Bumma's House

This weekend will be tough... my family is gathering together in Crozet, Virginia to start the process of cleaning out my grandmother's house. 

I have lots to blog about when I get back.

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Letter to Bumma

This is what I shared at Bumma's Celebration of Life Service on April 19th. I penned it in the form of a letter to her because I knew that's the way I could most intimately share my heart. If you recall, I wrote a letter to Lily that was shared at her Celebration of Life Service as well. That's where I got my idea to do this. It's really weird and sad that the person I wrote these words for will never hear or read them herself.

My Dearest Grandmother... my Bumma,

When it comes to expressing my heart, I'm not shy or one who finds it difficult to do so, yet when I sat down to tell you what you mean to me, I felt stumped. I realized that all the words in the world could never fully convey the depth of my love for you and my sorrow that I must now live the rest of my life without you. My heart is broken into pieces that will only ever be put back together again when I see you again. And I know I will. But that doesn't take away the pain of life without you now. That doesn't make me wish any less for you to be there for those important family milestones... graduations, weddings, births, and so forth.

I'll always wish for one more day together, one more "I love you" exchanged, one more memory made, one more picture taken, one more laugh shared, one more inside joke. But I know I'd always wish for more, no matter how much more is more.

So many memories are flooding through my heart, some more notable and others just small moments shared between us.

How you'd pat your hand on my leg, how you called me "Wose" or "Wosie" because my middle name is Rose, going with you to Compassionate Friends meetings, accompanying you to the Pregnancy Center Banquets, when Aunt Nana brought you to the beach in North Carolina to hear me speak at *my* first banquet, on your BIRTHDAY no less! The way you faithfully prayed for my future husband and for God's will in my life. The way you were a constant listening ear and godly perspective.

Mundane moments felt so special with you... helping you pick out your hip new glasses, you teaching Emmaline and me to knit at Virginia Beach, getting smoothies together in the Summer and that time we got caught in a rainstorm, chauffeuring you around town in your white Buick, with the windows down, music on the radio, and us just chit-chatting away, going to Chile's Peach Orchard and Mint Springs, laughing about "lap cat" and how much she loved nestling up on your lap over anyone else's. Even animals could sense how wonderful and trustworthy you were. Like how Adam's dog Bernerd loved you too and didn't realize he was simply too large as a St. Bernard to get on your lap like he wished he could. How you liked me to give you manicures and pedicures and how I'd paint your nails bright colors in the Summer. It was a blessing to serve you even in something so small. You being a little fashionista and dressed so beautifully, with layers, patterns, colors, and pins galore, outfitted of course by The Olive Tree. Was there really even a reason to ask you where something came from? ;) Bumma, in your 80s, you had way more energy than I do in my 20s. You were tough as nails, as Joseph liked to say. I can still hear you say, "for Heaven's sake!"

You loved butterflies, which those who were close to you knew well. And I do as too. That was a special thing for us to share. Even though you loved butterflies too, they made you think of me, and you so thoughtfully gave me the butterfly things you came across.

