Learning to trust

I haven't had a chance to really sit down and write anything in a long time...and while I can't say that I actually have time for it today, I'm doing it nonetheless.

For me, the past month (or two) has been one of those times of growing, stretching, going through the ringer, and being molded by the Lord. I hadn't felt like sharing much, because I couldn't really sort out what was going on inside enough to convey it. Nothing much has changed, circumstantially. But I am coming to a deeper realization that I'm not in control of my life, and that's actually a good thing. Even when I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel, my Sweet Jesus does. Nothing is a surprise to Him. When I reach the end of my (admittedly short) rope, and I can no longer make myself believe I can hold it all together, He is there to catch me. I have to let go enough to feel the fall, and then I'm in His arms. It's a very short distance, really.

But now, after the fall - and the catch - it's so easy to climb right back out of His arms, trying to put the pieces back the way I think they should go. I have an ideal plan for the next ten years. And it's pretty obvious that if things could just work out the way I want them to, life would be great!

Right?

But how much I would have missed if everything had always gone according to my plans! Events that seemed like tragedies - and discipline I didn't want to receive - have brought about the most godly character changes within me, the times of sweetest communion with my Lord, and the deepest satisfaction I've found in human relationships. And those tragedies and discipline would never have found their way into my ten-year plan. Never in ten years, and never in a million years.

So what does that mean for an insecure, often obsessive, sometimes short-sighted, and very idealistic person - like me? It means that I must prayerfully consider and make my plans in pencil. I must be willing to give up my heart's desire-of-the-moment for the rich and beautiful and often scary plans that God has for me. He is refining me. And every bend in the road - that I can't see beyond - is another chance to learn, to trust, to grow. With childlike faith that does not demand to know the end, but simply trusts the Father.

I don't want to be blown around by the winds of fear anymore. I don't want my joy to be based on circumstances. Lord, teach me to trust You more. May I trust enough to always rest in Your arms, and not have to experience Your loving "catch" to remind me that You are infinitely faithful.

But I have stilled and quieted my soul; like a weaned child with its mother, like a weaned child is my soul within me. Psa. 131:2

Entering a new era

And that would be?

One where I am never pregnant again, unless we fall into the .05% failure rate for vasectomies. Yep, Adam went "under the knife" on Thursday. (Don't worry, I won't give TMI about it...and he's totally fine with this information being thrown out into blog-land, by the way!)

This has been a decision we've thought and prayed and talked a lot about over the past several years, and probably the most difficult decision we've ever made. We've perhaps never made a more permanent decision than this one, either, other than the decision to get married (which was made when we were quite young and tended to think less about decisions), and the decision to have our children in the first place (all of whose pregnancies were very much planned).

Growing new life is truly miraculous, and I don't have the eloquent words tonight that are necessary to convey my feelings about how precious and beautiful and magical it is to carry and give birth to a child. But pregnancy is also difficult for me. I have pretty severe morning sickness (which makes me nearly useless for well over half the pregnancy), and I've suffered some nasty post-partum depression, as well.

Given those reasons, as well as many other factors, we've decided to bow out of the child-bearing arena, but not without some longing glances behind and a lot of incredible memories. Being forever thankful to God for the four opportunities I've had to carry His precious creations within my body, I praise Him again for the two incredible little people we've been entrusted to raise! What an amazing privilege, and yet a great responsibility, to be Drake and Levi's parents.

We're also not completely sure we won't be adding any more children to our family, as we're considering the possibility of adoption and whether or not the Lord may have another little person in mind for us. It's an exciting prospect, but either way, we praise Him for the glimpse into following His will that this decision-making experience has given us.

Oh yes, one last comment... After much discussion about how to approach the subject of the vasectomy with Drake (and oh, it's a loaded topic if you've never thought of the implications on the mind of a 6-year-old), we were leaning toward explaining the surgery and its purpose to him...we tend to be pretty up-front type parents and have never shied away from tough topics (death, suffering, childbirth, private parts, etc.) in the past. But finally, we decided this might not be the best way to introduce the birds and the bees, as it could possibly leave a small child wondering if Mom and Dad were having second thoughts about babies because of him or his brother.

