Our Year, My Crisis of Faith, & Our Prayer Requests

I don't usually write posts in this way, but I have a lot to say - a lot to catch some of y'all up on - so I'm going to write this one post in 3 parts.  I'll be as brief as possible, but let me apologize in advance for the length.

Our Year

This has been a hard year.  There has been joy, to be sure – being a child of God, Michael’s wife, & Emma’s Mama, that’s a given – but I've never lived through a year like this where difficulty compounded sorrow repeatedly.  Beginning in March of last year, my beloved Granny died suddenly.  In June we discovered we were expecting our second child, only to be told a few weeks later that we had lost him or her.  (I’ve dealt with my fair share of sorrow, but I’ve never known this depth of pain before.  Never.  And lest anyone think differently, while the pain does lose its rawness, it never goes away & can crop up at any time.)  A couple of people whom I love dearly experienced deep sorrow, & I sorrowed with them because I love them.  Then, at the beginning of this year, despite our very best efforts, we lost our home.

Amongst the sorrows, as I mentioned, there were joys.  For those of you who don’t know, we discovered in October that we were pregnant again!  To be sure, that made me nervous, as my heart was so very tender with grief over Christian.  Still, this little one whom God is forming in my womb tops the list of joys for this year!

My Crisis of Faith

I’m already a nervous expecting Mama, especially early on.  I tend to be fine between appointments, but as one approaches, I start to worry that we’re going to discover something’s wrong.  Losing Christian only amplified that anxiety.  But as we passed the early benchmarks, & as I was able to rent a hand-held Doppler, I became more at ease.  My comfort was challenged a bit, though, at the 20 week appointment where we discovered that this baby – Jack, as we learned to our extreme delight! – had a slight abnormality that our doctor wanted to keep a watch on.  “Echogenic bowel”, they called it.  He didn’t seem distressed & said it was possible that this was nothing to worry about, something that could be a false reading or even resolve on its own.  He wanted us to come back in 4 weeks for another ultrasound.  I prayed fervently, more fervently than I’ve ever prayed for anything in my entire life, that this shadow would be gone when we went back.  I knew from research that echogenic bowel could mean some pretty scary things, so I begged God to let it be gone.  I was perfectly honest with Him that I had had enough this year; I couldn’t handle one more sorrow, especially in regards to my children.  There are others who seem to float along with nary a ripple in their placid life.  “Let them have a turn,” I pleaded.  I prayed these things over & over & over . . .  & over.  And even though I still felt some anxiety, I just knew that when we went back, everything would be normal.  I just knew it.  But I was wrong.

It took a few hours, but before the day was done, I freaked out.  I mean, freaked out.  I became volatilely angry with God.  I questioned His goodness & His love for me.  I wondered if maybe the atheists were right – is God capricious?  Why would He do this to me?  Hadn’t I suffered enough?  Not just this year, but in life?  I was molested, I suffered through family estrangements, I was hurt grievously by others, I struggled with infertility for years!  And then He had put me through the intensive pain of the past year, topping it off by taking my child away only to compound it by threatening this one?  I sobbed out my anger & grief to Michael, in Emma’s presence, who both sought to comfort me.  I felt like I was going to be torn apart by this emotional tornado.  I was inconsolable, livid, confused . . . & scared.  Scared because I had never in my life, despite my trials, questioned God like this.  I had never ever been angry with Him.  Never doubted everything I ever believed about Him.  I was terrified that I would lose my faith, & that was brand new to me, as well.  I believe that my faith – its very existence from beginning to end – is fully dependent on God.  I wouldn’t believe in Christ as my Savior if He hadn’t drawn me, & I am completely dependent on Him to keep me from losing that faith.  I knew this, but this situation made me experience it.  All I could do was cry out to Him.  I was unbelievably angry, yet I still loved Him & didn’t want to turn from Him.  So, I begged Him to not let me go, not let me lose my faith.  For days I pleaded for Him to do this.  Slowly, ever so slowly, my tornado of emotions quieted, & my faith emerged stronger.  He sent me through the fire & brought me back out.  I have never been more thankful for anything . . . or more relieved.  A few things occurred to me as my storm blew itself out:

1)      I was so angry at God for possibly requiring my son of me or afflicting him with some grievous condition, yet He knows that grief Himself.  He knows what it means to watch the Son He loves afflicted & killed, & it was His gracious plan out of love for His enemies (including me), in order to reconcile us to Himself.  I realized I had no right to withhold my own son should He ask him of me.

2)      Every single person is created by God in His image & is, therefore, “fearfully & wonderfully made”.  Even people with deformities or diseases.  People are not the sum of their infirmities, & I will focus on Jack, not his limitations (if there are any).

