Happy 7th Birthday Sweet Makiah!

Dear Sweet Makiah,

Seven years ago today was the first time I laid eyes on you.  Even now I can picture that blond headed little baby that the nurses handed me.  I was so surprised that your hair wasn’t dark!  You filled our hearts and our home instantly and for four years you filled our lives with joy and wonderful memories…

I remember that right after your 2^nd birthday you started asking me so sweetly, “What you finking, Mama?” 

Once I asked you to call your daddy for me and you hollered, “Cameron Kaitlyn King!”

(your middle name!)

I remember a time when your Nana and I were talking in the car and apparently not paying you any attention.  You suddenly exclaimed, “Helloooo!  Anybody here?!”  You were so tiny to have come up with that!

On one of your Daddy daughter dates you were eating fried chicken and Daddy told you to finish up your chicken leg.  You said, “Chicken leg?  What is this?”  Daddy replied “It’s a leg bone.”  You were horrified and said, “You mean this used to be an animal??”  Daddy nodded yes, and then you let out a blood curdling scream in the middle of the restaurant!

You were a little miss priss and became quite the manners police after your 4^th birthday.  You would say to your Daddy, “Daddy, you are not eating like a princess!”  Another time Daddy did something you thought was gross and you exclaimed, “Daddy, you are such a dirtiness boy!!”

You are my heart.  I used to say that to you all the time and you would say, “You my heart, Mommy!”   So many mornings you would wake me up and say to my bleary eyed self, “You are so beautiful, Mommy!”  I can almost hear you telling Daddy when he put you to bed one night about how you were going to marry him when you grew up.  You told him what your dress would look like and that your hair would “go all the way down to the bottom.”    You also loved to rub my pregnant belly and tell the twins they were “sooo cute and precious!”

You were such a natural encourager, Makiah.  As I am thinking back, I can see that now.  It is one of your gifts.  There is a scripture that say that the gifts of God are irrevocable.   He doesn’t take them back.   As we celebrate your life today, it helps my heavy heart to know that you, my sweet encourager, are surely cheering us on from heaven.  I wish I could hear your little voice imitate me as I call you my love.  You always would say, “No, you’re my love!” 

So I am asking Jesus to remind you on your birthday that you are my love.  To give you the  butterfly kisses and hugs I cannot.  I try to imagine what you might look like now, but truly my deepest heart is asking God to keep you four until I get there.  What’s the rush?  We will have all eternity for you to grow up.  I just want to see it for myself!

I had a dream that I threw you an amazing birthday swim party. I am not really sure what all we will celebrate in heaven, but I think if God spent so much time commanding his people in the Old Testament to have feasts and celebrations that are just a mere shadow,  the parties in heaven must be unmatched.  So please stay little for Mommy, Makiah!  And know my love for you is unwavering while I am waiting for birthday parties in heaven.

I love you!

Mommy

Celebrating Makiah

My attempt to take a pic of the twins on the butterfly bench at Makiah's pre-k.

Special balloons they put for my princess in the butterfly garden!

These curls remind me of her big sister.

Sweetness on the butterfly bench

Abby

The resurrection ground

Alena

Sending balloons up to Princess Kiah

My Birthday Princess

The Thing in Front of You

I don't do this often.  But I can't get it off my mind or out of my heart.  I need to share the words that have gripped me.  Ripped me open to the very core.  Pinned me down and made me feel that I am drowning.  Drowning in the American Dream.  I used to think it was silly that I had to eat everything on my plate because kids somewhere far away were starving.  When I was a child.  But now that I am grown up, I know we are not so disconnected.  I am not helpless. 

I read a quote by Elizabeth Elliot that said, "When you don't know what to do next, do the thing in front of you."


Please read the link:  The 1 Thing Radical Really Definitely Has to Look Like- Right Where We Are


And then if you can see him,  see them,  see the sheep calling hungry, go  HERE and do the thing in front of you...

