The battle. It continues. It rages silently.

Daddy, he ended his own life this week. Mama and three kids are left with questions of why and what now? Souls torn apart, changed forever, from just one act.

And mama, she’s not sure what to do. Her young one struggles with autism. He won’t eat and he’s spitting stuff up. There are no answers. She’s rocking this way and that, and she can’t grasp his ways.

Sister fell off the wagon. A strike of fear runs through hearts, for memories of days gone by don’t fade fast. They long for peace, healing, complete restoration, but truth is, all that’s been slow to come.

Brother’s heavy already, and sister’s getting bigger too. Mama brought them to the buffet. They’ve eaten, but hunger for more. Empty eyes on smart phones fill moments of ordinary, and there’s talk of fancy, far off places, hoping something, anything, will fill the holes in their hearts.

In this world you WILL have trouble, we are told. But this trouble, it’s so hard to bear.

For My yoke is easy and my burden is light, He says.

No more tears, no more gnashing promised in this other-world place of glory.

To survive, we believe. For He is extraordinary, His plan far beyond ordinary.

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”  John 16:33

Amy

We were college sweethearts, among the first of our friends to get married.

I was just 5 days from 22. He was 24. They say youth is a predictor of divorce, of marriages doomed to fail, but I say the success of marriage has nothing to do with youth and everything to do with faith.

Because today, as we mark 15 years of marriage, it’s not been so much about romantic wedded bliss as it’s been about living out our marriage vows day after day. To have and to hold, to love and to cherish, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, from this day forward, till death do us part.

15 years of to have and to hold means an arm’s around me as I lie awake worrying in the middle of silent night darkness, long embraces after exhausting and pain-filled days, hands squeezed together hard in labor and delivery rooms where the fruit of love becomes real life x3. It means you promise to lead the way, support through change, and assure “I’d love that for you and our family” when God-sized dreams are uttered in quiet moments of speaking truth.

15 years of to love and to cherish means a kiss every morning before work, no matter what. It’s dancing in the hallway when make-up runs and nipples sting from a blocked duct and a toddler dancing to the iPhone in our bed at 7 a.m. It’s committing to change for the sake of the union, making me feel like I’m the one for you, trusting through trials, and believing, really believing till death do us part is possible.

15 years of for better for worse means Mexico and Hawaii and the Caribbean and five vacations to Disney only to realize it’s been six years since we’ve had more than 24 hours alone, just the two of us. 15 years means 15 Christmases, 15 Easters, 15 birthdays, and 15 anniversaries. 15 years of opinions divided, families split, friends divorced, grandmas and grandpas passed away, and letting go of our time to give them more time.

15 years of for richer or for poorer means beautiful dresses for birthdays, apartments and houses, gazebos and decks, once-in-a-lifetime orange carpet experiences, and jobs that provide. Christmas parties with wine and cheese turn to mac and cheese with hot dogs, piled up medical bills after baby’s born, income that’s less because I’m staying home more, and decisions to live with a little less because we’re giving more.

15 years of in sickness and in health means loving and encouraging when the scale says + 5, +10, +15, waking in the middle of the night to puke-filled beds, cleaning up other kids’ puke at birthday parties, and patience when an 8:30 bedtime means it’s been a hard day at work. It’s a treadmill in the basement for you and seven years of gym membership for me, pizza rolls and potato chips, asparagus and grilled chicken, just two Oreos left in the bag and fruit for dessert tonight. It means you watch the kids while I get away for a moment because I can’t do this anymore.

15 years of from this day forward, till death do us part means we refuse to be another statistic. We’re committed, day after day, to making this work. It means we keep our eyes on the prize, which is, God willing, wrinkled hands held with wedding bands thinned, failing eyes fixed, and “I love you” uttered quietly but assuredly while one of us passes from this life to the next. And once we’ve both passed, from this day forward means our children and grandchildren live in peace, assured beyond all doubt that we’re dancing together in heaven.

Yes. That’s what 15 years looks like, that’s what 15 years believes, that’s what 15 years hopes.

Happy 15th Anniversary to my loving husband, Seth.