3)      No matter what happens, as long as Michael & I are alive, Jack will never know a day where he is not loved & cared for.  He will always know that we love him & so does God.

Our Prayer Requests

The bottom line here is that we don’t know if Jack has a problem or not.  We went to a specialist who basically couldn’t tell us anything definitive without further testing – testing that still wouldn’t be conclusive.  We knew going in that we would not consent to anything invasive like amniocentesis, so we’re choosing to live with the uncertainty.  The fact that the echogenic bowel is the only abnormality works in our favor.  Usually such cases turn out with a healthy baby.  We know there’s no guarantee, though.  Blessedly, God has taken away my anxiety.  Since my crisis of faith, I have only had one twinge of anxiety, which is when I realized I need to focus on Jack & not his possible issues.  If we may ask, please pray for us.  Pray for Jack’s health; even though our love for him will be undimmed we, of course, still desire him to be healthy.  Pray for our faith in God (& His goodness & love) to remain strong regardless of what happens.  Pray that we (mainly me) won’t become angry with God if things don’t go as we hope.  Pray that God will be with us no matter if Jack is born healthy or not – because we’re going to need Him either way.  Pray for my health & for his birth (now just 9 weeks away, give or take) to be smooth & uncomplicated, & for recovery to be quick & easy.  Pray for Emma as she transitions from being an only child to being a big sister.  Pray for Michael & me to be godly parents to both of our babies.  And pray for us to glorify God in everything.  Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

Soli Deo Gloria

God in My Miscarriage

Almost two months ago, on June 27, I had one of the happiest days of my life!  That was the day we discovered that God had created life in my womb again.  Oh, glorious day!  Because of my struggles with infertility, I am wary of pregnancy tests.  So, even when I'm showing pretty clear symptoms, I will explain them away in an effort to not get my hopes up.  And I avoid pregnancy tests like the plague until Michael finally convinces me to just end my mental gymnastics ("Could I be?  No.  I can't be.  Supper obviously didn't agree with me; that's why I'm nauseous.  Could I be pregnant?  I want to be, but  I don't need to be.  Oh, but Lord, if I am, please protect the baby.  Just stop it, Chrissy, you're not pregnant.") & take a test.  Funnily enough, this time played out almost exactly like when we found out we were pregnant with Emma.  Michael came home from work & told me to take a test.  I didn't want to because I was convinced my body was just being wonky & I didn't want to see a negative result.  But, as he laid down to go to sleep, I headed to the bathroom.  I wasn't even done counting out the 20 seconds you're supposed to, didn't even have time to set the stick down on the counter, didn't even have to set a timer.  Positive.  It was positive!  We were going to have another baby!  As soon as I saw that positive result, I was immediately, instantaneously, deeply in love & fiercely protective.  It is astounding how quickly that happens!  I hollered out, astonished & ecstatic, "Emma's gonna be a big sister!"  A stunned Michael just laid in the bed while I ran to kiss him, tears streaming down my face, barely able to keep myself from jumping with joy.  Poor fella needed to sleep after working all night, & all I could do was pick up the phone to call family & text friends.  Then, before even thinking about breakfast, I quickly typed up & printed out a little sign for Emma to hold announcing her new status as a big sister, took a picture, & posted it to Facebook.

A week & a half later, we headed to our OB appointment for our first ultrasound.  I am a worry-wart during pregnancy.  Every day I pray frequently that the baby is okay, that God will help the baby grow strong & healthy, & that He will save our baby's soul.  I did this all throughout my pregnancy with Emma, & this one was no different.  My chief concerns before the first appointment are always ectopic pregnancy & hormone levels, so I'm always anxious to see that everything is okay.  I was very pleased for the tech to announce that everything looked great, & I was 5 weeks 6 days along, which would put our estimated due date on March 4.  I spent the next 2 weeks bouncing between euphoria, planning, & worry.  I lo-o-ove being pregnant, knowing there is life inside of me, & anticipating the joys of another baby is so much fun!  Even so, there are so many things to get done, so many things to figure out, especially when you live in a tiny house, as we do.  Finally, I'm not one to take pregnancy for granted, so - just as I did with Emma - I would have fleeting bouts of worry about how the baby was doing & pray for his/her safety & health.  Blessedly, our baby looked good.  I was happy & at peace.

Then came the morning of our next appointment.  We had planned on dropping Emma off at Michael's sister's farm on the way to the OB's, but left too late.  This made me anxious, because she did not handle the first appointment well (she didn't get her nap out & pitched a fit anytime she had to be separated from me, which meant I held her during the ultrasound & physical exam).  I had hoped to avoid that, but it turned out that God knew what He was doing.  She ended up being a very welcome distraction.  As we sat in the waiting room, I read to Emma & Michael took pictures of us, noting my "pregnancy glow".  Little did we know then that it wouldn't last much longer.

