Jesus, Jesus, Jesus

Dinah has taken to carrying a little, pink New Testament around with her. She will sit down, open it and "read" her little Bible. The other day our family was gathered around the kitchen table visiting with my Aunt Brenda and her family, when Dinah asked me to read to her from the Bible. 

The Bible fell open to 1 Corinthians 15. After I turned the book right side up (she was reading it upside down--talented, little girl), I scanned the pages and began to read a few verses. 

1 Corinthians 15:42-44
New International Version (NIV)
⁴² So will it be with the resurrection of the dead. The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; ⁴³ it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; ⁴⁴ it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.
If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body.

I paused and said, "Do you understand that?"

Without hesitancy she replied, "Yes!"

We all laughed and smiling I asked, "What did it mean?"

She grinned and shouted in her best almost 3 year-old voice, "JESUS! JESUS! JESUS!"

We all agreed that was the gist of it all really--Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.  

A few nights after this happened, I sat in a room with a group of ladies that I didn't know. We had come together to study and learn how to be different. We sought understanding, help and community. As the evening progressed, I had to keep asking God to reveal what He wanted to show me. I asked Him to help me not dismiss the information as for "them" and not for me. 

It crossed my mind that I didn't have any right to be there. That my problems weren't really problems compared to theirs. Like if I spoke that they might laugh me out of the room for being such a weenie. Or as if I was trying to compare first-world problems to third-world ones. 

You would think with all this conversing in my head that I wouldn't have heard a thing. :) But I did. I heard the hurt that sin could cause, whether it was our own or someone else's. I heard the lies that fell upon lies that Satan loved to whisper, plant, water, and provide a warm place to grow. I listened to stories of women struggling to believe the Truth to kill the lies that had taken root. I saw the battle scars from the war against sin and self. 

After hearing all that, I knew that no matter what we looked like on the outside, or how different the places were that our struggles had led us--we were the same. We are all just sinners that desperately need JESUS. We need to empty ourselves of our hurts, our insecurities, our selfishness, our weakness, and fill up with Jesus. We need Jesus to heal us. We need Jesus to lead us. We need Jesus to save us--the way that only He can. 

1 Corinthians 15:42-44New International Version (NIV)⁴² So will it be with the resurrection of the dead. The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; ⁴³ it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; ⁴⁴ it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.
If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body.

Only with Jesus can what is sown that is perishable be raised imperishable. Only with Jesus can what is sown in dishonor be raised in glory. Only with Jesus can what is sown in weakness be raised in power. 


I didn't read it to Dinah that day but I read it today and share it with you. Later on in the chapter it says:

⁵⁵ “Where, O death, is your victory?    Where, O death, is your sting?” ⁵⁶ The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. ⁵⁷ But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus

Run Toward the Tragedy

After the Boston Marathon bombing, there were reports of kindness and bravery in the midst of tragedy. One thing that I read over and over was that as the world watched the videos, we saw people running TOWARD the blast, not AWAY from it.

In his article, "Running Toward the Marathon Chaos" Zachary Bell wrote:

Yet last Monday, I saw something more jaw-dropping than the tragedy at the Boston Marathon itself: people, many of them civilians, running toward the chaos. I saw police officers, marathon runners, race volunteers and even bystanders who did not flee, but moved toward the bomb blasts, without regard for their own safety, trying to provide assistance to the injured.

While I listened, watched, read and prayed about Boston, I did the same for the Gosnell trial. Sadly, you may not even know what I'm talking about when I say Gosnell. This is from a transcript of an interview for PBS Newshour:

 Gosnell is being tried on eight counts of murder, seven of them for allegedly killing babies that prosecutors say were born alive and viable. The eighth count is for his role in the death of an immigrant from Bhutan. Attorneys say she died of an overdose from a sedative she was given. The case stems from an FBI raid on his Philadelphia clinic in 2010.

Investigators found horrific conditions and say he performed some abortions after the 24-week legal limit in Pennsylvania. 

It would be horrific enough if Gosnell's was the only abortion provider in the world. But he isn't.
Please watch this video from liveaction.org.





As Kathryn Jean Lopez writes, "This Is the End of Looking Away".

