I've asked so many questions of God in the last few months. Questions of why, questions of how, questions of when. These questions have been met with silence. As long as I've had a true, honest to goodness relationship with the King of Kings, I've never heard so much silence. In good times, I'd be able to see His hand and feel joyful. In hard times, I'd turn on the Christian radio and hear His voice. I'd sit in church and be moved to tears, knowing He was talking to me. I'd read His Word and those words would be echoed by what I heard from others, from church, from songs. I heard Him.
In the first few weeks since Garren died, I looked for evidence of God's faithfulness. I kept a list of all the ways He had been faithful in Garren's death, in saving my life, and in the comfort we received from others. As time passed, I stopped seeing His faithfulness. I stopped hearing His voice.
I got angry and didn't want to hear Him tell me that He is in control.
That He is faithful.
That He is good.
Because none of that felt true in what I've been living: a life without my son.
So other than wanting to hear answers to the questions I'd been asking, I didn't want to hear anything from Him.
And the answers haven't come.
Every day, I wrestle with the fact that I will have to live my life not ever fully knowing the answers. I trust that I might someday get glimpses of the answers, but probably not the whole of them. And I need to learn to be content with that. Or it will cripple me.
It has crippled me.
I hear others talking about the prayers they pray for others and the expectation they have for God to work in this way or that. I hear others talk about their faith in the God who answers prayers. I hear others talk about the power there is in prayer.
I smile and nod outwardly. But inwardly? I scoff.
My heart scoffs, because my son being gone is evidence of God not answering the powerful prayer that I prayed as I crawled onto the operating room table, begging God to save Garren. Begging everyone in the room to pray as they worked to save him and me.
I am lost in the mystery of prayer. I'm lost in the mystery of the ways of God. Simply writing that out reminds me that His ways are higher than my ways, His thoughts higher than my thoughts (Isaiah 55:9). And maybe that's part of the point: I cannot ever fully understand God, because I am not. Abraham probably asked some of the same questions I ask when he was going to sacrifice Issac. He had no idea what earthly good would come from sacrificing his son, yet he obeyed God.
I can't see what earthly good can come from losing Garren, but I must choose to obey Him.
But the silence.
The silence has been so painful.
Until last week.
For the first time in so very long, I think I felt God's leading. Saw His hand at work. Heard His voice.
A group of ladies from my church will be gathering this summer to read "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp. I knew very little from the book when it was selected as our summer Bible Study read. I purchased the book and the study guide, set them on the counter to be ready when I needed them for the study.
I follow several blogs that have been so helpful in my grief, one of them Sufficient Grace Ministries
(SGM). Last week SGM started a very specific Facebook page where bereaved parents could share experiences and encouragement with one another. The founder of SGM posted about gratitude, even and especially in painful things, referencing Ann Voskamp's "One Thousand Gifts". My eyes filled with tears, because it was that very evening that I was to begin to study that book with the ladies at church.
I could say it was ironic. But it wasn't ironic. It was God.
Finally.
The familiarity of feeling God's leading was so comforting. It felt as if He was assuring me that this was a book He wanted me to read. A book He would use in healing my deeply wounded, unrecognizable heart.
I read the first two chapters that afternoon before meeting with the ladies.
It is profound.
Ann writes about the act of giving thanks as the means to unlocking the door to a full life. A grateful life. A joyful life. Three words I could not use to describe my life.
She writes about learning to be grateful. Learning to see the thousands of ways God loves us. The thousands of gifts He gives us daily. Daily. Even days when the pain cuts to the depths of a soul? Yes, even then.
She encourages readers to practice the habit of gratitude. She encourages readers to name those things for which we are grateful. Those things which we love. Those things which are gifts. Gifts from God himself.
So I'm counting.
I started a list of one thousand gifts. I'm up to #80. I'm adding to it daily. Some seem hard to think of. Some seem obvious. Some seem childish. Some seem mundane. But they're gifts nonetheless.
But tonight I realized I was missing something. Something huge. I have been adding to my list, consciously looking for things for which to give thanks. But I've forgotten that most important part. To give thanks. I've been making the list, setting it aside and leaving it at that. This list means nothing if I don't thank Him. This list is just a list of things if I don't see them as gifts from the Giver. And thank Him for them.
It's no secret that prayer has been difficult for me. Prayers of thanksgiving will be the best place to start in communication with God again. What better way to enter into His presence than by acknowledging His goodness, to which I have been so blinded. I can honestly and easily thank Him for these things that I list. And maybe in simply thanking Him for these good gifts, just maybe the peace that transcends understanding will guard my heart from the doubts. From the unanswered questions. Maybe my heart will feel full again. Full of grace. Full of joy. Full of thanks.
Oh Lord,
Thank you. Thank you for the good gifts you give. For the thousands of gifts you give me every day. Even in these days of deep pain. Thank you for letting me see them. Thank you for Garren. And Lord, will you please tell him how much we love him? How much we miss him?
Thanks,
Andrea
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Good Grief?
It's been just over 5 months since Garren died. 22 weeks today, to be exact. I can't believe the time has been going so quickly. I've been reflecting a little bit lately on what grief has looked like over 5 months time. I've read about the stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance) and I've definitely found myself stopping at all these stages at various times along this road. They say grief is unique to each person and the time one spends in each stage will also be unique. Sometimes I wish there was a guide, or a rule book for how long to feel each stage. Or maybe a syllabus letting me know what I'm going to be feeling and when I'm going to be feeling it. I love rules. I love structure. I love having directions to follow. Grief is so very different. So unstructured. So unpredictable.
Sometimes things that should feel really difficult, turn out to be okay. And on the flip side, some things completely catch me off guard. It seems like there's no rhyme or reason to it. I guess it all boils down to just missing Garren. I just miss him.
And the ache of missing him and the depth of my sadness has made me question far more than I used to. I've always felt secure in God's sovereignty in my life. Things have not always gone the way I would have planned or how I would have liked, but I've been able to be ok with what God chose to give me, or not give me. I've been able to see the good in things.
Now, I have such a hard time even saying that I will ever find the good in losing Garren. It hasn't been hard for me to give up things that I've wanted, and later realize that God had better things planned for me. It hasn't been hard for me to look back on trials and see how God grew my faith and taught me to be more like Jesus. But this? Losing my son?