On that day, one month ago, we learned that the burgeoning life inside of me was no more.  Once they took us back & began the ultrasound, I knew almost immediately that something was wrong.  I could tell that the picture on the ultrasound didn't look any different from the last one.  We were 2 weeks 1 day out from the last ultrasound; I was 8 weeks along, so we should have been able to see more.  When the tech said we were measuring 6 weeks 2 days - a mere 3 days further along since our last ultrasound - my heart sank, & I started crying.  She put her hand on my shoulder, gave her apologies, & went to get our doctor while I got dressed.  We were ushered into his office & waited for his appearance to tell us what we already knew.  He was very apologetic when he told us that our baby was gone.  I held out a slim hope that something, anything!, could be done, but he regretfully assured us there was no fixing this.  He also urged me not to blame myself for losing the baby.  "There's nothing you did or didn't do to cause this, so don't play that game."  Wise words, but also rather pointless, because it's just inevitable that I would try to figure out what went wrong.  Is it because I wasn't on Metformin this time?  Or because we didn't fill that Progesterone prescription?  (To that, he said I "could have bathed in Progesterone, & it wouldn't have made any difference.")  Is it because I wasn't exercising & eating super healthy like I was when we got pregnant with Emma?  A hundred questions like these have run through my mind, & the bottom line is that I don't know.  I don't know why I lost my baby, why I won't get to hold him/her in my arms, or read & sing to him/her, or see him/her grow up.  (Well, that's not completely accurate.  I do know that this is a result of the Fall, as are all trials & sorrows.  And it is helpful to know that & to know that one day God will make all things new & will right every wrong.  It is hard, though, to live in this "already, not yet" period of time where I have to grieve the loss of my baby.)  At this point, people want to fix it, they want to bring comfort & get me to think positively.  Although I have felt immense comfort from their displays of love, there is no fixing this.  The only one who could fix this is God, & believe you me, I prayed fervently over those 5 days between the sad news & the actual miscarriage that He would fix it.  I pleaded with Him that the experts were wrong, that our baby was still alive.  I begged Him that even if they were right that He would resurrect our baby in my womb.  I pleaded with groans & sobs.  The pregnancy hormones still coursing through my body continued to evidence themselves in nausea & soreness, prolonging my hope.  As did stories online of misdiagnosed miscarriages.  I prayed that would be our outcome.  The night before the miscarriage began, God gave me the grace to end my pleas in the same way that our Savior did:  "Thy will be done".  The very next day, I began bleeding & knew what God's will was.  (Because I chose a natural miscarriage in lieu of a D&C, this has been a drawn-out process that is just ending more than 3 weeks later.  I will spare you the details here; however, if you are in the same position & want to know what to expect, or if you want to better understand what I've been going through, I will outline my experience in the comments section.)

God's graces in this sorrow have been bountiful.  Every single day He shows me that not only is He aware of my suffering, but He is with me in it & carrying me through it.  I am constantly in awe that the God who holds the universe in place knows my sorrow intimately & cares to minister to me as only He can.  I am beyond grateful.  Should you find yourself in the same situation as I, I encourage you to make a daily list of God's graces to you.  Finding ways to be thankful in the midst of unbearable grief refocuses you & helps you bear it.  Here's my list so far (it grows daily):

     ~sympathies of ultrasound tech
     ~Dr. A praying for us after giving the bad news
     ~kindness of Dr. A in ushering us out the back door (I didn't have to see other pregnant mamas or be stared at as I sobbed)
     ~rainbow in the sky an hour later (God is a promise-keeping God.  I saw this as Him saying to me, "I know, I'm here, I'll carry you through this.")

     ~tight, wordless hug from Rebecca
     ~prayers & sympathies pouring in from friends & family
     ~Emma dropping her toys to run to me & give me hugs & kisses (or tickles) when I cry
     ~warning of miscarriage before it began (I would have been traumatized & my grief would have been paralyzing if it had just suddenly happened)
     ~Michael being a shoulder to cry on
     ~Michael pointing me to biblical truths
     ~multiple prayers offered on our behalf at church
     ~Michael supporting my need (emotionally & physically) to just rest on sofa & watch "Dispatches from the Front" & movies
     ~sunshine
     ~text messages from Jennifer
     ~pain meds
     ~rainy days that match my mood
     ~compassionate nurse (Tammy)
     ~friends & family checking on me repeatedly (texts & FB)
     ~Angie being on-call for me (in case I began to miscarry & needed her to come in the middle of the night while Michael was at work)
     ~new friend (Brittany) willing to be there for me even though she's pregnant
     ~Amanda sending me pictures of flowers to brighten my day
     ~articles & books reminding me of God's presence in my grief
     ~Emma
     ~Beth's text message
     ~Becky's letter
     ~Holy Spirit moving me to retrieve what ended up being Christian's body
     ~finding last gardenia plant in perfect condition (I had my heart set on a gardenia as a memorial plant in which to bury Christian.)

