I have written a number of times about our pregnancy losses. The responses I have received to them, have indicated how 
very common, how very painful and how very life-changing they are on those who share such experiences.
Truly, to have experienced the loss of a yet to be born child can leave a permanent imprint on the hearts of those who loved that child even before he or she took it’s first breath.
Today, July 4, is the 20th anniversary, of the due date of our first child. One who died, in utero, around sixteen to eighteen weeks gestation. I admit that this date has rarely, except on the actual due date, had any significance for me. The date that I have more commonly remembered is January 21. And this past years anniversary was particularly significant.
For those who have experienced loss, any loss, the anniversary of that loss can be felt in many different degrees. Some years the date passes, and it is not until the day later, or even weeks later, that the significance of that date is remembered. Other years you remember it every moment of that day, and the days, and even weeks, surrounding the date.
This year was a little of both.
It was Thursday, January 20, and my family was having a jovial, sarcastic, humorous dinner together (in other words … a ‘normal’ dinnertime). As we were laughing, eating, re-creating the events of the day and sharing plans for the day to come, I stated “I can’t wait for tomorrow, I get to go to chapel!” You see I work in a Christian high school, and every Friday morning our school has ‘chapel’. I enjoy chapel, but I have not ever said that I was eager to go, so it was a rather odd statement for me to make.
The next day, Friday, January 21, I filed into the gym, with about five hundred other staff and students, as well as parents. I was feeling pretty good that day. Eager for a good work day, and for a time of school community worship.
The music began, and it was okay … nothing ‘wow’ish’, but it was good.
Following the worship time, and a few announcements, the speaker for the morning was introduced, a local pastor. I didn’t know him, had no connection to him. He started with prayer, and then addressed the scriptural reference point that he would be focusing on as he spoke … Matthew 6:19-24
… and my heart stopped
… and my palms became wet
… and my throat became so dry
… and my mind raced … what is today’s date?
… and I remembered …
… and tears fell against my will.
The reason for the emotional and physical reactions to the mention, and then reading of that scripture is that one night, as I slept, after the loss of our first child, I had a dream. The dream was of a man, I do not remember what he looked like, but I knew, with everything within me, that it was Jesus. And, in the dream, I handed a baby to Him … our baby. And Jesus looked into the wrapped up child, and His eyes were riveted to the tiny babe, and He smiled … that wonder-filled smile that we all smile, when we gaze into the face of creation. And then He looked at me, with such love, such compassion, such comfort, and He said “I will take care of your treasure for you, until you return. While you have this treasure, with me, in heaven, your heart will be here too.”
And, the dream was over.
And I opened my Bible, and found the passage, Matthew 6:19-21. And I knew that God had given me the confidence of His care for our child, and the promise that we would one day meet, and the comfort of knowing that our child was in even better hands, in heaven, than he or she would ever have on earth (even though we loved that child so much).
And that, for all of my days, I would live my life with my heart focused on the treasures that await me in heaven. And that our three earthly children would grow up knowing that as much as we, their parents, love them … God, in heaven loves them even more.
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth,
where moths and vermin destroy,
and where thieves break in and steal.
But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven,
where moths and vermin do not destroy,
and where thieves do not break in and steal.
For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
Matthew 6:19-21
Do you ever feel like you are hanging on by a thread? Or maybe you live with, or know someone else who seems to be just barely surviving … but rather precariously. They are desperate, they are exhausted, they are hopeless.
I having been trying (as a person who struggles with the lack of a gift of patience) to learn to appreciate process, rather than just wish that the struggle were over. This has not been an easy thing for me to learn. And, with every step forward, I slide backwards even farther.