And Then There Were Two

The hearing... the dedication... all this crowded out a very special birthday in my blogging, but not in real life!  Two years ago two precious little girls saved our lives!  Literally, they gave me a reason to keep breathing.   I completely threw myself into planning a Curious George party for my curious toddlers to combat the post Christmas blues.  It was mostly family and really not a big deal, but I am sure I had more fun then they did...  Here is an overdue peek!

Curious Little Monkeys!

Abby

Alena

 

 

If only we were a little taller...

Happy 2nd Birthday Abby!

Happy 2nd Birthday Alena!

 

The Dedication Dress

It is a warm October day near the beach.  The little antique shops are hot and stuffy.  We are weaving in and out of the doors in search of treasure and a little ocean breeze.  Scanning the old down town I am beginning to doubt that we will find an ice cream shop around here.  Makiah is three.  I give her hand a gentle squeeze as we stroll.  She smiles at me and chatters on about the mermaid toy she has seen in the last gift shop.  One more store and we will head out. 

We step through the creaking door and peer around at the antiques.  I am about to slip back out when the bright white catches my eye.  It is a soft, white baby gown that is extra long and trimmed with delicate lace.  It would be perfect for a baby dedication... if only I were pregnant or had a baby to dedicate!  I glance at the price tag.  Only $10!  This would be really expensive new.  Makiah thinks it is "sooo pretty!"  I can't resist.  I tell myself maybe there will be someone I can give it to, but in truth I am secretly hoping to dedicate my next baby in this dress.  If only...

Three and a half years and a lifetime later.

Maddie Grace giggles at me all wrapped up in delicate white cotton and lace.  I can scarcely believe I am getting to use the dress.  It wouldn't work for the twins because there were two of them and only one dress.  But then God sent Madelyn Grace.  The little girl He knew would one day wear the dress Makiah had helped me pick out for her future sister.  The little girl He knew Makiah would never see wear it... at least not with her earthly eyes.

And we had asked my Daddy to lead us in dedicating Maddie Grace to the Lord.  With a chuckle he tells a story of how Makiah would catch him sitting with his elbows on the table, and then she would look at her big Pawpaw and say with no hesitation "Excuse me!" in her prissy way while pointing to the offending elbows.   He says he can almost see Makiah in the throne room saying, "Excuse me, God, my mama is supposed to have three girls down there."  And maybe God moved his elbows and got to work!  Even though I was medically unable to have children without intervention, He sent us a complete surprise, Maddie Grace!  And she is the most affectionate baby I have ever met.  She grabs my face and literally slobbers kisses on my cheeks every chance she gets.  Kisses from heaven.  And my heart feels His love again. 

And my Daddy says Satan thought his plan was working when he convinced Pontious Pilate to order the crucifixion of Jesus on Golgotha.  He thought he had won another victory when he convinced teens to use drugs and drive into the side of our car and wreck our family and our lives.  Out of crucifixion came resurrection.  Death conquered.  Out of this tragic story there will be resurrection.  And my Daddy tells us all that he believes Maddie Grace is a foreshadow of the resurrection.  She came as a gift, unexpected, and without the intervention of man's creative medicine.

And so does eternal life.  It is a gift.  Given without man's effort or earning.  Out of Jesus death, comes our life.  

So we dedicate her all in white. In a very special lace dress.  This little one sent from above to bring healing to our wounded hearts.  A tiny, giggly little life whose coming is but a shadow of the pure life and joy we will receive.  The most expensive, free gift ever purchased.  Our resurrection! 

Madelyn Grace

Shopping the day we bought the dress

weird antiques

thoughtful on the beach before we headed to shop

All Things New

I have mostly put away Makiah’s toys, but the doll house her daddy and I made her from a special, old cabinet that once belonged to her great grandmother still sits in Maddie Grace’s closet.  It has pretty glass doors that close across the front embracing the scene inside. I carefully tied the silver handles together with ribbon when she left us, and some things deep inside were tied up that day, too.  Every little piece of her tiny house sits just the way she left it the last time she cleaned up her room.  I don’t intend to keep it locked away forever.  But I just haven’t been ready to open it up.  It takes time to unlock a house.  And a heart. 