     ~capturing placenta/sac
     ~Dr. A validating my view of our baby (naming him/her, capturing what we could, burying him/her, wanting an ultrasound picture) & my grief over losing Christian
     ~flowers from Kara Grace
     ~"Valley of Vision" on FB
     ~text messages from Katie
     ~fun times with Emma
     ~distractions of daily life
     ~sweet nighttime moments with Emma
     ~Dr. A found ultrasound pictures of Christian - the only ones we will ever have - & sent them to us

     ~"Come Weary Saints"
     ~sympathy from Brian
     ~sympathy from our "meat fella" & his wife
     ~text message from Katie
     ~Terry's words of encouragement & saying that he prays for us daily
     ~my grief isn't constantly overwhelming; there is joy in between the floods of sorrow
     ~Scripture Lullabies
     ~songs in worship service that include trusting in God amidst sorrow (I feel like they were chosen for me)
     ~Pastor Keith's sermon that incorporated some of the very Scriptures that I've been meditating on
     ~vanilla spice candle that gives me a homey feeling & visions of normalcy
     ~Michael holding me while I weep
     ~friends & family not rushing me to "get over it", but are instead encouraging, loving, & are praying for me
     ~Willow Tree "Angel's Embrace" figurine that Michael bought for me

     ~daily comfort in prayer

I know this is long, but let me just take a moment to thank all of you who have ministered to us.  Your love, compassion, & encouragement have meant the world to us.  I can't even begin to thank you, because the gratitude permeates every fiber of my being; words just simply can't convey to you how thankful I am to God for each of you.  It's been such a little thing for you to take a moment to write that message or speak those words, but its worth has been immeasurable.  Years before Michael & I ever met, years before having a baby was even a possibility, I prayed that God would never send me through a miscarriage, & I determined that if I ever did marry & conceive, I would not tell anyone until the 2nd trimester (when chances of miscarriage decrease).  I thought avoiding telling anyone I was pregnant would be easier than having to tell people repeatedly that I had lost the baby.  In reality, I simply can't wait to tell the joyful news, & I'm glad that I didn't.   I can't imagine having to go through this alone.  Each person that has ministered to me & carried us before the throne of God has been a balm to my soul.  (And please know that if you don't see your name listed above, that does not in any way mean that your encouragement & love has gone unnoticed or unappreciated.  Not at all.  I have been so blessed by so many such expressions in numerous ways that it's been hard to keep a list of all of them individually, especially in my fragile mental & emotional state.  But they're all in my heart, & I'm thankful for all of them.)
    

This post has been rolling around in my heart & head for a while & has taken me more than a week to write.  I really wasn't even sure if I could get through writing it.  So, why even try?  For a couple of reasons.  One, in all of my life, & especially in my trials, I want to bring glory to God.  My desire in sharing my grief here is not that you'll feel pity for me, but that you'll see that in my weakness, God is strong.  I shared my heart's desire with a friend earlier last week, & can't think of any better way of saying it (plus I don't have the energy to reinvent the wheel):  "I do pray that our Father is being magnified by my sharing our grief.  I want people to see that we are hurting & broken, but also hoping & trusting in God.  I want them to see that our faith in & love for Him is not just undimmed, but even more fervent.  I want to show that He is the source of our hope, our rock in this storm, the reason we're able to survive this pain with hope & faith."  My other reason for sharing this is because I know I'm not alone in this grief.  I am not the only Mama who is missing a child.  And for anyone else who is in the very depths of sorrow as I am now, I want you to know that you aren't alone, either.  This is the worst thing I have ever been through, one of my very worst fears realized.  There are honestly times when I hate this valley, when I beg God for this not to be His plan.  I don't like being a Mama of 2 in my heart, but not be able to hold both of my babies in my arms; in fact, every fiber of my being rebels at this reality.  I don't want to be this person going through this pain!  But God.  God is getting me through it.  He is carrying me every single day.  He shows me every day that He is with me & that He loves me.  I know to the very depths of my soul that He is good, that He only gives good gifts to His children, that "He works all things together for good for those who love Him & are called according to His purpose".  I know that "the Lord is near to the brokenhearted & saves the crushed in spirit" & that "He heals the brokenhearted & binds up their wounds".  I know that this is a refiner's fire that is conforming me into Christ's image, & so even though this hurts immensely, I am grateful for that.  I know that "weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning".  That morning will come when I pass from this life to life eternal, & then I will never know another sorrow.  I am clinging tightly to these promises right now.  If you are in Christ, you can, too.  I pray that you may know His comfort & peace, & that you will feel Him carrying you through your sorrow.  There is one more reason that I am sharing this - Christian.  His/her life on this earth was short, but our baby was created by God, in His image, & is valuable.  Loved.  Missed.  Mourned.  Even if it was only our little family's, our precious baby touched our lives, lives in our hearts, & deserves to be honored.