I realize there are so many ways that God can (and will) use the hurt of losing Garren for His glory. But right now, I have a really hard time saying that I will ever think it was worth it.
When I say things like that, I'm constantly reminded that Garren was not mine in the first place. I know what a precious gift he is and I am so very grateful that God chose us to have him for even a little while. Having this love for Garren, memories of him, the ache of missing him and hope to see him again is far greater than never having known him at all.
I remember having a conversation with someone after our 20 week ultrasound and remarking on how overwhelmed with relief I was that Garren was perfectly healthy. I hadn't realized how anxious I had been about what we could find during that ultrasound. But I wasn't naïve enough to think that that was it. I knew that as much as I wanted to protect him from any bad things, any sickness, any injury in his whole life - I didn't have that in my control. And with the relief of knowing he was healthy, I actually said, "I know Garren is God's child anyway and he has just been entrusted to us". God must have been preparing me to let him go.
Some people have been asking when we're going to have another baby. I know they ask because they are looking for a sign that we're healing, and that must be the sign. Or maybe they ask because they think another baby will bring the healing that we need. Or maybe they're just curious because they want to see us enjoy something in life again. In all of these conversations I've had, in answering the questions of "when", I feel so adamant that I don't want to rush it. We miss Garren. We don't just miss having a baby. In a way, the grief that we're experiencing is like the process of raising him and figuring out how parenthood on earth would be. We wouldn't be rushing to have another baby if he was here. We wouldn't be looking so far forward that we wouldn't be able to see him now. And that's just the way I want it now. I want to fully experience all that goes with learning to be parents to Garren in Heaven. It's completely different than what we expected our first year of parenthood to be, but like any other new parents, we're learning as we go.
I'm not sure where the phrase "Good grief" came from, but yes, grief is good. I think all too often our culture is uncomfortable with grief and hurt and anything but perfect happiness. I'm learning that it's ok to hurt - and not hide it. It's part of bearing one another's burdens. And it's ok not to have a time limit on it. I don't think I'll ever be "done" grieving Garren. That grief will look different throughout the years, but it'll never end.
I'm not sure this captures the whirlwind that life seems to be, but these ramblings will do for now.
Lord, please guide us on this road of grief. Help us to see your goodness and trust you, even in these times when we don't understand. Thank you for the blessings you've allowed us to see in the midst of the hurt. Open our eyes to see your hand more and more at work in our lives. Please tell Garren how much we love him and miss him.
Love,
Andrea
Sometimes things that should feel really difficult, turn out to be okay. And on the flip side, some things completely catch me off guard. It seems like there's no rhyme or reason to it. I guess it all boils down to just missing Garren. I just miss him.
And the ache of missing him and the depth of my sadness has made me question far more than I used to. I've always felt secure in God's sovereignty in my life. Things have not always gone the way I would have planned or how I would have liked, but I've been able to be ok with what God chose to give me, or not give me. I've been able to see the good in things.
Now, I have such a hard time even saying that I will ever find the good in losing Garren. It hasn't been hard for me to give up things that I've wanted, and later realize that God had better things planned for me. It hasn't been hard for me to look back on trials and see how God grew my faith and taught me to be more like Jesus. But this? Losing my son?
I realize there are so many ways that God can (and will) use the hurt of losing Garren for His glory. But right now, I have a really hard time saying that I will ever think it was worth it.
When I say things like that, I'm constantly reminded that Garren was not mine in the first place. I know what a precious gift he is and I am so very grateful that God chose us to have him for even a little while. Having this love for Garren, memories of him, the ache of missing him and hope to see him again is far greater than never having known him at all.
I remember having a conversation with someone after our 20 week ultrasound and remarking on how overwhelmed with relief I was that Garren was perfectly healthy. I hadn't realized how anxious I had been about what we could find during that ultrasound. But I wasn't naïve enough to think that that was it. I knew that as much as I wanted to protect him from any bad things, any sickness, any injury in his whole life - I didn't have that in my control. And with the relief of knowing he was healthy, I actually said, "I know Garren is God's child anyway and he has just been entrusted to us". God must have been preparing me to let him go.
Some people have been asking when we're going to have another baby. I know they ask because they are looking for a sign that we're healing, and that must be the sign. Or maybe they ask because they think another baby will bring the healing that we need. Or maybe they're just curious because they want to see us enjoy something in life again. In all of these conversations I've had, in answering the questions of "when", I feel so adamant that I don't want to rush it. We miss Garren. We don't just miss having a baby. In a way, the grief that we're experiencing is like the process of raising him and figuring out how parenthood on earth would be. We wouldn't be rushing to have another baby if he was here. We wouldn't be looking so far forward that we wouldn't be able to see him now. And that's just the way I want it now. I want to fully experience all that goes with learning to be parents to Garren in Heaven. It's completely different than what we expected our first year of parenthood to be, but like any other new parents, we're learning as we go.
I'm not sure where the phrase "Good grief" came from, but yes, grief is good. I think all too often our culture is uncomfortable with grief and hurt and anything but perfect happiness. I'm learning that it's ok to hurt - and not hide it. It's part of bearing one another's burdens. And it's ok not to have a time limit on it. I don't think I'll ever be "done" grieving Garren. That grief will look different throughout the years, but it'll never end.
I'm not sure this captures the whirlwind that life seems to be, but these ramblings will do for now.
Lord, please guide us on this road of grief. Help us to see your goodness and trust you, even in these times when we don't understand. Thank you for the blessings you've allowed us to see in the midst of the hurt. Open our eyes to see your hand more and more at work in our lives. Please tell Garren how much we love him and miss him.
Love,
Andrea
Friday, March 8, 2013
Surrender
Dear Lord,
I haven't written to you in a while. I wish I could say that my actual prayer life was much different than these letters. It used to be. I used to have days when I would talk with you all day throughout the day and usually have a committed time of prayer stuck into my day somewhere. I wish I could tell you I got busy, just too busy to pray. I wish I could tell you I've just plain forgotten to pray. But I've been angry. So angry. So disappointed. So confused. So lost in the promises of your Word. I've been so angry that I'd chosen not to pray. I stopped praying when the prayers I prayed for a young girl's physical healing were answered completely opposite of what I prayed. Those prayers ended in taking her to Heaven. Just like Garren. Just like so many other babies and young children. I got so frustrated that you didn't answer those prayers. And I know that "No" is an answer. But why didn't you answer any of my desperate cries or the cries of other moms and dads to save our children with a "Yes?"
