The Past and The Pitcher

In one of my books on grieving the loss of a child, the author suggests smashing a piece of pottery as a form of therapy.

I thought this was one of the dumbest things I had ever heard.

I was on my way to pick up Todd at the airport while we were at the beach, and on the way there, I was listening to my David Crowder CD and talking to God (these two always go hand in hand). I try not to dwell on the past any more than I need to, because there are hurts that aren't totally healed.  It was a sunny day and I was alone with my music, so I guess it was as good a time as any to remember.  As it turns out, I'm glad I did.  

Before I get to all that, let me start with my first image of Jesus.  

At my grandparent's condo, there was an image of the Lord that hung by the fold-out couch that my sister and I used to sleep on in the guest room.  It was surrounded by photographs of my dead Italian family, mostly women who a)looked like they should have slowed down on the lasagna servings and b)decided collectively that whenever a camera was around, they would pretend they were really angry and stare at the lens.  Right there, on the wall of Sicilian terror, hung the face of Christ.

It was one of those "watch you wherever you go" faces, and I would wake up in the middle of the night and feel like He was staring at me.  I actually devised an elaborate system that involved my sister and me taking shifts, so that neither of us would be caught unaware in the event that He or any of the dead ladies decided to make a midnight visit. 

Let's just say it wasn't a great first impression.

Years later, 2 events occurred that shaped my life dramatically.  The first was during graduate school.  My dad called me one day and told me that he had been diagnosed with cancer.  They were going to do further testing, but things didn't look good.  I remember the words "3 months" being tossed around.  I am a daddy's girl in every sense of the word.  Although I had no background with the church, or with the Lord, I decided to do something crazy.

I made a bet with God.

It went something like this.  You heal him, and I will find out about you.  

It sounds kind of crazy, but I was desperate.  The closest thing to prayer I had up to that point was asking God in the fifth grade to make my bowl haircut grow out while I slept.  He failed me.  I have pictures to prove it.

On Christmas Eve, we got a phone call from the doctor.  The tests had come back.

They couldn't find the cancer.

When I got back to Nashville (I went to Vanderbilt for grad school), I called the local Catholic Church and asked them how to learn about God.  It turned out they had classes for this kind of thing, and they were about to start (go figure). I went to classes for a year and got to know God a little better.  I decided that I needed to get rid of my boyfriend, who I had dated for almost 6 years.  He was abusive in every sense of the word, and there are a lot of deep wounds I still carry with me from that time period.  It was completely unhealthy, and one of those times I look back on and wish I could change.  It hurts because even though I didn't have a relationship with God at the time, I feel like I was unfaithful to Him.  

Fast-forward a few years.  I was driving home from work and talking to Audra on the phone.  A woman was not paying attention and pulled out right in front of me.  I slammed on my brakes but not fast enough to prevent my car from hitting her and rolling over.  I remember the sound of glass breaking and a scream (I guess it was mine).  I climbed through the window of my Grand Cherokee and cut my shoulder on the way out.  It was the only injury I sustained. 

I noticed that the police officers who came to the scene of the accident were taking pictures of my car, now upside-down in a pool of glass.  I asked them why, and they told me that based on the way the car had rolled, coupled with the fact that I wasn't wearing my seatbelt, I should have been under the front wheel of the car.  I didn't understand why that was interesting enough to photograph until I looked at the car.  There was only one item that had come out of the car as I flipped, and it was now pinned under the front wheel.  It was the rosary that I had been given by the Church when I finished my classes, and it was covered in my blood.  Not a single bead was broken.  I knew in that moment what many people are blessed enough to learn early in life.

He died for me.

I went to the chapel with Audra later that night (after she came flying to the hospital with wet hair because she had heard the wreck happen on the phone) and we cried together at His mercy.  The door started to open for a relationship with Christ, but I didn't fully let Him in.  I met Todd the weekend of October 15th, 2000.  I had gone to visit the jerk the weekend before, and my new Christian friends were trying to get me to go to church.  They invited me on this retreat thing, and to be honest I thought that pulling my arm-hair out sounded like more fun, but I was desperate.

The theme of the retreat was "Grace."  I walked by a room where Todd was rehearsing and I saw him.  He loves this story because I basically fell head-over-heels for him instantly.  I have the journal entry from that day, and this is what I wrote:

"Lord, I know I'm not good enough for him.  But could you just let me have someone like him?"

Almost 8 years and 5 kids later, I am a better person because God let me have him.

