the six-month milestone

[i will be sharing my testimony tonight at new life's summer church, and the following is what the Lord placed on my heart to share. may it bless you as much as writing out and claiming these truths has blessed me.]

i can hardly believe it. six months have {already} passed since our little levi went straight from a happy life in the womb and into the arms of Jesus. thankfully, he knew no pain, but the pain that we as his parents and family have endured has been the most gut-wrenching of my entire life. some days are easier than others, and, thankfully, most days are good days now, but the sorrow and emptiness can return without warning, bringing with them a flood of emotions.

just recently, i blogged about feeling like i've been thrown into a marathon unwillingly, and i hate running. but i've watched as so many friends have become pregnant and been blessed with precious babies over the past year or so, and although i have wanted to be a mom for as long as i can remember, my heart has ached in a new, fresh way since i was robbed of being levi's mom here on this earth. and although i am thrilled for all my friends, my heart has ached as i have longed to be able to reach those milestones with levi that my friends have with their little ones, rejoicing, as they should, over sitting up, eating solid foods, smiling, laughing, and just being the precious babies each of those children are.

but last week, as i thought about the six-month milestone that we wouldn't be celebrating with levi on this side of heaven, i felt the Lord press upon my heart to celebrate a different milestone, to celebrate what HE has done in our lives over the past half-year, for the Lord's hand and presence have been seen and felt as never before, and he is worthy of all glory and honour in our lives.

1) God is with us through every. single. trial. we. face. i remember just as strongly today as i did on that horrible night at the hospital as we received confirmation that levi's heart had stopped beating, how God so very gently whispered to me, "it's not over." and reminded me of the song by israel houghton with the same name with which i had encouraged other friends over the past year. i climbed off the examination table and sat down with suppe and said, "i know that this is going to sound crazy, but the Lord just whispered and said that it's not over, and we need to listen to that song. i don't know if that means that levi is going to miraculously come to life again or if God just wants to reassure us that he's in this journey with us and that levi's story isn't over. so we listened and wept and prayed with an urgency we'd never known. and we worshipped. we worshipped our God who is good and faithful and loving even in death. and although i knew this truth before, it was indelibly imprinted on my heart in this moment. and i am so thankful. God didn't have to whisper those words, that reminder to me, but he met me in the pit and blessed me.

2) tragedies make us more aware of, dependent on, and sensitive to God. i'll never forget suppe crawling into the hospital bed beside me after levi's cold little body had been removed from our room and our family had left us to get some sleep. as we held one another tightly and wept softly, he whispered through the tears that he hadn't felt so close to God in a very long time, if ever. and i looked at him and smiled and nodded. and it's true. starting with adam and eve and going through the whole biblical story, we see how the people of God walked away from him time and again because they thought they could do life on their own and that they didn't need God. and as easy as it is for us to shake our heads and judge the israelites in their sinfulness, pride, and utter stupidity, we are, in fact, just like them. from early childhood, we want to do things on our own and prove ourselves. but the truth is that we can't. we are nothing without God, but with him, through Jesus' blood spilled out for us on the Cross, we are the righteousness of God (2 Cor 5.21). and sadly, we often need hiccups, upsets, or even tragedies to be reminded that we can't do life alone; we need Jesus. and lying in that hospital bed, suppe and i both felt that we needed Jesus just to breathe, just to make it through one more second of one more day. and in his grace, the Lord is always there, thrilled that we realise our need for him, longing for us to be sensitive to his presence and work in our lives, and hoping that we will not, as peace and happiness eventually return, leave him by the wayside and forget our depravity and helplessness apart from him.

3) we don't have to know why. of course i asked God 1,000 questions when we learned that levi's precious heart had suddenly stopped beating. why him? why us? why now? i still don’t know why, and i may not until i get to heaven. as humans, we long for and feel that we need answers when things don't turn out the way we want them to or when life comes crashing down around us. and we long to know that what we're going through is going to be worth the pain in the end. but the truth is that God owes us nothing. he doesn't owe us answers or blessings or even life. EVERYTHING we receive from him is a gift, and only in his great grace may we one day receive a glimpse into the why, a glimpse into his perspective. every glimpse he chooses to give us is a blessing.  

4) there is no substitute for learning the Word of God and writing it on your heart. on saturday morning just two weeks after levi's death, i awoke with a longing for death and heaven like i have never known. as suppe was still sleeping, i got up and went into levi's old room that my mom had wisely suggested we turn into a prayer room, laid down and wept and cried out to God to take my life, that i could no longer bear the pain. i laid there for over an hour, weeping uncontrollably. but during that time, i experienced something that i have never before experienced in my walk with God: simultaneously as i cried out to die, cried out for God to end the pain, i heard countless Bible verses that i have learned over the years on repeat in my head. worship songs proclaiming the truth of God and the steadfastness of his character played on repeat like a broken record. and in a brief moment of clarity, i was overwhelmed by the truth that the Lord will indeed NEVER leave us or forsake us, not when we scream at him or pound our fists on the ground. we are his children, and he loves us with a love so deep that not even parents who love their children can ever fully grasp. so as every emotion in me cried out to die, the Lord, as only he can do, whispered his truths, his Word, in my heart and head. and i have never been more thankful for the passion God has given me to learn and memorise his Word, that as hebrews 4.12 reminds us, "the Word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and spirit, of joints and marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart." in that moment of darkness, the Word of God did just what it promises, as it pierced through the division of my soul and spirit and discerned that the true intention of my heart was not to die but to somehow meet God through the tragedy and bring him glory. 