Please continue to keep us in your prayers.  We will need them for a long time to come.  I know from others that our grief will never completely subside, but it will become more bearable.  And one day, we will be reunited with our baby - & all of our loved ones who die in Christ - before the throne of God, never to be separated again.  Until then, I will hope, I will trust, yes, I will grieve, but I will also give thanks.  Thanks for the life that God created in me, thanks for the lives that I get to love & care for every day, & thanks for the many blessings He has bestowed upon me - not the least of which is all of the precious souls who have ministered to us in our grief.  I pray that He blesses all of you as you have blessed us.

Soli Deo Gloria

Biblical Comfort in Affliction

John Bunyan's wife, Elizabeth, has just found out that her sorrow over her husband's imprisonment is compounded by the loss of her newborn child.  She has been lamenting over her afflictions & her faith is sorely tested.  Her good neighbor, sister Harrow, strives to give biblical comfort to soothe her grieving heart.

"Well, shall we receive good at His hand & not evil?  But what has He promised, sister Bunyan?  Don't He say that all things shall work together for our good?  Think of this.  He don't say some things, or most things, but all things.  And if we are His children, we will believe what He says; we will not doubt His word; we cannot.  Look how He brought His poor old Job through all his afflictions, & made his last days his best ones.  Your troubles are not equal to his; he had everything taken from him - houses, lands, children, camels, & all his servants - & you know he had a good many, for he was a rich man.  And then he was afflicted in his own body - all covered with boils - the sorest things in the world. . . . Just think of him in all his distresses, & how God brought him through them all.  And then you will be willing to trust Him for yourself.  He was given to us as an example to follow."

"But Job was an upright man, sister Harrow, & I'm a poor, weak, sinful creature.  I don't deserve any good at God's hands.  I am so prone to forget Him.  I don't love Him as I ought to.  I don't serve Him as I should.  He ought to scourge me, I am so wicked."

"Ah, sister Bunyan, you don't think anybody deserves any good thing from God, do you?  Oh no; it is not for our good works that He loves us; it is all His own sovereign love & mercy.  Oh, I tell you we have nothing to commend us to His favor, as your dear good man said the last time he spoke at my house; & we can't do anything.  So much sin - so much sin always here in the heart - that God can't find anything in us to love us for.  It is only for Jesus' sake - only because He died.  There's our hope, sister Bunyan - nowhere else - no, no, nowhere else.  Jesus is all, all, sister Bunyan.  No merit but His.  Yes, blessed Jesus!  Thou art all, & in all; the beginning & the end . . . ."

~Excerpted from Mary Bunyan:  A Tale of Religious Persecution and Heroic Faith by Sallie R. Ford

The Father's Love

How deep the Father's love for us,

How vast beyond all measure

That He should give His only Son

To make a wretch His treasure.

~Stuart Townsend

God shows us the depth of His love for us in the ultimate way in the cross of Christ. How incredible to know that He loves us so much as to sacrifice His only beloved Son to once & for all atone for & satisfy His wrath toward our sin. He allowed Him to be crushed for me - that is a wondrous thing indeed!

And were He to stop there, that would be all I would ever need. Were He to never stoop to show me another mercy, another kindness, another example of His love for me, I would still know that His love was "vast beyond all measure" because of Jesus Christ.

But He doesn't stop there. He has bathed me in countless showers of His love all of my life. Walking with me through valleys, staying what would have been tragic events, bringing Michael to me at just the right time. He provides the job that enables us to have a home, clothing, & food. He's graciously given me a loving family - by blood, by marriage, & by Christ. He brightens my days with sunshine & waters the earth with rain. The list detailing God's demonstrations of love for me could seriously just go on forever!

Today was a day when I felt God's special, personal-for-me love immensely. It came about in what would probably seem a little thing for y'all, but I was floored & completely overcome. Michael called me into the blue room just before breakfast because he needed to show me something he'd found on our back patio. It was this.

Purple looked gorgeous on her, hence our "purpled-out" identifying information.

