July 27, 2010

Thanks For Asking...

Allen and I have been overwhelmed by the outpouring of love in the past few weeks.  We are humbled... and encouraged... and uplifted by the letters, cards, emails, comments, flowers, meals, phone calls... and more from our church family, friends... and even Christian brethren we've met only through the blog world.  As we shared with our church family last week, we have felt tightly wrapped in a blanket of prayer that has showed us the face of our Lord and healer... at a time that we've known pain we didn't think possible.  It seems too simple and trite to simply say "thank you", but I there are no other words to adequately express what we feel.

It is inexplicable how we can all at once feel such joy and sadness, but there it is.  Sadness in the loss of Gussie.  Joy in the amazing ways we have seen our Lord through His mighty works and through the love of those He has put in our life. Sadness in the moments we will never know with our child.  Joy in the promise that He is, even at this moment, with the Lord.  Joy at the guarantee that we will see Him again in eternity.

Email... phone call... face to face.  Everyone asks the same question.  How are we doing?  What can I say?  Sometimes, I can get out the words.  Physically, I'm not feeling too bad.  It's all the rest I wish I could get past.  Most of the time, all I can do to reply is nod my head.  Those who know me understand what it means. 

I cry.  A lot.  But not as much as I did a week ago.

Above all, I want life to be normal.  Yet, many days, I can't get my mind to focus long enough to accomplish even the simplest of tasks.

I am grateful that I can sleep better these days.  More than the four hours I did in the first week.  Some mornings I wake and I have to will myself to stop lying there thinking and get out of bed.

I hate to see people and yet, I am everlasting grateful for those who have been there before and know better than me and visit anyway.  Sitting to talk about plain-every-day-normal-old-fashioned life.

I want to forget about everything and just move on.  Still, I am grateful for those who have been there before and know better and share their stories and listen to me pour out my heart and cry with me for a while.

I can't seem to reconcile the part that one day we are rejoicing at the baby growing among us and the next moment I am no longer pregnant... but unlike seven times before there is no little one to fill our arms.  I want to be pregnant more than anything.  I want to never be pregnant again.

I have held the hand of so many when they were suffering loss and dealing with grief.  Mourning.  Hurting.  I have told them it's good to cry.  Normal.  Healthy.  Yet, I feel anything but normal and healthy.  I am sick of crying.

I try to move on and the simplest of things bring it all back.  Like a rainstorm yesterday.  What used to bring me great joy, moved me to tears.  Again.  My husband asked if I would always cry when it rains.  And the only answer I could give is the only one that I can give for anything these days.  "I don't know."

I am tired of the roller coaster.  Laughing one minute at the delight of the little ones around us.  Crying the next for the one who will never be here.

Yet, never for one minute have we not felt the Lord surrounding us.  Holding us up.  Caring for our broken hearts.  Wiping our tears.  Never have we doubted that His will has been done.  That it is for His glory.  For a greater plan which we can't yet understand.  Maybe, will never understand. 

What more can we ask for?  So, thanks for asking... We're Okay.


  1. You are so brave to share such personal things, but I know it will minister to others as they go through similar feelings. Praying for you and your family!

  2. What a beautiful post. Thank you for sharing your heart. Praying for you!

  3. You know, you're redefining normal. You're mourning a future you'd already pictured in your mind. It is something that takes time and that people wish they could help with, but only our faith and time truly help. Just know we think of you and hope that you'll soon be looking forward with joy, not the sense of loss you can't help but feel right now.