Sooo, the plan was that Daddy was going in for an "appointment," and then for a few days, Daddy would "not be feeling so well" and would be resting in bed a lot. However, when we were all leaving for the clinic early Thursday morning, Drake asked me, "So when are you going to pick Daddy up after his surgery?" Surgery? What? Where did that come from? I tell you, little ears don't miss a thing. We still don't know when it was that we slipped up and said the "s" word in front of him. So anyway, I found out later that his class at school heard that his daddy was having "eye surgery" and then he apparently told a neighbor that it was "stomach surgery"! So Drake ended up with a crash course in the mechanics of a vasectomy, but thankfully the question of why someone would want to do this was never posed.

Oh, my sweet Drake, you are adorable beyond words!

Brothers

I had the distinct pleasure of watching my boys play together last night. It was rough, "boy" play, and so heartwarming! Levi calls Drake "Buddy" now - we think he's trying to say "Brother" and that's how it comes out. So he was running and Drake was chasing and catching him, carrying him over to the couch and flopping him up onto it - over and over and over - amidst squeals of "Buddy!" and peals of laughter. What a joy they are!

Drake went back to school this week, and "Buddy" was a constant topic of conversation for Levi and me yesterday. Levi would approach me, asking, "Buddy?" and nodding his head with his eyebrows raised, as if hoping I could somehow produce Drake from behind a chair or something. I would remind him that Drake got on the bus this morning, and the bus took him to school (a place Levi has been many times). That would satisfy him for a few minutes, and then it would begin all over again!

This week will be a little stressful for our family. Adam and I have severely nasty coughs, and there's a lot going on for us. I may be able to elaborate at a later date. But anyway, I am taking the time now to be truly thankful for my caring husband and my two precious children, and to renew my mind to the idea that I am only the steward of these children. They do not belong to me, but to the Lord. Raising them is the most important and difficult thing I will ever do, but they are not mine. Our family rests in the hands of God; may He shape us as He wills.

I will hold on to these sweet moments of little-boyhood and never forget them.

Waiting

Waiting is hard. We've been at our current base for four years, and you know what that means: it's highly likely that orders will be coming our way sometime soon. Part of the military adventure is not knowing where (or when!) we're going next! But I find myself having less and less patience for that type of "adventure" lately. In my sinful human heart, I want nothing more than to be able to tightly grab hold of the future, squeezing and twisting it to fit my own short-sighted desires. Sometimes I feel tired of a life where one can never really put down roots. I am not a person who likes change, and somewhere in my dreams, my husband has a middle-class civilian job, and we have no plans to leave a community and church and friends we love...ever ...We own our home, and I can paint the rooms whatever color I want without that irritating thought in the back of my mind - in a few years, I'll be painting all these walls white again!...My kids can have a school and activities where I'll have reason to care about the happenings a few grades ahead of theirs; no more of this by the time Drake is old enough to be involved in that, we won't be here anymore stuff.

Yes, sometimes the grass truly seems greener on the other side.

But about four years ago, I went through something that changed my life. We moved to Florida. Did I want to leave Minot? No! Was I angry and frustrated, and did I throw some grown-up sized temper tantrums? Yes! I wanted nothing more than to stay forever in the frozen north. Granted, I was learning to trust the Lord a bit (if you've been reading this blog for long, you'll probably remember that my relationship with Jesus truly began during that assignment), but I could not imagine why on earth I would have to leave the people who mattered most to me in all the world, and who had been instrumental in gently bringing me to an understanding of who God is and how much I need Him. It was utterly disappointing and confusing for me.

I wore these feelings on my sleeve, apparently. One night just before we left, one of these precious people I was struggling to let go of sat down with me and gave me a half-sheet of white paper. I have just now pulled it out from its place, and I'm looking right at it, remembering. This is what it says:

Attitude
by Charles Swindoll

"The longer I live the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than success, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company..a church..a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past.. We cannot change the fact that people will act a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it."

"Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death - even death on a cross!" Philippians 2:5-8

Yep, that's what it said! I was convicted, and decided to change my attitude and make the best of what had to be. That doesn't mean it was all easy and happy, but it did help me notice the hand of God more readily. I realized that He was in Florida too! (And I carried that paper with me in my purse for several years!)

