Therein Lies the Silence

I'm at my computer again two years after the last time I stared at this blank blogger page, tapping out letters that made words, words that made sentences, and sentences that didn't make paragraphs that made sense or conveyed how I felt. I typed and back-spaced over and over until I gave up and a blank page stands in draft status reminding me of the futileness I felt in trying to put my heart into words.
I've put off this attempt because the emotional toll it takes is exhausting and time consuming. Silence is easier in some ways but it leaves me feeling misunderstood and to be understood seems to be one of my greatest desires in life.

***If you are pregnant or "planning" to be, or are a loved one of someone who is, you may not want to read this. I wouldn't hurt you for the world, but I can't apologize to you for writing it, if you chose to read it.***

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. The 15th of that month is considered a remembrance day, wherein candles are lit at 7pm across the world in what is called a "wave of light" in memory of the babies. Many banners mention "breaking the silence". Just like any other awareness project, those of us whom have experienced pregnancy and infant loss don't need any reminder. We are painfully aware. It is for those who haven't dealt with it in some way. We don't think our grief or pain is greater than anyone else's. Some of us have great support systems in which we can share. I am one of them. But outside that system, it is just not "comfortable" for people to talk about.

Therein lies the silence. 

"I didn't just lose a baby. My child died."

I remember saying, "Jack is dead. My baby is dead." nine years ago when we found out that he didn't have a heartbeat. No one wants to hear it this way. I still say things like, "the baby we lost" instead of saying that he "died". We didn't lose him. I know exactly where he is. If you could stand with me though and see the reactions on the many faces of people when I mention him, and see them recoil when I speak of him in that way, you would understand the tendency to find a softer way to say it.

Therein lies the silence.

"If you ask me if I have kids, don't be surprised if I tell you about the losses."

I think I need a t-shirt printed with this on it. It isn't "normal" now-a-days, is it though--to hear about baby death? Thankfully, so many are saved because of monitoring, careful lifestyle choices, prenatal care, medical testing and advances. But sadly, statistically, out of 4,058,000 live births, there are 26,000 stillbirths, 64,000 ectopic pregnancies, and 600,000 miscarriages. 50% of the time there is no explanation. In 2014, there were 582 infant deaths for every 100,000 live births. My son was a stillbirth. He was born still, but he is my son. Please let me talk about him without making me feel like I breached propriety in mentioning him.

Therein lies the silence.

"For those who understand, no explanation is needed. For those who do not understand, no explanation is possible."

I know it is different for different people, but for me, I'm glad when someone mentions my son, Jack, and includes him when they speak of my children. It gives me a feeling of relief to know that you are mindful of him. I have a friend who had added children to their brood and was expecting another. I know that he didn't mean to hurt me and was just being friendly when he smiled, teased and said, "Y'all need to have another one so you can have 5 like us." My heart literally squeezed in my chest and there was a pain when he said it. I have 5 children. One just isn't here on earth. I pray neither that friend nor any other ever has to experience what we have gone through losing a child. I get that there is no way to explain it to someone who hasn't had it happen to them. I'm not angry, but it hurts just the same.

Therein lies the silence.

"You were unsure of which pain is worse--the shock of what happened or the ache for what never will."

We drive past a cemetery on our route home every day. Recently, when Dinah (my 6 year old daughter) and I drove past it, she asked, "Is that the place that my brother is buried?" (She has only been to his graveside a few times. I don't find it a place of comfort and don't go there often but when I do, I mostly go alone.) I shook my head.

"He is buried in another cemetery, Dinah."

"What is he wearing, Mama? Is he still wearing his baby clothes? Or is he big? Do we need to get him some new clothes that are bigger?"

I tried to explain a little but I ended up just changing the subject. How do I tell her? How do I explain to her the facts of burial and what happens to an earthly body after death? It is something that I have always avoided thinking about. He's my BABY.

I remember going to the graveside the day before he was buried so that we could see where he would lay. The crew was there digging the hole in the ground. When I saw it, my breath was taken away. I literally couldn't breathe for a moment. Do you remember when you fell out of a tree and had the "wind knocked out of you" as a child? It was like that. Just like so many things I had never thought about, because no one ever plans to have a child die, I hadn't thought about how small the grave would be. I stood for a moment while I waited for the world to stop spinning and I tried not to think about it. The next day, his tiny casket was covered in sprays of tulips. They were removed I saw the box that held him. A box so small that my petite mother could carry her grandson from the funeral car to the place where he would lay.

Dinah asks often of what he is doing and if he gets to talk to her Grannies. She wants to know how old he is and if he runs and plays or if he is a baby still. I don't know and I tell her that I don't know. All I know is that I believe that his soul is in Heaven with God. That is where my mind must rest.

I see other friends children who were born around the time that he was. I smile at their toothy grins and their fun-loving, care-free play. They are at the age where the opposite sex still has cooties and they don't care if their clothes match or are wrinkled. It flashes in my mind that he would be doing the same things those children. He would probably look just like Ty did at that age because he sure did when he was born. Then I stop that train of thought because I don't want to go there--to what might of been. "What might of been" hurts. I try to think of what was and what is--how I loved him, how I still do.

I don't talk about these things.

Therein lies the silence.

"For sale: baby shoes, never worn"

This phrase is credited (and subsequently discredited) to Ernest Hemingway. The story goes that the words came from a ten-dollar bet he made at a lunch with some other writers that he could write a novel in six words. After penning the famous line on a napkin, he passed it around the table and collected his winnings. Whoever wrote them, they are still powerful, aren't they? So much is said with so little.

There seems to be a baby boom around me. It has been such a joy to watch bellies grow, plans made, and little ones arrive. I like to crochet and try really hard to make a blanket for each of those precious infants. As I stitch, I stop counting long enough to pray for them and and their family. I pray that they are born healthy and strong. I pray that their adjustment to life will be as seamless as the Lord can allow. I ask that the Lord would guide their mamas and daddies and grandmas and grandpas in their raising. I mention their siblings and ask that they are accepting and loving to the new invader into their space.