This is Ginger's tag. I got it for her when we lived in LA a few years before I met Michael; I meant to have it updated at some point, but could never find another design that I liked as much. Throughout all these years, this tag has never left her collar. She always loved wearing her collar, so much so that when I took it off to bathe her, she wiggled around in excitement for me to put it back on. I think she knew that it meant that she belonged to me. We buried her wearing that collar, & I had no idea that this tag was missing. Until today, which marks 2 months since I lost her. Losing her has been so terribly sad for me, & I think that God put this little tag in Michael's path for me. I think He was reminding me that He knows my sorrow intimately & He cares for me. I think He was reminding me that He is carrying me through this valley.

The Father's love is indeed deep & vast beyond all measure. He loves me enough to save my soul from everlasting damnation. And He loves me enough to give back to me something special that I didn't even realize was missing. He is a gracious God whose love truly knows no bounds.

Contemplating the Godhead

"Oh, there is, in contemplating Christ, a balm for every wound; in musing on the Father, there is a quietus for every grief; & in the influence of the Holy Ghost, there is a balsam for every sore.  Would you lose your sorrow?  Would you drown your cares?  Then go, plunge yourself in the Godhead's deepest sea; be lost in His immensity; & you shall come forth as from a couch of rest, refreshed & invigorated.  I know nothing which can so comfort the soul; so calm the swelling billows of sorrow & grief; so speak peace to the winds of trial, as a devout musing upon the subject of the Godhead."

~C.H. Spurgeon, quoted in J.I. Packer's Knowing God

Sweet Wordless Comfort

Tears began rolling down my face.  The talk had briefly turned towards the topic of Ginger on this the two-week anniversary of her death.  My precious 12-year-old niece draped one arm around me & laid her head on my shoulder.  She didn't say a word.  She didn't have to.  Words aren't always necessary to give comfort.

I Shall Again Praise Him

"Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God." ~Psalms 42: 5-6

Yesterday was a very difficult day for me, as it marked the one week anniversary of Ginger's death.  Ginger's death - I hate seeing those words side by side.  My mood plummeted Wednesday evening & remained in a pit of black numbness that was shot through with piercing anguish all the way through last night.  I had a faint hope that things would be better this morning after a good night's rest, & truthfully I do feel better today.  I had to give myself a sobering pep talk when I woke up, though.  I told myself that it's okay to grieve; it's only been one week, after all.  I'm going to cry, I'm going to be sad, I'm going to miss her terribly.  But, knowing myself as I do, if I continue to wallow in my melancholy, I will fall into a depression & it will take a very long time to claw my way back out.  I can grieve, yes, but I have to fight against the temptation to bathe in it or I'll drown.

I've struggled with clinical depression off & on since my early teens.  Perhaps that's the reason that I have little patience for prolonged lamenting; I know what it can lead to.  It's been a few years since I've been plagued by this foe, & I'd like to keep it that way.  Thankfully, I now know how.  When Michael & I first met, I was on Prozac.  It kept my moods pretty level, & since anger is how depression expresses itself in me, my dad cautioned Michael in his desire to have me off of the medication.  "Trust me, you don't want her off of that!", he warned.  Mama & I echoed his admonition.  Michael heedlessly rejected this counsel & gently pushed for me to do away with the Prozac.  Against my better judgment - because I love him & want to honor him - I stopped taking it.  And do you know what I found?  Much to my amazement, I discovered that Michael was right, & I didn't need it.  Oh, my mood fluctuated & I felt anger more than I would have liked, but in my reading & instruction from Michael, I realized that my problem wasn't depression, my problem was sin.  I had come to view my anger as acceptable & justified; it was just a part of who I was &, furthermore, people shouldn't do things to make me angry!  Besides, "the experts" say that it's healthy to vent your anger.  But, in reading God's Word, I found that my anger was not normal, healthy, or acceptable.  It's sin, pure & simple, & no pill can cure me of that.  I had to acknowledge my sin for what it was, repent of it, & rely on God to rid me of it.

My sorrow is no different.  Sorrow is expected in my loss; I'm not denying that.  But to wallow in it & despair is sin.  I have no reason to despair in my grief because I have God.  If I do so, then I have shown that God has not been my highest love, & Ginger is an idol.  I don't want that.  I want to love God supremely, so I have to willingly let Ginger go if He bids me to.  He has, so I must.  And I proclaim with Job, "though He slay me, I will hope in Him"!

