Having a Moment...

Today I miss my baby.  Overall, we have been doing well. Better than what I expected- to be honest. We get up each day.  Joy often comes with the morning.  And our life is moving forward. We are not moving on but we are moving forward. It is hard to believe that our precious Samuel Tekoa Wiens entered this world and then left it again almost six weeks ago already. Some days- it does not even feel like all this has happened and some days (or moments)- it feels all too real and raw.

I have been hanging onto a verse from Lamentations which our Pastor highlighted this past Sunday-- "Yet I still dare to hope" (Lamentations 3:21). 

Though we were caught off guard - blindsided really- with the news of Samuel's diagnosis- last October 1- we still dared to hope.  We hoped for His healing. We hoped for medical error. We hoped to see him not suffer. We hoped to have him- even for a short time. We dared to hope. We clung to hope. It held the darkness back and made facing each day possible.    

Though we were caught off guard with his quick and early arrival on February 6, 2014- we still dared to hope. We hoped for a cry and we got two small squeaks. We hoped for a snuggle and we got 10 precious minutes. We dared to hope. We clung to hope. In the midst of those moments- in the valley of the shadow of death- hope allowed us to breathe.  It allowed us to stay standing. It allowed us to see the gift we had been given in Samuel and the miraculous way in which the days circumstances unfolded.

Each day since Samuel's birth and death- we dare to hope. Each moment I spend with God- I find hope in the fact that the same God I am talking to and listening to is the God that- in the same moments- is holding my precious baby in His arms. Somehow- this eases my broken mama heart and my aching mama arms. If I close my eyes- I can almost picture the two of us sitting at the feet of Jesus together - it is just that one of us is doing so in a literal manner while the other is doing so figuratively. I cling to this hope.

We dare to hope in the redemptive nature of our Lord. We have hope in the fact that He is still good despite this loss. We have hope that He is using the story of Samuel to refine us and to impact others. We have hope that He is making right all that is broken in this situation. We dare to hope. 

We dare to hope that one day we will be reunited with our son-- oh what a glorious day that will be. What a gift- that we have that hope to hang onto. My longing for heaven has changed through this experience. And to think- our child- will be able to show us the ropes! We dare to hope. 

I started this post- clinging to the pictures below. The life in Samuel's eyes. The peace as his heart still beat (albeit slowly) against my chest. These pictures reflect the brief moments we had our son alive. Though I tried to memorize his face and his body in those moments and the hours that followed with him-  the time was too short- to really know him. Some days I close my eyes and I cannot see him. I can still smell him but I cannot see him. I can still feel his cheeks on my lips but I cannot see him. I can feel the weight of his body in my arms but I cannot see him. When I started this post- my hurt felt too raw. Too unfair. Too heavy. Yet upon reflection- I still dare to hope.