Recently, I excitedly explained the progress of a laboring friend to another mother who has long stood beside me through my walk in grief. I stood beside the expectant mother. I saw the belts across her belly. I heard the swoosh-swoosh of the heart-beat. I watched the rate for steadiness. I pointed out the contractions on the monitor for her and her loved ones. They were impressed. They thought my knowledge came from nursing. My friend made it known that I had labored a "few times" before. They asked as anyone would, "How many children do you have?" I had that split second to decide whether or not to mention a dead child in a birthing room. I took a breath and determined again (as I have had to do on numerous other occasions) not to betray his memory out of fear of what someone might think or say. I relayed that I had delivered 5 children and that 4 were living.

After I had told her this, she asked me, "Aren't you afraid for her?" She explained that deliveries made her anxious for the birthing mother.

I thought for a moment and honestly replied, "No."

I continued to explain that I had thought about the fact that it could go wrong. It became something I was more aware of after I had experienced it. I told her that I prayed that I could help her if she needed me, but that I wasn't nervous or distressed for her.

If you are a mom, you know that the delivery room brings out all the birthing stories of the women present. Mostly, I tell about the "favorable outcomes" but my mind relives them all.  I remember when they only put one belt on, instead of two. I remember a room so quiet, only whispers from the staff, muffled sobs and simple prayers of "Please, help me, God." No swoosh, swoosh. No laughter and excitement.

------------------------------------------------

Another friend, had a baby shower and she was telling of how she loved washing and folding the new clothes, putting together new items and decorating the baby's room. I know how she feels. It is a precious time of preparation. But as I smiled with her, my mind was thinking of the time I had all those new things around me and they brought me pain. How I couldn't see them without weeping but couldn't remove them and pack them away either.

I keep my stories to myself.

Therein lies the silence. 

"I carried you every second of your life and I will love you every second of mine."

Tomorrow, I will attend another Pregnancy and Infant Loss ceremony, so lovingly and thoughtfully put together by a dear pediatrician and friend in our town. Thousands of ceremonies much like it will be held in other places around the world. In memory of my son, Jack, those cherished babies, their families and loved ones, I have broken my silence. It isn't for pity or for attention.  It isn't to make anyone feel guilty or contrite. I share with the desire that others don't feel so alone in their feelings and experiences. It is also with the hope that with newfound awareness, you might be able to make easier the path of the sufferers of these overwhelming sorrows.

"We remember all the babies born sleeping. Those we've carried and never met. Those we've held but could not take home. The ones who came home but could not stay."

I praise God for those who have been my listening ears and strong shoulders, through out my journey of love, loss and mourning. You have wept with me and reminded me of Truth when I was overwhelmed with despair. I am forever grateful for you love and affection that has been literally life-saving.


Anna Becoming

Return to Zero, The Movie

In March, my friend, Lucy, sent me a message with a link and wrote, "Have you seen this?"

The link was to a website for Return to Zero, the movie.

I had not.

The theme of the film is something that is close to mine and Lucy's hearts but one that isn't spoken about, written about, or dwelt upon very often: STILLBIRTH.

Lucy and I "met" online through our mutual friend, Amy, in January of 2010. Amy called to ask me, mother of baby Jack, a STILLBORN baby, if I would mind contacting her friend who along with her husband, Mike, had twins a couple of months before. The babies were a boy and a girl. Their baby girl, Allie Grace, was born healthy, but their baby boy, James Michael, was STILLBORN.

Lucy needed a connection. She needed comfort. She needed direction. She needed someone to talk to that knew her pain. I would provide a little bit of all these things for Lucy, until she was able to find them closer to home and then she would eventually provide those things for some other mother who had experienced STILLBIRTH.

There are thousands of moms and dads just like Lucy and me. It isn't just something that USED to happen. You know, when the medical care wasn't good enough. A statistic is cited in the clip below that in the U.S. alone there are 26,000 STILLBIRTHS a year. That is:

500 pairs of empty mommy arms a month,

72 grieving daddies a day,

3 broken and heartsick sets of parents every hour.

The makers of this film would like to "break the silence" about STILLBIRTH specifically, but also all infant loss. Not everyone who experiences baby loss wants to talk about it but I think none of them wants it to be forgotten. I think the silence that needs to be broken is the one that feels like it is being imposed on those who have experienced the loss. It should be their choice whether to speak or to be quiet.

Even though I feel like I'm doing my own bit of "breaking the silence" now, after we lost Jack, I struggled to include him in my conversation. When I talked of him, I made others uncomfortable. Some, not all, would just walk away. Literally.

It is delicate. It is difficult. And as a result it is easier NOT to talk about it than to wade through the hard parts. I found out that once I got over sacrificing the memory of my beloved child for the sake of making someone else feel better, MOST were receptive. Sometimes they said something that was hurtful or ignorant, but in time, I found ways to let them know without making either of us feel embarrassed or hurt. Hopefully, the next time they encounter a similar situation, they will know what to say because I spoke.

While the subject of baby loss should never be blasé, it should be familiar enough that by being aware, we can help others.

Please watch this Glimpse of Return To Zero






I am a local leader for the film.  (Local leaders in Mississippi) As a local leader, I have pledged to tell others about the film and help get it to theaters by gathering support for it.

You can see a map that shows local leaders nationally but this is a global effort. Individuals and groups from all around the world are signing up to be local leaders and pledging to go see this movie. If you would like to Become a Local Leader also, please do so.

You can pledge to see this movie by clicking on this link: Pledge to go see this movie

You can put my name in as local leader on your form: Anna Janzen-Lancaster

And by all means, please share it if you would like others to see it also.

http://bit.ly/16H3uNz



Disclaimer: I have NOT SEEN this movie and it is not rated yet. I can tell you that it does have some foul language and has adult situations. It is a film about adult life. If those things will keep you from seeing a movie, you probably won't want to see this one. You know that I have written before about how we try and limit our exposure to media of all types, especially for our children. Our children will not be seeing this movie. I don't want them or myself to be exposed to those things unnecessarily. But sometimes, to tell the REAL LIFE story, it is necessary, because that is how it REALLY happens. It is up to you. It is not my intention to force this film on you. Just to let you know it is out there and that it's subject matter, MATTERS.