For my good and for Your glory....
I know, Lord. But why couldn't you have shown your glory in miraculously saving the lives of so many children? Why couldn't you have saved Garren and grown him into an incredibly godly man for you, to glorify you in his life by standing tall in such a dark, fallen world? Wouldn't you be glorified in that?
And none of this feels like it's for my good. I know that you are my Father and you do know what is best for me. I would have said that to Garren a thousand times as he grew up. I would have taught him what is right, even when he didn't like it, because I would know it's for his good.
Lord, let this be for my good. Even saying that feels so wrong. Any "good" that comes from losing Garren will never, ever justify losing him. I never want to say that there will be a reason good enough to be worth his life. But in the midst of this, would you bring good? Please Lord. Let me see the good. The beauty out of these ashes. Not to justify Garren's life, but to honor his life.
And Lord, be glorified in this. I don't understand why you didn't answer our prayers with "yes." I don't like that you didn't answer with "yes." But please be glorified. In saying that, I'm surrendering the doubt that's gripping my heart and the bitterness that's beginning to take root there. I know I'm going to need to say it to you over and over and over again. Because frankly, I want to think that I know best. I know that doesn't surprise you, Lord. In my heart I truly trust you, but in my selfishness and sinfulness I want to make the decisions. Even as I write that I know how childish that sounds. And I know how awful my life would be if I made the decisions. You do know best. Help me to trust that. Help me to trust you. Lord forgive me for my sinfulness and teach me to be satisfied knowing that you have all the answers, and I don't have to. Teach me to search long and hard for truths in your Word. And teach me to be okay with not having the answers to all the tough questions until we meet face to face. Teach me to pray again. And Lord, be glorified.
Will you hold Garren today and give him a kiss from me? Please tell him I wish we could be taking his 3 month picture today and marveling at how much he's grown. Please let him see how much I love him. Lord, let my heart never stop aching for him. Jay has such a great way of putting it. We want to heal, but we want a scar that will never go away. A scar that will be seen and felt forever. As painful as this journey is, I'm so grateful for the time we had with Garren. Thank you for entrusting him to us. He is such an incredible gift.
Lord, there is still so much pain in my heart and such a tendancy to doubt your love and your promises. Please hold me close and remind me of your love. Please remind me over and over and over again. "Prone to wander, Lord I feel it. Prone to leave the God I love. Here's my heart, Lord. Take and seal it. Seal it for Thy courts above."
Your Child,
Andrea
I haven't written to you in a while. I wish I could say that my actual prayer life was much different than these letters. It used to be. I used to have days when I would talk with you all day throughout the day and usually have a committed time of prayer stuck into my day somewhere. I wish I could tell you I got busy, just too busy to pray. I wish I could tell you I've just plain forgotten to pray. But I've been angry. So angry. So disappointed. So confused. So lost in the promises of your Word. I've been so angry that I'd chosen not to pray. I stopped praying when the prayers I prayed for a young girl's physical healing were answered completely opposite of what I prayed. Those prayers ended in taking her to Heaven. Just like Garren. Just like so many other babies and young children. I got so frustrated that you didn't answer those prayers. And I know that "No" is an answer. But why didn't you answer any of my desperate cries or the cries of other moms and dads to save our children with a "Yes?"
For my good and for Your glory....
I know, Lord. But why couldn't you have shown your glory in miraculously saving the lives of so many children? Why couldn't you have saved Garren and grown him into an incredibly godly man for you, to glorify you in his life by standing tall in such a dark, fallen world? Wouldn't you be glorified in that?
And none of this feels like it's for my good. I know that you are my Father and you do know what is best for me. I would have said that to Garren a thousand times as he grew up. I would have taught him what is right, even when he didn't like it, because I would know it's for his good.
Lord, let this be for my good. Even saying that feels so wrong. Any "good" that comes from losing Garren will never, ever justify losing him. I never want to say that there will be a reason good enough to be worth his life. But in the midst of this, would you bring good? Please Lord. Let me see the good. The beauty out of these ashes. Not to justify Garren's life, but to honor his life.
And Lord, be glorified in this. I don't understand why you didn't answer our prayers with "yes." I don't like that you didn't answer with "yes." But please be glorified. In saying that, I'm surrendering the doubt that's gripping my heart and the bitterness that's beginning to take root there. I know I'm going to need to say it to you over and over and over again. Because frankly, I want to think that I know best. I know that doesn't surprise you, Lord. In my heart I truly trust you, but in my selfishness and sinfulness I want to make the decisions. Even as I write that I know how childish that sounds. And I know how awful my life would be if I made the decisions. You do know best. Help me to trust that. Help me to trust you. Lord forgive me for my sinfulness and teach me to be satisfied knowing that you have all the answers, and I don't have to. Teach me to search long and hard for truths in your Word. And teach me to be okay with not having the answers to all the tough questions until we meet face to face. Teach me to pray again. And Lord, be glorified.
Will you hold Garren today and give him a kiss from me? Please tell him I wish we could be taking his 3 month picture today and marveling at how much he's grown. Please let him see how much I love him. Lord, let my heart never stop aching for him. Jay has such a great way of putting it. We want to heal, but we want a scar that will never go away. A scar that will be seen and felt forever. As painful as this journey is, I'm so grateful for the time we had with Garren. Thank you for entrusting him to us. He is such an incredible gift.
Lord, there is still so much pain in my heart and such a tendancy to doubt your love and your promises. Please hold me close and remind me of your love. Please remind me over and over and over again. "Prone to wander, Lord I feel it. Prone to leave the God I love. Here's my heart, Lord. Take and seal it. Seal it for Thy courts above."
Your Child,
Andrea
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Happy Valentine's Day!
Hi Sweetie,
Daddy and I are thinking about you, maybe just a little more today than we usually do. It's Valentine's Day today. Instead of going out for a nice dinner like we did, we should have asked Daddy to bring home some pizza so we could all spend the evening together and get you to bed on time. Even though we went out and had a nice time, we thought about you and talked about you and missed you the whole time.