No matter what our situation or lifestyle, the God we serve gives us specific blessings and a purpose for being in our particular position. This is something positive He has shown me about the military (or any transient) lifestyle: we may have an easier time keeping an "eternal" perspective. We do not have the option to buy a house and plan to stay there through our golden years. We can invest ourselves in our church fellowship to a point, but this is knowing that soon we will be ripping ourselves away from those people we've grown to care so much about. We will have to start over a number of times...and get that lonely and difficult "stranger in a strange land" feeling, no matter how many times we do it. But although these facts may be annoying or downright discouraging, the benefit is that we are pressed nearer to God in the lonely and uncertain times, and reminded again that this world is not our home! Feeling like a "stranger" can be a keen reminder to praise and thank the Lord of Heaven that this world isn't all there is!

Right now, I don't have a desire to stay here forever like I did in Minot. But there is something I do want, a precious desire of my heart. I have been pleading with the Lord over it. And yet I know that only He sees the big picture. Only the King of the Universe knows exactly where He wants us to fit into it. How many times have I laid my desires at His feet, and then found myself sneaking back to retrieve them, to try squeezing them in my own hands again? My flesh cries out for power over the future, which, of course, it cannot and should not have.

We hope to know by December 15 a little more of what our future will hold, although there is also the distinct possibility that we may be totally skipped over for orders this cycle. (In that case, the wait will continue.)

I pray that no matter what happens, whether we get a "yes" or a "no" or a "wait some more", that I will be able to bring glory to Jesus with my attitude. I pray that we will be filled with patience beyond measure to get through this time of waiting, and that the Lord would see fit to mature us into the most useful vessels possible, whatever the outcome. He is good! Always.

October 15th

Today was a very busy day for us, as we are so blessed right now to have my parents visiting us from the other side of the country! In fact, in a few minutes I will be posting more pictures of our visit to the beach this afternoon. However, amidst all the hustle and bustle, I found a small amount of time to reflect on all this day means to me.

As I'm sure most are aware, Adam and I are actually the parents of four children, two of whom are quietly missing from our lives on this earth. Our first two babies, Sam and Clayton, were miscarried and stillborn, respectively. Their story can be found here.

The movement toward making Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day "official" began shortly before our losses occurred. I found myself becoming involved in this cause as a way to channel the love I had for my babies into something constructive. It was a way to validate the feelings I had, to keep me from going crazy when something so deep and real as a mother's love seemed completely out of place in a home with no children living there. My reasons for involvement were almost completely selfish, and once the wound was no longer gaping, I was happy to move on to more tangible things, namely caring for baby Drake. But whatever the reason, and for whatever timeframe, the portion of my life devoted to Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day will never be forgotten.

I've never been in contact with a governor before or since, but for two years in a row after Clayton's death, I had personal e-mail correspondence with the governor of the enormously populated state of North Dakota! And we have in our home two official proclamations from the State of North Dakota, signed by the governor, stating facts on pregnancy and infant loss, and that October 15th of those two years was to be officially set aside as a day of remembrance. It was a bitter, yet sweet time in my life.

I remember the sweetness of God's hand upon me, and though I was only beginning to recognize Him and to know Him, He was (and of course, still is) ultimately patient with me, leading me gently to a greater understanding of His glory and goodness.

I am very much out of the loop now with Remembrance Day, and aside from quietly remembering my little ones, I don't really do anything special on October 15th. However, I know that several years ago, a resolution was finally passed by the U.S. House of Representatives making Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day both national and permanent, removing the need for annual state proclamations, like the ones I was able to secure for North Dakota in 2002 and 2003. It is a cause that is - however quietly - very dear to my heart, because it marks the most difficult leg of my journey into motherhood.

Today, I thank the Lord for all four of the children I have carried, some longer than others. We are so blessed to be raising two of them. While we were at the beach this afternoon, I helped Drake and Levi each make footprints in the sand. The tide was high, and washed their footprints away not long after I took this picture. I was thinking today that the picture will help me remember details like the color of the sand, the brightness of the sun, and the small size of their feet. And having a day like October 15th will always help me to stop and remember the details of a couple of years of my life that I might otherwise want to forget, but for the hand of God upon them.

Daniel study

It’s been awhile since my last post, and I have been feeling really busy! I wanted to share something meaningful today, and I have something I’ve been chewing on, but it hasn’t been coming together too clearly in my head! But I’ll do the best I can...