Anna Becoming

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.

Baby Boy Birthdays in Heaven

Tomorrow my baby boy, Jack, would have celebrated his 5th birthday if he had lived on here on this earth. I have always been careful not to think about what might have been. But tonight, I can't help wondering what it would be like if he was here. We would be excited about tomorrow and he would probably be telling everyone with a whole handful of fingers that he would be the all important "5". I really think that he would have looked a lot like Ty (because all my kids look so much alike at each age), so I can imagine his beautiful face and a sweet smile. 

But thinking about what might have been doesn't get us anywhere but a heart full of hurt, does it? I can think about what is though. 

Today, God brought to mind a song that Mandisa wrote about another baby boy that was taken to heaven just when he was about to begin his life on earth, when she penned "You Wouldn't Cry (Andrew's Song)". Although Andrew was her 1st child and Jack was my 4th, our birth situations were so similar. And after researching a bit, I found out that she had her Andrew just a few months after our Jack. 

This song was inspired by a pregnant woman named Rebecca, who Mandisa met at one of her shows in 2008. As they talked, Mandisa prayed for God's protection over the baby. The following week the little boy, who Rebecca had called Andrew, was stillborn. When Mandisa heard the tragic news she wrote the grieving mom a letter, along with a CD of songs she had compiled, to encourage Rebecca. Mandisa told Christian Music Today: "I remember thinking there was no song that was going to be from Andrew's perspective." The following week the singer got together with Cindy Morgan to pen some songs. Mandisa told her songwriting partner Rebecca's story, and after contemplating what Andrew would say to his mom, they wrote this moving number about the wonders the little boy is experiencing in heaven with God. Later Mandisa had the privilege of singing the song for Rebecca. She told Christian Music Today: "It brought her so much comfort to think that when she sees her son again he's going to be able to show her around heaven and show her all the things he's been experiencing. It's my prayer, and I know it's Rebecca's prayer, that Andrew's song would encourage others who are going through similar loss."




I know that this song did encourage others who were going through a similar loss. I remember hearing the song and the story behind it one day on KLOVE as I was driving down the road. It helped me so much to hear it that day. 


It reminded me that even though I was missing him and that I felt so heartbroken, that if I could get past the limits of my feeble human brain and have a glimpse of the paradise he now lived in, I wouldn't cry anymore. Our God is faithful and His word is true. Jack is where "blue has never been bluer, true has never been truer". He hears the "song in the breeze, a million voices in praise" He is where "a rose has never smelled redder, the sun has never been brighter".

Tomorrow, instead of birthday candles and cake, my boy will spend his day with the Light of the World and know the Bread of Life. Instead of a birthday song, he'll hear angels singing praises to the King all day long.

What momma could be sad about that?


If you have a chance, listen to the song but the lyrics are pasted here below for you to read.

"You Wouldn't Cry (Andrew's Song)"

All you saw was pain
All you saw was rain
But you should see me now
Moments filled with tears
Lasted all those years
Disappeared somehow
You never said goodbye
On your knees you cry
You're still asking why, but

Blue has never been bluer
True has never been truer
Honey never tasted so sweet
There's a song in the breeze
A million voices in praise
A rose has never smelled redder
The sun has never been brighter
If I could find the right words to say
If you could look at my face
If you could just see this place
You wouldn't cry for me today

What you think you see
Isn't really me
I'm already home
You've got to lay it down
'Cause Jesus holds me now
And I am not alone
Your faith is wearing thin
But I am watching Him
And He's holding you too, and

[Chorus]

What may seem like years will just be a moment
Oh, the day will come when I'll show you where you're going
I can't wait to show you that

[Chorus]

http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/mandisa/youwouldntcryandrewssong.html

I Remember

These past two weeks, four babies in my circles of friends and acquaintances have left this world for heaven. Two precious little ones after their birth and two other sweet babies while they were still growing in their mother's wombs. As I have heard of their situations, I have prayed for them throughout my days. Something or someone would turn my thoughts to them, I would send up a prayer for them and their families, then push them from my mind again and go about my day. It seems unkind to have not dwelt on them or their pain. But I couldn't. I didn't have time to think about this and get upset. I am very careful most all the time not think about babies dying. I am very careful not to touch those things in the closet. I am very careful not to pull out pictures. I am very careful not to look at that teddy bear.

 Because of these precious babies and their families coming into my life and thoughts in unusual numbers, I wasn't able to push those reflections away. I thought of them and how they would be feeling. How their coming days would be so hard. How that in the midst of this most difficult thing they would  have to chose to be faithful and tender and good or broken and hard and bitter.  How they would always carry those babies in their hearts and minds when others had long forgotten. Today, I lift them up and I remember.

I remember a fog. My body moved. I heard my voice. I ate. I slept. I cried. I prayed but none of it was clear. It was almost as I was watching myself do those things. A dream state. That's what it felt like. There would be no waking into the realization that everything was fine. Only harsh reality when I emerged from the fog.

I remember frustration. I don't make decisions, especially important ones, lightly. I want things to be right. I had to choose so many things so fast. Constant fear of living in regret over these decisions. These had to be right. I wasn't given the luxury or the agony of being able to plan for this event. I wanted people with me but then wanted to be alone at the same time. I wanted the chance to ask God to spare him. I wanted my boy.

I remember seeing things I never wanted to see. Knowing things I never wanted to know. Having to say things I never wanted to say. My breath being sucked from my body when I saw the tiny hole in the earth where my baby's body would lay.  Seeing my husband knees buckle under him as he leaned over our baby's casket for the last time. Having to tell our other children that their baby brother wouldn't come home with us after I delivered him. Having to answer their questions. Having to tell them that sometimes God doesn't raise people from the dead like they had heard from their Bible stories. 

