The Prince and His Heart

I am so proud of my son. He's not perfect. He is an airhead at times, and doesn't always look where he's going, but he is probably one of the deepest kids I've ever talked to.

I think he has selective observance. Yeah... I'll call it that. He thinks about deep issues and what things mean, and how people behave. Can't tell you how many theological discussions I've had with this little boy. But in the same token, he is not observant enough to realize that "if I throw this rock at this tree and miss, I may hit my little sister square in the forehead..." Poor little sister.. true story.

Just recently, we had a little misunderstanding with another person that involved Isaiah being accused of something he wasn't guilty of. The whole ordeal led to hard conversations that were worked out, but leaving Isaiah with a heavy heart. He came to me and asked to speak with the other person involved because he needed that resolve, to be able to here it for himself. I told him that he should talk with them because that's truly what it means to "make things right with someone." After wiping his tears, I assured him he'd feel better after he spoke with the other.

The next day I was talking with this other person about his desire to speak with them. We talked at length about the kind of boy he was and how truly special he is to be able to think this deep on these issues. He takes, what we expect him to keep at "kid surface" knowledge and dives it deep into an understanding that is far beyond his years. He just amazes me at times. The person I was talking with felt bad about unintentionally making him feel such a weight as this, but I responded with, "you know, though.. it's good for him to work this out like this because it's a huge life lesson for him. Even though it's a heart ache for him, with all the things that little boy has gone through with our whole family (with all our baby drama), his character is being shaped because of it."

Truly, I didn't used to be so quick to think that way. I always wanted (and still want) to protect my kids from heartache like this, but I feel I've been forced by uncontrollable circumstances to use and embrace hardships, making it a life lesson that they will remember. I've come a long way to trying not to be a bitter person, but with this situation, for some reason, it came more naturally to slide into my "embrace the pain" mode and make it work.

He got to have his conversation that he so desired. I asked him about it, later this morning and how he felt now. He responded, "I feel a little better, but I still have some hurt but I think that's good because I will always have this memory. I know now what it feels like to be misjudged. And now I can help others who are misjudged and encourage them. I can encourage them to make it right by talking it out with the other person."

Oh, son... you make your momma proud. You aren't perfect, you are a little weird (which I think is endearing), you act so much like your silly father, but you are truly one of a kind. God has so much in store for him. I wish I could protect him from the trials that he will face because of what God has in store, but I trust he'll always know in his heart, that he is a child of God.

He's dressing like the Doctor... good kid, right there!

This is how we entertain eachother while we wait... 

Recovering From Nightmares

Isaiah kissing Sarah.

After writing that last blog post, I have been receiving so many wonderful messages from people in response. People from all walks of life, encouraging me by sending their love and prayers. Some of you are walking with me in the very grief of our little Sarah. Some walk with their own grief of their own precious loved one. Some walk beside us, not having been through this experience themselves, but ever still remain faithful in love. Some having watched us as we went through losing Sarah and some new friends that just love on us, hearing of the trials we've gone through.

I just wanted to take a moment to say Thank you! Truly. Your love keeps bringing hopeful tears to my eyes. Hearing from certain people (having known us from the time of losing Sarah), once again, I'm taken back to those raw moments. But these moments aren't ones that ache so much, they are memories of simply being held by God.

If I left you with saying that I'm being reminded of "simply being held by God." I feel I would be doing a dis-service to you.... because I desire for you to understand what I mean by this.

All our family, our church family supported us so well when we were going through this traumatic experience. We were "held by God" by being served by "the body". That's ALL who have helped us in any way. Whether it was one thing that you did or many. ..

My husband and his dad during one of Sarah's birthdays.