Are you turning away? plugging your ears? closing your eyes?

These babies and their mothers need a hero. Cry out for them. Run toward the tragedy. 

http://www.supportrcfwcorinth.org

http://russandmegan.blogspot.com/2013/04/unplanned-pregnancyperfectly-planned.html

Granny & Dinah Sketches

For those of you who look forward to "Granny stories", I have a few to update you with. They would be more aptly named "Granny and Dinah stories".

Dinah has taken to Granny being our home more quickly than any of us. It just seems natural to her for Gran to be here. After Dinah wakes in the morning, she asks eagerly if it is time to wake Granny. She sits on the arm of Granny's chair to talk to her. When Granny is asleep she "shhh's" anyone who makes noise.

I have told you before that Dinah has to get up to help Granny any time Granny moves about the house. Well, her assistance has widened to the area of translation.

Gran is terribly hard of hearing. It is better sometimes than others but it is all the time bad. One often has to lean down to her ear and repeat important words to her so that she will understand what you are trying to tell her. Dinah must observe me doing that because she has taken it upon herself to repeat most everything anyone says to Granny in a loud, slow, shout. She pauses between words to place proper power behind each one.

If you have ever seen the movie version of Emma with Gwyneth Paltrow (1996), you will be able to picture how Dinah is with Granny now. Below is a scene where Miss Bates (Sophie Thompson) relays the gist of her conversation with Emma and Knightly to her mother, Mrs. Bates (Phyllida Law), who is hard of hearing.

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Sometimes Dinah is just trying to help and doesn't understand what Granny is allowed to do herself or what she needs help with. I supposed because Dinah is only 2 years old, she naturally thinks that if the boundary is good enough for her, that it should also apply to Gran. Dinah was helping Amelia place silver ware on the table for supper last evening. Granny sat at the table waiting and watching until the meal was served. Dinah got to Granny's place and was about to lay down Granny's butter knife. She paused before placing it on the place mat, clutched the knife to her chest and commanded in the strongest, clearest voice that she could muster, "DON'T TOUCH IT, RANNY."

Granny, not knowing what Dinah was saying, wanted to help and reached out for the knife to get it from her, saying, "Thank you." Dinah began repeating, "DON'T TOUCH IT!" wildly, and became upset. It was my turn to interpret and after a few minutes, I believe I was able to communicate to Gran that Dinah was afraid that she would cut herself and to Dinah that Granny was indeed quite capable of handling a butter knife.
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Dinah, as of late, has been fascinated with names. She loves to ask, "What's your name?" After you answer she will tell you her name. Sometimes Eric or I after answering the "What's your name?" question several times, will replace our real name with a made-up one to make her laugh. She liked this enough to adopt a new name for herself.

One afternoon she was playing this game with Granny. The conversation went like this:

Dinah: "What's your name?"

Granny smiling: "It's Granny."

Dinah: "What's my name?"

Granny: "I don't know. What is your name?"

Dinah raises the volume of her voice and shouts in slow syllables: "MY--NAME--IS--BRIT--NEY!"

Granny: Well, that's a good name.

Thankfully, Granny didn't know Dinah's name in the first place and won't remember that conversation to be confused by her imaginative great-granddaughter.

There are good days and bad days, spectacular moments and incredibly difficult ones. But when the day is long and hard, God places funny things like this in the midst of them.  I'm still glad Granny is here and feel privileged to be the one who gets to take care of her.

A Cradle For My Dreams

In the summer of 2006, we moved in to the house that we live in now. The first time we looked at this house, I loved it but my immediate reaction was "No. It's not big enough for us." We looked at it a couple more times though because we loved the lot that it was on and it was a great house for the price. So I gave in and we bought it anyway. I rationalized that we could just "add on" as we needed to. I was blissfully unaware of the stress that would cause or I am not sure we would be here now. 

You know those houses that you walk in and say, "Wow, its so much bigger than it looks from the outside"? Well, ours is exactly opposite of that. :)

We were so happy here. You see we had just come through many years of sorrow, so life seemed like a bit of heaven here on earth. After about a year of living here, we found out that we were expecting a baby. He was a surprise pregnancy, but we were excited, none-the-less. Other than some morning sickness, my pregnancy with him was uneventful like all the rest. We found out that he would be a boy, baby Jack. How splendid and even we would be--2 boys and 2 girls! 

