The process continues- it has been a while since I last blogged. Not even sure if anyone bothers to check in here anymore. However, this last week- I randomly met someone while we were camping who happened to know our story because she had been reading our blog which she was directed to by a friend of mine. This is not the first time that I have met a complete stranger who has known our story before meeting me. After meeting her- I was reminded that this is a place that God uses to help me process as well as a place where I have seen Him inspire my thoughts and words and then use them to impact other people and, as a result, continue to redeem Samuel's story. I am not sure what shape this blog will continue to take but I will write when I feel convicted to do so. The following feels a bit jumbled but- as I said it is a process- so please bear with me.
Today marks five months since our precious Samuel entered this world and then peacefully slipped into eternity. My arms still ache. I long to hold him close. I grieve the fact that he is buried in a cemetery in Surrey rather than snuggled in a bassinet in our trailer (we are camping). I long for his cries to wake me up in a few hours because he needs another feeding. I wish I could kiss his precious baby cheeks just one more time and I am sad that I will never know his little personality (or big one- if he would have been anything like his sister).
I often get asked- how I am doing. A fair question for sure. Even appreciated as it makes me feel like others have not forgotten our son or our loss.
My answer :
Well. We are doing well. We continue to experience a peace that passes all understanding. If prior to Samuel's birth I felt that an impending wave was coming toward us; a wave that felt like it may consume us, I now feel like the sea is settling and we have come up for air. We are still wet. Some days we feel a bit aghast. But our head is above the surface and we can breathe. Before ever conceiving Samuel, as I heard stories of other mother's losing their children or birthing a stillborn-- I remember thinking- Oh Lord that could never be me. I was rendered powerless at the thought of facing circumstances so horrific. I was sure I would drown and never resurface. But we have. God is good. All the time. He has carried us and has not just left us sputtering but we are resurfacing- we are being refreshed and we are breathing deeply and we have been given strength and even much joy.
That said- our joy is still not absent of grief. I had a friend tell me the other day that I am still not quite back to my old self. I have been chewing on this the last couple of days. It has bothered me. I thought I was doing particularly good- so what did she mean that I was not back to my old self? The more I have pondered this- the more I realize that my old self is exactly that- my old self. It will never return. I have been changed by this experience.
I walk in peace only by walking in surrender.
When it snowed in February and March and my mind wandered to my precious son being wrapped in a light blanket, buried in in a casket underneath all that snow-- I had to choose surrender. I had to choose to hang onto the hope that I have that my son is actually resting and giggling in the arms of Jesus.
When another person complains about their pregnancy, their labour or their children-- I have to choose surrender. I have to choose to see them as Christ see's them and to love them with His eyes-- and then I can have empathy for their current feelings and I can walk with them in whatever they are struggling with.
Our joy and grief dance together on a daily basis-- sometimes in subtle ways and sometimes in ways that are more potent.
I have had a few moments in the last week in particular where this has been true. The other day, as I floated on an air mattress in the middle of a lake- I found myself feeling quite full of bliss. The sun was shining, the air was warm, the water was refreshing and my surroundings were breathtaking. As I sat in that moment, breathing it in, the tears began to flow and out of my heart of complete joy I missed my son and I stood face to face with my grief. I LOVED that moment- it was beautiful, it was healing.
Ultimately, I find rest in knowing that Samuel is whole and he is not suffering. Not only that but he is daily rejoicing with Jesus. He is already experiencing being face to face with Christ-- something that I can only continue to long for until my time here is complete.
I feel conviction. I DO NOT want to miss what the Lord is saying. What is He calling us to through all of this. I feel discontent with living the status quo. I feel the pull to something more. He has put his finger on our lives. He has carried us through this. He continues to bring redemption to Samuel's story-- where is He leading us. What does He have for us out of this. I will never be the same- so what should the new me look like?
I am reading a book called "Kisses from Katie" (I highly recommend it). Today, I read the same page over and over again because every time I sat down to read- Moriah engaged me in the excitement of our surroundings. That said- maybe the Lord knew that today- on the day that marks Samuel's five month birthday and death anniversary-- I needed to be reminded of the verse that marked the start of my page--
Job 1:21-- The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.
Our story of Samuel brings me so much joy. He is such a gift. As I continue to share his story-- even when my heart aches- I not only choose to say- blessed be the name of the Lord but I truly believe that He is good.