We love you so much Garren! We love you more and more every day. And we miss you more and more every day. Life is getting back into a routine and we want you to know that there will never be a day we won't think of you and miss you - no matter how busy we get.
You are our beautiful, precious son. We are so proud of you Garren! We love telling people all about you! We could never have asked for a more perfect son. You are more special and so much more loved than we know how to say.
Happy Valentine's Day Garren!
Love Always,
Mommy and Daddy
P.S. Thanks for the beautiful flowers! Daddy says they're from both of you :-)
Daddy and I are thinking about you, maybe just a little more today than we usually do. It's Valentine's Day today. Instead of going out for a nice dinner like we did, we should have asked Daddy to bring home some pizza so we could all spend the evening together and get you to bed on time. Even though we went out and had a nice time, we thought about you and talked about you and missed you the whole time.
We love you so much Garren! We love you more and more every day. And we miss you more and more every day. Life is getting back into a routine and we want you to know that there will never be a day we won't think of you and miss you - no matter how busy we get.
You are our beautiful, precious son. We are so proud of you Garren! We love telling people all about you! We could never have asked for a more perfect son. You are more special and so much more loved than we know how to say.
Happy Valentine's Day Garren!
Love Always,
Mommy and Daddy
P.S. Thanks for the beautiful flowers! Daddy says they're from both of you :-)
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
What a good time you'll have...
Garren,
Hey son, how are you? I'm sure you're doing well. It has to be amazing in Heaven. I miss you. I'm sorry I haven't written soon. Sometimes it feels like time just keeps marching on and I'm caught unprepared. I never feel like there is enough time in the day.
I went to a funeral yesterday. But I'm sure you know that already. It was for a very good friend of mine, my baseball coach when I was a little boy. He was quite a man, larger than life really. He was always smiling when I would see him, and full of good advice. I remember how he used to pour himself into me and some of the other young men at our church. He always loved and cared about us. I may be getting into my 30's, but I can remember when I was 7-8 years old and we'd go to baseball practice and he'd be there and it was so much fun being out there with the other boys. I always looked forward to playing baseball. He was probably the best coach I've ever had. Not because he was the best technician of the sport, but because he loved every one of us, and he made us all feel important. I wanted to play better because I loved being there with him and with the other guys. As I grew older, he never stopped caring about me and the man I was becoming. I would do anything I could to help him or his family.
I'm telling you this because I want you to find him there in Heaven, if he hasn't already found you. You two can play a little game of catch. Maybe he can show you how to throw a ball before I get there. He can show you how to go hunting and fishing too. But most importantly, you can praise God together. Hopefully, Heaven helps people have perfect pitch, he might be making a joyful noise, but it may be off key a touch. But even if he is off key, you two will have a great time. Just look around you and see all the beauty there is around you. I can't wait to see it myself. I'm not sure when I'll get there, but I know that when I do, you two will be waiting there for me. I can almost hear your voice in my head telling me all about the different things to do there, and how you want me to meet all your wonderful friends.
I miss you Garren, but you have the best coach, mentor, and friend to watch over you till I see you again. I'm envious of everything you two will find to do around there. Oh... What a good time you will have!
Anyway, I hope this letter finds you well. I'd love to hear back from you sometime soon. Just send your mom and I a line or two and let us know how you're doing. I'll be talking with you soon. Until then, just know I carry you in my heart every day, and I'm never far away.
I love you son,
Dad
Hey son, how are you? I'm sure you're doing well. It has to be amazing in Heaven. I miss you. I'm sorry I haven't written soon. Sometimes it feels like time just keeps marching on and I'm caught unprepared. I never feel like there is enough time in the day.
I went to a funeral yesterday. But I'm sure you know that already. It was for a very good friend of mine, my baseball coach when I was a little boy. He was quite a man, larger than life really. He was always smiling when I would see him, and full of good advice. I remember how he used to pour himself into me and some of the other young men at our church. He always loved and cared about us. I may be getting into my 30's, but I can remember when I was 7-8 years old and we'd go to baseball practice and he'd be there and it was so much fun being out there with the other boys. I always looked forward to playing baseball. He was probably the best coach I've ever had. Not because he was the best technician of the sport, but because he loved every one of us, and he made us all feel important. I wanted to play better because I loved being there with him and with the other guys. As I grew older, he never stopped caring about me and the man I was becoming. I would do anything I could to help him or his family.
I'm telling you this because I want you to find him there in Heaven, if he hasn't already found you. You two can play a little game of catch. Maybe he can show you how to throw a ball before I get there. He can show you how to go hunting and fishing too. But most importantly, you can praise God together. Hopefully, Heaven helps people have perfect pitch, he might be making a joyful noise, but it may be off key a touch. But even if he is off key, you two will have a great time. Just look around you and see all the beauty there is around you. I can't wait to see it myself. I'm not sure when I'll get there, but I know that when I do, you two will be waiting there for me. I can almost hear your voice in my head telling me all about the different things to do there, and how you want me to meet all your wonderful friends.
I miss you Garren, but you have the best coach, mentor, and friend to watch over you till I see you again. I'm envious of everything you two will find to do around there. Oh... What a good time you will have!
Anyway, I hope this letter finds you well. I'd love to hear back from you sometime soon. Just send your mom and I a line or two and let us know how you're doing. I'll be talking with you soon. Until then, just know I carry you in my heart every day, and I'm never far away.
I love you son,
Dad
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Hope
Heavenly Father,
Several years ago, a pastor once said that in times of trial one should "rely on what you KNOW about God, not what you FEEL."
I feel completely broken-hearted that Garren is not here. I feel like a lost mother. I feel exposed and out of place and at the same time totally hidden and unnoticed. I feel angry. I'm so angry that Garren isn't here. I'm angry that I didn't have any warning signs to get to the hospital sooner. I'm angry that there weren't warning signs that something was wrong TWO DAYS before he was born while I was already at my doctor's office. I'm angry that I didn't have mother's intuition to get to the hospital in time to save Garren. I'm so angry that you didn't save Garren.
My life is usually, sinfully consumed with worrying what people think of me. I don't want to pretend in this. I do have stong faith in you, Lord. But I don't want to spend my energy appearing that I'm not hurting and angry about the valley you have us in. And yet, in the midst of the anger and utter disbelief that we are where we are, I have hope. And for that I'm so grateful.