Today I accidentally left the closet door open.  The dainty glass doors don’t cover the attic of the little house.  Sometimes we forget to lock ourselves all away.  We leave a piece exposed and vulnerable.  Sometimes someone notices it like my Abby who never misses ANYTHING!  She emerged from the baby’s room carrying Makiah’s little plastic dog that lived in the attic.  She clutched it tight to her chest all day.  Didn’t put it down at all except to eat and even then she placed it carefully on the table of her high chair under her watchful eye. 

And sometimes we realize He is holding that part we forgot to lock away.  And He is clutching that part of our hearts close to His chest.  Never letting our treasured thoughts escape His watchful eye.

Tonight Abby is still holding Makiah’s dog close.  She and her sister are smelling sweet and baby fresh from a bubble bath.  The music in our living room is softly lulling little eyes to half mast.  The light from the dim lamp cascades into the darkness.   Of the room and the hearts.  Barely.   Alena is twirling around the shadows in pink fairy wings and declaring that she is “Tinka Bew.”  Makiah’s pink fairy wings.  We are singing with the worshipers on the TV.  “You are making all things new.”  Their daddy is giving kisses like our Daddy gives breaths.  “We come alive.  You are making all things new.” The girls land near their daddy on the floor and become one big pile of snuggles.  “You make all things new.  We are free.  We are free.” 

And then I realize it.  This isn’t just a random song.  I am seeing it played out.  It is real.  It is true.  It is called M.I.R.A.C.L.E.  This life in this dim room.  This worship coming from lips that were once frozen.  These toys dug out of the closet where they were locked away from laughter and love.

And I feel that it’s true what Jesus said.  When He arrived at the man’s house, they told him it was too late.  The little girl was dead.  Jesus said she is not dead but sleeping.  They mocked him.  Until he raised the dead.   

I never understood why He said that.  Why did He say she was sleeping?  Because we who mourn can know that it is as if they are only sleeping.  They are not here with us.  But they are not gone forever.  They have not ceased to exist.  We are separated, but the barrier is thinner than we might think.  The time may seem to creep by with all the aching, but we will look back on it as the blinking of an eye.  And even in the slow, painful seconds, He is making all things new.  He is carefully holding the broken, hidden places to His chest.  And He is breathing out life like a daddy blows out kisses.  Because ultimately he has made us free from death.  And free from the chains.  And He is making all things new.  Until the day when He will raise the dead!

  All Things New @ Elevation Church

Makiah's surprise when she got the doll house for her 3rd birthday.

The Hearing

Because some of you are wondering.  Because maybe you find yourself in a prison of one sort or another.  Because my breath prayer is that it will bring Him glory. Because I want to thank those of you who prayed!

The Hearing

The courtroom is small but it feels full.  The raspy voice of the judge reverberates through the tense air.  It all seems so surreal, as if I am not really the mother of the dead child waiting my turn to speak to the one who killed her.  My hands are clammy and there is a lump in my throat.  I am not at all sure I can do this.   Maybe I won’t.  God, help me to be brave!  It is time to stand up and move to the front.  Up in front of where the lawyers sit they lead us.  We stand and face him.  Not ten feet away.  The grandmothers speak first.  I am nauseous.  I hate to speak in front of people.   I hate confrontation.  I hate that this is my story!  I wish so desperately that I could trade it in.

They finish and I step to the center.  I decide to look him dead in the eyes.  I will cope with the crowd by pretending they are not there.  I am not addressing the court.  My words are for him alone.  They must be spoken.  This is my persecution.  This my chance to deny Jesus in front of men, or to acknowledge the work of His grace in me.  My chance to take up the cross and follow him.  God help me!  I have decided… it has nothing to do with how I feel.  I don’t trust my feelings.  I entrust them.  My voice is shaky and my husbands arm across my back must be holding me steady.  There are hot tears.  First mine and then his.  My face crumples but I press on with the words. 

“I sat wondering last night what I can possibly say that will make a difference today.  Some words are more important than others you know.  They weigh more.

I want to talk to you about prison.  You have spent some time in jail now.  You know what it is like to be locked away from the world and from freedom.  And now you are waiting to hear your sentence.