I’ve been participating in a ladies’ Bible study again this fall. This particular study is by Beth Moore, and it’s called Daniel: Lives of Integrity, Words of Prophecy. It’s really an incredible study. (Just for the record, I don’t think I’ve done a Beth Moore study that wasn’t incredible!) (And also, just for the record, I think any study is probably a lot more incredible when you actually do your homework...which I've been doing faithfully this study for the first time in - ahem - a really long time.) Anyway, even before this study, I had really loved the book of Daniel, just because of the fulfilled prophecy aspect of it. But this study is bringing out a lot of totally new and amazing concepts for me.

For those who are not aware of what the book of Daniel is about, other than the lions’ den part (that was me about two years ago!), I want to explain something really interesting. Toward the beginning of the book of Daniel, there is a pagan king (Nebuchadnezzar) who has a dream about a statue made of different types of metal: head of gold, arms and chest of silver, belly and thighs of bronze, legs of iron, and feet of iron mixed with clay. There is a rock "not cut by human hands" that crashes into the statue at its feet. The statue falls, smashes into little bitty pieces, and is blown away in the wind. Then the rock grows into a huge mountain that covers the whole earth. The king is sick with worry over his dream and wants an interpretation.

Long story short, God reveals the dream and its meaning to Daniel, and Daniel tells it to the king. The different types of metal are the different gentile (non-Jewish) kingdoms from the time of King Nebuchadnezzar until the end of history, and the rock/mountain is the eternal kingdom of God. (Daniel 2:44, "...the God of heaven will set up a kingdom that will never be destroyed, nor will it be left to another people...it will itself endure forever.") Looking back, scholars agree that the first four metals, from the head down, represent kingdoms or empires that have already passed: gold is the Babylonian empire (this was Nebuchadnezzar’s domain), silver is the Medo-Persian empire (which took over the Babylonians in the book of Daniel - remember the story of the handwriting on the wall? That’s the very night the Babylonian empire ended), bronze is the Grecian empire (think Alexander the Great), and iron is the Roman empire. That the feet are of a mix of iron and clay represents strength mixed with weakness, and that the people are not united... and you also can’t help but notice that the iron seems to continue from the legs to the feet, although it’s diluted with clay in the feet. It appears that we are in the "empire of the feet" right now. The Roman empire has passed, although many remnants of it still remain around the world...many systems of government (including ours in the U.S.) have been greatly influenced by the Roman way of doing things.

There are two really cool things that I like about this, and I can’t decide which I like best. One is that four of the kingdoms have already come and gone - so we are looking at fulfilled prophecy! I love it that for centuries upon centuries, no one even knew if Daniel was right. For all the proof that existed, he could have been telling an elaborate, fictional tale - but now, several thousand years later, we can see clearly that he was right on! God holds history in his hand. History and time itself were created by the Lord, and he has absolute control. (I remind myself of that sometimes when things don’t seem to be falling into my little timetable the way that I want them to!)

And the second really cool thing is that four of the kingdoms have already come and gone - so it seems we are near the end of time as we know it - that is, time before the return of Christ! Woo-hoo! Can you imagine how exciting it would be if we were the generation who got to witness the return of Jesus in all his glory and meet Him in the air? Believers for almost two thousand years have waited. But again, God’s timing is perfection. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance. 2 Peter 3:9

So that’s what I love so much about Daniel...and I was totally going somewhere else with this post, but I like that part so much that I got stuck! I think this is long enough for today (especially with no pictures of my kids) or I will probably lose you forever - to other, more interesting and photo-laden blogs! (Just kidding...I hope.)

So, I will share some more about the "new" stuff I’ve been learning in this study in another post.

And I also promise to post pictures of the boys soon, too!

Monday Blues

Air Force wives, rejoice! Now you can see your handsome hubby in his dress blues once a week! Thanks to Air Force Chief of Staff Gen. Schwartz, Mondays are now mandatory "Blues Days" for most career fields, Air Force wide. I guess this doesn't sit well with some people, and there are some career fields where this is not practical, and therefore, it's not required for them. (Can you see Adam in his former life as a heavy equipment operator, driving a loader in his dress blues? Or running that jackhammer?) But as a personnelist, it's perfectly fitting.