I have hope because of what I KNOW about you.
I know you are sovereign. You are far greater than I can ever fathom. You are the creator and sustainer of the Universe - of which I know very very little. I know you have known me and Jay since before you created the world. I know you have known Garren since before creation too. I know that you are loving. You sent your only Son to die as payment for my sins, forgiving me so that I can have a restored relationship with you. I know you have given me your Spirit to convict me, comfort me, and guide me through life and especially through this valley. I know you are my Shepherd. I know you do all things for my good and your glory. It's hard to see how taking Garren is for my good. And I wish you had chosen to show your glory in some other way. But when I get to Heaven, I'm sure I'll understand. In any case, I know you are faithful. I have seen beautiful displays of your presence in our lives, through small things (like bulbs I planted last summer that are finally growing even though I haven't watered them since I planted them) to big things (like the overwhelming peace we have in your sovereignty).
Peace: not the absence of turmoil, but the presence of God. Peace. We have it. You're supplying it for us. Thank you!
Hope. We also have hope. Hope because we know we'll see Garren again. Hope because Jesus died to save us. Hope because we know Garren is safe in Heaven with you. What hope! Thank you that this isn't final. Thank you that your promises are true. Thank you for your Son. And thank you for my son. What a gift he is.
Thank you for beautiful songs that encourage us, like this one from BarlowGirl:
Several years ago, a pastor once said that in times of trial one should "rely on what you KNOW about God, not what you FEEL."
I feel completely broken-hearted that Garren is not here. I feel like a lost mother. I feel exposed and out of place and at the same time totally hidden and unnoticed. I feel angry. I'm so angry that Garren isn't here. I'm angry that I didn't have any warning signs to get to the hospital sooner. I'm angry that there weren't warning signs that something was wrong TWO DAYS before he was born while I was already at my doctor's office. I'm angry that I didn't have mother's intuition to get to the hospital in time to save Garren. I'm so angry that you didn't save Garren.
My life is usually, sinfully consumed with worrying what people think of me. I don't want to pretend in this. I do have stong faith in you, Lord. But I don't want to spend my energy appearing that I'm not hurting and angry about the valley you have us in. And yet, in the midst of the anger and utter disbelief that we are where we are, I have hope. And for that I'm so grateful.
I have hope because of what I KNOW about you.
I know you are sovereign. You are far greater than I can ever fathom. You are the creator and sustainer of the Universe - of which I know very very little. I know you have known me and Jay since before you created the world. I know you have known Garren since before creation too. I know that you are loving. You sent your only Son to die as payment for my sins, forgiving me so that I can have a restored relationship with you. I know you have given me your Spirit to convict me, comfort me, and guide me through life and especially through this valley. I know you are my Shepherd. I know you do all things for my good and your glory. It's hard to see how taking Garren is for my good. And I wish you had chosen to show your glory in some other way. But when I get to Heaven, I'm sure I'll understand. In any case, I know you are faithful. I have seen beautiful displays of your presence in our lives, through small things (like bulbs I planted last summer that are finally growing even though I haven't watered them since I planted them) to big things (like the overwhelming peace we have in your sovereignty).
Peace: not the absence of turmoil, but the presence of God. Peace. We have it. You're supplying it for us. Thank you!
Hope. We also have hope. Hope because we know we'll see Garren again. Hope because Jesus died to save us. Hope because we know Garren is safe in Heaven with you. What hope! Thank you that this isn't final. Thank you that your promises are true. Thank you for your Son. And thank you for my son. What a gift he is.
Thank you for beautiful songs that encourage us, like this one from BarlowGirl:
Hope Will Lead Us On
Rise up again
Shake off the shadows
Unlock the doors
And let hope live once more
'Cause up from the ashes
A fire is woken
'Cause those who were broken
Are becoming the chosen
Chorus:
So lift up your eyes
'Cause we're not forgotten
And hope will lead us on
Our hearts come alive
With every moment
Become the flame
That shows us the way
So sing out your freedom
Sing it out loud
'Cause though we are broken
We're becoming the chosen
Chorus:
So lift up your eyes
'Cause we're not forgotten
And hope will lead us on
Oh we pray for the dawn
And we reach for the morning
And hope will lead us on
Oh the day will come
As we press on
When the battles' won
Chorus:
So lift up your eyes
'Cause we're not forgotten
And hope will lead us on
So lift up your eyes
'Cause we're not forgotten
And hope will lead us on
Oh we pray for the dawn
And we reach for the morning
And hope will lead us on
And hope will lead us on
And hope will lead us on
Shake off the shadows
Unlock the doors
And let hope live once more
'Cause up from the ashes
A fire is woken
'Cause those who were broken
Are becoming the chosen
Chorus:
So lift up your eyes
'Cause we're not forgotten
And hope will lead us on
Our hearts come alive
With every moment
Become the flame
That shows us the way
So sing out your freedom
Sing it out loud
'Cause though we are broken
We're becoming the chosen
Chorus:
So lift up your eyes
'Cause we're not forgotten
And hope will lead us on
Oh we pray for the dawn
And we reach for the morning
And hope will lead us on
Oh the day will come
As we press on
When the battles' won
Chorus:
So lift up your eyes
'Cause we're not forgotten
And hope will lead us on
So lift up your eyes
'Cause we're not forgotten
And hope will lead us on
Oh we pray for the dawn
And we reach for the morning
And hope will lead us on
And hope will lead us on
And hope will lead us on
Thank you for hope. I love you, Lord. Thank you for showing me you're still here. Keep my eyes and heart open to see you. And help me to rely on what I KNOW about you, despite what I FEEL. Tell Garren how much I love him and miss him. Please give him a kiss for me.
Love,
Andrea
Saturday, January 19, 2013
6 Weeks
Hi Sweetie,
I'm missing you today. Like every other day, I'm missing you. You've been away from me for 6 weeks already. It's been 6 weeks since I felt you kick and move around. It's been 6 weeks since I smiled in anticipation of your arrival. It's been 6 weeks since I felt the fear of going into surgery, knowing I might not wake up with you in my arms. I'm so grateful that I had time in the hospital with you. I cherish every second that I had holding you, kissing you, studying your sweet, perfect body. But every Saturday marks another week. Another week has gone by that I haven't kissed you or held you or rocked you like a Mommy should.