If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues,they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.  1 Corinthians 13:1-13

Amy

In Loving Memory of Charlotte 6/21/12 – 4/27/13

Today, a mama’s 1st birthday wish for her angel baby Charlotte is that we “will continue to follow and share her story.” Charlotte’s mama wants more than anything for us to “Spread the word about Spinal Muscular Atrophy so that other families will be spared the pain of missing their baby on her 1st birthday, and instead will have the gift of watching them blow out their candles.”

Sweet Charlotte was diagnosed with Spinal Muscular Atrophy (SMA) Type 1 just three days before she turned six months old. Shortly after Charlotte’s diagnosis, her page popped up in my Facebook stream. I clicked “like,” not having any idea the tremendous blessing that simple “like” would bring. Through a willing heart, the power of photographs, and her gift for words, Charlotte’s mama taught me how to face the most grueling of life’s battles with faith, hope, and love. Although I’ve never met Charlotte’s family, their Facebook page allowed me to catch glimpses of their beautiful baby daughter’s last days on earth and passing to her heavenly home. Tears streamed down my face as mama and daddy sat with Charlotte in the hospital day after day, as mama danced with Charlotte to “Blessed Be The Name” in the living room, and when two big sisters pulled Charlotte on one of her last wagon rides beneath a bright sunshine.

Baby Charlotte passed away when she was just 10 months old, on April 27, 2013.

It’s hard to understand why God allows such suffering, but perhaps Charlotte’s mama understands best, as she wrote so eloquently in part of her Facebook post from last night, June 20, 2013:

“As the girls and I played with Mr. Potato Head the other day, picking out his various parts and choosing which eyes, nose, and mouth he needed, Grace said to me “I bet this is how God made us…choosing which parts he wanted us to have.” I fought back tears as I told her I agreed; that probably is how God made us. I imagined him picking out Charlotte’s parts…beautiful hazel eyes that were windows to her loving soul with long, curly eyelashes to frame them, a smile like her mommy’s that she would give freely and often, a dimple on her right cheek that would only be noticeable when she was uncharacteristically upset, long legs that her family can now picture her using to run and jump with the angels, and golden hair, almost auburn, that never lays flat and curls backwards at the top of her head…what an angel he made and sent to us; every part of her handpicked by him. Her stinky hands that I now long to smell, her gentle coo that I can close my eyes and hear, and even the SMA he handpicked for her to have. He chose her to carry the burden of this disease and while I many not understand it, I know it was planned. While my human capabilities prevent me from seeing the magnitude of his purpose, I know he has one. I am eased by the belief in a God that doesn’t make mistakes but instead makes miracles. I am forever thankful for my miracle and tomorrow I will celebrate the life of his wonderful, marvelous work, Charlotte.” (written by Charlotte’s mama)

Baby Charlotte, dance free, forever, in your heavenly home. Free of all hindrances, free of all pain, free of all earthly burdens. Dance for your daddy and your mama and your big sisters, too. Dance for the life you lived, dance for the life you live.

This is our birthday celebration, for you, sweet Charlotte. Happy Birthday, baby angel.

You will be beyond blessed by Charlotte’s Facebook page, please follow here. 

Charlotte enjoys SMA-free days in heaven with other angel babies like Benjamin. Read Benjamin’s journey through SMA, shared in a guest post on this blog by his mama Nicole in September 2012 here.

For more information on Spinal Muscular Atrophy, visit the Families of Spinal Muscular Atrophy website here.

The God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. 1 Peter 5:10

Amy

*The photograph of Charlotte used in this post is from her Facebook page. There, you will find countless beautiful photographs of Charlotte and her family.

This marks the final week of Divine In The Daily’s 5-week guest post series titled Special Mamas! Every Wednesday in May, we’re honoring real-life mamas who have big hearts and stand bold and courageous in their unique mothering roles.

Four weeks ago, Jennifer Camp, blogger at You Are My Girls and mother of three, kicked off our series with a guest post titled When Mothers Cry Rescue. 

Three weeks ago, Tamara, mother of seven, was honored with a family photo session and beautiful tribute from her husband and children in this post!

Two weeks ago, MNAutismMom, shared anonymously about the joys and challenges of raising her five-year-old son who has autism in this post.

Last week, Jennifer wrote about her lifelong desire to become a mom which led her down an unexpected path to foster parenting in this post.