So, back to the pottery and the drive to the airport.  If you are still with me, I promise there is a point I am trying to get to...

As I was driving, God spoke to me clearly, and He asked me to do something odd.  I started thinking about this pitcher that I have in my house, and as soon as it came to mind, He told me to smash it.  I thought about the book that said to break pottery and I kind of shrugged it off, but I really felt like that's what He wanted me to do.

Thank God my neighbors know me well enough to not call the police when I throw a perfectly good pitcher onto my front porch at ten o'clock at night.  I watched it shatter, and I must apologize to the author of that book.  It felt great.

I waited for a few moments, taking it in.  What next? I asked.

Again, He was very clear.

Put it back together again.

What I wanted to do was go to bed, but I felt like He was meaning now, so I gathered all the pieces together and brought them in the house.  I told Todd what was going on, and he took a look at the tiny shards of porcelain, knowing it was going to be a long night.  I went and got the hot glue gun and sat down in the kitchen.  It was hard to know where to start, but I found the lip and the handle relatively intact, and just kind of made it up as I went.  I talked to the Lord while my fingers worked, and He stayed near to me.  I would love to tell you that it was like a movie where it's all sweet and perfect, but the truth is that I glued my finger to it at one point and cut myself bloody several times.  I thought about swear words that I wanted to say.  

But, still I kept at it.

And as I worked, He let me think about my past.  Mistakes that I have long regretted.  I began to realize that this pitcher was my life, and every piece was part of story that He had chosen to put together.  I started crying, and remembering things I thought I had forgotten.  It took a long time to finish, but it was time well spent.  Every nook and cranny whispered to me, until at last it stood in all its imperfection.  

Here you are, Angie.

You are mended.  You are filled with my Spirit,  and I am asking you to pour yourself out.

The image of my life as a broken pitcher was beautiful to me, but at the same time, it was hard to look at all of the cracks.

I ran my fingers along them and told Him I wish it had been different. How I wished I had always loved Him, always obeyed Him, always sought Him the way I should.  I was mad at the imperfections, years wasted, gaping holes where it should be smooth.

But God, my ever-gracious God, was gentle and yet convicting as He explained.

My dearest Angie.  How do you think the world has seen me?  If it wasn't for the cracks, I couldn't seep out the way I do. I chose the pitcher. I chose you,  just as you are.

At the risk of sounding like a nutcase, I am going to make a suggestion.

Find a piece of pottery, and let it shatter at your feet.  

Take the time to be with the Lord as you piece it together again (but beware the wrath of the glue gun...).  Let Him tell you who you are, and let yourself be reminded of the grace that seals us all.  You may not know Him at all, or you may be a "flannel-board Jesus" kid.  It makes no difference.  I am praying as I type these words that He will come to you and remind you that He loves the gaps because there is the potential for more of Himself revealed in you.  Let him help you smash and rebuild his most coveted posession...you.

"Go down to the potter's house, and there I will give you my message"  So I went down to the potter's house, and I saw him working at the wheel.  But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him...Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand...Jeremiah 18:2-6

Angie

p.s. if you do this, I want you to send me pictures of your "new art!"  

p.p.s.  My pitcher now sits in the middle of my kitchen table, constantly displaying the work of God for all who come to my home:)  Thank you for the mending, Lord.  I love You.

Urgent Prayer Request

I can't think of a faster, more efficient way to mobilize prayer than to post this here...

Please, please pray (right now!) for Steven Curtis Chapman and his family. Details are still in process, but it appears that one of his sons was pulling into their driveway this evening and did not see his sister (5 year old Maria..adopted from China) in front of him.  She was struck by the car and killed.  

I have met him, but do not know him personally, although his reputation as a Christ-centered man precedes him.  I cannot imagine what they are going through right now.  

Please pray specifically for peace tonight in the midst of the storm. Feel free to leave those prayers here in the comments section, as well as any scriptures you feel you have been led to pray for them.  There is power in the living word of God...power that a dear family needs tonight.

Thank you-

Angie

My Birthday, your questions!

First of all, please let me express my deepest thanks to those of you who sent me emails, gifts, and prayers on my Birthday yesterday.  I cannot believe how many of you "strangers" thought to bless me with your acknowledgements!  