It feels like the weeks have passed so quickly. I wish time would slow down so that I could stay a little closer to you. I know that seems strange because I know you're in Heaven with Jesus and I'm actually getting closer to you every day.
Daddy went back to work a few weeks ago. Our friends have been so nice in coming to visit me while he's at work and spending time with us on the weekends when he's home too. And so many people have given us meals to eat, so we don't have to worry about that right now. While Daddy has been at work, I've tried to put together a few photo books with pictures of you to give to our families. I've found several other blogs to read and have learned about other families who have sons and daughters in Heaven, maybe you've already met some of those little ones!
The days just pass by. It all feels so wrong, Garren. We shouldn't have people bringing meals. We shouldn't have visitors coming to help us grieve. We shouldn't have books about grieving sitting in our living room, on our coffee table. I shouldn't have a stack of 'thank you' notes to write to people who've done so much for us - from the hospital staff, to our church, our family, our friends, people we've never met who've reached out to us and everyone in between. I shouldn't be making photo books of your pictures - the finite number of pictures we have of you. The books should be of your 1 month, 2 month, 3 month pictures as you grow. Your room shouldn't be clean. The house shouldn't be quiet. I shouldn't be doing laundry only once a week. I shouldn't find myself telling people we had a good day, and in the same sentence mention that we visited your cemetary and got information on ordering a marker for you. It feels so wrong.
I'm grateful beyond words for everything people are doing for us. But I just wish they didn't have to.
Rusty has been the sweetest thing since you've been gone. He always loved snuggling with us when you were here with me, but now he snuggles with me a little longer when he knows I'm feeling extra sad. I think he misses you too. He would have loved to have you chase him around the yard when you learned to walk and then run. I hope you have some doggies to play with in Heaven. Maybe Lady and Tramp and Trixie are there with you. It might seem silly Garren, but I really hope so.
I just wanted to tell you what we've been up to for the last few weeks. Not much really. We've just been missing you and somehow in the midst of that, the days go by. I wish with everything I am that you were here. I love you so much Garren! I miss you! See you later, alligator.....
Love You Forever,
Mommy
P.S. Will you ask God to show me that He's here? I'm having trouble seeing Him today.
I'm missing you today. Like every other day, I'm missing you. You've been away from me for 6 weeks already. It's been 6 weeks since I felt you kick and move around. It's been 6 weeks since I smiled in anticipation of your arrival. It's been 6 weeks since I felt the fear of going into surgery, knowing I might not wake up with you in my arms. I'm so grateful that I had time in the hospital with you. I cherish every second that I had holding you, kissing you, studying your sweet, perfect body. But every Saturday marks another week. Another week has gone by that I haven't kissed you or held you or rocked you like a Mommy should.
It feels like the weeks have passed so quickly. I wish time would slow down so that I could stay a little closer to you. I know that seems strange because I know you're in Heaven with Jesus and I'm actually getting closer to you every day.
Daddy went back to work a few weeks ago. Our friends have been so nice in coming to visit me while he's at work and spending time with us on the weekends when he's home too. And so many people have given us meals to eat, so we don't have to worry about that right now. While Daddy has been at work, I've tried to put together a few photo books with pictures of you to give to our families. I've found several other blogs to read and have learned about other families who have sons and daughters in Heaven, maybe you've already met some of those little ones!
The days just pass by. It all feels so wrong, Garren. We shouldn't have people bringing meals. We shouldn't have visitors coming to help us grieve. We shouldn't have books about grieving sitting in our living room, on our coffee table. I shouldn't have a stack of 'thank you' notes to write to people who've done so much for us - from the hospital staff, to our church, our family, our friends, people we've never met who've reached out to us and everyone in between. I shouldn't be making photo books of your pictures - the finite number of pictures we have of you. The books should be of your 1 month, 2 month, 3 month pictures as you grow. Your room shouldn't be clean. The house shouldn't be quiet. I shouldn't be doing laundry only once a week. I shouldn't find myself telling people we had a good day, and in the same sentence mention that we visited your cemetary and got information on ordering a marker for you. It feels so wrong.
I'm grateful beyond words for everything people are doing for us. But I just wish they didn't have to.
Rusty has been the sweetest thing since you've been gone. He always loved snuggling with us when you were here with me, but now he snuggles with me a little longer when he knows I'm feeling extra sad. I think he misses you too. He would have loved to have you chase him around the yard when you learned to walk and then run. I hope you have some doggies to play with in Heaven. Maybe Lady and Tramp and Trixie are there with you. It might seem silly Garren, but I really hope so.
I just wanted to tell you what we've been up to for the last few weeks. Not much really. We've just been missing you and somehow in the midst of that, the days go by. I wish with everything I am that you were here. I love you so much Garren! I miss you! See you later, alligator.....
Love You Forever,
Mommy
P.S. Will you ask God to show me that He's here? I'm having trouble seeing Him today.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
The New Normal
Dear God,
This path that you've asked us to walk is difficult. I'm struggling today, God. I'm hurting. The strange part about how I feel is that I can hardly put words to it. I've been trying all week to write down Garren's story, this new part of my story and Jay's story. You know that more than once in my life I've been told I have a tendency to talk too much. Why is it that I can't find words anymore? Why do the words that I know, the language that I speak not capture the depth of longing I have for Garren to be here and the hurt that I feel each day without him? I never want to forget the experience of carrying Garren or the feeling of holding him in my arms. When I try to write down those feelings, I get so lost. Lord, I think I'm learning that having Garren, holding him, being blessed to be his Mommy even for a little while in this life is such a profoundly incredible gift that there truly are no words to decribe its greatness.
Maybe there are no words to use because it shows how deeply wrong death is. I know that you have sorrow over death and weep with us in our sorrow. And at the same time, you comfort us with such love and compassion. I feel your comfort. I feel your peace. Others have suggested to us to keep a list of your faithfulness as we walk in this valley. What a gift that has been! You are faithful and my pain is no measure of that faithfulness!