Many of my fondest memories are those my siblings and cousins and I share with you. We adore you and had such fun with you. You always tolerated us and most of the time even *enjoyed* our crazy shenanigans... we loved how you'd make us your famous Mocoa Cocoa and how I was convinced nobody else could ever make it as delicious as you... I'm sure the special ingredient was your love. We had numerous special times at Massanutten Resort through the decades we annually went there... hiking to "our tree" where we engraved our initials, going to Le Club where we'd relax in the hot-tub and have ping-pong tournaments. Spending magical Christmases together there. How you'd wake up at the crack of dawn and we'd hear you slipping along in your green slippers to the kitchen. You taking us to shop at The Green Olive Tree and how it nearly fully clothed us for our entire lives. How you'd always be collecting things for us that you saw there that reminded you of us and the way it warmed our hearts knowing you were always thinking of us. How we joked that we had the "VIP NVB" pass when we'd shop after closing hours. You taking us all out to eat at Sal's Pizza in Crozet and how we'd always order the same thing - mozzarella sticks and plain cheese pizza. Oh, with lots of ranch, which I got you hooked on too. :) Watching the Olympics with you and Adam last August and how we'd all 3 curl up together on that little love seat and we'd eat ice cream and get nervous holding each other's hands as we watched our favorite American athletes compete. Going to Greensboro last year for Anna's Nationals Swim Meet and how much fun we had there and how proud we were of her. How gullible you were. It was really a reflection of how you trusted without reservation. How Daniel and I would say your name... One of us would start with "Bum" and the other would complete "ma" to keep you from getting frustrated. ;) How you always had the best stories that we'd get you to tell over and over... like how your childhood friend Teddy tried kissing you at age 12 or 13 in a barn and you ran away wondering what was wrong with him?! We'd still joke about Teddy and how he actually *did* sneak that kiss in, but you just left that part out. ;)Your tours around the area that you loved so much, especially Greenwood where you were born and raised. How you'd even take my friends and I on tours, even friends who passed through and wanted to meet you when I wasn't around. You never met a stranger and loved it that way. Like that one time you hopped in the RV with some of our friends from North Carolina and gladly took them all around telling them all about the area. My mom said you were Crozet's tour guide extraordinaire. We'd joke that every tree on every corner had a story behind it. How we'd jokingly call you "Nancy" even though you preferred "Nancy Virginia" just because your response was so funny. How much Emmaline resembles you and how I bet she will even more so as the decades pass and how sweet it'll be to see you in her. How Hope called you "Gran Fu-Fu" and how you'd give her anything Chinese-related you'd come across. How we had to teach you the same things over and over again on your smart phone because your brain was simply raised at another time that didn't grasp all this tech stuff. But it wasn't annoying, but absolutely adorable. I'm so thankful I have your other grandchildren to reminisce with, cry with, laugh with, and miss you with.

Bumma, each and every memory feels like a treasure to protect. I never want to forget a single thing. I fear the memories fading or disappearing over time.

We always had a special bond through my childhood and teenage years. But that bond deepened in an indescribable way when I lost my baby. You understood my heart, my feelings, my pain in a way nobody else could, because you too had put a baby daughter in the ground. You loved Lily so much too, which was evidenced in the poems you wrote her, how you faithfully decorated her special spot for me since I live out of state, and even put up with my at times perfectionist tendencies, among many other things. I realized that you loved Lily of course, but you also loved her and tangibly showed that love partly because of how deeply you loved me. The two are so intricately tied together. When Aunt Nana told me a couple days ago how often you'd want to go by the cemetery to check on things and make sure everything was beautiful and tidy, it melted my heart.

You were much more than "just" a grandmother to me. I feel I am grieving the loss of so many relationships with losing you. You're my grandmother, of course. But also one of my very dearest and closest friends. My sister in Christ. My mentor. My grief counselor.

You were one of the few people in this world who I felt completely comfortable with, completely myself, completely seen, understood, and known... and yet completely loved despite all my flaws. You were one of the people who will love me most in the span of my lifetime. You loved me since the time I was merely a desire and a prayer in my mother's heart.

I close my eyes and I picture your face, your hands, your voice... all so familiar, so known by my brain and my heart. And I can hardly grasp that I will never experience these parts of you again. But I am incredibly thankful for each tangible thing I have of you. What a gift it was to discover those voicemail recordings I have from you on my phone. I never want to delete any of them. When I need to feel you near, I will listen to these messages, to the sound of your voice and how you'd always start and end your messages in the same sweet way. I will watch the videos, look at the pictures, and read your letters, with your chicken scratch that people had a difficult time deciphering... but I learned the art of it. ;)

I feel like I can still feel you, even though I also *don't* feel you anymore. I feel our bond, not severed by the separation of realms. Though I no longer feel your life in this world anymore. But my spirit knows yours is alive in Heaven. That's why it's difficult for me to figure out how I talk about you... I don't like to say you "were" something, but that you still are. Because life in Jesus never ends.

With each vivid memory I've shared and how I've attempted to describe how much you mean to me and how special you are, I know that everyone else in your life could share their own priceless memories too. I know that each person feels such a depth of love for you as well. I'm merely representing one relationship and story out of man. You are unforgettable, even to those who briefly met you. My friend Elise said you felt like a grandmother to her as well. You had enough love for anyone who was willing to receive it.

I told everyone about you. It is no secret how much you mean to me. But of course you know that. You were my #1 blog follower, as I called you. It was always so comforting somehow in knowing anytime I shared something, I could count on you eagerly reading my words on the other end. I loved that you kept up with my life and loved my blog so much. It hurts knowing you won't ever know another thing I post. You won't be there on your iPhone 6 checking your email for the updates.