God's Grace & Mercy

Hope has dawned clear & bright today along with the sun that is streaming gloriously golden through our windows.  The whole house is awash in sparkling sunshine, & I feel a stirring of happiness & hope in my breast for the first time in several days.  Jake must feel it, too.  Since my last post, he has slipped into a sort of melancholy, which he's shown by not chasing squirrels, laying around pretty much constantly, & not chewing his beloved bones.  If you knew him, you'd know that's like Winnie the Pooh turning up his nose at honey.  But this morning, he ran out into the yard & promptly sprawled out in the grass to sun himself, & just this evening he finally indulged in a rawhide chew fest.  We're all going to be just fine.

I've wanted to share with y'all how God has been gracious & merciful to us in the midst of this trial.  Today, I finally feel as if I can.

Going back to the beginning, the first thing that comes to mind is finding our vet.  He's an absolute Godsend!  Our initial advice had been to take Ginger to Auburn, but their treatment was going to set us back several thousand dollars, a large chunk of which was due up front.  I was beside myself because our inability to afford this would mean no treatment & certain death for her in a matter of weeks.  Michael remembered reading an editorial about Dr. H, so we called him & he immediately set up a treatment protocol.  He consulted with oncology specialists the entire way & kept down his prices as much as possible so we could treat her.  Without treatment, Ginger would have died in 6 weeks.  The average life-span with treatment is 1 year.  She lived one day shy of 2 years from diagnosis.  How gracious God has been to give me so much more time with my darling!  Her passing has cut me to the heart, but I rejoice over how long God allowed me to keep her.  Especially without suffering.  Michael's previous experience with lymphoma sarcoma in his beloved dog, Vicky, was traumatic because of her intense suffering.  I begged God not to let Ginger suffer, & He didn't.  Until the last hour - where she struggled to live, something I have not the heart to recount - she did not suffer.  The grief is still too near for me to describe my last hours with Ginger; I don't know if I'll ever be able to put that in writing.  However, He answered another prayer of mine - as He did all along the way - an almost constant prayer that I not have to put her down.  I would have given anything for something to ease her pain at the end, but I did not want her to die by my hand on a cold table in a clinical setting.  I wanted her at home in my arms, with me whispering my love in her ear.  God graciously, mercifully, granted me this.  Even though it was almost unbearably difficult, I saw her through to the end, & I hope that she felt comfort from my presence & knew that I love her.  I believe she did.

For me personally, God has surrounded me with love.  Michael is . . . words fail me.  He's loving, godly, comforting, amazing, supportive, phenomenal.  He's staying right by my side, grieving with me & being my strong shoulder to cry on.  He's a rock of love, solace, & comfort.  He speaks of God & His sovereignty, love, & mercy.  He gives me ice cream (hehehe!).  My family (both LA & AL), my church family, my friends, even Jake - all are gifts from God to me.  They've given me love, comfort, & pointed me toward God.  If any of y'all are reading this, know that I am so very thankful for you & I love you beyond measure.

Finally - or, rather, firstly in reality - God has given me Himself.  I've said before that I can't fathom how people endure this life without God.  Without Him, it's all pointless.  Losing Ginger would be pointless.  There'd be no reason behind it, & I would easily allow my grief to become anger & bitterness.  But, because I know Him - & I know that He is good - I know that He has allowed this suffering for a reason.  I don't know what that reason is, but I don't have to.  I know that He loves me, & I trust Him.  I know that He doesn't orchestrate events in order to harm me, for I know that "God works all things together for good for those who love Him & are called according to His purpose" (Romans 8:28).  I may not know His purpose behind this, but I can say that one thing that has been accomplished is that I long even more ardently for Home.  Michael read to me a chapter regarding pets in Randy Alcorn's book Heaven that was extremely comforting.  I believe that I will one day see Ginger again - whole, healthy, & happy.  I look forward to that day.  I look forward to the day when there will be no more sorrow, no more weeping, no more sin.  But even more so, I look forward to the day when I will see Jesus face to face, when I will never have to be parted from Him.  That will be a most glorious day!  So, my heart cries out, "Come quickly, Lord Jesus!"

Until that day, I will praise Him & worship Him, even in the midst of my pain & suffering.  For He is worthy.

Thank You, Lord God, for the gift that Ginger has been in my life.  Thank You for allowing me to be her mommy.  Thank You for Your grace & mercy throughout this trial, & especially now in my grief.  I know that You see my pain, that You grieve with me, that You keep all of my tears in a bottle, & that one day, all of my pain will find its end in unceasing joy.  Thank You for my loved ones' comfort, support, & love.  They are a blessing to me.  And thank You for You, for being my God, my Father, my Savior.  I love You; help me love You more.  In Christ's holy name I pray, Amen.

Pain & Hope

I'm supposed to be sleeping right now, but not much of that is happening for me lately.  Honestly, it's odd; sleep is usually my escape during times like these.  Last night excluded, the sleep that I have been able to snatch has been plagued by dreams of Ginger, & thus far less than restful.