Lord, you know I chuckled the other night when we read Your Word. I shouldn't be surprised at how perfectly and intimately you know me. You knew I was struggling with the idea of going through trials and the depth of the trial you're asking us to go through. It was as if you sat with us at our dinner table hearing all I was saying to Jay. And then when I was finally quiet after we finished eating, you spoke directly to me through our Charles Stanley daily devotional over James 1:2-4 "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." Thank you for that reminder. Thank you for telling me to have an eternal perspective. Thank you for telling me to have joy, only found through Your Spirit. And thank you for allowing me to hurt. You never said trials wouldn't hurt. It's humbling to know that you hurt with me.
This "new normal" is no fun, God. Day-to-day things that I've always done seem the same. And that's the problem. My heart and soul feel so completely different, yet waking up, getting dressed, running errands, just living life appear the same as they always have. Jay has gone back to work, we've gone back to church. I'll soon go back to my weekly Bible Study and go back to work myself. My routine will feel just like it did a year ago. I hate that. I hate thinking that life just goes on. I know I will never forget Garren and I will miss him and ache for him every day for the rest of my life, but I hate that I have to do all these "normal" things in life. I know it will get easier to do these things. Today it's just plain hard.
Lord, please continue to give me your strength, comfort and guidance as we walk this path. Thank you for your grace. Thank you for loving me enough to save me. And thank you for loving me so much that you promise to never leave me. Thank you for loving me so much that you promise your peace, everlasting peace. Thank you for loving Garren and holding him in your arms. As much as, in my humanness, I would rather have him here I know he couldn't be any place better than in your presence. I love you, Lord. Please tell Garren I love him too.
Love,
Andrea
This path that you've asked us to walk is difficult. I'm struggling today, God. I'm hurting. The strange part about how I feel is that I can hardly put words to it. I've been trying all week to write down Garren's story, this new part of my story and Jay's story. You know that more than once in my life I've been told I have a tendency to talk too much. Why is it that I can't find words anymore? Why do the words that I know, the language that I speak not capture the depth of longing I have for Garren to be here and the hurt that I feel each day without him? I never want to forget the experience of carrying Garren or the feeling of holding him in my arms. When I try to write down those feelings, I get so lost. Lord, I think I'm learning that having Garren, holding him, being blessed to be his Mommy even for a little while in this life is such a profoundly incredible gift that there truly are no words to decribe its greatness.
Maybe there are no words to use because it shows how deeply wrong death is. I know that you have sorrow over death and weep with us in our sorrow. And at the same time, you comfort us with such love and compassion. I feel your comfort. I feel your peace. Others have suggested to us to keep a list of your faithfulness as we walk in this valley. What a gift that has been! You are faithful and my pain is no measure of that faithfulness!
Lord, you know I chuckled the other night when we read Your Word. I shouldn't be surprised at how perfectly and intimately you know me. You knew I was struggling with the idea of going through trials and the depth of the trial you're asking us to go through. It was as if you sat with us at our dinner table hearing all I was saying to Jay. And then when I was finally quiet after we finished eating, you spoke directly to me through our Charles Stanley daily devotional over James 1:2-4 "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." Thank you for that reminder. Thank you for telling me to have an eternal perspective. Thank you for telling me to have joy, only found through Your Spirit. And thank you for allowing me to hurt. You never said trials wouldn't hurt. It's humbling to know that you hurt with me.
This "new normal" is no fun, God. Day-to-day things that I've always done seem the same. And that's the problem. My heart and soul feel so completely different, yet waking up, getting dressed, running errands, just living life appear the same as they always have. Jay has gone back to work, we've gone back to church. I'll soon go back to my weekly Bible Study and go back to work myself. My routine will feel just like it did a year ago. I hate that. I hate thinking that life just goes on. I know I will never forget Garren and I will miss him and ache for him every day for the rest of my life, but I hate that I have to do all these "normal" things in life. I know it will get easier to do these things. Today it's just plain hard.
Lord, please continue to give me your strength, comfort and guidance as we walk this path. Thank you for your grace. Thank you for loving me enough to save me. And thank you for loving me so much that you promise to never leave me. Thank you for loving me so much that you promise your peace, everlasting peace. Thank you for loving Garren and holding him in your arms. As much as, in my humanness, I would rather have him here I know he couldn't be any place better than in your presence. I love you, Lord. Please tell Garren I love him too.
Love,
Andrea
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
I remember...
It was one month ago... Right about this time in the morning when I was sitting up in a hospital chair holding you close to my chest. There were a lot of people around us that night. Holding me, holding you,asking about your mom. It all just happened so fast. In fact, it happened so fast that it's hard to know where to start or how to explain it all. Two days just merged into one.
Garren, when I saw you for the first time my whole life changed. There you were, perfect in nearly every way. You had your mom's nose and lips, but you had my eyes and crazy hair. You had your little blue and pink beanie on and you were swaddled up in a blanket. Your beautiful cheeks were warm and full of color as I pulled you up underneath my neck and chin. Just feeling in my arms was something I had been dreaming about for 9 months now. My son, my handsome and incredible son. That's a memory I'll never forget. It's bittersweet.
I have had a very difficult time sleeping these past few weeks. Not because I'm not at peace or because I'm needing answers. I don't sleep well these nights because I see you in my sleep nearly every night and I wake up missing you so deeply. I miss you so much. I think back on the days when your mom and I would watch Notre Dame play and I would sing you the fight song in your mother's womb. You would kick and move all over the place. I started to dream about your future and what things you would achieve in life. I dreamt that you and I could watch Notre Dame football games together, go hiking with the guys at church, do some camping together, see a few movies, or just talk life, give you a hug when you had a bad day, or watch you ride a bike for the first time, play a game of catch, or see you grow up loving God and getting married to a God loving girl. I just dreamed of life with you, and now I live days without you. I waited 9 months for life to change, and it did! Just not the way I wanted.
Son, I know you're in heaven and Jesus is looking after you. You have the best Heavenly Father! I'm so thankful for that. But your daddy just misses you tonight. I love you Garren! I will always love you. I hope you are sleeping well in the arms of Jesus. Lets hope I get some sleep too.
Garren, when I saw you for the first time my whole life changed. There you were, perfect in nearly every way. You had your mom's nose and lips, but you had my eyes and crazy hair. You had your little blue and pink beanie on and you were swaddled up in a blanket. Your beautiful cheeks were warm and full of color as I pulled you up underneath my neck and chin. Just feeling in my arms was something I had been dreaming about for 9 months now. My son, my handsome and incredible son. That's a memory I'll never forget. It's bittersweet.