Everywhere I went with you, people knew you. We jokingly called you the "Queen of Crozet" and said anytime we wanted or needed something, all we needed to say was that *you* were our family member. ;) When Thomas was 3 or 4, he asked why you were so famous! When I was in public with you, people would light up when they saw you and smother you with hugs and joyfully say, "Oh, Nancy Virginia!" They'd smile at me and tell me what an angel you were. But nobody needed to tell me that. I know how incredibly blessed I am to have you for a grandmother.

Because of how you loved reading my writing, I knew I had to send you off with a letter, safely tucked beside you in your casket, under your sweater by your heart. And I knew that I needed to share the letter.

It's going to take a while to retrain my brain from thinking I need to tell you something or invite you somewhere with us. I've had you all my life and it's bizarre trying to adjust to you not being there, especially so suddenly and unexpectedly. Each day without you brings multiple realizations of things we'll never do or experience again. Each thing is something new to grieve.

Our family matriarch, you were the glue that has held us all together. What are we going to do without you? You make each of us want to live in such a way that honors you and would make you pleased. I don't say proud because you were always proud of us, simply because we are *yours.* We promise to always get together on a regular basis and have family unity the way you earnestly desires and prayed for.

You were always there for my special moments and milestones, and now I'm rejoicing with you over yours... graduating your earthly journey and making it Home.

I promise I will never forget you. I will always honor you and celebrate your life. I will share about you with others. I will decorate your special spot at the cemetery beautifully. I will continue to love you in the only ways I can now. How will I share with my future children about their great-grandmother when all I want is for them to know you themselves? Are you reduced now to memories and stories? You are in those things, yes, but you are even richer than mere memories and even more deeply embedded into everything. You are in the legacy of faith in our family. You are in each conversation of silliness and healing and love. You are in each dream and hope for the future. You are in all our hearts and lives.

Each of us who love you, and will carry this ache of missing you, rest in the comfort of knowing you finally made it "on your way" to your final destination. The ripple effects of your well-lived life will span generations.

Give Lily a hug for me. It brings me so much comfort to think that two of my favorite people now have each other.

All my love forever and ever, until we meet again and pick up just where we left off, your favorite "eldest" granddaughter, Hannah Wosie ❤️

And again, here is the tribute video made with love for our grandmother.

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Even When It Feels like I'm Drowning

This post might be all over the place, so bear with me. I'm about to get really raw and vulnerable.

I don't want Lily to be seen as a "sad thing that happened to me." I don't want other people to look at her life and death and only see her death because of the dark shadow it has cast over my life since March 2010. I don't want to not live fully and honor her with my every breath, each a breath she will never take. I want her to bring happiness to my life, rather than take it away.

And she does bring me so much joy. She has brought me so much more beauty than pain. And I do know I am living in a way that brings her honor and God glory and that I am doing many beautiful things because of her.

However... I feel as if I will never be whole again. I know I will be in Heaven and that God will wipe away every tear from my eyes. But here... on Earth... I fear I might never feel only happiness again, without the tinge of sorrow.

There is a certain kind of loneliness in grieving your child without a spouse and in not having another child born either before or after the child you lost. I know I have friends and family who love and miss Lily, but not in the way I do, not in the way only a parent can. And I have hope that I will one day have another child, but who knows when and if that will ever be. I don't even have any prospect of a man in my life and it's difficult for me to picture finding someone that "fits" with me. It is so hard. SO HARD. to see people who had a loss around the time I did go on to have one, two, or even three more children since that time. And here I am, still single and without a child to raise. So many people who have a loss are able to go on and have another child to help fill their empty arms shortly after. I know that having another baby will never, ever replace Lily or completely take that pain and ache away, however, I imagine that there is a healing that comes only when you have another child. It's been FIVE years for me. I have been feeling forgotten by God. I know I am not, but I wonder why He finds it best to keep me single and childless still, all these years later.