I, too, have received a sentence.  The day my little Makiah was ripped from my arms I received a lifetime sentence.  I will be separated from my sweet baby for the rest of my earthly life.  I cannot kiss her cheeks or hold her hand.  I can’t fix her hair or play dolls.  I cannot hear her voice or tell her how much I love her.  Not as long as I live on this earth.  I have a life sentence without parole.

Prison.  But there is another prison.  One of bitterness and unforgiveness.  Every time the pain of my loss grabs my heart, bitterness and unforgiveness are waiting for me.  But I know that not forgiving you would only put my heart in prison.  So over and over again for the rest of my life I will keep saying the words that make me free, “I forgive.”  I forgive you, his name, for robbing me of the most precious thing in my life, my daughter.  And I will keep forgiving you for all the pain her death will continue to cause me as long as I am alive.  It is not over for me.

Because there is another Prison.   One you carry with you wherever you go… even when you walk out of this jail.  A place where our hearts sit in darkness.   If we are still there when we die, it leads to a place of total separation from everything that is good and happy and love.  A place of total separation from God.  We have all made wrong choices and we are all guilty.  And there is only one way out of this prison.  Only one way to escape a sentence of being in darkness forever.   Jesus.  Even though he was totally perfect, he sat in the chair marked ‘guilty’ for us and took our place.  He served the sentence of death for us so that if we will thank him for it and give him our lives, we can be free.  And I want you to be free in your heart because I am free.  It is the only reason I can say “I forgive.”  Because I know that I have been forgiven. 

His name, I hope that you will realize that your heart is in a prison of darkness.  And I hope that you will choose to take the hand that Jesus is offering you, and walk out of that prison into a life lived for God and an eternity full of the joy of being with him.   Only you can decide to do that.  But please know that there is a day coming when God himself will hold you responsible for all you have done.  If you want to be found innocent, then you must ask Jesus to forgive you and thank him for taking your place by living the rest of your earthly life for God.  He loves you, his name.  And he wants you to make that choice.  And I think my little Makiah would want you to as well.”

Prison

Words.  They are not all weighted equally.  Some are light as a feather.  Others feel like boulders.  What do you say to the man who killed your child?  To the one who snatched the life breath right out of her?  How do you look him right in the eye and see into the window of his soul?  Just the thought of it makes my words run far away.  I feel my lips trembling already.  Perhaps my fingers can find them… in case my lips cannot.

I knew the day might come.  And I still don’t know for sure if it has or not.  But there is a good chance that when I wake up tomorrow it will be the day.  One of the hardest in my life.  Some of the most difficult words I will ever speak… if I choose to speak them. 

Do I try to convey the pain?  Is it pointless?  Does he care?   Could he possibly understand?  How can you even glimpse the pain of losing a child when you have never known the love of a child?  Responsibility.  Change.  Forgiveness.   All these words are swirling but so disconnected and flighty.   Grace.  Somehow I have to talk about the Grace.  The grace I know that has kept me sane, has lent me some stability when the world has spun out of control.  Only that will wake him up and break him out of his own darkness… out of the prison he carries with him wherever he goes. 

Maybe that’s it.  Maybe I should talk about prison.  The prison of the soul.  The sentence I received when my little one was ripped from my arms- a separation that will last a lifetime.  No chance of parole.  The prison that bitterness and unforgiveness would like to lock me away in forever, but I whisper the keys “I forgive” whenever the dark thoughts try to creep in, push me back, and lock the door.  The prison he has spent some time in on this earth.  The prison of separation from the God who embodies all goodness and love that will keep him if he sits down in the darkness and refuses to walk out into the light.  It is the easiest prison to escape.  Love has unlocked the door and grace has swung it open.  But so often we sit like obstinate little children with our eyes pressed tightly shut and our fingers in our ears when all we need to do is SEE the door and walk through it.

If you are reading this and you are a praying person, now would be a time to pray.  For courage.  For me.  For him.  For the words to come, if indeed this is the time.  For eyes to see.  I feel like this might be a pivotal moment for me… you know the kind that more of your life hinges on than you realize.  Usually those days are dark and terrible, but they must be faced.  Our time is so short…