5) knowing God and walking with him through times of peace enable us to walk with him through the fire. i didn't really think about this truth until my good friend jill brought it up to me when we talked just a few weeks after levi died. she reminded me that i have walked with God in times of peace, when life has gone "as it should." and in those times of daily life, i have learned his character. i have learned that the Word of God is very true and that God never ever reneges on his promises. he is good even when it doesn't feel like it to us. he never leaves my side even when i feel alone. he hurts when i hurt. he loves me with an everlasting love. and he. is. faithful. always. when we learn who God is on the good, easy days of life, we learn to trust him when sky falls and the earth quakes around us. and when it seems like he has abandoned or forgotten us, we can lay aside our feelings and speak out what we, deep down, know to be true. we can walk in faith knowing that HE. is. faithful. and he is so very good.

6) family has nothing to do with blood and everything to do with Jesus. just like many of you, i moved to sweden without any family or friends. and although i am incredibly thankful that my mom and step-dad were able to fly over from the states to be with us for two weeks when levi died, being away from my whole family was difficult. but what we found to be truly incredible was the way our friends, especially our friends in new life and in my church back home, united with us in support, love, and oh so much prayer. from the second we found out that levi had gone to heaven and sent an sms to kjell, john and a few others, the messages of prayer, love, support, and encouragement started pouring in...and they didn't stop for months. never in my life have we felt so covered in and carried by the intercession and love of the family of God. in what has been, without a doubt, the darkest time of our lives, the light of God has shown through people like you, his hands, his feet...through gifts of time, food, hugs, prayers, and listening ears. the body of Christ is beautiful, and one of the incredible things about Jesus is that when we ask him to take over our lives as Lord and Saviour, we not only gain a friend and King in him and receive forgiveness of our sins forever, we gain membership and belonging into the most amazing family in the world. thank you to each of you for being part of that family and for tangibly loving us with Christ's love.

and in closing, i read the following verses as part of our church's read-through-the-Bible-in-a-year plan this morning, and my heart was blessed. each and every word is true. <3

Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way. If you don’t know what you’re doing, pray to the Father. He loves to help. You’ll get his help, and won’t be condescended to when you ask for it. Ask boldly, believingly, without a second thought. People who “worry their prayers” are like wind-whipped waves. Don’t think you’re going to get anything from the Master that way, adrift at sea, keeping all your options open...Anyone who meets a testing challenge head-on and manages to stick it out is mighty fortunate. For such persons loyally in love with God, the reward is life and more life. James 1:2-8, 12, The Message

the marathon

**please do not write comments about the news in the first paragraph on public news feeds (i.e. facebook) until andreas and i have gone out with the news ourselves!!! i just figured that if you're one my faithful readers, then you're welcome to know! thank you for respecting our wishes!**

it's not public news, at least not facebook news yet, but i'm 13 weeks pregnant, a full trimester on friday, and i'm not even excited about it. don't get me wrong. i've waited what seems like a lifetime to become a mom, but after losing levi, getting excited seems scary. hoping seems scary. 

back in february, as i was sitting in a worship service in new life, God whispered a name to me, a name that will, most likely become the name of our next child. not sure of the meaning and slightly obsessed with the meaning of the name, as i believe our names say a lot about who we are, i looked up the meaning, and it filled me with the promise of hope. i so need hope right now. i so need to believe, i have to believe, that God wants to bless us with a living, breathing child, and that he is healing us.

at the same time, however, the voice of reality--or is it satan? they sound so familiar at times--attempts to drown out God's gentle whispers of hope with screams that God's already allowed my dreams to be crushed without explanation, so of course he'll do it again. but i know. deep within, buried under the hurt and heartbreak, the tears and the sorrow, i know. i know that the Lord is working for my good. i know that he loves me. i know that he longs to be, that he is my hope. and i hold on for one more day.

but my reoccurring problem at the moment is that i've felt for awhile now that i'm in some sort of race, a marathon of sorts, and yesterday morning, the feeling just overwhelmed me to the point of tears. a close friend just gave birth to her fourth child the other morning. another to her second a few months ago, and yet another her sixth. and then there's me with no baby. we were supposed to be in this together, my friends and i (they have been very supportive during this time, but i'm still struggling).

when i checked my facebook feed yesterday morning (sometimes a very uplifting moment, but today, quite the opposite effect was produced), i was bombarded with beautiful pics of said friend and family and baby, of news that other university friends are expecting their fourth child in september, and THEN, that two more university friends (not close ones, but still) are due the same week in january as i am. for one of them, it's her second child, and for the other, her third.

and feeling blindsided by all that information, i was struck with two main thoughts:

1) i can imagine that none of these friends are worried now nor have been worried about losing their babies. none of them are still so overwhelmed with grief (and maybe a bit of fear, too) that they don't know how to celebrate and anticipate their upcoming births. none. of. them. i'm in the middle of a bloody baby boom, and i don't have one single friend--thank God!-- who truly understands what i'm going through or who's even feared going through it. sometimes i feel so alone in my grief.