It was a good, full day.  We recorded Audrey's song, and although we got a lot of great stuff (Amy can SING....as if you didn't already know....:) ), we decided that the demo was really special because of the timing of it.  I was still pregnant with Audrey, and I held the little headphones around my tummy while we were recording so that she could hear it.  She kicked while she listened, and every time I hear it, that is what I remember.  I also remember that Amy was crying during the recording, and we left it in the song because it just captured the moment so beautifully.  

So, although I think they are going to add some things from yesterday (as well as a string arrangement from somebody VERY special..more on that later!), we are going to leave a lot of the demo the way it is.  One thing we did do yesterday, which I am really excited about, is to create a version for people who have lost boy babies (so instead of "her" in the last verse, it says "him" etc....). This will be known as the "Elliot" version of the song, in honor of Sara's baby Elliot.  We have had many requests for the song to be played at baby funerals etc, and I really wanted to have one for mommies that have lost their sons as well.  I have some bad news about the CD, though...the release date has been pushed back to next Spring because the business people say they need more time to market it...stinky, I know :(  BUT, it is worth the wait...it is a great, great record...

Last night we went to a benefit dinner for the Hope Clinic, and it was amazing. The woman who runs the Hope Clinic surprised me with a cake (thank you, Renee!!!) that tasted like heaven on earth.  The dinner was held at the new-ish Symphony Hall in Nashville, and celebrated 25 years of dedication to unborn lives.  I never cease to be amazed at what God has done with this ministry.  If you would like to contribute, make sure and mention Audrey Caroline on your check...we are going to do something special in honor of her there, and I will keep you posted on the details. I cannot think of a better way to have spent my Birthday! It was a blessed day, and I have no doubt that all of your prayers to that end reached me.  

I have been so excited to start answering your questions, and they are all so interesting that this may take awhile, because I would love to get to all of them. There were three that seemed to keep showing up (the same three that people have emailed me for months, so I am glad to have the opportunity to address them here!), so I will start with those. One is about writing a book, one is about how I met Todd, and the last is about how I came to Christ.

First off, the easy one.

I am humbled (not just in the way that nice people know they are supposed to say they are, but in the "I can't believe this" crying tears of gratitude way...) that so many of you have commented on my writing.  It is something I love doing, and have never really pursued the way I wanted to.  I would love to share this with you, though, because it is so like God to do it. 

A few months before we found out Audrey's diagnosis (I was already pregnant with her), I was working on a proposal for a Christian parenting book and was in the process of securing a publishing deal with a Christian publisher.  Before I could finish it, January 7th rolled around and I told them I needed to not be thinking about anything but the baby.  I know now what I did not know then.

That was not the book I was supposed to write.  

I mention this next part because I covet your prayers in the coming months. We have been presented with a few opportunities that are above and beyond what I could have dreamed up, and they have fallen in line with very specific prayers about how Audrey's story will be told, if it is to be told at all.  Todd and I felt strongly that if there was an opportunity for publishing of any sort, it would not be because we sought it out, but rather because God gave it to us. We also asked that if someone was going to publish it, they would come across it because of personal experience and not because of "business."  There were a few other requests to God in there as well, and Todd and I are prayerfully considering a few options that have come our way. As it stands, we have as much time as we need to in order to mull things over, and that may be years. We are so focused on figuring out how to "do life" again that this hasn't really settled in, but I hope and pray that there will be a day...

What I know is that I want people to have a resource from another mommy who understands the pain of losing a baby, and I want people to meet my sweet Audrey. Please pray for discernment in this area...we feel ill-equipped and unqualified, but confident that this is the best way for God to show up. And thank you for even asking the question...if nothing else were to come of it, I would know that God had chosen you all to encourage me, and that is more than I could have asked for...thank you.  I will certainly keep you all posted if there are any developments:)

A lot of people also asked how Todd and I met...the quick version is that we met at a singles retreat...he was singing, and I got dragged to it by some friends who later became my bridesmaids and several of my dearest friends.  On the trip up there (Fall Creek Falls), I was shaking.  I had no idea why, but at one point I said to the girls, "I think one of us is going to meet our husband this weekend!"  Little did I know...

The long version involves your third question, and some details that I have hesitated to share because they are complicated.  This is the bottom line:

If God can use me, He can use anyone.

I think that before I get into that story, I should pause.  I have already made this longer than I intended, and because of my "no edit" policy, I fear that I cannot go back and make it more concise or clear:) I am my own worst enemy.

I will say this.

I did not grow up going to church.

I did not know Jesus for most of my life.

I did not know Jesus on October 15th, 2000, when I met my future husband.  

