What does grief look like?

For me,

Like...

I do not want to do anything "normal".  I do not want talk to anyone, I do not want to wear the same clothes or fix my hair the same, I do not want to cook or clean house, I do not want to talk about the weather or plan for the future, I do not want to take care of the animals or teach my kids.  I do not want to live in a world where the unimportant matters. 

My life is not over, I know that.  As I move forward, though, Caroline is left behind in September of 2015 and I am not ready to be out of her moment yet.  I know, "she will always be with me", but it is still her time and I am not ready to go back to business as usual.  How can I anyway?  I am not the same person I was a month ago.  As much as it changes you to become a mom, for the first or twentieth time, it changes you all the same when the baby doesn't come home.   

A month ago I did not know what pPROM is or what it can do to a perfectly healthy baby.  I did not know the pain of losing and burying a child.  I did not know I can not protect my children from death.  I did not know what it is like to plan a funeral.  I did not know what it is like to drive away from a hospital without the baby you just gave birth to.  I did not know what it is like to give birth without a C-section.  I did not know the name Caroline could bring so much joy and sadness at the same time.  I did not know so many things. 

I feel completely foreign in my body.  It is not my own, nor is it Caroline's anymore; I cannot fit into any of my clothes yet, nor do I want to.  My breasts are still swollen and sore from producing milk that will never be used.  The baby bump that was growing, and loved, is all but gone and yet it still takes six weeks for it all to be a normal size.  My hands and feet are still swollen from pregnancy, delivery, and medications.  My right leg is causing much pain (epidural).  The bleeding from delivery will continue for some time, and I am angry at my body for rejecting my daughter.  I feel betrayed by it.  It is both full of life and full of death.   

I do not recognize my face; it does not smile much or see makeup often, its eyes are swollen from tears and heartache, it is pimple-ridden from the change in hormones, and its lines and creases seem so much deeper.

My home is not my own.  It is full of funeral flowers, funeral ribbons, and baby stuff.  It is full of children with glazed-over eyes from too much Netflix.  It is full of half empty water bottles, dirty clothes, and toys on the floor.  It is full of people that I love who are as sad as I am but who show it in much different ways.  It is full of homeschooling books that aren't being touched.  Its yard is full of animals, whom I love, but that I have not seen or taken care of, myself, in weeks.  It, too, is full of life...and death.

Rod goes back to work tonight, the kids have to be taught starting up again on Monday, we cannot keep eating grilled cheese and ham sandwiches, and Sissy is too young to run a house indefinitely, but it's like I have forgotten how, like I'm a ghost.  It isn't fair to them, but is it fair to me?  It's only been ten days!

So this is what grief looks like for me:  PJs and hair buns, grilled cheese sandwiches and Netflix, unanswered text messages, FB messages, and phone calls, responsibilities that go unfulfilled, clinging to my husband, a spot on the sofa or my side in bed, a once an hour breakdown, an occasional anger fit, a short temper, a brain that will not function, and a soul that is crushed...and I'll live in this moment with Caroline as long as I need and then I'll start to find a new normal, one that encompasses both who I was and who I am, one that celebrates that I am the mother of four and grieves that one of those children is not here with me, one that will take much time to find.

Forgiveness...

I often say, when upset about something someone has done to hurt me, "I will love with everything I am, until you hurt me, and then I'm done."  This is not at all the truth, but when I am upset about something someone has said or done, this makes me feel more in control of the situation.  I feel more powerful over the hurt. 

But why would I ever persuade myself to believe that there is control in the UNforgiving?  That there is power in the anger, hurt, and bitterness?

The most powerful One in all of the universe runs His whole show on forgiveness.

I have been forgiven more than I can count, by both heavenly and earthly means.  So who am I to withhold forgiveness?

The One has forgiven sin so (earthly) big that I, in my sheltered life, could never even conceive of it and went to the cross for sin so (earthly) small that we've forgotten that it is sin at all, and I'm going to hold judgment and anger over misplaced words or actions from someone who is as broken as I?