I remember seeing an old friend in the cafeteria at work that January, a month before Jack was to be born. She asked me about my family and how our Christmas went. I remember what I said as if it were yesterday. "We are perfect. Everything is perfect. It makes me wonder what troubles are to come our way soon." She pshaw'd me and told me not to think that way. I told her, "God doesn't want us too content with our Earthly lives." 

I remember feeling that way again in early February when I sat folding Jack's baby clothes over my large belly. I sighed with contentment and thought of how idyllic our lives were at this point. I thanked God for His blessings but remembered that He is good all the time and prayed that no matter what the future held, I would seek to be content in His hands, wherever they carried us. Looking back, I think He was preparing me. I just didn't know it then. 

Well, I've already told you that our house was "too small". (When I say that, I mean too small compared to today's standards. If I compared myself to Laura Ingalls, we have more than enough room.) The girls were already sharing a small room and Ty was in an even smaller one. Our furniture was crammed in our room as it was. I joked and said we would have to put Jack in a dresser drawer. 

I was in T.J. Maxx just before Jack's birth and saw a cradle. It was beautiful and I impulsively bought it for our coming babe. Eric understood. He put it together and we found room for it in the dining room in front of a row of windows. I liked how it looked there. We filled the bottom with diapers and burp cloths and placed a teddy bear in the cradle, all in joyful expectation of our baby boy.

 

But the cradle never held my baby. The cradle stood empty. It's intendment unfulfilled. Trial and tears invaded our peaceful, happy life. 

It seemed a blessing and a curse that we didn't have much room for Jack. I was blessed because there was no room that was especially his to cause me more pain, to leave untouched, or forbid the children to enter. I didn't have to decide when to clean it out and paint it to use it for some other reason than the one we had hoped for. But the devil used it for his purposes too. He whispered lies in my ear that we didn't deserve another child. We didn't even have enough room for the ones we have, much less another baby. Grief brings guilt to many things. 

I didn't move the cradle's contents. For a while, seeing it there helped me. I would stand by it, touch it, turn on its music and dream of my boy. Then, my sister was going to have a baby boy. I always shared baby things. It is practical. It is helpful. I wanted her baby to use this cradle. When it came time, I found myself able to part with most of Jack's clothes, just keeping a few outfits for myself. But then I needed to move the cradle. I couldn't. Rachel didn't push. She didn't need any of it if it would hurt me. All of it had been my idea. My head was matter-of-fact but my heart just couldn't follow. How swiftly an object can become so special, and a strong attachment formed when connected to someone you love. So, the cradle stayed in the window.

About a year after Jack's death, I began to pray for another baby. After some time and a little bit of trouble, He answered my prayers with Dinah. The day she came home, she slept in the cradle in the window. We didn't have room for her either. :)

It went out on loan for a special baby for a few months and returned to our house yesterday afternoon. Dinah immediately climbed up into it and I had to disappoint her 2 year-old self by not letting her get in it. After a crying fit, her dolls quickly found a home there. 

Today, Dinah was at day school, and Amelia was at home because she had run fever yesterday. She was feeling much better this afternoon. I went to tend to Granny for a bit and walked back to the kitchen for something and came upon this scene through the doorway to the dining room. 

I ran to get my camera to capture that picturesque moment. I tried to sneak up on her but I couldn't. She got embarrassed and said, "MOMMA!" I begged and she re-enacted it for me. She sat reading a Beatrix Potter book to her doll, Caroline, as she lay in the cradle in the window. 

This may be all God intends for this cradle for now. I would love for God to fill it up with another, real, live baby however He wants to send it. But I'm praying that if He doesn't want us to have another baby, that I'll become satisfied with the blessings He has allowed me and seek the new role He has for me. I pray that I rest in the fact that God cradles my dreams as well as my self. And that when the time comes that I will be able to give this piece of wood and fabric away as a sacrifice for Him and know that my memories of Jack are in my heart and my Hope is with Him in heaven and not in an empty cradle.