I checked, and I don't have any recent pictures of Adam in his blues, but here's one from 2004 (one rank ago!). Yes, it's of terrible quality - again, we don't have a scanner, so I took a picture of a picture in order to get this on here...and it wasn't even in the sunlight. So pardon the dark and grainy quality. But I felt this post needed a visual aid!


There's not a lot about the military life that takes my breath away anymore. I've seen enough emotionally moving ceremonies, been to fancy parties where high-ranking servicemen seemed to be dripping with ribbons and medals from their mess coats. I've seen the convoys, the amazing airshows. I've witnessed plenty of marching formations, and the hairs rarely stand up on the back of my neck anymore when life stops at 5pm each day while the national anthem plays. It's been almost nine years, and what once seemed such an odd and beautiful and even barbaric way of life, has become normal to me, even secure.

But last Monday, I was at the MPF for some reason, and I remember that my breath was taken away, once again, by the sight of all the servicemen and women in their blues, walking in the parking lot and working in the building. It was beautiful to me. Perhaps my sense of beauty has been "warped" slightly by almost a decade of being a military spouse, but I believe many would share my feelings. I know my hubby's mom would have loved it!

So then, I put myself back in my own high school shoes, and thought again about how I would have felt about my life as a military spouse, had I had any inkling. At 17, when I first fell in love with Adam, I could not have made up a story about this life if I'd tried! How much I've learned - about myself, how capable I am when I really need to be; about my husband, how much he is willing to sacrifice for those he loves; about my Lord, how dearly he loves me, and how precious His grace. It's interesting to look back with a smile and see how far the Lord has brought us...and then look forward with excitement to what the future holds!

You never know what will happen next. But I'm counting on getting a good look at my man in uniform before he heads off to work next Monday morning. I can't think of a better way for an Air Force wife to beat the Monday blues!

Drake Adam

Six years ago today, I was coming out of recovery from an emergency c-section and meeting my tiny, 4-lb-15-oz-17-inch baby boy for the first time. It was about this time of day, too - early afternoon - when I first laid eyes on my sweet baby. He had been in the world for almost two whole hours by the time I finally met him, and his daddy had done a heroic job of keeping nurses with bottles of formula away from him - and oh, how they had wanted to give him one because of his tiny size! He had already had his first tub bath (given by Daddy), and was patiently waiting for his first meal from Mama with those alert and snappy dark-blue eyes. His features were so tiny and fine that he looked like a little doll. If ever there was a "button nose," his was one!

I was exhausted from labor, still a little groggy from the general anesthesia, and in great pain - I had no epidural to carry me through for a few extra hours. Every slight movement brought a sharp pain to my incision, and it seemed even lifting an arm somehow engaged my abdominal muscles, which were freshly closed with several layers of stitches and 21 shiny staples through the skin. All I really wanted to do was sleep. But here was this miraculous little bundle! Could it really be? He was alive! Healthy even. And he was all ours! He was tiny and perfect, and he looked at me with those knowing little newborn eyes.

And I have been hooked, ever since. Hooked on this little person who grips my heart like no other, who brings me unending joy at every new turn, who sometimes disappoints, and often confuses me. Drake is now all about shooting and destroying and battling! If it can be climbed, shot, swung around, or thrown, he wants to do it! But in a certain frame of mind, he displays great tenderness and care toward the underdog, the young, the victim. He especially cares for his baby brother, and has a conscience that is easily pricked. He is excessively energetic and silly, and he can be the extreme daredevil, but he's often afraid to go new places and try new things. He is a very "touchy" person, just like his daddy.

What a privilege it is to be a mother! To be awakened countless times each night to feed and change a newborn; to show a little person how to eat, to walk, to talk. What a responsibility to raise a child - to teach sharing, respect, kindness, compassion, honesty. I have never known anything so fulfilling, and yet so daunting.

And Drake is the one pulling me along on this exciting journey! He is so completely average, and yet so miraculous and amazing! It is my joy to watch him grow and mature, and yet to try to hold on to the memories of his precious babyhood.

There is no one quite like our Drake! My daily prayer over him at night is that he will grow in his understanding of God's glory and God's love (for him and for all people), that he will love the Lord with all his being, that he will understand and embrace the truth, that he will love others unconditionally, and that he will be used mightily by the Lord.

We are now one-third of the way done raising our son - a sobering thought - and we pray for wisdom during the next two-thirds!