I did not know that a Savior could love me the way He does, given what He knows about my life before Him.  

If I hadn't received so many emails from people who feel like I have it all together spiritually, I probably would never have dreamed of sharing this part of my life.  God spoke to me while I was at the beach, and He was pretty clear about what He wants me to write.  It isn't really a pretty story, but it has a great Hero, and a beautiful courtship.  It is the most meaningful (and difficult) think I have ever tried to put on paper, but it is worth the hurt. I am planning on posting that soon, and do hope it will meet you wherever you are, and that it will whisper Jesus to you.  

I do have one request, though.  I have noticed that a lot of you write things like, "Although we will never meet..." Well, don't:)  I want to feel like we will, and that I will get to thank you in person.  It makes me sad to think that I might not get that chance...so, instead, let's say "When I meet you..."  That feels better.

I will have you know that in the middle of a restaurant in Destin, I struck up a conversation with a complete stranger.  Several minutes into it, Todd and the girls came over to tell me that our table was ready. I guess that triggered something in her mind, because she looked at me with a big smile and said, "I know you! You have a blog, don't you? I have been praying for you!"  I grabbed her by the neck and squeezed her until the other patrons were sufficiently confused (security was not alerted), and then I thanked God for showing me some of the flesh behind the prayers.  I hope He continues to do this for years to come.

Thank you for listening, for loving, and for encouraging me.  

Oh, and also...I can't wait to meet you.

Angie

SURPRISE!!!

(written on Sunday evening...5/11/08...Mother's Day)

I feel so sneaky.

I have wanted to ask for prayer for the past few weeks, but I was working on keeping a real good secret, and I am proud to say I pulled it off.

Yesterday, I went to Texas and surprised Sara.

It was the greatest, worst day I have had in a long time. I woke up at 5 a.m. after only getting about three hours of sleep, and headed for the airport (and you all know how much I love flying, right?) Well, it's a good thing I had no idea how bad the flight would be, or I probably wouldn't have gotten onboard. Proof that God shields you sometimes from the hard stuff coming up because He sees what you don’t, and to get to it, sometimes you just gotta get on the plane.

The poor man next to me was very patient when I asked him if I could hold his hand and then proceeded to draw blood from his forearm while screaming "Oh, Lord...NOOOOOOO LORD ..NOOOOOO!!!!!"

In an attempt to distract me (note to anyone who tries this...if someone's head is lodged in your armpit, asking them about their day is going NOWHERE), he asked about my travel plans. I told him I was flying to Dallas and then later that day, to Pensacola. He took his pointer finger and drew a little map in the air of my flight route with a questioning look on his face.

"That seems like a strange way to go." He wanted me to explain.

I didn't.

Later in the flight, he fell asleep and then we hit another "patch" of air. Let me rephrase.

I saw Auntie Em.

I woke him up because I felt weird about grabbing the hand of a sleeping man I didn't know. And because he offered me his hand again, I offered him my story.

By the time I got off the plane, I was a wreck. He helped me get into the airport, and I thanked him and asked if he wanted to meet me in 19B on a flight to Pensacola later. I was joking. He was not. I pulled the old "I have such a tiny bladder" girl trick and ducked into the bathroom. Yikes. Not a good start to the day.

Sara's friend Debra picked me up at the airport (here's where it starts to get better). We had a great time chatting about the big surprise, and I started to remember why I had gotten on the dumb plane in the first place

When we got to the church for Elliot's celebration service, Debra made the "eagle has landed" call, and we got into position. As I waited for Sara to come around the corner, I just kept thinking, She's not going to recognize me. She is just going to stare at me and not know why everyone is acting like she should be excited.

It felt like about a half an hour passed while I waited in this little office, and then I heard someone whisper, "Here she comes."

As she rounded the corner, her eyes looked right into mine.

I don't know how to say this other than to say it simply.

We knew each other.

She blinked, and tears started coming down her face. Lots of them and all at once. We hugged and hugged and neither wanted to let go, because it just made sense that way. We would start to talk and then halfway through a sentence we would just start hugging again. It was one of my favorite moments ever.

I got to meet her husband Brandon and all of their family and friends, and they made me feel like part of them. They have an amazing support system, thank God. Several times throughout the day, people would be looking at me and ask, "Are you Angie?" They had been following my blog because of how similar the story was to Sara's, and as a result, had been in prayer for Audrey. I cannot tell you how much it meant to put faces to the prayers..beautiful, sweet, sincere faces. Amazing.