And this week, I’m honored to introduce Lisa who wraps up the Special Mamas series with a guest post about her long journey to motherhood, including years of infertility, miscarriages, and ultimately, a beautiful baby boy through adoption. Lisa is a former colleague of mine, and although we haven’t worked together for six years, we continue to support and encourage one another through regular email contact. I invited Lisa to share her story on my blog many months ago, so I was beyond delighted when she felt the time was right and agreed to be part of this series!

Who am I, O Sovereign Lord, and what is my family, that you have brought me this far?   2 Samuel 7:18

We knew that in this world we would have troubles (John 16:33), but did not expect it with having children. Two known miscarriages, 3 unsuccessful In Vitro Fertilization (IVF) interventions, and 8 years later, the Lord brought us to an amazing adoption agency (New Life Family Services), birth family, and our Jack. He has gone “way past our way past” and “beyond our beyond” in this journey. We share our story not for pity, but to testify to God’s faithfulness in our lives and His best for us. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all (2 Corinthians 4:17).

My name is Lisa. My husband, Scott, and I met in February of 1999 and were married in August of 2001. We truly are best friends and like that corny, yet—let’s be honest—beautiful line in the movie Jerry Maguire, “You complete me,” we do complete each other. We balance each other out, especially in regards to our personalities. Little did we know at the start of our marriage that the Lord would eventually use our close friendship and complimentary personalities to walk us through the “wilderness” for a season; a long one by the world’s standards.

Ever since we knew the understanding of the word parenthood, Scott and I pictured ourselves one day becoming a father and a mother. Connecting and working with children has always come natural to us because of how the Lord has wired our personalities. After having a few years together as a couple, we decided to plan for parenthood. Our start was nothing serious or necessarily intentional, but we felt we were ready to be parents and were open to “if it happens now, wonderful” and “if not, we’re content…for the time being.” Although we briefly discussed it, the thought of having any difficulty conceiving and/or maintaining a pregnancy really did not settle into our minds to warrant a serious conversation and a plan of action. It really was not on our radar, which I’m sure could be said for many couples.

More than a year had gone by without a known pregnancy. We decided it was time to get serious. Per recommendation from a friend, I read through parts of the book Taking Charge of Your Fertility by Toni Weschler, MPH. We charted almost everything and figured out my cycle, but still no known pregnancy. During one of my annual exams, the doctor told me that my husband and I should consider fertility testing due to the length of time we had gone without a pregnancy.

And, there it was—our first encounter with the possibility of not having children of our own.

Our initial response was moderate concern. Fear approached us, but did not settle in us—by God’s grace. We pursued fertility testing. I will never forget the day of our results after going to a specialist. He was a very kind and honest doctor. He told us that there were some mild problems, but they could be addressed and that achieving and maintaining a pregnancy with minor intervention should be attainable. And then, he paused, and said something to the effect of, “Oh, I see there is one set of results we haven’t received yet—genetic testing. Let me see if that has come through yet.” He did not appear concerned about those results. Scott and I also were not concerned about this as there were no known issues within our immediate and extended families. Ten minutes passed as we sat in the exam room. We discussed the first set of results and were thankful that the issues were mild and were very excited to continue our pursuit of parenthood.

And then, the doctor came into the room with a somber look on his face and told us that he was so very sorry—that the genetic testing results were not good, that there was a significant problem and achieving and maintaining a pregnancy would be difficult.

Wow. In a 10-minute span, we experienced excitement to press on and then…utter disbelief. Tears of confusion and sorrow came.

In that moment and for the next few years, it was difficult—very much so; yet, through it all we knew God was with us and for us. We had hope—the kind of hope that only comes from Him alone. Above all else, we wanted His will for our lives. We still asked Him for the desires of our hearts, and it was very hard at times to ask for His will to be done; however, He sustained us. He sustained us through His Word…through prayer…through worship…through the power of His Spirit working within us…and through a solid (beyond solid) support system of family and friends.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In His great mercy He has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen Him, you love Him; and even though you do not see Him now, you believe in Him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls.   1 Peter 1:3-9

