A life of love

A life of love
Everyone should have a Great Pyrenees

Sunday, March 14, 2010

Breathing in and out.....

I wanted to update after the very short post the other day.

I don't know that I have much to say, other than our tears flow hot and heavy and quite a lot, and we try to just keep moving through our days. I just don't see what God is doing with this. How does this make any sense? We asked God in the beginning for very clear confirmation that we were to adopt this baby, and it was nothing short of miraculously clear.

And now this?

No way to commemorate this child, this love. No child to watch grow, even for a short time. Nothing. Just gone. All that work and preparation for emptiness? How does this benefit anyone? Anyone at all???

How have we done a service for God?

Someone mentioned that maybe he needed to know that an earthly family loved him beyond measure so he could be happy in heaven. Maybe.

But how do I face the empty crib? The empty arms? The deep longing to hold my son that never was totally mine?

I don't know quite what to do with this, and some moments are better than others. Some moments I feel hope that God will use this somehow, that He has prepared us to send us another baby that needs us ready NOW. But I cannot see it.

Some moments I just sob.

I cannot touch his crib, his preemie clothes that are all laid out for him, the plaque that we just got - that quotes: "For this child we prayed" 1 Samuel 1:27.

His name was to be Samuel. Because I prayed and wept before God for a baby. Prostrate on the floor just like Hannah. Her I understood. His name was to be Samuel (Gift from God) Christie - after Steve's grandfather. That is our little boy. Little, imperfect in some eyes, boy.

I know that I will see him in heaven, that my Lord is dancing with my son right now. That He is kissing his head for me. That my son knows no pain, no sorrow, no sin, that he lives in a perfect world that we have yet to see.

And today, that is small comfort as my mama arms ache to hold him. Him who I never held and never will.

Today, I live in sorrow, in the midst of walking through the valley of the shadow of death. I know that the sun will shine again, that I will feel like seeing it again, but today, I don't.

I don't know what God will do with this, but I know He will do something with this. It is so hard to see through this glass darkly. I know one day, God will show us in his entirety, but until then I try to have faith that it is all as it should be and that my Lord weeps with me, and that He carries me.

Just keep praying with us. Thank you so much.

1 comment:

Hezra said...

I am so sorry, in the midst of our issues, I missed yours. Oh my. When I got your comment on my blog post today, my heart just wept for you and me both! I am so so sorry. I do know, that in our situation, having our homestudy ready and all, made the difference of why WE were able to get a new baby without being on waiting lists. So maybe you do need to have yours ready. I am facing the empty crib and arms and crying children too. I have no idea where God is taking this at all, but I am seriously following HIM, I will not wander the desert for a few decades. I am praying for peace for you all too.God bless you!