I remember food being given to us. People coming to me just to lay beside me as I wouldn't move from my spot. People talking and being with my husband. I remember people taking care of our 2 year old. Pastors opening up their buildings to us for services, for prayer, for fellowship, for counseling. People coming to us just to stand in front of us, all to say, "I don't know what to say to you." People crying with us. A woman giving me cabbage for my drying milk in consequence of my baby being gone. Sarah's doctor encouraging us. I remember 6 months down the road being asked "How ARE you doing?" The hugs. The gifts. The cards. The little kids that were drawing me pictures of our whole family and writing me precious messages. The prayers. The space for grieving.

Grandma Lyn with Isaiah

Me and Samuel, my little buddy that helped me heal allowing me to hold another baby again.

Whether you did one or many of these things.... we felt God's hand upon us. We knew, by your love, that we had not been abandoned. You were the Body of Christ that well for us. Not all of you are from the same church building, but all of you banded together for the same cause, as the Body, to show love to a family that needed lifted. It brings tears to my eyes, even now as I write this, remembering those precious moments, because of what you did for us, that we were able to have those intimate moments with our King.




Today, as I have been receiving all your responses to this difficult time for us today, I am remembering the God, whom we serve, and why we serve Him. Your love, which can only truly come from Him, (whether you believe or not) gives me the hope that's going to get me through.



With all my heart, Thank you. May God bless you as you have blessed me.

Remembering My Nightmares Are Real

I just finished watching a movie.... it was supposed to be your average chick flick, or so I thought. Very quickly I realized that there was a familiar element to this drama... a baby had died. Within the first 10 minutes of the movie, it tells us of this history, but I kept watching, convinced that it was a one time "thing"? (sure it'd come up a little later, but lightly... right?) ...

wrong.

As the story unfolds, flashbacks occur, and I find myself wrapped in these scenes that I can't shut out. The main character had so many emotional problems surrounded by her baby's death. She kept flashing back with what happened, facing the present with people's ignorant accusations and hurtful conversations. She would lash back at them with blind hate, all because she refused to see anything or anyone outside of her. I know this. I know her hate. I know her grief. I know her wandering.

There was a scene where she was flashing back to her last moments with her baby girl. She was nursing and fell asleep. She awoke with her baby still on her chest, but to her dreadful surprise, her baby wasn't breathing. The scene showed her panic when she realized this and she desperately tried to get her to breathe. Then she came back to present time, carrying a guilt that she must've killed her baby by accident. I know her guilt. I know her suffocation.

There was another scene later where a doctor looked over the autopsy report, per her husband's request after he had learned of his wife's guilt, so she might finally be free of it. The doctor assured her with every trace of evidence, that she, in fact, did NOT kill her baby. She said there is always evidence of suffocation or smothering, and there was nothing, that's why they deemed it SIDS. This poor mother cried with great relief and heart ache all over again. I know her relief. I know her shredded heart.

The movie ended.

I turned the tv off with tears still in my eyes from bursts of crying. My husband, the only person in the whole wide world that knows the exact heart ache I feel, (with a sigh of pity that I stumbled on such a movie), takes my hand and kisses it.

I really should be in bed. It's really late. But I've been taken back to one of my most desperate times, and having trouble bouncing back to present day.

 It will be 7 years this year. Her birthday's around the corner. My heart, right now, aches as if it's only been 7 weeks, maybe even 7 days. There's just some things you never forget. The way she smiled. The way she felt. The love. That last moment with her. The shock. The trauma. The lost-ness. The screaming. The endless tears. The hate. The denial. The guilt. The relief. The wandering.

Not many know this, but I'm still working on separating Christmas and her death. There's still things I work through that keep my journey continuing. To learn how to live with the grief.

7 years. The world thinks that it's been enough time for me to move on and breathe easy. There's no truth in that. I was reassured tonight that I can be brought back "there" in a second. and I'm still sitting here trying to catch my breath.

Woes of an Irritable Uterus

My husbands alarm clock goes off, only slightly waking me enough to feel his body slowly reach over mine to shut it off. I sense him hovering over me to get out of bed. I roll over, breathing through yet another contraction, holding my 26 week along belly, thinking, "please. please. let this be a better day."

I fall back asleep.