The service was gorgeous and God-honoring in every way. We laughed at the way it mirrored Audrey's, even down to some of the song choices, although we had never discussed it. I kept thinking about how grateful I was to be there and be a part of it. About fifteen minutes into it, Brandon and Sara read letters to Elliot.  I started to cry (in a pretty, “Days of Our Lives” kind of way). Approximately ten seconds after that, I shifted into the “snot flying out of your nose, making sounds that only dogs can hear” mode. 

Luckily, everyone understood.

I am not exaggerating when I say that this was one of the hardest hours of my life. It was like looking into a mirror, but from a different angle. All of a sudden it felt like it was too much to bear. I kept looking at the tiny box of Elliot’s ashes on the front podium, and all of the people weeping, and I thought of a book cover that I have seen and wanted to read. It is by one of my favorite authors, Phillip Yancy, and the title is “Disappointment With God.”

As the song “It Is Well” echoed throughout the church, Brandon stood up. A father without his son. He lifted his hands to the sky and sang out the words as tears fell down his cheeks. It was the most beautiful image of the Christian walk, and I will treasure it forever. But it stung.

I was disappointed with God.

Do I praise Him? Yes.

Do I love Him deeply and with abandon? Yes.

Do I trust Him? Yes.

Am I disappointed that our children are gone? I am.

I have said it before, but it bears repeating. He isn’t intimidated by my disappointment. It doesn’t make God turn away from me because I wish that things were different sometimes, in fact, it makes Him come nearer.

I left the service and ran to the bathroom. I always thought it was a dramatic movie stunt where people acted like they were so distraught that they had to physically hold themselves up. Well, with my hands pressed into the bathroom walls, trying to remember how to breathe, I realized that there is a grief such as this. I just kept thinking, Be here with me God. Be here and hold me up. You say You are the lifter of our heads…Oh God, lift my head, lift my head…

I continued to cry through most of the conversations I had that day. I just couldn’t seem to get it together, but it felt safe. It felt tender, like a fresh wound. I wouldn’t trade it for the world, because it has carved me deeper, and made me trust Him for one more day when I thought I wouldn’t survive the hurt.

I loved being in Texas. The whole thing. I loved the way they love Jesus, the way they love each other and the way they love me. Thank you…you all know who you are…thank you.

And to Sara…

He gives and takes away.

After meeting you, I know He has done both.

Thank you for allowing me to love your son. Thank you for letting me in to the places that don’t feel good, and the ones that are just right. There has never been a doubt, since the day we first spoke, that God has had His hand in our lives. I am praying for you tonight…that He will lift your head on this bittersweet Mother’s Day. I am forever grateful that you took a chance in writing a stranger, and even more grateful that we are no longer strangers. You are such a special gift to me, Sara. Thank you.  I can't wait to spend more time with you and watch our children play together (the other four).  We may actually find out we have some things in common one of these days... :)

As many of you may already know, the song “It Is Well” was written by a man whose four daughters had just drowned after their boat collided with another. He received a telegram from his wife, who had also been onboard, and it said only two words.

“Saved. Alone.”

As he sailed to be with his wife, he paced the decks of the ship. He asked the captain to tell him when they were passing over the bodies of his daughters, and when he was notified, he said that the words "When sorrows like sea billows roll...whatever my lot, though hath taught me to say, It is Well, it is well with my soul...."  

It is one o’clock in the morning and I am sitting on the balcony, listening to the waves crash onto the sand. I am thinking of Brandon's arms raised to God, of the look on Sara's face.  I am thinking about how my Audrey is in the presence of the God Who spoke it all into being. There are moments in your life when you know that God is speaking, and you just want to listen and be still.  

Sometimes He comes in a whisper, and other times, in a roar… tonight, it is the latter. I am not alone, and there is a rhythm to the chaos, even if it is just for a moment.

This Mother's Day, it is well with my soul.