I remember heaviness. My head, my heart, my arms, my feet, all so hard to hold up. The weight of grief so difficult to carry. Not wanting to wake, much less get out of bed and go throughout my day as if  everything was normal again when it wasn't.

I remember tears that wouldn't stop. Choking sobs. Suffocating sadness. Groans and gut wrenching mourning that involved my entire being.

I remember brokenness. Being so shattered that it felt like there was no hope of being put back together again. Would I ever be able to laugh? Would my smile ever stop being betrayed by the sadness in my eyes? My joy was in pieces. Part of my heart was torn from the whole and sent away from me to a place I couldn't be.  

I remember fear. Would someone ask me when I was due? Being post pregnancy with no baby, I looked pregnant. Would someone ask me how many children I have? I can't tell them I have 3 because I have 4. What will they say to me? I know they are trying to be kind but sometimes the words hurt. What if they don't say anything at all? When they didn't acknowledge my pain it felt almost as bad as when they did. What if I have to walk past the baby section when I have to shop?

I remember emptiness. Empty arms. Empty cradle. Empty picture frames. Clothes never worn. Bears never cuddled. Family pictures that weren't complete. Christmas cards without all the names.

But along with these above,

I remember clarity. The fog cleared and with the light of day, I knew what to do. God's word was beside us guiding us when we were uncertain or confused.

I remember peace. Though there are things I wish I had known or wish I had done, I never stewed over the decisions we made after we made them. I carried serenity when it was impossible within myself. It was a gift given me by the Father of all. The words of Psalm 23 calmed my soul and quieted my spirit.

I remember beauty. What a beautiful baby boy held forever in my heart! We always say it is so hard to see our children grow. He'll always our sweet small one who never grows up. I remember daffodils and tulips everywhere. The compassion and love I felt and experienced was lovely.

I remember being carried. Paul Lee read "Footprints in the Sand" at Jack's funeral. A poem I've known all my life that never held such meaning as it did in the coming days. When it as humanly and physically impossible, God carried us. My husband, my mom, my siblings, my close friends and family let me talk and talk and they listened and listened. They didn't try to fix me or change me. They talked sense to me when all I felt was nonsense. They helped carry my pain as if I gave them each a suitcase full of it. 

I remember comfort. Never before were the words of God more real. Never before had I felt His presence so strongly. He was almost palpable. I felt Him beside me all the time. We were in constant conversation. To know that my baby boy was in the best place he could be other than my arms brought such rest. My relationship with Eric was stronger than it had ever been. I wanted to be with him all the time. I needed to be near him. He let me follow him around the house. He held my hand all the time. I remember the ones who just hugged me and said they were praying for me. The ones who teared up too when I began to cry. I wasn't alone.

I remember love. I never felt more loved or cared for after Jack died. Our mailbox was full of cards everyday. Our house was filled with food and flowers. Gifts to remind us of God's love and their love. I felt the prayers said for us. Phone calls, visits, thoughts and prayers. They helped make everyday more bearable. "Being Held" just like Natalie Grant wrote. Our pain gave us the chance to be held.

I remember healing. The bad days got better. The black clouds receded and didn't come as often. I didn't cry everyday. My chest didn't hurt as bad as it once did. I was able to comfort others with what comforted me.

I remember fullness. My arms were filled with my family and friends. God allowed me to share with others how He had worked so miraculously in our lives. What joy to be able to share and comfort others because you have been there before. To have something in common with someone you've never met but be able to love on them from far away. And how wonderful when he gave us Dinah. What a sparkler! And how much more I am able to love the children I have because of the one who is away from me.

With the bad came the good. With the hard came the help. With the pain, came purpose. With the sadness came new joy.

The sadness and weeping may endure for the night (or what seems like a very long time) but joy comes in the morning (one day when you aren't expecting it). Psalm 30:5b

"Baby Jack Jack"

Jack Nathanael Lancaster

Born of Heaven February 19, 2008

(Portrait drawn by Cole Sanders)

Family Pictures

I have never been good at documenting things on film. Our pictorial history is spotty at best. At times we didn't have a camera. Other times I never developed the film. Mostly, though, I was too busy living the moment to take myself out of it to take the picture. Some would remedy this by having pro portraits made, but scheduling professional shots was often out of the question because of financial constraints.

The digital world has been easier on me. I don't have to remember to go get the film developed. I just shoot the pics directly from my camera to Shutterfly and they deliver them to my home. I don't even have to put on makeup or get out of my house shoes.

When our family was small, I could always rely on a shot of all of us at any family gathering. Some brother or sister would snap a picture of the 3 or 4 of us together; sometimes posed, sometimes not. Well as we grew those opportunities didn't just seem to happen anymore. They required concerted effort.

After God carried me through nursing school and I worked for a while, our pocketbooks would allow for the luxury of a professional portrait. We learned our fourth child was on the way. We decided to wait for the little one so that our family would be complete in the picture.

Our fourth child, baby Jack, was stillborn. A few months after he has born, we were supposed to have our pictures made. I couldn't do it. I felt like any picture made of all of us would be a lie. He wouldn't be there. The big gaping hole in our lives would show up on my face. How could we ever have them made now?

Thankfully, even what we can't imagine one day, is possible on another day. After a few years of healing and God's wonderful grace, it was time to make that memory. The same way God revealed Himself so many times through those years, He made His presence known with our family pictures.

I love the work of Brandy Jaggers Photography. A few months ago, she ran a contest on her blog. She asked "How long has it been since you had your family pictures made? Why has it been so long?" She said that she wanted to give a new family portrait to a one that really needed it. I entered my comment. It told a little bit of the story that I have just told you. Well, we won! We were the recipients of a portrait session and a 16X20 print. You can read more here and also see my comment.