2) i'm in the middle of a wretched marathon. i. hate. running. i even hate the thought of running. i always have, and i certainly don't expect that opinion to change anytime soon, not even in light of swedish author martina haag's popular book Heja, heja!, that should inspire all women everywhere to put on their best sports bras and snazziest new running shoes and, well, run. i won't. I. HATE. RUNNING. and, yet, here i am in the midst of the worst imaginable marathon EVER, a marathon in which i never chose to run, compete, or even be. you see, i feel like all these families that i know and honestly love and have nothing in the world against--please hear that--are living out my dream, MY BLOODY DREAM, {my dream} of having a big family, {my dream} of being a mom, and they're all doing it with such grace and beauty and LIFE! i see Jesus working in and through their lives and blessing them with babies, and my heart aches for that which God placed there so very long ago.

to add salt to the wound, most of these women who are beautiful inside and out pop out babies and then return to their gorgeous, pre-baby weights like magic. but not me. weight and i have never been friends. whether or not i have the "crutch" of grief "on my side," the fact is that according to my BMI, which i realize doesn't take into account a lot of things, i am clinically obese. my medical journal from levi's delivery said so. i've not been able to breastfeed to help lose weight after that difficult pregnancy, and i have grieved. i have grieved well, and i have been exhausted for months. i haven't lost weight like i planned or thought i would, the weight of shame, the weight i carry that no one understands, the weight that is unable to hold up levi and explain or defend my case (not that anyone's actually accusing me of anything, well, other than the medical community here, but that's more than enough for me to handle). that weight. that burden. that heartache. 

just a few weeks after finally rejoining the gym and feeling that my energy levels were increasing and that i was up for exercising, i fell ill with a nasty cold that knocked me out for a good week. and just as it was subsiding, i had to have a pre-cancerous spot from my breast removed, deeming the one semi-appealing form of water exercise a non-option. and, of course, morning/all-day sickness then invaded my body like an unwelcome alien, creating a constant hunger, repeatedly embarassing vomiting scenes, and an exhaustion (combo of grief + pregnancy?!?) like i have never before experienced.

only this past weekend, a good six weeks later, have i felt like moving, staying awake, living, not starving, and not vomiting. so, it's so ironically appropriate that i awoke on yesterday morning to a wave of facebook-slaps-reality-in-my-face grief that, more or less, consumed my day. of course.

but during my Bible reading yesterday morning, as i tried in my broken state to consume the Word of God, i came across The Message's paraphrase of lamentations 3. several of these verses (21-23) have held a place in my heart for years and have promised me hope that joy will come in the morning. but yesterday, in the midst of this marathon in which i found myself, in the midst of reading about the israelites' captivity in babylon, i read these words again. and in the midst of the tears and anger and frustration and exhaustion, the LORD spoke to me afresh through his Word:

19-21 I’ll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness,
    the taste of ashes, the poison I’ve swallowed.
I remember it all—oh, how well I remember—
    the feeling of hitting the bottom.
But there’s one other thing I remember,
    and remembering, I keep a grip on hope:

22-24 God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out,
    his merciful love couldn’t have dried up.
They’re created new every morning.
    How great your faithfulness!
I’m sticking with God (I say it over and over).
    He’s all I’ve got left.

25-27 God proves to be good to the man who passionately waits,
    to the woman who diligently seeks.
It’s a good thing to quietly hope,
    quietly hope for help from God.
It’s a good thing when you’re young
    to stick it out through the hard times.

28-30 When life is heavy and hard to take,
    go off by yourself. Enter the silence.
Bow in prayer. Don’t ask questions:
    Wait for hope to appear.
Don’t run from trouble. Take it full-face.
    The “worst” is never the worst.

31-33 Why? Because the Master won’t ever
    walk out and fail to return.
If he works severely, he also works tenderly.
    His stockpiles of loyal love are immense.
He takes no pleasure in making life hard,
    in throwing roadblocks in the way.

hope. that's what i had yesterday and what i have today. and tomorrow. and the day after that. and although life will disappoint me time again, {his hope} will not. romans 5.5 (niv) says, "and hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us." and then there's hebrews 6.19 reminding me that hope securely anchors my soul to Jesus. so i will hope...and know that the only marathon i'm truly running is the one Christ has set before me (hebrews 12.1-2) and that Jesus is my prize...and he's already won! AMEN!