I have had a very difficult time sleeping these past few weeks. Not because I'm not at peace or because I'm needing answers. I don't sleep well these nights because I see you in my sleep nearly every night and I wake up missing you so deeply. I miss you so much. I think back on the days when your mom and I would watch Notre Dame play and I would sing you the fight song in your mother's womb. You would kick and move all over the place. I started to dream about your future and what things you would achieve in life. I dreamt that you and I could watch Notre Dame football games together, go hiking with the guys at church, do some camping together, see a few movies, or just talk life, give you a hug when you had a bad day, or watch you ride a bike for the first time, play a game of catch, or see you grow up loving God and getting married to a God loving girl. I just dreamed of life with you, and now I live days without you. I waited 9 months for life to change, and it did! Just not the way I wanted.
Son, I know you're in heaven and Jesus is looking after you. You have the best Heavenly Father! I'm so thankful for that. But your daddy just misses you tonight. I love you Garren! I will always love you. I hope you are sleeping well in the arms of Jesus. Lets hope I get some sleep too.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Garren James
To My Precious Garren,
Today is December 30th. This is the date I must have said a thousand times when people asked me when you would arrive. How eagerly we all looked forward to this date! How eagerly we all looked forward to YOU! We had plans. We had dreams. We had expectations. Every thought of coming days, weeks, months and years as far as we could imagine had sweet little you in every picture. We never really knew if you'd come early, late or right on time, but we surely didn't expect to have so little time with you.
I have so many things I want to say to you. I don't know how to begin anywhere but at "I love you." Garren, these words don't seem to say even a little bit of how much Daddy and I love you. There aren't words to say it. Daddy always says, "I love you to the moon and all the way back down to the dirt." Maybe that describes it a little better, because that must be a lot. I think we'll spend our lifetimes trying to tell you and show you how much we love you. We think about you every day. We pray that Jesus would hold you in His arms and tell you His love, but also our love for you.
You are such a special boy Garren! It is amazing to see how you have changed so many lives. Of course you changed my life and Daddy's life, but God chose you to make a beautiful and profound difference in so many other people's lives too.
Garren, we miss you. I miss you. I miss the feeling of eagerly awaiting your arrival. I miss reading books to help me and Daddy care for you, and keep you safe, and teach you and even discipline you. I miss carefully thinking about what I eat to make sure it's good for you and going to help you grow big and strong. I miss taking pictures on Sunday afternoons, keeping track of how much you've grown (and how much I've grown) over the weeks. I miss feeling your little body moving and stretching and rolling inside my tummy. I miss imagining who you'll look like. I miss arguing with Daddy about what color your hair will be. Turns out we were both right. Daddy said red, I said blonde. And you have the softest, most beautiful strawberry blonde hair we've ever seen. I miss taking walks and planning for the days when you, Rusty and me would grab the stroller and some dog toys and head to the park. I miss thinking about Sunday afternoons with you at Grandpa and Grandma's house, playing with your cousins as you got older. I miss thinking about family vacations with you there. I miss holding you. I miss rocking you. I miss feeling your soft hair. I miss your beautiful face. I miss your long fingers and toes that look just like mine. I miss your long eye lashes that look just like Daddy's. I miss kissing your sweet, sweet face. I miss singing to you. I miss just looking at you. I just miss YOU.
Sometimes it feels like I get farther from you with every day that goes by. But really, every day that passes gets me a little closer to seeing you again. And Garren, I am SO EAGER for that day! You are our sweet, wonderful son and our greatest blessing from God. We love you more than we know how to say. See you later, alligator.
Love you forever,
Mommy and Daddy
Today is December 30th. This is the date I must have said a thousand times when people asked me when you would arrive. How eagerly we all looked forward to this date! How eagerly we all looked forward to YOU! We had plans. We had dreams. We had expectations. Every thought of coming days, weeks, months and years as far as we could imagine had sweet little you in every picture. We never really knew if you'd come early, late or right on time, but we surely didn't expect to have so little time with you.
I have so many things I want to say to you. I don't know how to begin anywhere but at "I love you." Garren, these words don't seem to say even a little bit of how much Daddy and I love you. There aren't words to say it. Daddy always says, "I love you to the moon and all the way back down to the dirt." Maybe that describes it a little better, because that must be a lot. I think we'll spend our lifetimes trying to tell you and show you how much we love you. We think about you every day. We pray that Jesus would hold you in His arms and tell you His love, but also our love for you.
You are such a special boy Garren! It is amazing to see how you have changed so many lives. Of course you changed my life and Daddy's life, but God chose you to make a beautiful and profound difference in so many other people's lives too.
Garren, we miss you. I miss you. I miss the feeling of eagerly awaiting your arrival. I miss reading books to help me and Daddy care for you, and keep you safe, and teach you and even discipline you. I miss carefully thinking about what I eat to make sure it's good for you and going to help you grow big and strong. I miss taking pictures on Sunday afternoons, keeping track of how much you've grown (and how much I've grown) over the weeks. I miss feeling your little body moving and stretching and rolling inside my tummy. I miss imagining who you'll look like. I miss arguing with Daddy about what color your hair will be. Turns out we were both right. Daddy said red, I said blonde. And you have the softest, most beautiful strawberry blonde hair we've ever seen. I miss taking walks and planning for the days when you, Rusty and me would grab the stroller and some dog toys and head to the park. I miss thinking about Sunday afternoons with you at Grandpa and Grandma's house, playing with your cousins as you got older. I miss thinking about family vacations with you there. I miss holding you. I miss rocking you. I miss feeling your soft hair. I miss your beautiful face. I miss your long fingers and toes that look just like mine. I miss your long eye lashes that look just like Daddy's. I miss kissing your sweet, sweet face. I miss singing to you. I miss just looking at you. I just miss YOU.
Sometimes it feels like I get farther from you with every day that goes by. But really, every day that passes gets me a little closer to seeing you again. And Garren, I am SO EAGER for that day! You are our sweet, wonderful son and our greatest blessing from God. We love you more than we know how to say. See you later, alligator.
Love you forever,
Mommy and Daddy
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