Even There...

Even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. --Psalm 139:10

It's 1am and I awake to the pain of contractions.

No, I think.  Not again.

I am 18 weeks pregnant and yesterday there was spotting.  Immediately I know I am losing this baby.  Experience tells me this, for 3 years ago, I had a similar loss.

I don't want to leave the warm comfort of my bed, confirming what I already know.  If I can just lay here a little longer, I can delay the pain I know is coming, even if only for a few minutes.

I'm no longer pregnant.  There was no kicking yesterday, along with the spotting.  The little life inside of me has already slipped away.

I know what I must face, so I will myself out of bed to the bathroom, preparing myself for the sight of blood.  My husband is at my side as the precious still-warm lifeless little body slips out.

My boy.

My perfectly formed, tiny soft boy who fits perfectly in my hand.  Eyes closed, mouth in the shape of an "o"-- like an angel singing God's praises.


He's up there now singing praises right along with the angels.


I grapple to understand how just the other day I felt the flutters, the gentle nudging of legs and arms squirming about.  I know that life is fleeting, I have lived sudden losses before.  Will it always be this way, I wonder?  Will loved ones just keep slipping away without warning, death like a thief in the night?

Even there...

We go to the hospital for there is lots of bleeding now and I bring my boy with me in the car.

How odd, I think, to be bringing my baby to the hospital and not the other way around.  In a daze I welcome the sympathetic care of nurses and doctors around me.  Here, in the ER, they know sadness like this.  They witness trauma, the faces of the bereaved and bewildered each and every day.  These kind faces know all too well the fragility of life and the faces of the grieved.

God knows this grief, too.  He watched His only Son suffer and die, a lamb to the slaughter.  He knows this pain, the pain of a lifeless child.  There is comfort in that.

Even there...

The priest comes to the hospital so we can baptize our little boy.  He's all wrapped up in a tiny blue hat now, a hat knit with love for newborns to wear home.

But my little boy won't be coming home.  

This sweet little hat serves another purpose today.  Fitting perfectly as a blanket, my wee one still wearing his "o" mouth, tucked snugly in all that baby blue.

We need to pick a name.  Brendan was a name we always liked, and Kevin reminds me of the story of St. Brendan the Voyager who sailed his way to the Isle of the Saints.  It's perfect.

Our little boy sailed his way to the saints, too.

The priest pours the water three times, only the smallest droplets needed for his tiny little head.  And still he goes right on singing, that perfect "o" mouth set in endless song.  We recite the familiar words, the words I've said all my life: the Our Father, the Baptismal Promises, though it's hard to get them all out because the tears are coming hard now.

Even there...

I recieve Jesus on my tongue and the words the bible run through my mind--the ones I've heard hundreds of times at funerals (I used to be a music director and have sung at many many funerals), the lyrics I've sung again and again, run through my mind like a melody of comfort: In the eyes of the foolish they seemed to have died, their departure was thought to be an affliction...but they are at peace...may Christ who called you take you home, may angels lead you to our parents side...give eternal rest O Lord and may your light shine on Him forever...even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.

I thank God for these words of truth.  I cling to them.

The words of eternity and Truth are branded into my heart, and I didn't even know I had memorized them all until now.  The feel the hope and peace wash over me, right here in this hospital bed of grief and pain and all that red that just keeps coming.  Lord help me get through this long and awful night.  Knowing my Brendan has sailed his way home makes this pain more bearable.

Even there...

After a long and sleepless night we are home.  

Home without him. 

I want an image of St. Brendan to view, so I search online.  And I find this:

photo source

The words--the words along the border are the very same words of comfort I had recited to myself just the night before:

Even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.

I read the entire psalm and of course it's all so perfect, so fitting:

You have searched me, Lord, 

 and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise;
  you perceive my thoughts from afar. 

 You discern my going out and my lying down;
  you are familiar with all my ways. 

 Before a word is on my tongue
  you, Lord, know it completely. 

 You hem me in behind and before,
  and you lay your hand upon me. 

 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
  too lofty for me to attain.

 Where can I go from your Spirit?
  Where can I flee from your presence? 