I love all of the questions you all have sent to me, and I can’t wait to dig in. Thank you for caring enough to write to a stranger…although I guess we all know how that works out…

Did I mention I am grateful?
Angie

Grateful

Jessica and I got together yesterday so that she could give me my Birthday present (it's on May 19th...she's an overachiever at planning:)), and she also gave me a little grief over the fact that I hadn't updated my blog in the past week.  The truth is that I just don't know what to say. This is such a strange time, because one minute I'm laughing at something someone said to me, and the next I'm crying my eyes out.  I dropped off Sawyer at a kennel this morning (we are going to the beach for a week), and I couldn't stop myself from falling apart when he walked out of eyesight.  I told the lady that I would probably be calling later to check in on him, and she actually made me feel like I wasn't crazy, which was nice.  I was fumbling through all of these completely unnecessary instructions (like, "Make sure he eats his food" and "I hope he plays with the other dogs..." Ummm, yeah, Angie.  It's a dog kennel.  I'm sure they've worked out the whole "dogs need food to stay alive" thing...)  She just let me talk.  I finally told her the story of Audrey and felt like I was coming across as a lunatic.  

Here's the amazing thing...she acted like I wasn't a lunatic.  In fact, even though we might never see each other again, she made me feel like she would rather be listening to me than doing anything else.  It amazes me that people care the way they do.  God has blessed me with many of these "strangers," and I always think about the way that the Lord has allowed them to pass through my day, images of His grace in human form.  

And so, as I type, I realize that I was wrong.

I do have something to say.

I am grateful.

When I was driving home yesterday, Ellie had her feet hanging out of the back window, and I kept looking in my rear-view mirror and seeing her toes tap along to the music while the wind blew through them.

I am grateful.

I found out that my sister-in-law got a false positive on a medical test.

I am grateful.

I am shaking and sobbing as I write, because I know that you are reading this, and that you will encourage me in my grief.  

I am grateful.

My friend Jess (a different one!) from my church Community Group came over yesterday and took my girls to McDonald's and to the Dollar Store to get me a Mother's Day gift (one balloon, one card, three stuffed monkeys and a stuffed pig...what could be better?)

I am grateful.

Four days after Audrey died, I went on a weekend retreat with my Bible Study girls.  I have been a part of this group for about four years, and we have shared life in a way that defies the world today.  I think we are the "Ya-Ya's who love Jesus." We even took a candlelight pledge that involved sparkling cider and personalized hats:)  In a rustic log cabin in the woods, they loved me through the hardest days of my life.  They climbed in my bed with me while I sobbed, wiped my face, prayed over me, and made me laugh despite the pain.  

I am grateful.

Since I have started writing this entry, I have received several emails from people who will never see my face, but have chosen to enter into my story.

I am grateful.

This Sunday is Mother's Day, and I am the mother of five children...three here and two in heaven. I know. I haven't told the story, so you may not know that Todd and I also lost our first baby early in pregnancy.  That sweet baby is with Audrey, and one day, I will see them both again.

I am grateful.

There are other developments in my life that I want to share with you when the time is right. God has such a way of making Himself known.  Reminding me of the life that waits up ahead. In the meantime, know this...

I am grateful.

I want to do something a little different here, so stick with me.  

I get a lot of emails where people ask me questions.  They range from the deeply spiritual to the gloriously mundane.  My goal is to answer all of them, but time has escaped me and there are many that I never have the chance to address.  I thought this would be a neat way for me to connect with you, so if you want to, write your question in the "comments" section and I will do my best to answer them in my blogs so that everyone can see.  This idea (thank you Jess #1 ) feels like community to me, and I love that.  So please, let's share a little more life in the coming days.  Feel free to leave any other comments as well...I love hearing from you. 

Here are a few photos from my Bible Study Retreat....I hope they encourage you to make a list of some of the things that you are grateful for today.  And, Secret-Saintly-Sisters, I love you all.

Jess, Julie, Me, Amy, Jenny (with Reid), Kristin, Larissa, Jeannie, Melissa, Audra, Melissa, Cherilyn, and Katie (and Kristen, who was in England).  

Clay

This has been a hard week.

Just six words, but they pretty much sum it up.

After crying through basically every human interaction I have had for the last several days, I realized that there was something in me that needed to be broken.  Something that I hadn't felt completely yet.  Todd left to go on the road on Wednesday night, and I sobbed like a baby. Shaking, gasping, "why can't you be an accountant and work 9-5?" tears.  I was not ready to be alone with my thoughts yet.  I wasn't ready to be in charge of the kids, of the house, of anything that did not involve Kleenex.  As he left the house around 11:30 p.m., I curled up in my bed and I invited the sorrow in.  She came swiftly, deeply, consumingly.  And she whispered to me in the dark of night.

I am here to stay.