The Lord was there when we received the heart-breaking news of those initial fertility results. He was there when I was hunched over the side of our bed, with Scott’s arms around me, comforting me while I was crying out with pain and anger. He was there when friends all around us were getting pregnant with ease—always thanking the Lord for this, yet not understanding why this couldn’t be us, too. He was there when a very difficult work situation occurred in the midst of our fertility struggles, which the combination of these two trials almost made it all unbearable at times. He was there when we asked Him for wisdom regarding In Vitro Fertilization—is this okay to do? He was there when our first IVF intervention was unsuccessful. He was there when we saw and heard the heartbeat of our first child at 6 weeks. He was there when I was in labor with pain and contractions over a 5-hour period, delivering our first child at 9 weeks; August 28^th, 2009. He was there when a sweet couple from our church small group shared a healing book with us, I’ll Hold You in Heaven by Jack Hayford. He was there when our second child died at 5 weeks on February 5^th, 2010.

And…

He was there when we saw and touched our beautiful and amazing baby boy, Jack Harrison, on the night he was born—Thursday, August 9^th, 2012 at 7:53 p.m.

Not flesh of my flesh, nor bone of my bone,

But still miraculously my own.

Never forget for a single minute:

You didn’t grow under my heart, but in it.

-Fleur Conkling Heyliger-

Jack means God is Gracious, Redeemed, Successor. Harrison means Courageous. In a way, his name describes our journey. We chose it from the start and held onto it for 8 years. When God put us on the path of adoption, we desired to somehow connect our chosen female/male names to the birth family. When we first met Jack’s beautiful birth mother and family, we found out her name was the feminine version of his and that the name Jack also was a family name of hers. About 3 months prior to even knowing about her and our son growing in her womb, we purchased two, husky dog, stuffed animals—one for our future child and one for his/her birth mother; a way to connect them. When we met Jack’s birth family, we found out that husky dogs were dear to them. They had raised around 20 husky dogs at one time and had been into dog sledding for years as a family. And the best part—Jack’s birth mother surrendered her life to Christ through the adoption process.

God was in the details, big and small. 

The first day we went to church with Jack in our arms, one of the scriptures shared was Psalm 37:4—Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart. One of the worship songs was “God is Able” by Hillsong United, which now is like our family anthem:

God is able
He will never fail
He is almighty God
Greater than all we seek
Greater than all we ask
He has done great things

Lifted up
He defeated the grave
Raised to life
Our God is able
In His name
We overcome
For the Lord
Our God is able

God is with us
God is on our side
He will make a way
Far above all we know
Far above all we hope
He has done great things

Lifted up
He defeated the grave
Raised to life
Our God is able
In His name
We overcome
For the Lord
Our God is able

God is with us
He will go before
He will never leave us
He will never leave us
God is for us
He has open arms
He will never fail us
He will never fail us

Lifted up
He defeated the grave
Raised to life
Our God is able
In His name
We overcome
For the Lord
Our God is able

For the Lord
Our God is able
For the Lord
Our God is able

Our fertility and adoption journey has truly made our marriage and faith stronger. It could have been the opposite. We are so thankful to the Lord for our outcome. I just pinch myself every time I pull out Jack’s cute, little clothes from the dryer or when I get a glimpse of his swing hanging from our birch tree in the front yard or when I walk passed our three bike helmets hanging in the garage…I could go on and on.

So very thankful.

Again, we testify to God’s faithfulness in our lives and His best for us. We trust that our story will encourage others to persevere with hope when faced with a difficult trial and to be reminded that God is for them and has a profound and specific plan for their lives that will bring Him glory.

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on Me and come and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. You will seek Me and find Me when you seek Me with all your heart. “I will be found by you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back from captivity.”   Jeremiah 29:11-14.

Lisa

 

The pressure cooker of life wears me down some days, no doubt it wears on others too.

Pressure cooker, defined by Merriam-Webster:

1. an airtight utensil for quick cooking or preserving of foods by means of high-temperature steam under pressure

2. a situation or environment that is fraught with emotional or social pressures

Pressure so great that a prominent pastor’s son ended his life.

Pressure so great that wee ones were and are ripped from wombs.

Pressure so great that innocent spectators and participants were terrorized with pressure cooker bombs at a marathon.