 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
  if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. 

 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
  if I settle on the far side of the sea,

 even there your hand will guide me,
  your right hand will hold me fast. 

 If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
  and the light become night around me,” 

 even the darkness will not be dark to you;
  the night will shine like the day,
  for darkness is as light to you.

 For you created my inmost being;
  you knit me together in my mother’s womb. 

 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
  your works are wonderful,
  I know that full well. 

 My frame was not hidden from you
  when I was made in the secret place,
  when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed body;
  all the days ordained for me were written in your book
  before one of them came to be. 

 How precious to me are your thoughts, God!
  How vast is the sum of them!

Were I to count them,
  they would outnumber the grains of sand—
  when I awake, I am still with you.

 If only you, God, would slay the wicked!
  Away from me, you who are bloodthirsty! 

 They speak of you with evil intent;
  your adversaries misuse your name. 

 Do I not hate those who hate you, Lord,
  and abhor those who are in rebellion against you? 

 I have nothing but hatred for them;
  I count them my enemies. 

 Search me, God, and know my heart;
  test me and know my anxious thoughts. 

 See if there is any offensive way in me,
  and lead me in the way everlasting.

The Lord knows me, He knows this pain.  I am precious to Him and was knit in the secret place, just like my Brendan. He had a plan for my boy all along. I cannot outrun His love, for even the night is like the day.  He will keep right on pursuing me to offer His comfort, dispelling the darkness. He will carry me through. 


I know I have, once more, encountered a thin place.  I've known thin places before--the precious sacred spaces, the spaces between heaven and earth, where you feel God's loving touch so powerfully you can almost reach right out and touch heaven.  I thank God for this newest thin place, and know I will be ok. I will thrive, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.


Even there.

 

Ten Tips on Prayer...

Lately, I've been taking stock of my prayer life.  As is typical of a life with God, I have many peaks and valleys.  Lately I seem to be dipping into the latter, so I figured I should turn some attention to ways I can grow in this area.  A book I started reading awhile back but never finished popped into my head: Spiritual Direction by Robert F. Morneau (if you've been reading my blog for awhile, you may know that I love this author!  As far as I'm concerned, everything he writes is pure gold).  Although it's a great book, its very dense,which is probably why I've never finished it!


Anyway, I pulled out my notes on the portion I had read so far (yes, nerd that I am, I take notes when I read!).  The content is great...so great that I promised myself to pick the book back up and try to finish it.  With any success I'll have lots more goodies to share in the future!  But for now, I thought I'd share some of what I've learned thus far.

10 Tips on Prayer:

1)  Prayer is loving attention to God.  Therefore, it is meaningless when we are distracted. 

 Hmmm...I need to work on this one.  I too easily find myself becoming distracted during prayer. Often when I sit down to pray I think, " I'm feeling a bit hungry--let me grab a snack first."  Or, "Oh, let me just check my email first."  Thankfully I've become more aware of this lately, and I intend to work on his one!

2)  Prayer is only as good as the love that is put into it.

Our words ring hollow without love in our hearts. And love cannot be hurried.  You can't just rush into prayer.  By its very nature it is slow.  Sometimes I think about what else we might be missing out on by hurrying through our days.  Lessons in life are definitely learned slow.

3)  Prayer requires self-control of body and spirit.  Therefore, a person who is satiated on earthly things is no longer responsive to God.  We can help bring clearer focus on God through :fasting, silence and waiting.

 I find this a challenge in this culture of so. much. noise.  Our attention is pulled in every direction,  our social media-satiated culture being one of the here and now. What's happening on twitter right now?  What's looking interesting on Pinterest?  Have I gotten any new texts? Waiting becomes increasingly difficult when we find ourselves able to be entertained pretty much constantly, with information and technology right at our fingertips.  Taking a cursory glance around a waiting room, you'll find a  sea of dimly-lit faces staring down at their phones.  (The magazines on the table don't even get picked up anymore!) It just causes me to wonder what might be gained, if we all sat with silence more often.God speaks in silence.