I attempted to write last night, but just one look at the pictures of Ginger & I was wracked with sobs.  I've likened my constantly fluctuating emotions to weather, & let me tell you, the weather over here is stranger than any I've ever experienced.  One moment, there's a fierce summer thunderstorm.  It usually begins slowly, then builds til it consumes all of me.  My tears are the rain, my audible cries are the thunder, & I suppose my searing pain is the lightning.  Next moment there's icy cold numbness, where I'm so emotionally spent that I can't feel a thing.  No emotions & nothing matters.  It's not that I'm hopeless, I'm just . . . nothing.  Finally, like a tiny shaft of sunlight that breaks through the clouds for a time, there's hope.  I can't begin to express what a comfort Reformed theology has been to me.  Not in & of itself, mind you, but in how it points me back to God's sovereignty & love.  And of course, Michael is constantly by my side.  I told him many months ago, when we knew this moment would come, that it would probably be better for me to be able to grieve alone.  I thought that I wouldn't be able to fully release my emotions in his presence, that I would hold back to protect him from my pain.  I was so wrong.  There's absolutely no way that I could make it through this without him.

Reading back through, it all sounds . . . poetic, almost.  Actually living through it is not.  The last time I felt pain this severe was when my grandfather died nearly 17 years ago.  You want the unvarnished truth?  My heart has been ripped out & dashed into millions upon millions of pieces on the floor.  Sometimes I can't breathe.  My eyes are often swollen, red, & oh so exhausted from the tears that keep welling up & overflowing of their own accord.  Sometimes I curl up into a fetal position while I wail out my longing for my baby to come back to me.  "Please, God, PLEASE let me wake up from this nightmare!  I don't want it to be like this!  I don't want her to be gone!"  I've almost vomited several times when I've given in to the need to cry long & violently from deep within my body, so I have to be careful to calm myself down when I feel like I'm reaching that threshhold.  Which is often.  I keep seeing things that remind me of her, that bring back memories of her, & I burst into tears all over.  You'd think I'd have run dry already.  I fled Beth & Chris' house yesterday when Michael received a phone call from the pet cemetery informing us that they had just finished burying her.  I have to protect others from seeing my pain; I know they love me & want to be there for me, but it's too raw & violent to expose them to.  Michael soon came out & held me while I poured out my grief.  Dear sweet man.  He's an exemplary husband.  Words fail to express how much comfort he brings me, how much I feel his love, & how much I love him.  Jake's always here, too.  He honestly hasn't seemed to grieve like I expected him to, but he's sticking by my side, often giving me sugar or looking at me with his big doe eyes seeming to convey his love to me.  I couldn't bear it if the house were completely empty.  Having him to love on & play with is another comfort.

It's ironic to me that Ginger died one day short of the two year anniversary of her diagnosis.  Time has become a funny animal, seeming to move as slow as molasses in winter while rushing along at the same time.  It seems like ages ago when Mama & Dad left, yet that was just hours before my baby's last breath.  However, could 54 hours really have already flown by since that awful hour?  It's hard to fathom.  We came home last night, & I dissolved into tears when I realized that she wasn't waiting by the door.  She's been there every single day for the past 8 years, expecting me to drop everything & lean over to envelop her in my love.  How do I go on without her?  How do I live without her sweet face, adorable personality, & unconditional love?  These are my feelings, but God's truth grounds me.  My life & faith are built upon Him, & He's the solid rock.  This storm that is now crashing against me will not fell me.  I will lean on Him, & He will see me through this.  How people get through the trials that inevitably plague us in this life without God is beyond me.

I've received several emails from people that I dearly love, & I know y'all want to know how I'm doing.  This is the truth:  I'm hurting.  I'm grieving.  I'm in fairly constant pain that overshadows even happy moments.  But I'm going to be okay.  God is with me, & He will carry me through.  I don't grieve as one without hope.  Thank you for your prayers, for your words of love to me, for your support & encouragement.  They mean - you mean - far more than words can ever express.  At some point in the future, I'd like to tell you of how God has shown us His love & mercy throughout this entire trial.  For now, know that I'm leaning on God & receiving comfort from Him through all of my loved ones.  He is good, He is merciful, He's the Love of my life.

We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies.  (2 Corinthians 4:8-10)

R.I.P. Ginger Louise Boyd

We lost my sweet baby girl this morning at 4:15.  She died at home in my arms, just like I had begged God to allow.  He's been gracious, merciful, & loving all through this.  My heart is shattered, & I'm too emotional right now to write, but I know y'all have been praying for us.  Thank you.  Please continue to do so.  He's upholding me & giving me grace, but this is more painful than almost anything I've ever had to endure.