I had read about including something of your loved one in your pictures. We brought a Teddy bear that was baby Jack's to the photo shoot.  Even if someone else doesn't know what it means, we do. We were thinking of him and he is a part of our family.

This is the 16X20 that we chose. This is really all we do now (chase Dinah), so I thought it appropriate for capturing the times we now live in.
The pictures were gorgeous and I'm so happy we have them. But, I'm happier to be a part of the family that is in them.

Lifting My Hands

I Lift My Hands
Chris Tomlin

Be still, there is a healer
His love is deeper than the sea
His mercy, it is unfailing
His arms are a fortress for the weak


Let faith arise
Let faith arise


I lift my hands to believe again
You are my refuge, You are my strength
As I pour out my heart, these things I remember
You are faithful, God, forever


Be still, there is a river
That flows from Calvary's tree
A fountain for the thirsty
Pure grace that washes over me


So let faith arise
Let faith arise
Open my eyes
Open my eyes


I lift my hands to believe again
You are my refuge, You are my strength
As I pour out my heart, these things I remember
You are faithful, God
You are faithful, God, forever

 

When I heard these words for the first time as I listened to Chris Tomlin sing them on the radio, my mind immediately recalled a Sunday worship service a few years ago. I cried as I thought of it and how these words could have been written for me that day.

I can recall almost every detail because of what I experienced. It was the fall of 2008. The weather was unseasonably warm for October. I went to church numb that morning. I had readied myself and my family like a robot going through motions programmed by another. I was overwhelmingly sad. My body felt so heavy, I hardly wished to move it. It was a struggle to rise from bed each morning. It had been almost eight months since Jack died. This cloud of sadness had settled on me at six months. Though the difficult times had come and gone, they hadn't stayed this long and I felt I had been doing so well before it came. I couldn't shake it though. I prayed, meditated on God's word, and longed for the day I would be able to breathe easily again.

I walked into the service that morning with a heavy heart. We began to sing and as usual with the words that were sung, tears came as well. When I heard the notes played for the song, "How Great Is Our God", the tears became small sobs. I began to feel the Holy Spirit close about me as I was reminded of His faithfulness to me. Since I first heard the song, I had loved it. I sang it all the time. Whenever it came on the radio, I turned it up loud and belted it out as loud as my lungs would allow. Those words of praise were so special. In the delivery room, as I delivered our stillborn son, God put those words on my lips. In that room, where I was going through the hardest thing I had ever to do, I felt peace like never before. Instead of despair, God gave me a song. In those moments, I truly understood, "How Great Was Our God" and longed for all to "sing with me" and to know it too.

So again, almost eight months later, I whispered those words to God. And as I sat there, I knew it wasn't enough for Him. For the first time in my life, I rose and lifted my hands heavenward, as high as I could lift them. If Chris Tomlin had been inside my head and heart that day, his words could not have described what I felt more than the words that he wrote a year or two later.


"I lift my hands to believe again

You are my refuge, You are my strength
As I pour out my heart, these things I remember
You are faithful, God
You are faithful, God, forever"


I stood there uncaring of what others thought. I was just Anna, broken and nothingness, worshiping God Almighty, the only one who could not only restore me but make me better than I was before. I remembered His faithfulness to me and I lifted my hands to believe again. I sent up my love and received much more in return.

The days that followed were still difficult. But I just had to stop and remember His faithfulness to me.

I and my worship haven't been quite the same since that day.

So click here: I Lift My Hands to listen to Chris Tomlin sing one of my new favorite songs.


Below are some verses from the Bible about lifting hands; hands lifted in anguish, questions, readiness, praise, awe, thankfulness, faith and worship.




And Moses said unto him, As soon as I am gone out of the city, I will spread abroad my hands unto the LORD; [and] the thunder shall cease, neither shall there be any more hail; that thou mayest know how that the earth [is] the LORD'S. And Moses went out of the city from Pharaoh, and spread abroad his hands unto the LORD: and the thunders and hail ceased, and the rain was not poured upon the earth. (Exodus 9:29,33)


But Moses' hands [were] heavy; and they took a stone, and put [it] under him, and he sat thereon; and Aaron and Hur stayed up his hands, the one on the one side, and the other on the other side; and his hands were steady until the going down of the sun. (Exodus 17:12)


His own hands shall bring the offerings of the LORD made by fire, the fat with the breast, it shall he bring, that the breast may be waved [for] a wave offering before the LORD. (Leviticus 7:30)


And he shall take a censer full of burning coals of fire from off the altar before the LORD, and his hands full of sweet incense beaten small, and bring [it] within the vail: (Leviticus 16:12)


And Solomon stood before the altar of the LORD in the presence of all the congregation of Israel, and spread forth his hands toward heaven:… What prayer and supplication soever be [made] by any man, [or] by all thy people Israel, which shall know every man the plague of his own heart, and spread forth his hands toward this house:… And it was [so], that when Solomon had made an end of praying all this prayer and supplication unto the LORD, he arose from before the altar of the LORD, from kneeling on his knees with his hands spread up to heaven. (1 Kings 8:22,38,54)


And he stood before the altar of the LORD in the presence of all the congregation of Israel, and spread forth his hands… For Solomon had made a brasen scaffold, of five cubits long, and five cubits broad, and three cubits high, and had set it in the midst of the court: and upon it he stood, and kneeled down upon his knees before all the congregation of Israel, and spread forth his hands toward heaven… [Then] what prayer [or] what supplication soever shall be made of any man, or of all thy people Israel, when every one shall know his own sore and his own grief, and shall spread forth his hands in this house: (2 Chronicles 6:12,13,29)


And at the evening sacrifice I arose up from my heaviness; and having rent my garment and my mantle, I fell upon my knees, and spread out my hands unto the LORD my God. (Ezra 9:5)


And Ezra blessed the LORD, the great God. And all the people answered, Amen, Amen, with lifting up their hands: and they bowed their heads, and worshipped the LORD with [their] faces to the ground. (Nehemiah 8:6)