Happy birthday, my dear son! You are amazing, and we love you beyond words. What an incredible six years these have been!

Our story of Clayton

This is what it means to be held,
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved,
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we’d be held.

- the chorus from Held by Natalie Grant
(to hear this song, scroll down to the bottom of this page and click it...it’s the last one on the playlist)

Today is the seventh birthday of our firstborn son, Clayton Wyatt. Clayton was stillborn prematurely on July 29, 2001. For those of you unfamiliar with the story of Clayton’s short life on this earth, I’ll give a brief recap. The year before, in 2000, we had a miscarriage at only 5-1/2 weeks. I’d only known I was pregnant for a couple of days before we found out I was miscarrying, but it was still a rough time. We decided to name that baby Sam, for Samuel or Samantha, so we could refer to him/her by name, as a real person. Then about six months later, we found out we were expecting Clayton!

Clayton’s pregnancy was riddled with problems from the beginning, and we were told on several occasions that the baby would not survive. But then, the next ultrasound or blood test would always indicate that all was well. (There were a lot of ultrasounds and blood tests.) At 21 weeks, a routine ultrasound revealed a much smaller baby than expected for his gestational age, with almost no amniotic fluid. I was scheduled to be flown across the country to see a military perinatologist (high-risk pregnancy doctor), but the day we were to leave, the MedEvac plane broke down and could not leave the base. That evening, I had a very strong feeling that something was really not right, and so I called my doctor and he reluctantly agreed to meet us at the hospital. Once at Labor and Delivery, an ultrasound confirmed that our little one’s heart had stopped beating. My labor was induced that evening, and at 2:10 in the morning on Sunday, July 29th, little Clayton was born still, weighing only 3 ounces and measuring 17 centimeters (about 7 inches long). Then began our winding road out of grief.

Through the experience of losing my only child - and living with the lonely dichotomy of being a mother, but having no child - God was working. One week after Clayton’s stillbirth, we attended church at the base chapel. Now, Adam and I had not been going to church all that often at that point. (Church attendance isn’t the issue, of course, but for us, it was an indication of our priorities at that time.) So we were at the base chapel that day only because our hearts were broken. And that very day, I met another woman named Melanie who had also experienced a stillbirth. Because she knew exactly what I was going through, she was able to reach inside me somehow and help the very slow healing process to begin. Melanie invited me to come to a ladies’ Bible study that she was about to start at the chapel, Beth Moore’s Jesus, the One and Only. It had been years since I’d done any kind of studying the Bible, but I was suddenly hungry for the Word of God and also just lonely beyond anything I’d ever felt before. So I went. And it was absolutely out of my comfort zone, by the way. But I loved it. And they put up with me too. I remember how my poor little small group had to hear the story of my loss so many times, and how I connected it to everything, and how I saw the world through that experience. Seeing the world through the tragedy is how people going through grief begin, I think. And that can last a long time.

But the Lord was drawing us out...out of a long spiritual sleep, and out of the crushing pain of losing a baby. Shortly after Clayton’s death, Adam met a civilian at work who introduced us to his family and his church. The more time we spent with these people, the more we loved them, and the more we learned about the love of Jesus. Sunday became my favorite day of the week, just for the joy of hearing teachings about God and getting to hang out with the loving people of our new church fellowship. I kept going to the Bible studies at the base chapel and learning more.

The Lord took something terrible and used it for good - for teaching and correcting us, so we could truly know Him and feel His goodness and love and forgiveness. When I think of Clayton, I feel a deep sadness at never getting to know him. But no longer do I wish to change something that fell within the will of God. We have not been promised an easy road. But for those who are in Christ, He will never leave us nor forsake us...and He does truly want to bless us and grow us through the pain. God is always good, even when circumstances are not. Now, years after our loss, I can see clearly how this is the case, even in the death of our son. I hope and pray that someday my first response will consistently be thankfulness and the recognition of God's goodness - in everything, not just when things go the way I want them to. May He be glorified in all things.

Romans 8:28: "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose."

Our sweet Clayton, we love you always. You are remembered and dearly missed.