My thinking is that we usually can only appreciate the process of struggle AFTER it is over (oh, hindsight, how I love thee). So, what I am really trying to do, by appreciating the process, is seeking the benefit of hindsight in the midst of the process 😉 … But, I am also hoping that by appreciating the process … the struggle might get over sooner! I do realize that my theory is not only confusing, but it is also very flawed, and very … wrong.
members, maybe homeless … definitely rough and tough (and even a little gruff). So, I kept watching them … when they weren’t looking my way. The bus was filling … fast! Then a woman gets on with a boy who is about four years old. And there is no available seat (and I am too pre-occupied people watching to get off my lazy butt). And one of the rough and tough guys gets up … and looks at the woman … and kindly offers his seat to she and the boy … Be still my heart! Kind, genteel, gentlemen do still exist … even if they look too scary to make eye contact with.
walking along a busy tourist street. The timeshare salespeople are yelling and beckoning and flattering everyone who doesn’t look Mexican. And this one is yelling, obviously to hubby, “hey Meestir”, but MY hubby is a smart one … and he just pretends to not hear him. Then, same guys yells, “hey Meestir, your shoelace is untied” and MY hubby looks down, and then we hear, “I knew you could hear me.” … but, I digress).
contact … with each other. I really do not think they were at all aware that there was anyone else on the planet, let alone on the bus. Now I don’t mean they were clinging to each other, and to look at them was to watch saliva being shared from one to the other. I mean they were simply in the bubble of ‘each other’, simply so delighted just to be … together.
memorable, because something about them drew the attention of almost everyone else on the bus.
Now, my beast … she has always been addicted to walking! When she doesn’t go for a walk, she looks depressed, and gives us guilt-laden looks that no human can duplicate! And when she does go for a walk, she is the picture of contentment!
idea just how this could benefit them).
bringing her daughter to school, and I asked how the new ‘special’ air mattress for her child was working. The mom’s reply was that she had just had her first full night’s sleep in YEARS. Now I do not mean one or two years … this ‘child’ was about sixteen years old …
Then there is the mom whose son is mostly non-verbal, and can be violent and aggressive. She spends most waking hours ensuring that she knows where he is, as he is a flight risk. When her son does express affection, adoration and love it is never to or for her, because her son only has eyes for other males.
many special needs children, that wish of yours can be like a curse to them. As they might have a child who will never live independently, or have a job, or learn to drive, or learn to count, or be toilet trained.
Graduation happens tonight for two of my three students (boy, do I know how to work myself out of a job). And, as with many ‘formalities’ in our lives, it takes me back … way back!
University was not the goal of most of my fellow grads, although many did go … for a year (or, in my case, a few months) and a number even graduated. Many did go to college. But getting a job was the main goal for most … in a day and time when ‘you need to have a university degree to succeed’ was preached regularly preached at us. I am still, twenty-four years later, amazed that educated people can think that any one path works for all … obviously they forget that the people who fix their broken cars, unplug their septic systems, and wire that new outlet all do so without an undergrad! But, I digress …
And for those students, high school graduation (whatever ‘title’ their diploma has … dogwood or evergreen) is their finest moment … so far …
over his not being a morning person, and he would choose door number one. After all it was game two of the NHL finals! What self-respecting Canadian would CHOOSE to miss the first half of that game? And, I digress …).
As the afternoon was wearing on, I was seeing that hubby was not happy with his progress on his ‘to do’ list. This caused me to fear that our walk was in danger of cancellation. So, I kindly, gently, pleasantly reminded hubby that it was 2:00. Then I asked, “are you still in for a walk?” His response was affirmative … I was doubtful.
He turned the game on …on his phone … so he could hear it!
As the volcano within me was building to a near-cataclysmic point, I decided to just be forthright and tell it like I saw it …
has altered the schedule of the NHL playoffs 😀 Kind of increased our giggly enjoyment!
What Longfellow knew, and wrote of, was:
how she could be delightfully good (and the positive consequences of that), as well as horribly bad (and the negative consequences of that). In the end, their story provided the reality that doing what is good, or doing what is bad is all about choices, and that we can choose our consequences by our choices.
itsawonderfilledlife 