I awake again to the sounds of little voices outside my bedroom, coming from the living room. My head is in a fog, but I managed to sit up, sliding my feet off the bed to the floor. I feel another contraction. It finally lets up for me to go to the bathroom and then waddle my way into the kitchen, passing the commotion of the very awake household of my 4 children. As I make eggs and oatmeal, I stand with a tightness, where there is no beginning and end, by belly is simply tight. My body aches from being hunched over most of the time, but it's the only way I can move around with all the tightness.

Breakfast is served and I finally am able to sit down to my own food. I breathe through more tightness. One by one collecting my pills for the day, (whether it be vitamins, supplements, or meds) I know I'm doing all this for the greater cause. A healthy baby.

The day goes slow as I sit and relax as much as I can, feeling guilty for making my 8 year old son take so much care of his one year old sister. I'm so proud of him, but I know that he is getting tired. My husband is getting tired. As I am getting tired.

Irritable Uterus. That diagnosis is so stressful, yet not detrimental. I know things could be worse. I could lose another baby. I could have the baby this early and she have huge health issues. But I know, as of now, a healthy baby sits inside me. Waiting, like me, for the day she arrives. The contractions tantalize me. They lie to me, nagging anxiety within me, forcing me to seek out the trust of Who is bigger than this. There is never a day that goes by that I don't have contractions, reminding me what I naturally worry about anyway. Truth is, these contractions make me a bigger risk of going into preterm labor. Is that a promised state? no. Truth is, because of a possible premature delivery, I could birth a premature unhealthy baby or worse, lose another baby. Is that a promise? no. Can these contractions send me into labor? they could.

Do I need to worry enough about them to do something? yes. But of course, truth is.. don't worry too much because after all, stress aggravates the contractions as well.

Where's my boundaries?

I didn't know this before yesterday, but there are online support groups out there for "irritable uterus'". It's THAT stressful and confusing and so much guess work, leaving every mother and medical professional playing russian roulette with what might work or what the outcome will be.

I'm tired. I'm trying. It makes me feel guilty that I can't do more as I sit and try to relax, trying to calm contractions that are never ending. Always nagging.

I'm so thankful for the husband I have and the kids I have. They make this whole experience at least tolerable. I was crying to my husband last night about all my anxiety over what's happening. I was complaining about how sick I was for so long in the beginning and then to turn around to these contractions that basically are putting me on a modified bedrest. He quickly proclaims, "You had a "good" month there." Yeah.. a good month.. of not as sick and not yet contracting like crazy. I guess I'll take it.

sorry. I'm just a little down with all this. Trying to live life, but taking this season slow because I simply can't do it right now. Prayer is always appreciated. For my contractions to calm, and my spirit to be lifted in this time.

I'm a lot earlier starting all these contractions than I've ever been with any of the pregnancies. So it's gonna take a small miracle to get me to 37 weeks. I'm starting to count down the weeks. I have 11 more weeks to get to safety for my home birth. I need to start self-talking, "I will make it."

Little Red Book: Painful Benefit

I keep hearing a message that people look at "Christianity" as something that may benefit them. (worldly speaking) This is probably true of some people, but for me, I have a hard time embracing that for myself. Not because I'm ashamed to admit it but because it just doesn't ring true for me. Simply said, being a christian has brought about so many trials that I've had to persevere that I am far from seeing the worldly benefit. I don't remember a time where I even thought of it as a benefit, other than.. "when I die, I go to heaven." I grew up kinda poor and knew it. I saw death at a young age, I've had to stand watching my father's body fail, I've survived cousins committing suicide, holding my own daughter's body, desperately trying to bring her back. So much pain that has continued in my life, I've had to learn to stand on crippled legs because of my faith. Being burned and betrayed by parts of the "church" itself. Working so hard, just to make ends meet.Sickness. Bitterness. Depressive people.  Do people still see it as an earthly benefit? 

Remembering all the trials I've gone through, knowing there's so many more ahead, God help me... What keeps me going then? 