If thou prepare thine heart, and stretch out thine hands toward him. (Job 11:13)


Hear the voice of my supplications, when I cry unto thee, when I lift up my hands toward thy holy oracle. (Psalm 28:2)


Thus will I bless thee while I live: I will lift up my hands in thy name. (Psalm 64:3)


Princes shall come out of Egypt; Ethiopia shall soon stretch out her hands unto God. (Psalm 68:31)


Mine eye mourneth by reason of affliction: LORD, I have called daily upon thee, I have stretched out my hands unto thee. (Psalm 88:9)


My hands also will I lift up unto thy commandments, which I have loved; and I will meditate in thy statutes. (Psalm 119:48)


Lift up your hands [in] the sanctuary, and bless the LORD. (Psalm 134:2)


Let my prayer be set forth before thee [as] incense; [and] the lifting up of my hands [as] the evening sacrifice. (Psalm 141:2)


I stretch forth my hands unto thee: my soul [thirsteth] after thee, as a thirsty land. Selah. (Psalm 143:6)

For I have heard a voice as of a woman in travail, [and] the anguish as of her that bringeth forth her first child, the voice of the daughter of Zion, [that] bewaileth herself, [that] spreadeth her hands, [saying], Woe [is] me now! for my soul is wearied because of murderers. (Jeremiah 4:31)




Arise, cry out in the night: in the beginning of the watches pour out thine heart like water before the face of the Lord: lift up thy hands toward him for the life of thy young children, that faint for hunger in the top of every street. (Lamentations 2:19)


Let us lift up our heart with [our] hands unto God in the heavens. (Lamentations 3:41)


The mountains saw thee, [and] they trembled: the overflowing of the water passed by: the deep uttered his voice, [and] lifted up his hands on high. (Habakkuk 3:10)


And he led them out as far as to Bethany, and he lifted up his hands, and blessed them. (Luke 24:50)


I will therefore that men pray every where, lifting up holy hands, without wrath and doubting. (1 Timothy 2:8)


Wherefore lift up the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees. (Hebrews 12:12)

Where Is My Miracle?

Believe it or not, blogging can be hard. Some of the things I write about just pour out of me and I can't wait to get it down. Others, have to roll around in my mind and heart a bit. Sometimes, I don't even want to tell you about it. I often want to hold the moment close and not let go of it, but with time, as God leads, it is better to let it fly to you than for me to continue to cradle it. Then there are experiences that I don't want to share because I am ashamed of them. I don't want anyone to think that I struggle with such a horrible things. I know that Satan loves a secret shame. He wants to hold it over me and condemn me for it. God wants to bring it to light and forgiveness. Also, God has revealed time and again that we humans share struggles and I deeply desire that others benefit  from the retelling of God's faithfulness to me, a faithfulness He offers to all that believe in Him.

This telling of my heart is one I didn't want to write about. I have been explaining to God each time He has urged me to put it down the reasons that I should not share. "God, they are bored to death of that topic, (and by the way, I am too. I'd rather not visit that again, if you don't mind.)" "God, what if it hurts those that I care so much about?" "What if they don't understand or misinterpret my meaning?" He has ignored my explanations and I am here out of a reluctant obedience. He has assured me that it will be okay.

My subject is Jack. Those of you who follow this know that in February it has been 3 years since he went from my body to God's hands. I have also shared with you that for the first year or so, I didn't question God's decision to take him. As I reflect though, I see it was there, I just didn't want to face it. That came later.

The first time I remember it sneaking into my mind, it was brought to me by another, someone who loved me, and dealt with their questions before me. To understand this post, you must know that he was a perfectly formed, beautiful healthy boy until my 38th week who died in utero because of his umbilical cord wrapping around his neck. This person said that they heard testimony of a grandmother rejoicing about her grandchild. Her daughter had an accident late in her pregnancy and even though she was not harmed from the accident an ultrasound was performed as precaution. Because of that ultrasound, the doctors were able to see that the child's umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby's neck and that the baby was in distress. The baby was delivered early as a result and was saved. My loved one brought me her hurt for me. She said that she could hardly bear hearing the story because she wondered to God, "Why did you let her know and not Anna? It would have been that easy for You." At that time, I didn't think about things like that. I couldn't. So the thought was put aside.

Another time that stands out in my memory was at a Wednesday night service, where individuals shared their experiences with guardian angels. I had not even been thinking of Jack that evening when I walked in. Time had passed and God's healing was evident, but all had not been faced, and needed to be. Over and over, as the people spoke of their dire circumstance and of the warning the angel gave them, or of the angel letting them know that they would be safe. As I listened, the grandmother's testimony came to mind. All of these people were given a warning. Silent sobs wracked my body and tears streamed down my face as I sat there.

Where was my warning? Where was my angel? I walked out quickly with my head lowered that evening, afraid to give voice to the turmoil in my heart. I remember talking about it some with Eric and concluding again as always that we don't know why but that He did and that had to be enough.

Time heals all wounds, right? Well, here I am, 3 years later and I still deal with questions and pain. Every time I hear someone say of their unborn baby, "We don't care if it is a boy or a girl, just as long as it is healthy", I feel a twinge in my heart. You see, I and many others I know, would have taken even a sick or broken baby.

And now the worst of it, as I sat the other day truly praising God for miracles in tiny babies' bodies, a thought slips in unbidden. "God, I didn't even get a chance to pray for healing. You didn't even give me the chance to ask You. There was no warning. No angel. No opportunity to plead for his life. I'm so glad for these babies, and I wouldn't take it from them, but you could have healed Jack too. What about me? Where was my miracle, Lord?"

On my face that day, in the floor of my bedroom, after I cried out for forgiveness. He lifted my chin and spoke softly to me words I know as truth:

“ For My thoughts are not your thoughts,
Nor are your ways My ways,” says the LORD.
“ For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
So are My ways higher than your ways,
And My thoughts than your thoughts."