My soul is weary in the waiting and wondering if I will ever have another child to call my own. I'm tired of feeling that oh so familiar, yet unwanted, pang of jealousy when I see what seems like everyone around me be given the gifts that I long for - marriage and more children. I'm burdened by the ache of loneliness I feel when it seems every other woman has a strong arm around her except me. I'm afraid that no man will ever "get" me or want to marry me. I'm weighed down from what it's done to me to miss my daughter for 5 years now. I'm tired of feeling like people think I am strange or unhealthy in how I express my grief and love for Lily. I'm tired of feeling like I have to work at making her "count" in other people's minds. It makes me sad when it seems other people avoid me and my posts about Lily, when I see them commenting all over other people's posts. I know people say, "it's just Facebook," but behind every Facebook account is a person. And it hurts to feel avoided. It hurts when I wonder if people think I'm a "Debbie downer" or that my posts are depressing. Even though they have no idea what it's like to walk a mile in my shoes. I feel alone in my feelings and like people just don't get it. Sometimes I just don't even want to explain myself about things... like why it would be hard to go to an Easter egg hunt because my child isn't here to participate. Or why I wouldn't want a living child to share a birthday with my daughter, when it's one of the only things I will ever have of her and it would be a bitter reminder each year of everything I'm missing out on. I feel like people think I'm mean or selfish when they have no idea how hard this is for me to carry. I'm just worn.

This is just me being (maybe too??) honest. I am far from perfect (anyone who knows me well is thinking, yeah, no kidding). But seriously, I don't want this blog to be a place where it seems as if I have this grief thing "figured out." Or that I never struggle. I want to be authentic and real and want others to be encouraged, even in their trials. I know that I have not always responded in a gracious and loving way while grieving Lily. I am trying to figure it out still.

People have asked me many times about Lily's father and if we are still together, what happened between us, and what not. I struggle with knowing what to say because I don't want to say too much or not enough. It's a very private grief and apart from losing Lily, the deepest and longest-lasting, most excruciating pain my heart has ever felt. The anguish reaches clear to my soul, the innermost part of my being. The wound is deeper than the sea. I have been haunted by "what ifs" and "if onlys."

Maybe in the future, I will share more. In fact, I believe fully that I will because I believe part of the ministry God has for me in the future is to reach out to others experiencing similar things.

What I will say now is I felt God ask me to give him up, to place that relationship in His hands. The Lord saw best to take that relationship away. Had Lily lived, things might have turned out differently. But, I have complete peace in knowing God asked me to let go of him.

Now, I always assumed it was because He had someone better suited for me. And maybe He does. But, I don't know that. I struggle at times wondering why God has not brought me my husband yet. I will be 26 this year and always pictured myself getting married very young, late teens or early twenties. I never imagined I'd still be single at this age. I also never imagined that after having Lily I would still not have another child 5 years later. I almost felt like God would certainly fulfill those dreams, after I had experienced so much pain. I don't know that I'll ever get married.

But, here's what I do know... I know that I would rather be single forever and in the center of God's perfect will for my life than having settled on the wrong person for me. Because here is the thing, HE (Jesus) is the right one for me, first and foremost, before any other guy. And purity is not just waiting for the "something better" or "someone better," but realizing HE (Jesus) is our something/Someone better, even if an Earthly Prince Charming never comes.

I have had relationships in the past where I could have gotten married had I so chosen to, but I am so thankful that the Lord kept me from choosing that path. And though it is painful and very lonely at times to wait for a man that I don't even know if he exists, I would rather honor the Lord and my future *hoped for* husband than give my heart away to guys who were never meant to have it.

I desire to seek to honor God in this area, no matter the cost. Even though I struggle with wondering why I still have these feelings for Lily's father and why God hasn't just taken them away, even after all this time, even though I was obedient in surrendering that relationship.

I have to believe it's all for a greater purpose. I have to thank the Lord for having anything to surrender to Him. I have the opportunity to deny myself and what my heart wants because I know what my heart wants is not God's best for my life. I have to trust that He has me still single and childless for a reason. That doesn't take away the pain or keep me from questioning at times. But I trust my loving Father. Even if I never get married or have a living child, I will trust that He is still good, still loving, and still has a perfect plan unfolding.

I'm singing this over my soul when the questions make me feel like I'm drowning:

This beautiful poem was shared with me by a friend and it has been such a blessing to me in this time of waiting...

Desperately, helplessly, longingly, I cried:

Quietly, patiently, lovingly God replied.

I pled and I wept for a clue to my fate,

And the Master so gently said,

“Child, you must wait.”

