subsided, glory to God! I had HG with all four that have been born alive and no nausea at all with our two born to heaven. I don't subscribe to the idea that morning sickness is THE sign of a healthy pregnancy. Many, including my mother, never had it! But I cannot deny the hope that swelled in me for this tiny life when I started to get sick really early on.

The last time I saw one of my children on an ultrasound screen... she was dead and misshapen and breath failed me. I was so nervous walking back into that same room where we were told how sorry they were just a few months ago for my 10 week "dating ultrasound." The hard-labor preacher and I both cried and smiled big smiles as we watched this one alive, heart beating, fluids wooshing, limbs wiggling.

Baby D started moving where I could feel them about 3 weeks ago. I hadn't ever felt Jane move before she died, so I realized with these first movements that my soul had been waiting 7 months to feel life move in my womb. With every little flutter, kisses to my soul. :)

I will begin to write more about this sacred dance journey between grief and joy that is a rainbow pregnancy. It's important. Thank you, friends, for walking through this time in support and for being excited with us about this new life. :)

October 1, 2014

Sunrise {capture your grief - day one}

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I rose early to watch the sun rise to shine its light and warmth on my side of the world. At first I was sorely disappointed when it was so foggy that I could barely see into the neighbor's yard much less the hope of brilliant colors up over the horizon and the trees over yonder. I sighed looking out the kitchen window over last night's dirty dishes and with it the rememberance of the romance I find in fog. There's a hope in it that I've never found "gloomy." A hope beyond what is visible, the faith that at different, almost intended moments, more is revealed. I found a foggy sunrise rather fitting on this first day of "capturing grief," of chronicling "what heals my heart" on this journey and dance between grief and joy.

I stood outside by myself in the quiet of the morning. Even in my favorite hoodie, the brisk early Autumn air sent chills down my arms, and I remembered. I remembered the two lives that are mine but not with me, and while my heart ached, it swelled with love more. Some days it still aches more, and that's fine, but fewer and fewer knock me flat. I will always ache for their presence but I will, am, healing.

I remembered too the so many who have lost long before me and were made to grieve in silence. I remembered those who even today believe the lie past down that their children were not such and their grief not valid.

I walked and remembered and sipped from my warm cup the reminder of Truth written on its side.

"God is my refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble." -Psalm 46:1

I walked through the fog and gazed over this ground we've been cultivating at our new home. Too late for planting for this season, but will be right on time come Spring. Much like the life currently claiming the sacred space in my womb. I look at the garden and I touch my barely swollen belly, my tiny person bump, and I pray again to hold this one. Let this person live, Lord. Being filled with the faith that our cultivated crops next year will yield its fruit never takes away the realization of the previous crop, whether abundant or fallen short. But there is faith in the Lord for the crop to come nonetheless. We place our trust in His hands, cultivate with the time we're given, and praise Him, always.

September 30, 2014

Capture Your Grief Project {31 days of what heals your heart}

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October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, as instated by President Ronald Reagan in 1988. But all over the world parents unite in a beautiful thing during these same 31 days by sharing their journies of grief and healing through Carly Marie's "Capture Your Grief" project. It's meant to meet us all right where we are currently in our journey missing our children.

I have chosen to participate in sharing "what heals your heart" for the first time this year, and I have been looking forward to it with joy. My participation will be on both Instagram (@rivkareverer) and here. Some days what's on my heart may find less words than others, sometimes more, but always with the point and focus to be real and honest and to see His light in every day. He is the bringer of life and the restorer of souls.

To read the entire description from Carly Marie, to receive encouragement for yourself or someone you know, or to see how you can join me in getting involved, follow this link.

"May October 2014 be a month that we can all look back and say, 'That was such an incredibly HEALING time in my life.'" -Carly Marie Dudley

August 28, 2014

Trusting in the Validator of Your Grief

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In much needed solitude I walked into the middle of the field. With the giant hood of the wind breaker I had borrowed from my husband's closet up and over my head and eyes, I lay there on my back in the sun. I lay there with my arms wide, not caring if I looked silly. It was a cool day in late Spring but the wind made my bones ache a little. I felt the Lord's warmth along with the sun though as I lay there, and the absolute sturdiness of the ground beneath me. And I sang.

Three months after our Jane died in my womb I sat alone on retreat, away from husband and daughters, at Pilgrimage. I ached for little puckered lips and boo-boos I wasn't at home to kiss and for the strong arms that hold me cherished every night. But even still, I could see Jesus and His providence all over that place set-apart, and knew it was where I was supposed to be. For such a time as this.

Someone at my table asked me how I felt when our baby died. I struggled for words and resented being asked. I knew it was because these people, that were just strangers two days beforehand, cared for me now and I for them. They wanted to know where my heart was now. But when the session ended for a break before anyone was able to respond to me, I realized how rock hard I was craving validation. Craving "man" to somehow know, understand, and approve everything I was feeling about the death of my child, and even validate that her little unborn life was worth grieving even though I never got to hold her. A craving unmet brought my attention to His still, small voice.

So I went and laid my shaky soul down flat on my back in the field there. And I sang. I sang to THE Validator of my being. I brought to His feet sacrificial praise, hard eucharisteo, and He lifted me from His feet and held me like a little girl in His lap. I lay there in the field and He held me, face against chest, and told me He knew, that He understands, and He absolutely approves of me.

I know He's got Jane. And Caleb, who went before. Almost eight years now. Like every other child that has gone before, by miscarriage, abortion, born still, as an infant, as a child. He's got them all, all those lives pure, not accountable yet. Creation returns to the Creator and He's marvelous at it beyond our feabile comprehension.

I chose something that day laying in the field. I chose to rest in His validation of my grief. And day by day it's been easier to trust it and not go seeking for something not withstanding.

When I remember Jane, my heart and womb ache for her person, and the life and experience this side of heaven that would have been. But we are here. And there is necessity to find balance in our souls. To always remember and honor and cherish missed life, and to desire to be fully present, completely here. Experiencing the obvious, and seeking out the hidden, joys. Joys and thanksgiving in the everyday. To keep speaking of them does not mean you're still wrent with fresh grief. Saying their names brings more healing. Our parent hearts, both mother and father, are never the same after losing a child. But it WILL get better.

"When death comes in your home like an uninvited guest and sits in your favorite chair...it's gonna be okay."
-a speaker at Pilgrimage who has more than enough experience to say this and carry weight to it. May it sink down in our soul, deep unto deep.

"I waited patiently on the Lord; He inclined unto me, and He heard my cry." -Psalm 40:1 >

{I leave with a modified excerpt from the "Meet Me In the Meadow" daybrightener, by Roy Lessin.}

Lord, make me strong in Your hands. May my goals (and passions) be shaped by Your will; may my resolve be based in Your Truth; may my resources (and words) be used for Your glory and the good of others. Cover me with grace, shield me with mercy, and motivate me with Love.

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