And then He said to me,

"I love you, Anna. Where is your miracle?

The miracle is what I am doing in you."

And now even though I don't understand. I don't have to anymore. Those words are enough.

Isaiah 55:8-13

New King James Version (NKJV)
8“ For My thoughts are not your thoughts,
Nor are your ways My ways,” says the LORD.
9 “ For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
So are My ways higher than your ways,
And My thoughts than your thoughts.
10 “ For as the rain comes down, and the snow from heaven,
And do not return there,
But water the earth,
And make it bring forth and bud,
That it may give seed to the sower
And bread to the eater,
11 So shall My word be that goes forth from My mouth;
It shall not return to Me void,
But it shall accomplish what I please,
And it shall prosper in the thing for which I sent it.
12 “ For you shall go out with joy,
And be led out with peace;
The mountains and the hills
Shall break forth into singing before you,
And all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.
13 Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress tree,
And instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle tree;
And it shall be to the LORD for a name,
For an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.”

So, if you are looking for your miracle, maybe, just maybe, the miracle is God working in you.

When Spring Comes Again (Again)

In honor of my new spring blog background (a little early, I know, but the warmer weather got me in the mood), I am re-posting "When Spring Comes Again". I am also doing it because I have a few friends on my mind and heart, who might find it's message encouraging. It is difficult to deal with something hard for a long time. When the trouble seems to have lasted forever and there is no end in sight, thoughts of giving up overwhelm us. I am posting this to tell you, "Take heart, my friend! God is with you. He can when you can't! I love you!"




I love to see the daffodils blooming. It seems to be the first sign that spring will make its appearance. As a girl, we were allowed to pick all of the daffodils we wanted because there were so many of them in the fields around where we lived. We would fill any container we could find with the flowers and decorate our home. Their bright yellow would light up any room. Now that I am older, I don’t pick them as much, I just enjoy the fact that they bring color to the bleak, brown landscape from the long winter months.



This year the blooms have emerged in March. A couple of years ago, due to an unusual warm spell they were out in February. The day of my son’s funeral was overcast, cold, and misty. As we drove to the cemetery, I noticed the daffodils lined the roadway. It felt good to see them, but I wondered at them being out on a day like that.


In the coming months, one of songs I listened to the most was “Worship in the Waiting” by FFH. The chorus to the song is this:



I WILL WORSHIP IN THE WAITING

I WILL WALK WITH THIS SAND BENEATH MY FEET

THOUGH THE WINTER WIND IS BLOWING

THE GROUND IS NOT FROZEN UNDERNEATH

I WILL WORSHIP AND NOT GROW BITTER

CAUSE I KNOW YOU SEE THE END OF IT ALL

AND WITH THE SPRING WILL COME THE RAIN

AND I'LL SEE WHAT WAS GAINED

IN THE WAITING




Those days I walked a lot outside and listened to music. I was able to watch spring come into its full glory. The dead leaves and broken branches were replaced with bits of green and dogwood blooms. Wisteria, tulips, azaleas and daffodils graced the scenery beautifully. God used His gorgeous earth to show me He loved me. Each blossom whispered comfort. Even though I was walking through a winter in my life, spring would come again. The ground, so frozen and hard, was not dead. It held life beneath it and with time and God’s help; I would bloom again as well.



So daffodils have become my own personal rainbow and I don’t mind sharing it with you. No matter what difficulty you are enduring in the present, nothing on this earth lasts forever. It will pass. He may not change your circumstance but He can change you in it. So even when you feel you can’t, worship Him and don’t grow bitter. Lean on Him and grow in wisdom. Then someday, when spring has come again, you will be able to look back and see how far He has brought you.


I’ve seen the red sea part, I’ve seen the mountains move

But now it seems so dark, I can’t even feel you

If you chose to be silent I’ll be silent too

I will worship in the waiting, quiet before you

Until your voice like manna from the sky falls



I WILL WORSHIP IN THE WAITING

I WILL WALK WITH THIS SAND BENEATH MY FEET

THOUGH THE WINTER WIND IS BLOWING

THE GROUND IS NOT FROZEN UNDERNEATH

I WILL WORSHIP AND NOT GROW BITTER

CAUSE I KNOW YOU SEE THE END OF IT ALL

AND WITH THE SPRING WILL COME THE RAIN

AND I'LL SEE WHAT WAS GAINED

IN THE WAITING



I’ve seen the blooms of spring, new life in everything

But now it seems so grey, bright colors fade away

This winter seems much longer and colder than before

But I will worship in the waiting, expecting something more

Until the sun shines warm upon my face again



He Leadeth me He leadeth me

By his own hand He leadeth me

His faithful follower I would be

For by his hand He leadeth me

Looking Back and Looking Forward

I love Christmas. I like the excitement, surprises, sharing, and time spent with people I love. I like slowing down, being still, and taking time to absorb all the blessings that surround me. This season was made more special because it was little Dinah's first Christmas. Having her here made each celebration, activity, and moment a little more exciting.

The older children enjoyed watching her reaction. Being a mere 7 months, they often read into her expressions and interpreted her thoughts for the rest of us. "Oooo. She likes that, Momma."  She was passed around and guided through the holiday by three experienced siblings.Even if she didn't understand, I relished whispering the first Christmas story into another tiny ear. Her large, baby blues focused on my lips while I sang simple carols that she will learn for herself in coming years.

While all these things, made the season brighter, a few things still remain difficult. I already shared that making the Christmas card picture of the children or our family makes my heart ache a little. Making the picture isn't the only hard part about it. I have to sign, love from the Lancasters and not sign Jack's name. I know it may seem silly to you, but I still think of that every time I write that.

I don't allow myself to dwell on what might have been. I purposely don't think of how big he would be if he were here now, or what toys I would be buying him. But I do want to make a special point of remembering what was and looking forward to what will be.

I think about how much he was loved and expected. He is and always will be part of "the Lancasters". I don't usually do stockings because Santa doesn't come to our house (a whole other blog topic), but this year I put them up.