We had a rainstorm yesterday (go figure), and I made up my mind that I needed to be with my daughter for awhile.  As soon as it started to let up, I called my dad and he came to watch the kids so that I could go to the cemetery. I have wanted to go to her many times before, but I haven't had the strength to be weak.

As I walked through the tombstones in the direction of Audrey's grave, I started to panic.  I was alone, and the grass was wet on my toes.  What is this new life? I realized as I wandered that it all looked so different from the day she was buried.  There was no white tent.  There were no benches.  No landmark to find my child.  I wandered in and out of headstones, searching and crying.  I got myself together enough to try and remember the little map that they had given us when we chose her burial spot, and I walked in that direction.  I had taken no more than a few steps when I saw the red clay in front of me.  New earth, carving out a spot no more than a foot and a half by two feet.  

There was a brief moment where I regretted my decision.  It was too soon. The grass was still wet from the storm. 

The clay was still fresh.  

I sat down, not minding that my pants became soaked through or that someone might see me sobbing hysterically.  I sat next to her, and I cried until my bones ached and goosebumps covered my legs.  I have never in my life felt so lonely.  I remembered one of the first things that Abby said after she met Audrey.  She took a long look at her and then she asked me quietly, "Do we have to dig now, mommy?"  Just a little girl trying to understand what comes next, and here I was, touching the other side of it already.

I had brought my Bible with me, and I read her a few Psalms.  All of the ones that God directed me to were about praising the Lord with every breath.  I told Him I was pretty sure I had just missed a couple.  As I read out loud, the sound of my voice started to fill the void.  I stayed that way for about an hour, reading and praying over my baby.  I know that she isn't really in there, it's just that her knees are, and I would have loved to kiss them after she fell.  I need to mourn the loss of the arms that cannot wrap around me here.  Braided hair, a wedding dress, her first wiggly tooth. They are deep within the ground, never to be mine.  I needed to feel that loss, and I did.  I do.

I went upstairs to change clothes when I got home, and I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  Mascara smudged under my eyes, messy hair, wet clothes.  But that wasn't what I saw first.  What I saw was the unmistakable patch of rust on my forehead.  Clay.  I must have gotten it on myself somehow while I sat with her.  I reached for the towel, and just as I began to wipe it away, a voice reminded me of what I know to be true.

I am here to stay.

I will permanently bear the mark of a woman who has lost her child.  There are many of us walking here...in the grocery store, at the neighborhood barbeque, at the movies.  We walk without necessarily recognizing each other, side by side and a million miles apart.  If you are one of these women, I want you to know that as I write these words, I am praying for you.  I am mourning what you have lost in this life.  I am praying that God will fill you as only He can, and that in time, you (and I) will be with our daughters and our sons again.  Know that I hurt with you tonight.

I want to include (with permission...thank you, sweet Sara) a picture of the Skaggs family, whom I referenced in my last post.  I want you to meet them and to have faces to put with the names...this is Sara, her husband Brandon, their daughter Sydney and their son Elliot.

I know how much your words have meant to me over the last months-your prayers, suggestions, and stories. If you feel so led, I would like to ask you to write to Sara.  Her email address is saraskaggs@hotmail.com.  She is a fellow believer, and a woman who appreciates the power of prayer...I just know how much your words would mean to her right now.

As you look at these pictures, I want you to notice the most amazing part of what God does for us...it is the beauty in the midst of suffering that only He can create.  

It is the mark of a woman who mourns the new earth, and yet, hopes in spite of it.  

Tilted

A few months ago, I got an email from a girl named Sara.  As I read her words, I was struck by the incredible similarities between our stories.  She was pregnant with a little boy (Elliot) who had kidneys that were nonfunctioning, lack of lung development, in a breech position, no amniotic fluid...you get the picture.  Oh, and also, we had the EXACT same due date.  I wrote her back, and what started as a few words back and forth turned into a source of strength for both of us.  We were not alone!  We talked on the phone, and after we hung up, I cried tears of gratitude for this sweet angel that God had brought into my life.  She sent me her picture, and I decided that we were kindred spirits.  

Yesterday, Sara gave birth to her beautiful (and I mean BEAUTIFUL!) son Elliot.  I woke up with knots in my stomach, but faith in what God might be up to.  I had to leave the house for a few hours, but before I left, I checked my email and there was an update from her aunts.  It said that he had been born screaming and crying....hmmm...with no lungs?  Yes.  God was up to something here...

I talked to God as I got in my car, as I ran my errands, as I did what mommies do.  All the while, I kept thinking, "What a perfect day for a miracle."  