What do I know of forgiveness, though?  I know nothing except that I am so in need of it.  I don't know how it is done.  I don't even know how to begin. 

Then Jesus says, "Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28. 

Isn't it such a burden to carry around this lack of forgiveness?  It sure feels like it to me.  "I will give you rest" our Lord says.  Thankfully He doesn't ask me to get my stuff together first.  He says "come to Me and I will give you rest." We simply must go to Him and He will make in us the channel of His forgiveness. Because His is the only real forgiveness there is.

And where to begin?  The God of the universe chose to work through prayer.  Why?  I have no idea, but that is where it starts. And He is faithful and He is never-ending.

His way...

Isaiah 55:7-9
Let the wicked forsake their ways and the unrighteous their thoughts.
Let them turn to the Lord, and he will have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will freely pardon.  “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord.  “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.

""The truth, sir," I said swallowing, "is that God's viewpoint is sometimes different from ours -- so different that we could not even guess at it unless He had given us a Book which tells us such things."" Corrie Ten Boom, The Hiding Place

God's ways are not our own.  Likely the reason we have such trouble understanding why God the Father would send Christ His son to pardon us, free of charge.  His ways are not our ways.  It is also likely the reason we struggle with grace vs works, the fact that we cannot earn our way into Heaven.  His ways are not our ways.  Or when we struggle with the belief that Christ Jesus is the ONLY way.  We like choices and we don't like to step on others' toes, but again, His ways are not our ways.

Was that repetitive?  It was meant to be.  For me as much as for anyone else. 

I love getting my way.  In fact, I usually feel that it is simply a matter of life and death to get my way (ask my husband).  I become instantly childlike when things aren't going my way.  Never fear, I have become quite good at masking it, but inside my head I am no more mature than my five year old who also believes it is a matter of life and death to get his way (only he's quite vocal about it) and when I'm willing to admit it, 33 years old and I have been vocal about my way from time to time.

If God's ways are not ours then maybe He has a different plan for me than I have for myself.  The bible tells me that He is willing to do abundantly more than I can even conceive of, if I will let Him. So then why am I so reluctant to follow His way?  Likely because it isn't what I would do for myself and because I must put aside myself for the sake of His way. 

The God's glory part isn't that hard.  I want God to get all the glory of my life...as long as He does it my way, right?  As long as He consults me on what I want, and as long as He doesn't ask me to do anything too scary or inconvenient. 

BUT what if I gave up my way for God's way?  This way that is so alien to me.  This way that goes against my flesh and fights against my selfish heart.  What if "dying to self and raising to new life in Christ" isn't just something I say, but something I live daily?  What if...

I am weak...

2 Corinthians 12:9-10: 9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

Oh how I am weak! How sensitive I am. How easily I am overwhelmed by decisions and the future and with that the danger that comes from trying to figure it out without letting God do that for me. I am weak when I need to hold everything together knowing I'm not big enough to do that. When I'm trying to make a decision and yet so afraid it will be the wrong one because I can't see into the future or when I'm paralyzed by whether or not I am going against God's plan. I am weak when my emotions take over and I can no longer see beyond them. I am weak when I want to move forward in something and yet I'm afraid I will fail. I am weak when God asks me for the pearls of my life, these pearls that I clutch in my hand so tightly. When He says, "Give Me your time. Give Me your money. Give Me your future. Give Me your marriage. Give Me your mind. Give Me your children. Give Me your womb. Give Me your past. Give Me your self-worth (now that's a big one). Give Me your love. Give Me your hope." I am weak when I try to be perfect. When I try to be all things to everyone. When I hold on to my pride. When I seek approval from everyone. I am weak when I am human.

And how many times have I expected for God to get tired of it? How many times have I prayed for forgiveness...AGAIN? How many times have I looked around the room of my life and expected that God has left the building? BUT, He never has. When faces have come and gone, there is One that has not. In fact, He's not just in the room of my life, He's holding up the room of my life. If He left, my room would crumble like sand.