And there’s a baby named Charlotte who has Spinal Muscular Atrophy (SMA) Type I. She’s dying. Charlotte’s mama dances with her in the living room to “Blessed Be Your Name” as she holds dear to precious moments that remain.

The grief feels unbearable for Aden’s mama. Her sweet boy passed just weeks ago to cancer, and she and the rest of the family are on a cruise to help relieve the pain, but tears stream in quiet on the ship deck. The pain from loss overwhelms Caribbean beauty, and she sits paralyzed, just her and God in this place of sorrow.

And down your street, men and women fight. Husbands and wives sleeping in different rooms, and they can’t figure out how to fix this. They don’t remember the love, the promise that brought them to the alter years ago. The pressure is building and it needs to be released. Somehow. Now.

On top of all this comes the rain, the sleet, and the snow. We’re hearty here in Minnesota, but when it’s April 18th and it’s been cloudy for weeks and the temperature hasn’t risen above 40-something except for maybe a day, everyone feels the pressure. So when the 1-4 inch snow predicted turned to a major snowstorm in the middle of my work day yesterday, I just about lost it. It had been raining and sleeting all morning as I made my way from house to house for therapy. The sleet turned to snow before my 12:30 visit, so when I returned to my car an hour later, it was covered with a thick layer of snow. And the scraper was nowhere to be found, so my wipers sufficed. Cold snow fell in on the driver’s side arm rest and onto my pants as I pushed the automatic window button, the bare minimum necessary to remove snow from the side windows just enough so I could see. As if denying the snow’s presence was going to make it go away.

The roads were snow packed, the only thing filling baseball fields was snow, and I felt like I was trapped in a snow globe with no hope of ever getting out.

Even the snow packed trees were hard to see as beautiful because I kept thinking it’s April 18th, and we’re supposed to be wearing flip flops and shorts and playing outside on the playground today. For when life’s served you too much pressure, and there’s never an opening for release, finding beauty, finding something to be grateful for is like finding a needle in a haystack.

And when I got home, the task of clearing the driveway from inches of snow loomed.

The school had called notifying us of a school delay and my husband stayed late to avoid the traffic, so after the girls went to bed, my son volunteered to help me shovel.

I shoveled one strip all the way down the driveway, and to be honest, I wasn’t up to the task. But my son, he was pressing on, and I didn’t have to beg or plea, so I thought it best for me to be an example.

After a while, I told him “I can’t do this anymore. It’s too long, it’s too cold.” “Who cares,” he said, and kept shoveling. After that, I was determined to finish that driveway, to be an example whether I liked it or not.

The cold pressed in even greater. The snow was heavy, and it felt like each shovel-full was 20 pounds. And in my grumbling, my complaining to myself, I thought of Ann Voskamp’s One Thousand Gifts, how her book and her blog and through nearly three years of reading, her message of gratitude, of eucharisteo, has been pressing in on me. So I gave thanks for my son who was still shoveling and not complaining one bit, for a flurry of snowflakes illuminated by the street light.

But in all honesty, those moments of gratitude turned to anger because I was still shoveling heavy loads of snow, and there was still half of the driveway to shovel, and it was still. April 18th. In the allowing myself to experience that anger, I thought of messages on anger I heard earlier that day on faith radio, how when we’re angry our “personhood,” our sense of security is threatened. And another message I heard last week about turning our anger not towards others but FOR others, so justice can be served for all the right reasons.

And I realized, I am angry. My sense of security has been threatened, my “personhood” has been threatened. So I started throwing snow in the name of justice. I threw snow for the tiny souls that never got to breathe a breath. I threw snow for little Charlotte who’s going to pass to heaven while still an infant, for Charlotte’s mom who will grieve the death of her precious daughter before she knows it. I threw snow for the little boy whose beautiful life was cut short because evil prevailed through a bomb. And I asked God why? WHY?

In those moments of anger and throwing snow for justice and asking God why, these verses came to mind…

I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world. John 16:33

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from Godand not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body.  2 Corinthians 4:7-11

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.  Matthew 11:28-30

So I stopped and I stood still near the end of the driveway. The wind picked up, the snow blew cold on my cheeks, and I heard His still small voice “Feel my presence, even in the cold. Even in the cold.”

Amy