“Wait? You say, wait!” my indignant reply.

“LORD, I need answers, I need to know why!

Is Your hand shortened? Or have You not heard?

By faith, I have asked, and am claiming Your Word.

“My future, and all to which I can relate

Hangs in the balance, and You tell me to WAIT?

I’m needing a ‘Yes,’ a go-ahead sign,

Or even a ‘No’ to which I can resign.

“And LORD, You promised that if we believe

We need but to ask, and we shall receive.

And, LORD, I’ve been asking, and this is my cry:

‘I’m weary of asking! I need a reply!”

Then quietly, softly, I learned of my fate

As my Master replied once again, “You must wait.”

So, I slumped in my chair, defeated and taut

And grumbled to God, “So I’m waiting…for what?”

He seemed, then, to kneel

And His eyes wept with mine,

And He tenderly said, “I could give you a sign.

I could shake the heavens, and darken the sun.

I could raise the dead, and cause mountains to run.

“All you seek, I could give, and pleased you would be.

You would have what you want-

But, you wouldn’t know Me.

You’d not know the depth of My love for each saint;

You’d not know the power I give to the faint;

“You’d not learn to see through the clouds of despair;

You’d not learn to trust by knowing I’m there;

You’d not know the joy of resting in Me;

When darkness and silence were all you could see.

“You’d never experience that fullness of love

As the peace of My Spirit descend like a dove;

You’d know that I give and I save, for a start,

But you’d not know the depth of the beat of My heart.

“The glow of My comfort late into the night,

The faith that I give when you walk without sight,

The depth that’s beyond getting just what you asked

Of an infinite God, who makes what you have last.

“You’d never know, should your pain quickly flee,

What it means that, “My grace is sufficient for thee.”

Yes, your dreams for your loved one overnight would come true,

But, oh, the loss if I lost what I’m doing in you!

“So, be silent, My child, and in time you will see

That the greatest of gifts is to get to know Me.

And though oft’ may My answers seem terribly late,

My most precious answer of all is still, ‘Wait.'”

-Russell Keller

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Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Day 2013

The Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Movement began in America in October 1988 (less than a year before I was born), when President Ronald Reagan designated the month of October as Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.

Today (October 15th) is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. To recognize this beautiful, sacred day, people worldwide will be lighting candles at 7 P.M., letting them burn for an hour. Then just as their candles are burning out, other people in the next time zone will be lighting their candles. This will create a Wave of Light that lasts for 24 hours. Whether you have lost a baby or not, please take part in the Wave of Light tonight to honor my Lily and all babies of Heaven. If you light one for Lily, I'd love for you to take a photo of it to send to me, or just tell me about it.

Today was a very special day for me. My grandmother who also lost a baby is visiting this week. This morning, I took her to see the pregnancy center where I volunteer. Then, my grandmother treated us to lunch at Cracker Barrel (my favorite restaurant and where we eat for Lily's birthday each year). My mom, grandmother, new sister-in-law and I ate together. After that, we came to my house where we visited for a while before lighting our candles at 7 for the Wave of Light.

I got a new lantern for 50% off at Cracker Barrel and put several tea light candles inside. I lit one specifically for Lily, Bumma (what we call my grandmother) lit one for my Aunt Rachel, my mom lit one for Luke Shiloh, Kala my sister-in-law, and my twin brothers Adam and Joseph, lit candles for special loved and missed babies we know. And then I lit the last candle for all babies in Heaven with parents around the world missing them. We sat on the porch in the beautiful chilly October evening with our pumpkin-spice coffee and just soaked up the moment. It was perfect. I just wanted a relaxing, peaceful night of remembrance and this turned out to be just that.

Here is a video I took of the candles burning for our babies...

Here are the pictures that friends sent me today...