So, I will delight in my weakness. For it is in my weakness that His strength shines. It is in my weakness that glory can be given to God. Because I am not my own. I do not belong to myself or to anything else God asks me to give to Him and as much as I squabble with Him over these pearls of mine, as many times as I give them away to Him and then take them back, He has always been there to receive them again. Because I belong to Him. My pearls belong to Him. My life belongs to Him. Thank you, Christ Jesus.

Chick hatch - Day 1

How exciting!  We're going to hatch chickens!.  I told you guys, more chickens will always make me happy, happy. 

At this time, Lucy and Ethel (Reds) are each laying 1 egg a day.  We have one Easter Egger, Mama, that is old enough, but winter in preventing her from laying.  The others will be old enough by February, but again, winter. 

MawMaw (Superman's mom) is getting two dozen eggs a day via her Red Star flock plus a few Easter Eggers.  At this exact moment we have nine dozen of those eggs, in our fridge, for eating.  Obviously, we are well stocked with eating eggs.

Aunt N (MawMaw's aunt) has some Easter Eggers that are laying, as well.  Put all these Easters and Reds together and we have an overload of eggs.  What better way to handle an overload of eggs than to hatch a batch or two?

So, I'm starting my first hatch with 31 Easter Eggers, 4 reds from MawMaw, and 6 from my own backyard.  The eggs from my back yard make me especially happy since I know and am so fond of Lucy, Ethel, and Ace, the parents of my six little eggs.  I'm also collecting for our next hatch!

Here is Ace with Lucy and Ethel (red), Mama (grey), and Martha (black). 

These 4 are his main ladies.

  

We set the eggs on Saturday, January 10, so they should start peeping and pecking around January 30.  It takes twenty-one days for a chicken egg to hatch.  Both Saturdays, between beginning and end, we will candle the eggs to see what is going on inside.  To candle you simple pass a light through to see if what you have is a chicken baby.  I will definitely have a candling post, but in the meantime, it looks something like this:

 

 

In order to keep the eggs accessible and yet out of the way, we chose to put the incubator under our dinning table.  It is out of the way of drafts and easy to get to, in order to check on the turner, water levels, and temp.  We want each kiddo to have a big part in each step.  Here they are setting our first batch of chicken eggs, incubator style:

 

Sissy

Bubba

Lan

Putting our first few eggs in. (These being set are from

our own back yard.)

A full incubator is a happy incubator.

 

Lid on and little boys proud.

Now for the wait...



 



       

The day has arrived.

Homeschooling, Day 1.

We have talked about this, worried about this, prayed about this, prepared for this, and worked for this.  Yet, somehow I'm still completely nervous. 

I spent all night in dreams about either public school or homeschool.  There are so many "what if's" and yet the excitement is there too. 

I didn't have to send my babies to school today, but I also have to teach them today. 

Sissy will not come home telling me about her friends' excessively "mature" (immature, but too grown up for them, may be a better description) conversations, but she may decide to tell me how to do my teaching job.

Logan will not come home with a stinky attitude, but he may have an attitude about doing math work.

Landon will not sit at the front door crying not to go to school, but he may cry when the big kids have one lesson to do and his lessons are different (that little guy does not like being different than his older siblings).

It is seems so strange to be nervous.  I mean, these are MY children, right?  I gave birth to them, correct?  This isn't a classroom full of strangers, true? 

Yes, yes, and true.

But I want to do right by them, ALWAYS!

And to be completely honest, I know that I am doing right by them in this.  I know, at least for this time, this is my purpose.  These guys are my calling and I am going forth, where feet may fail me, but the Lord will sustain me. 

I am thankful that I do not need to have it 100% figured out.  I have a tendency to want exactly that, but Jesus says I can trust in Him to have it all figured out.  I must do my part, but first, trust in Him. 

So, I put it in His capable hands.  I will continue to pray and ask for guidance.  I will study and make lesson plans and change when things aren't working (so difficult for me) and do my absolute best for our children and for our family, but for the parts I'm unsure about, I will trust in my Heavenly Father to guide me.

Lord, bless our homeschooling days.  Bless our family.  Keep our focus on you.  Amen.