On my way home, I got a phone call from Todd.  He sounded serious.  I thought maybe someone had called to update me on Sara and Elliot.  

"Angie, I wanted to let you know that Dr. Trabue's office just called.  They got the results from Audrey's blood test. "

Her diagnosis.  I felt like I couldn't catch my breath.  Since early January, we have speculated about syndromes and genetic issues.  We have wondered what this moment would tell us about her and about why she was, as Ellie calls it in prayer, "taken."

"What did it say?"

"It said nothing, honey.  Nothing was wrong.  There is no diagnosis.  Everything was normal."

I started to cry.  Softly at first, and then deeply.  Eventually it turned into a form of anger that I haven't felt for a long time...I guess I was due for a good shouting match with God.

Todd felt terrible.

"I thought it would make you feel better, hon.  Why are you crying?"

"I want a reason."  I couldn't see the road through the tears.  I don't know why, but I needed a diagnosis.  I am the kind of person that wants to understand EXACTLY what is happening.  I can deal with just about anything as long as it can be googled.  I pulled into my driveway and called Audra.  I still had a few more tears left in me.  

After I had gotten myself together a little, I went inside and went straight to the computer to see if Sara's aunts had written.  They had.

Elliot passed away at 9:05 a.m., about an hour after he was born.

I got that far into the email and I slammed my computer shut. I just felt like the wind had whipped through and knocked me down, deep down into a place I don't want to be.  A place where the answers are fewer than the questions.  A place where God is hidden, just slightly, by the shadows of this broken life.  It is an easy place to get comfortable, because all of your hurts are justified and the tears give way to doubt while all the while you meant to just pick yourself right back up.   

"You could have let him live! WHY? What was wrong with my baby???What do you have to gain from all of this loss????" I literally screamed at the sky while I cried over my own hurt, and the hurt of a sister who I have never met.  He never backs down, though, and I am grateful for that love.  It is the love of a Father who Himself is well-acquainted with sorrow.  It is the love of a Father Who has lost His Son. He understands the ranting and the door-slamming. The emptiness that wraps around me when I think of my sweet Audrey.  He knows.

And He only has one request.

Bring it right to me, Angie.

Every time the anger roars in your heart.  Bring it to Me.

Every time you feel like nobody hears you.  Bring it to Me.

When you think it isn't fair.  When you think it isn't true.  When you can't think at all.

Bring it to My feet, and I will make an altar from your suffering.  

Yesterday, after I felt like I couldn't take any more of the storm, Abby came into the kitchen with a drawing she had made for Audrey (they do this several times a day...I think it's just part of how they are processing).  I looked at it for a few moments and then told her how amazing I thought it was.  She had drawn Audrey under a rainbow, standing by a sign that said "Come see the clowns!"  I'm not sure what the significance of that is, except that Abby did confirm that there are "only clowns in heaven sometimes." That actually made me feel better, because I think clowns are kind of creepy.

Abby smiled at me expectantly.  I wasn't sure what she was looking for.

"I want to give it to her, mommy.  I want to put it in her basket." 

They call her "casket" a "basket," and we don't correct them, because frankly, I like the idea of a basket better anyway.

"OK."  Now what do I say? How am I going to explain this to a 5 year old?

 She looked at me, waiting.

"So..should we put it in the mailbox, mommy? Will the man come and get it?"  

She wanted to understand the details of our new situation, and the truth at that moment was that I did too.

"Well, Abby, the great thing about heaven is that Audrey can see all of the things that we are doing down here.  AND, she can see what you made for her!  She can just look right into our house and see it."  I waited to see how this felt to her.

Without a word, she spoke life back into my tired bones.

She took the edges of the drawing delicately and lifted it high above her head, closer to her baby sister.  She had her head tipped back, looking upward, and after a few seconds, she closed her eyes and a smile made it's way across her face.

"She liked it, didn't she?" I asked her quietly.

She nodded, still glowing, and ran off to play.

I don't know where you are tonight, or what hurts you are holding up to God, but I will promise you this.  If you can just trust Him enough to bring it to Him, He will rejoice in your masterpiece.  And if you need to scream a little, know that you have a God who can take that too, as long as your face is tilted (even slightly) toward Him.

Please allow my sweet friend Sara and her son Elliot to make their way into your prayers tonight...ever-present Counselor, we have to trust You more that we can explain You sometimes.  

You are good, Lord.

You are good.