"For Hannah and any other mother who has lost a child"
Thank you Sierra

Thank you Mandi

Thank you Denae

Thank you Lisa

Thank you Catherine

Thank you Roxy for including my Lily in this beautiful drawing

The drawing with the names of many babies of Heaven by candlelight

In 2010 on this day, we went to a special service in Raleigh. They have stopped holding that service which stinks, but I plan on starting one up myself in the next couple years as a ministry for local babyloss parents. In 2011 on this day, I was at Ellerslie and went to Lily Lake! Then last year, we tried to go to the local service because it still said on their website they were doing it, so a group of us tried to go and found out only when we arrived at the church that they weren't having it. After looking forward to it so much, I was so bummed out. We were going to get coffee with some friends as a plan b, only to end up in a car accident. Nobody was hurt (thank God) and though the coffee shop was closed, we ended up going to a random McDonald's to have ice-cream with our friends. It wasn't what we had planned, but it ended up special nonetheless. This year was so incredible having my grandmother here. :)

Thank you to anyone else who lit a candle for Lily. I hope everyone had a peaceful day of remembrance, whether you lost your baby to stillbirth, miscarriage, SIDS, a fatal diagnose, or however. It was so beautiful scrolling through my Facebook news feed today and seeing so many posts and pictures of/about the Wave of Light and Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. It warmed my heart and reminded me that I'm not the only one who knows this grief... or this profound love...

Click HERE to read a blog post that captures why October 15th matters.

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Mother-Daughter Resemblance

Last Monday (August 12th), I celebrated my 24th birthday. 

I was looking through a scrapbook I made my mom a few years back - it has pictures of me as a baby and photos of my growing up years. I finally found a specific photo that I have been looking for. As soon as Lily was born, I knew she looked like my mini-me. And I remembered this one picture in particular that showed my face well as a newborn. 

I put this photo of me and a photo of Lily side-by-side to see how how we looked alike and I'm struck by the mother-daughter resemblance. The photo on the left is me 24 years ago, just home from the hospital. And on the left is my precious Lily girl at the hospital right after birth. Here we are, both of us at the same age (almost exactly to the day - Lily was born two days past her due date and I was born six days before my due date), just 20 years apart. 

Her nose and lips looked just like mine! And I believe she would have blue eyes like my entire family. The only thing is, my face is all scrunched up because I was a living baby... but, she wasn't. I wonder how she would have looked if she'd been born alive. A lot like her mommy I bet. 

I wonder how she'd look today, at near 3 and half years old. Would she look like I did at that age? 

It hurts seeing the photo of me coming home from the hospital and realizing I never even got to do that with my baby. I never will get to fill a scrapbook of memories made with my girl... the turn of each page marking more years gone by. Each page, Lily looking a little bit older.

Oh my precious mini-me... who would you be today?

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We Can Trust Him with Why

My mom recently decided to see what was on Life Today one morning (which she rarely does). She couldn't believe what was mentioned during the show (well, really she could believe it because things like this always seem to happen to us). The guest was Jennifer Rothschild, a gifted musician, and she mentioned babyloss. (You can watch the episode of Life Today HERE if you're interested).

This is the story she told:

I settled into my desk chair to listen to the day's emails, and the first one I opened was from a young man named Greg. He and I were introduced several years earlier when he first wrote me with the sad news, "I have cancer and I have faith, and I don't know how to have both."
After a few months of corresponding, his cancer was in remission, and our e-mails grew fewer and fewer.
That particular summer day though, the first line of his e-mail read, "The cancer's back, and I'm afraid."
I was so sad for Greg. My first response was, "O God, why?" I went to the next e-mail. It was from a woman who had been at one of my conferences a few weeks earlier. At the conference, she was pregnant. She wrote to tell me her baby had been born - stillborn - and she was devastated. So was I.
My tears began to fall. "God, why?"
I left my computer and went to my piano with more questions than answers and a heart heavy with compassion and helplessness. As I began to play, wondering why God allows these things, I glanced Heavenward and asked, "Why cancer? Why stillborn babies? Why blindness? It seems so unfair."
Suddenly the shadow of the Cross fell on my questions. As I saw that place of ultimate unfairness through my tears, my question was no longer, "Why suffering," but rather, "Why grace? Why peace? Why love?"
When I am tempted to ask why, as if the existence of pain is an unfairness in this life, I need only to look to the Cross, where true unfairness and the ultimate unanswered question remains. Why does God grant us grace, forgiveness, peace, love? It's not fair that we should receive such benevolence from Him.
As a result of my contemplation, I wrote these lyrics to remind me to embrace the mystery of faith rather than allow the unanswered questions to keep me from intimacy with God - to help me embrace what I can't understand, and in doing so, encounter Him.
That's what I want for Greg in his renewed struggle with cancer, for the precious woman who lost her baby, and for you too, whatever your hurts and unanswered questions might be today.