I was a the Dollar Tree and saw this stocking holder and decided on the spur of the moment that it would be a good thing for us to have it in our home. So I scooped up 7 stockings and holders including this one for our mantle at home. I showed Eric first and he liked the idea. The children like to remember Jack and when I showed them this they were very glad. They told everyone who that stocking and holder was for. They knew that it looks like the train on Jack's gravestone that I showed you in "The Grave".

When I think of him, I think of all the people who are experiencing Christmas without someone they love for the first time. I pray for comfort and peace for those hurting hearts. But this year as I think of and pray for these things, I am able to not only look back, but I can look forward with a happy heart. With that happy heart, I ask God for new things.

God ties the past with the future with that little baby Jesus born a couple thousand years ago. Because of that baby, I can remember my son and know that I will get to see him again one day. Because of Christmas, the birth, life, death and resurrection of the Son of God who came to earth, we have a future. A future more glorious and beautiful that our minds can comprehend.

My prayers are praises for His provision of the Lamb. I thank Him for the salvation I have in Him. I pray for an opportunity to share His love and Gift with others. I pray that those that need Him have receptive hearts and ears to accept that most precious gift.

I have shared this before but it is worth sharing again:

I am a sinner.

I deserve to die for my sin.
I can't do anything by myself to save myself from that death.
God is a loving God.
He doesn't want to see me punished.
But God is a just God.
He must punish sin.
God sent His Son to earth to live a perfect life, die on a cross, rise from
the dead to pay the price for my sin.
By trusting in God and by believing in Jesus Christ alone for
eternal life I was saved from this death.
By faith, I transferred my trust from myself to Jesus Christ.
I will go to heaven when I die and live eternally with Him.

Even though I accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior,
it doesn't mean that I don't sin. Sadly, I still do. But because
of my relationship with Him, I can ask forgiveness for that
sin and He forgives and forgets and I try to do better.
But because I am His, I can never be separated from Him.


You too can have this certainty, peace, and strength.
He offers it to all.
You just have to accept His free gift.


If you have already accepted this gift,I am so happy to have
you as a brother or sister in Christ. I hope you share with
someone else today what He means to you.
But if you haven't and you would like to have this gift, please accept it now.
All you have to do is ask for it through prayer to Him.


If you have a new relationship with Him,
He wants you to grow through prayer, reading the Bible,
worshiping Him, fellowship with other believers, and to tell
others what you have learned.

So there is our mantle with our whole family represented. It will be made whole again someday through the precious gift of the Saviour.

The Future Glory- Romans 8:18-25, NLT


18 Yet what we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory he will reveal to us later. 19 For all creation is waiting eagerly for that future day when God will reveal who his children really are. 20 Against its will, all creation was subjected to God’s curse. But with eager hope, 21 the creation looks forward to the day when it will join God’s children in glorious freedom from death and decay. 22 For we know that all creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. 23 And we believers also groan, even though we have the Holy Spirit within us as a foretaste of future glory, for we long for our bodies to be released from sin and suffering. We, too, wait with eager hope for the day when God will give us our full rights as his adopted children, including the new bodies he has promised us. 24 We were given this hope when we were saved. (If we already have something, we don’t need to hope for it. 25 But if we look forward to something we don’t yet have, we must wait patiently and confidently.)
 
Becoming,
 
Anna

The Grave

Well, the task is done. It took over two years but Jack's grave has a headstone. Eric and I agreed on a final draft and the marker was ordered the week before I had Dinah. I didn't get to go see it until a month or so after she was born.

I was told that the company would call me when they placed the stone. They had not called when I went to the cemetery that day so seeing it for the first time was unexpected. Dinah was with me. I stood there looking at the grave of my baby boy holding my newborn baby girl in my arms.

When I first prayed for another baby after Jack's death, I thought that I would never feel whole again unless I had another baby. My wait for another child revealed that even though being pregnant again and having a baby might help me, it wouldn't heal me in itself. A baby wouldn't "fix" me and even if it did, the poor thing shouldn't have the responsibility of "fixing" their momma. Only God could accomplish the healing I needed.

In the days after Dinah's healthy birth, as I enjoyed my time with my precious girl, I still cried for Jack. When I held her, fed her, changed her, I thought of him. It wasn't the same hard, breath-taking grief that I had experienced before. It was a more gentle kind. A quiet longing, that I realized I would probably carry forever despite the great work of healing and restoration that God had accomplished in me.

As I stood there holding another "sunshine", I thought of how big he would have been now and how I wanted to see him. But I also thought of this passage as I had many times in these last 2 years:

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 (The Message)



The Master's Coming


13-14And regarding the question, friends, that has come up about what happens to those already dead and buried, we don't want you in the dark any longer. First off, you must not carry on over them like people who have nothing to look forward to, as if the grave were the last word. Since Jesus died and broke loose from the grave, God will most certainly bring back to life those who died in Jesus.


15-18And then this: We can tell you with complete confidence—we have the Master's word on it—that when the Master comes again to get us, those of us who are still alive will not get a jump on the dead and leave them behind. In actual fact, they'll be ahead of us. The Master himself will give the command. Archangel thunder! God's trumpet blast! He'll come down from heaven and the dead in Christ will rise—they'll go first. Then the rest of us who are still alive at the time will be caught up with them into the clouds to meet the Master. Oh, we'll be walking on air! And then there will be one huge family reunion with the Master. So reassure one another with these words.

I thought long and hard before posting this picture. I know that some might be aghast at my posting a picture of a gravestone. I might have been one of them a long time ago. Is this something I need to share? I came to the conclusion that it was. Because I have shared previously about this in "You Are My Sunshine" and I had such a response from you, I thought that you might want to see how it turned out.

I still cry. I still miss him. But, I have hope in the future. A future where I won't have to stare at a stone. One where I'll get to reunite my family and see it whole again.

Becoming,

Anna