4)  We absolutely must bring our true selves to God, just as we are.  Do not be tempted to hide parts of yourself.

God knows us.  He knows what's going on in our minds and our lives.  And He loves us no matter what.  He wants to help us.  But there's no point in praying if you don't show up.

5)  Make God the focus of prayer--not yourself.  Try to transcend the self-centered anxieties that crowd our minds.

There is a time for petition, confession and repentance of course.  But let's not forget to also make time to simply worship Him.  Take time to adore, with a thankful heart.  When I do this, I find myself truly transformed.  This is not the case when I just mentally unload all of my worries and struggles, without getting to the other stuff--the God-praising stuff.

6)  Try to create a sense of reverence, wonder and awe in your prayer.  Do not be afraid to be child-like.  Allow yourself to fill with wonder of life and of the universe.  Do not place your focus on man-made things, but the things of God.

Be child-like.  Yes!  As a mom it's so easy to see how awe-struck a child's eyes become at the things we so often take for granted.  Simple things... like the beauty of bubbles in sunlight or the feathered wisp of clouds across the sky.  Take time to really see the beauty He has made for us!

7)  Know that God's activity in prayer is more important than our own.  Experiencing God through prayer is a gift from Him.

This is an important one for me to keep in mind, because I sometimes think I have to be this way or that in order to have a powerful prayer experience.  But simply making an effort is enough.  God will meet us where we are.

8)  There is no one way to pray.  We each have our own unique path to God.

No two prayers are ever alike.  Each one is uniquely our own, each experience one of a kind, leading us where we need to go.  Yes.

9)  Prayer leads to intimacy with God, and therefore to intimacy with everyone and everything.

I love this--that prayer leads to greater intimacy with everyone around us.  And of course it's true--when our hearts are transformed by God we are more attuned to everything and everyone else.  As we grow, we're better able to serve others-to listen better, to love better. Our hearts are elevated which helps us look outside ourselves to see a world in need.

10)  Prayer can happen at all times, in all things so long as we keep God with us.  Be like a sunflower that follows the sun all day, pointing its colorful head to orient toward that shiny orb in the sky.

I love this--be like a sunflower!  I want to remember this when my teething toddler is cranky or I realize mid-recipe that I'm out of eggs.  To keep God with us at all times and in all things--what a challenge this is for me.  But what an amazing goal to have!

I hope you were able to find something here to help you in you prayer life.  I know I will be working on all of these things.  May we all become like sunflowers, following God all day long!

Shared with:

Many Little Blessings, Weird Unsocialized Homeschoolers, 

Women Living Well, Works For Me Wednesday

Five Minute Friday: Growing

Linking up with The Gypsy Mama today for another Five Minute Friday! Five Minute Friday is where we write on a given topic for 5 minutes only. It's so much fun! This week the topic is "growing."


Here goes:




Growing. Sometimes it's hard to see our growth. I'm reminded of the lyrics of that Raffi song:

"I Wonder if I'm growing, I wonder if I'm growing. My mom says yes I'm growing, but it's really hard to see."

Six year old son beams with pride as he begins his first year of Cub Scouts, and 3 year old son cries bitter frustrated tears that he's not yet old enough to participate. I draw him near and assure him that one day he'll get there.


It's hard to wait for growth. Always, we're looking ahead to the future, for our growth sometimes feels too slow to dwell on in the present. We look to the day when we'll have accomplished this or that, a big milestone we're anxiously awaiting, or the wisdom we so badly want.


But we are growing. If we pause to instead look back, we can truly see our growth. Take a moment to look back on where you've come from. It's hard to see back so many miles, on that twisty and sometimes rough terrain. But that's how we truly know that the growing has taken place. Look back on the bumps in the road, take a moment to dwell on the potholes, the road flooded heavy with fat tears and heavy disappointment.

Growing.


Becoming more fully who we are and fulfilling out unique purpose.


And then, after that backward glance look at today. You are here. Now. Miles ahead and all the wiser for it. You have grown, and though you may have "miles to go before you rest" you have journeyed a long way. Appreciate your growth and step ahead with the knowledge that each step brings you just a little bit closer to the destination.