Isn't it amazing that one of the few days my mom tuned it, this was on? She told me about the beautiful song that Jennifer sang on the show and I just had to find it.

Jennifer Rothschild is completely blind, which she handles with such grace. I feel so drawn to this woman, her song, and her message. Then it occurred to me why... she has truly experienced and known suffering. These words are not empty, from someone whose known little heartache. God is speaking powerfully through her because of what she has endured and continues to endure.

It got me thinking... when we are given a heavy load in life to carry, like Jennifer's blindness, cancer, or the loss of a baby, or whatever it may be, God is able to use us in a special way. We are able to testify to His goodness and mercy, even in the midst of trials, heartache, and despair. The Lord can work whatever it is you are going through into a beautiful tribute for His glory. What an amazing opportunity to be used by God!

I truly can't imagine being blind. Many people have said to me they can't imagine losing a baby. Here's the thing... God gives us the strength and grace to face things we could never imagine facing. And He gives it to us the moment we need it, not a second too soon or too late. Trust that He is sufficient for you and He will carry you through whatever you may face in this life.

We don't have to have all the answers as to "why" He allows certain things to happen. We never will understand everything this side of Heaven. I will never know fully why Lily died before she drew her first breath. However, no matter what we may experience in this life, both the good and the bad, God knows why. And we can rest in His love and care. We can rest in the truth that He holds the whole world in His hands and He is always good and always desires what's best for us, His children.

Instead of dwelling on why Lily died and why I must carry the grief of losing my daughter for the rest of my life... I choose to abide in the shadow of the Cross. Why did God choose to rescue me from my sin and darkness? Why did God choose to write such a beautiful story of LIFE and redemption? Why did God make a way for me to spend Eternity with Lily?! I may never see her grow up on earth, but I know that my future and my hope is in Heaven. And that is where I will find both Lily and Luke awaiting me. I will never understand why God made a way for me, a sinner, to be with Him forever.

In your own heartaches and "whys," allow the shadow of the Cross to fall on your lingering questions.

One day soon, everything will be made NEW. There will be no more whys. No more pain.

You can listen to Jennifer Rothschild sing "Take Me to the Cross" below. I've also shared the lyrics. You can get a FREE download of this song HERE!

He said the cancer's back and he's afraid

He wonders why

So do I.

Now his greatest battle is against his fear

It's so unclear

He wonders why.

The God who heals

Won't reveal Himself

In ways we understand.

She said her baby never had a chance to breathe

So she grieves

So do I.

She struggles with the bitterness and loss

While she looks to the Cross

And she cries.

In the mystery we trust, we adjust, and wonder why.

Oh, take me to the Cross where You cried my tears

Hide me in Your tomb, crucify my fears.

I'll praise You with my pain though the mystery remains

You are a God who cries, You are a Saviour who died

And I can trust You with why.

So I travel down this bumpy road called faith

And with blind eyes,

I still try

To embrace all that I can't understand

Like Your kind plan, Your merciful plan.

I'm not angered, I am anchored.

Yet I feel weightless, I am hateless.

Since You took me to the Cross and cried each of my tears.

Hid me in Your tomb, crucified my fears.

I praise You with my pain though the mystery remains

You are a God who cries, You are a Saviour who died

And I will trust You with why.

I'll ask You why, why, this grace?

Why this peace?

Why, why, this love?

I praise You with my pain though the mystery remains

You are a God who cries, You are a Saviour who died

And I can trust You with why.

"We have depended on God's grace, not on our own human wisdom."
-2 Corinthians 1:12

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Sharing about Aunt Rachel on Still Standing Magazine

I am honored that another thing I wrote is published on Still Standing Magazine. The magazine is a beautiful place for people who have suffered a loss or are dealing with infertility.

I am sharing about my beloved Aunt Rachel and the grief my grandmother and I share.

Read my guest post "My Aunt and Daughter - Forever Babies" on Still Standing here.

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Target Always Gets to Me

That moment while shopping at Target when you walk past the little girl section (that you have no reason to shop in, but should) and you spot the most adorable swimsuit that you wish you had reason to buy...

Yeah, that moment happened to me today.

My life is full of moments like this.

Target especially reminds me of her. It was where I was registered when I was pregnant, where my mom and I shopped all the time.

If she were here, I'd get her this...

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