Feeling the loss

I've been missing Heidi a lot. If you're not a "cat person," you probably won't understand quite how I'm feeling. I'm not truly a hard-core cat person either; I only really like some cats. Heidi is certainly one of those cats. Adam and I have always said she's the perfect cat - playful sometimes, but more cuddly than anything else. I could hardly ever sit down without her jumping up to claim my lap. I miss that. I can actually type better, but it's lonely - and worse than that, worrisome, not knowing what has happened to her. She has such a personality, and is so laid back and gentle with the kids, even Levi (who made a habit of pulling her hair and tail). She was "my girl." I don't have human girls, but Heidi has a collar with flowers on it because I can't put anything floral on my boys! I was her favorite person, always have been, and she and I used to have "conversations" by meowing back and forth. She could tell when I was upset. She always chose my lap and my side of the bed. We got Heidi before I was pregnant with any of the boys, over 7 years ago! I can't believe she's gone, and I can't believe we made it through almost the entire day yesterday without noticing she was missing. Sometimes she does "lay low" for a good portion of the day, but still...

.

(I notice that I am wavering between present and past tense...the not knowing is the worst.)

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I pray that she will return! I had a dream just before waking this morning that we found her on a walk outside. Last night between 10pm and midnight I walked around our loop and also the inner loop in our housing area, posting signs on all the banks of mailboxes (there are 22 of them - now I know) and calling for her. Drake, Levi, and I made the same trek again this morning, and added looking and calling in the storm drains. (It's HOT here, even at 8am! Very hot.) I don't know what else we can do. I called the Law Enforcement desk on base, and the Animal Welfare Society which is right near our housing area.

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The guilt part stinks. I don't remember the last time I gave her much special attention. I spend a lot of time just trying to keep Levi away from her, because he's so darned mean to her, and hence, seeing her lurking near him tends to make me feel slightly irritated and wish she would just go away for awhile, because I know I'm about to have to stop whatever I'm doing and make him be nice to her. This past Saturday morning, Adam was fishing, and I was cuddling with Levi on our bed in the early morning. Heidi was being annoying, walking around, trying to rub up against me, and just causing more stimulus than I was ready for before 7am on a Saturday. I gave her a little push off the bed, and she left the room. It's interactions like this that I can remember happening recently; certainly not the kind of attention she deserves for being the sweet and easy kitty she is and putting up with what she puts up with (mostly this means Levi).

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I'm just trying not to think about what she's doing now, or what's already happened to her if she's never coming back. Too much loss right now. This is the fourth "loss" in the past couple of months that have, accumulatively, hit me hard. First, our family doctor, who delivered Levi and worked his tail off during my pregnancy to make sure everything was okay and that I got to attempt my VBAC, was just transferred to another base (McChord, actually, for all you Washingtonians!). The last time I saw him was in May, at Levi's 15-month checkup. Then our Bradley (natural childbirth) instructor, who also happens to be the head nurse on the labor and delivery floor where Levi was born, retired from the Air Force and moved away. She is just a sweetheart and has had such a positive and far-reaching effect on our family. Her retirement ceremony was hard for me. Adam couldn't make it. I got to hug her and say goodbye, and then, that was it. It felt so weird. I had someone watching the boys for the ceremony, and I just drove around afterwards on some back roads and cried. I knew what was coming next...and you know, too, if you know me or you've been reading this blog. Our beloved next-door best friends moved away to Alaska. It was sort of surreal. We knew it was coming for months beforehand, and then suddenly it was time. The packers came, the moving truck came, our friends stayed with us in our home for the last week doing all the final stuff with their house and outprocessing, and then they left. It's been empty here. And today I feel empty. I have what I need, my Jesus and my people-family: Adam, Drake, and Levi. But right now most of the little extra joys seem to have gone.

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I am sorry that I didn't love on Heidi more while we had her. I am sorry that we didn't get to do more with our friends during their last months with us here. I am sorry that things change, children grow up, friends move, people and pets pass away. Loss takes many forms. I was just not ready to lose Heidi yet.

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What can I expect but to feel disappointment and even emptiness and loneliness sometimes in a world that is not my home? My home is with the Lord. And my Lord is never-changing. Never Changing. When I've just about had it with change and loss, this is a beautiful truth.

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Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. Matt 10:29

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(Sorry for the weird paragraph breaks with periods. Blogger was not letting me make any paragraph breaks, so I had to "trick" it with the periods. You don't want to read all that rambling with no paragraph breaks, believe me!)