Mother's Day
Things don't go as planned. My mother's day was not what I expected it to be. Rather than announcing publically that another baby would be joining us in December, I'm walking through a miscarriage. Again.
A third baby joins his or her creator in heaven.
Mother's day morning was spent waking up and wondering if today would finally be the day that this
whole physical process of loss would be done, after weeks of waiting. It was spent telling the 3 year old and 6 year old that another sibling wasn't strong enough to join them on earth. That, no, I don't know if it was a brother or sister. That I wish I did. That I can't wait to meet all 3 of these mysterious tiny people one day, while concealing the true desperation and desire to see their dear, unknown faces. It was spent assuring them that God is still good, still kind, that He still loves them and Mama and this gone too soon baby.
Mother's day was not happy and glowing this year. No one even made it out of pajamas, or brushed their hair, or ate anything healthy (or anything that made sense, really), or took cute pictures. But Jesus allowed me a glimpse into the good work being done in my oldest child's heart. The beating, eager boy heart that tries to comprehend that God is still faithful and kind, while processing yet another piece of bad news. This is hope and life, a definitive contrast to the death that has been a part of me. This is the inexplicable work of the Holy Spirit, when something so unexpected, trusting, and honest flows from a pen in the hand of a 6 year old.
He is making new wine. Amen.
"God thank you for your works and hands and our house and mom and dad and Ellie and Theo and me. Amen.
Lord my God, good heavenly father, you will love me forever, thank you, your Oliver. Amen.
Will you give us a new baby, I hope so. Yours, Oliver. Amen."
A third baby joins his or her creator in heaven.
Mother's day morning was spent waking up and wondering if today would finally be the day that this
whole physical process of loss would be done, after weeks of waiting. It was spent telling the 3 year old and 6 year old that another sibling wasn't strong enough to join them on earth. That, no, I don't know if it was a brother or sister. That I wish I did. That I can't wait to meet all 3 of these mysterious tiny people one day, while concealing the true desperation and desire to see their dear, unknown faces. It was spent assuring them that God is still good, still kind, that He still loves them and Mama and this gone too soon baby.
Mother's day was not happy and glowing this year. No one even made it out of pajamas, or brushed their hair, or ate anything healthy (or anything that made sense, really), or took cute pictures. But Jesus allowed me a glimpse into the good work being done in my oldest child's heart. The beating, eager boy heart that tries to comprehend that God is still faithful and kind, while processing yet another piece of bad news. This is hope and life, a definitive contrast to the death that has been a part of me. This is the inexplicable work of the Holy Spirit, when something so unexpected, trusting, and honest flows from a pen in the hand of a 6 year old.
He is making new wine. Amen.
"God thank you for your works and hands and our house and mom and dad and Ellie and Theo and me. Amen.
Lord my God, good heavenly father, you will love me forever, thank you, your Oliver. Amen.
Will you give us a new baby, I hope so. Yours, Oliver. Amen."
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