I guess,.. I've found an intimacy in pain. He has my attention. He has given me a heart that desires bringing heaven to this hellish earth. I'm not just "going to heaven" when I die. (although God knows I can't wait for the day) But I've been given a power, I've held all along, to be able to be a part of bringing that piece of heaven, that piece of kingdom, that piece of God's love here and now. And that's the benefit. There's my sustaining hope. 

A power that is not my own light. It belongs to Him, it's a part of Him. He puts it in me, so I can use it, grow it, give it, and best of all... drink from it "with" others. 

Little Red Book: Parachute

I just heard an analogy that if you and another person were on an airplane and you put your parachute on, trying to convince the "other guy" to put his on, he'll think you're crazy. 

I disagree.... you're on an AIRPLANE! If someone starts putting a parachute on, of course, you're gonna think, "I should put mine on too!!"

But...

what if...

...you were standing on the ground and walked with a parachute on... THEN people would think you are crazy, as you try to convince them to put theirs on as well....

... but what they don't realize is... 

the ground 

will

fall.

Little Red Book: Created for Fellowship

Why were we created?

Were we originally created for fellowship? "Let Us make man in Our own image". They are 3. They are in complete fellowship. Is that the image He speaks of? 

And fellowship, in it's purest sense, is glorifying to God. It is pleasing to Him. It spreads His love as He intended it to. "Good, in and of itself", a good friend once said.

We honor Him by how we live... by how we fellowship.

Because of the fallen world we live in, that fellowship is under attack. 
Violence.
Betrayal. 
Abuse. 
Neglect. 
Pride. 
Bitterness.
All these things, selfish, attack fellowship to it's core. 

Jesus' most simple commandment that He wanted us to know, that was most important was/is, "To love God and love others."

So what is our purpose? 

Because we love God we are to bring people back into fellowship with one another and consequently, that love expresses God's love.


In so doing, you are glorifying God.

Little Red Book: Complete and Restored

You'll like these. Most of them are short and sweet because they are notes from my little red notebook, I keep in my purse. My little red notebook is always with me, wherever I go, ready for me to take advantage of it. It's like a little special friend because it wants me to write. Whatever I'm thinking, whatever I'm feeling, what I hear, what I see, it wants to know. It's wants to be written on. I've decided to share some of my notes with you, little by little, so when you see "Little Red Book" in the title of the post, you'll know it's kailan's random thoughts from her notebook. Enjoy.



Did you know the word perfection means "complete"? 

Carrying out God's will.... completely... being made complete... having complete love... 

The Greek word καταρτιζω (katartizo) "perfect" means: complete thoroughly, repair, fit, frame, mend, prepare, restore

The Greek word καταρτιομος (katartismos) "perfect" means: complete furnishing 

It's interesting to me that every time I see the word "perfect" or "perfection" around the world, we think of perfection like not too skinny or not too fat. We think of clothes that match. We think of desirable hair or skin...... or any feature really. So when we see the word "perfect" in scripture, by nature, we see a beautiful angel that has all those desirable features. Am I the only one that does that?

One day, my cousin was sitting next to me and told me that she heard that the word perfect sometimes means complete. My mind went far with this concept, within seconds. I researched it and sure enough, every time the word perfect or perfection is used, it means complete, repaired, mended, restored, etc.

Reframe our eyes...

Matthew 5:48 "Therefore you are to be perfect, as our heavenly Father is perfect."

John 17:23 "I in them, and Thou in Me, that they may be perfected in unity, that the world may know that Thou didst send Me, and didst love them, even as Thou didst love Me."

I Corinthians 13:10 "... but when the perfect comes, the partial will be done away."

2 Corinthians 12:9 "And He has said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness." Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may dwell in me."

Colossians 3:14 "And beyond all these things put on love, which is the perfect bond of unity."

1 John 4:18 "There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves punishment, and the one who fears is not perfected in love." -:19 "We love, because He first loved us."