An Unexpected Journey

http://www.lettersforlydia.blogspot.com/   Read 12/21 post "Christmas Wish" This is my dear cousin's latest blog post.  Thank you, Ashleigh, for 'letting' us grieve.  Thank you to all of you who have entered into our pain and understood that there is no bandaid... no pretending that things are ok... and especially to those who have been brave enough to realize that our God is not smaller because He allows and in fact promises pain in this broken world.  It is broken because of our bad choice to let evil in and no, God is not in full control (here).  He has chosen to hold back and allow free will until the end of this world... in hope that we will choose Him... choose to partner with Him.  That is why we must pray for His will to be done here as it is in heaven (because it is not always so).  That is why even though "He is willing that none should perish..." without Him,  many still do. Our hope, and that of all those who have suffered h...

I sit in a beautiful room staring at a magnificent fire.  Lights twinkle, and decorations shimmer.  Such kind people surround me with love.  Makiah has a delicate, pink tree with a sparkly purple ribbon.  "Princess colors," said the sweet child who chose it for her.  It guards her graveside, the resurrection ground, as some have called it.  Tiny fingers of dear friends adorned it with special ornaments.  "Miss you... love you," they say.  Big expressions of grief and love from very little people.  How do I express my grief?  How do I express my love? We talk and eat and sometimes even laugh.  We go to a movie to pass the time.  We avert our eyes from those who try to gaze too deeply.  I find my husband turned away, tears streaming down his face, and choking back the sobs.  Oh God, the sadness is so profoundly deep.  Inescapable.  Though we try.  While we smile, the pain beats in our chests like a dr...

Pennies for dollars?  Only God can do that.  Two weeks before her death, Makiah cheerfully gave all the pennies she had to help build a well for children in poverty in Africa, and now many of you have turned those pennies into dollars.  She gave the "widow's mite," and God has multiplied it like only He can.  Thank you, friends, for partnering with us to help her little life make a footprint on the generations to come. Two amazing ladies have pioneered the well project,  and you will never be forgotten.  Cheryl Brannon had the initial vision for selling charms in memory of Makiah to raise money for a well in her honor through a partnership between Compelling Creations and Operation Blessing International.  The charms give people a beautiful reminder to pray for us and a tangible way to remember our precious daughter and tell her story to those who ask.  Cheryl had no idea of Makiah's piggy bank offering for a well in Africa when she developed th...

The humming of the washing machine is the only noise.  Occasionally I break the silence with a crunchy bite of grilled cheese.  I glance at the other bar stool- the empty one- while I eat my lonely lunch.  No need to make a PB&J today.   I toy with the thought of making one and leaving it there for her anyway, but that might be considered to be on the other side of that thin line we use to define sanity.  I better not.  Besides, the blue, dinosaur sandwich cutter is collecting dust now.  I suppose I should throw it out.  How do you throw away the things your child loved... even the little things that made her face light up... like dinosaur shaped sandwiches?  The memories seem so connected to her things.  How do you choose what to keep?  Which did she love less- the mermaid dolls or the tiny, glass marbles she hid all over the house... the last rock she put in my purse or the tiny barbie shoe she left in my closet?  Wh...

It's Sunday morning.  I should be almost ready for church by now.  You should be sitting on the couch in your pretty dress watching Angelina Ballerina while Mommy rushes around.  I should have gotten you your morning spoonful of peanut butter "on a big spoon" like you always request.  I let your cat in a few minutes ago.  I think he misses you exclaiming "Oh, Buster!" and smooshing him with hugs.  He walks to your room and then checks every other room.  He comes in the living room and sniffs a box of your clothes I have out on the floor.  Then he looks at me curiously and meows.  I tell him that you aren't here- that you will never be here again.  I choke the words out again and again until I am wailing.  She's never coming home again! You didn't want to die.  You told me one night as I was tucking you in bed about two weeks before the accident that you were scared to die.  You had told your Wednesday night teacher that ...

Exactly two months and one day ago, I sat in the cool brisk air on the porch at the condo sipping a steamy mocha. The sun rise was breath taking as the orange ball climbed up out of its bed in the sea.  Wisps of pink and purple peeked out from under the wavy covers and into the pale sky.  I was reading Isaiah 61.   I heard a tapping on the door and turned to see a cute, little face pressed against the glass grinning at me.  I slid open the door and the little blond curls danced across the pink princess gown as you bounced happily out to join me.  The chilly wind whipped around us, and I asked if you wanted to sit in my lap and cuddle inside my fluffy, white bathrobe with me.  You eagerly climbed into the warmth, and I wrapped my arms tightly around your tiny frame.  I popped an occasional fruit loop in your mouth as we snuggled and listened to the gentle sound of pounding waves. I read the next verse aloud to you- Isaiah 61:10.  "I delight great...

Silence.  The closer we get the words slow to a trickle.  We spend the last few hours in silence.  Deep breath in the driveway.  It is time.  Through the door the familiar smell of home without the familiar sounds.  Her room is dark.  Light on.  I hate the dark.  The toys are waiting, but I can't find her.  The insane thought that she would be here missing us is ebbing away.  The inevitable  rumblings start.   I sit at the doll house where all the babies are in the bed with the mommy and daddy.  The little blond girl has her head on the mommy's tummy... how she left it the last time she played.  If only we could play.  Wailing.  Calling. I'm so sorry for so many things.  I hold the favorite mermaid and the princess fairy.  Where is my little one?  I want her back!  I just want to play again.  Pounding.  Tears.  Carpet.  No!  No!  NO!  Seconds. ...

The dock sways gently with the waves.  The sun sparkles on the water as the chilly wind whisks away my tears.  I read Ephesians 1:8.  "I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints..."   I picture Makiah singing and doing the arm motions to one of her favorite songs, "Open the Eyes of My Heart."  I think of the book Mary Beth Chapman signed and the note she wrote encouraging us to "choose to see." Although the sun is shining brightly here at my in-laws lake house, I feel more then ever that I see through a glass dimly.  I think more about Ephesians 1:18, and I feel prompted to write down all of the dreams or pictures of heaven and Makiah and our family that others have shared with me since October 8th.  Maybe recording these experiences will help me to "know the hope to which he has called" me. I write and write....

All I have ever wanted is to be a mommy.  As soon as I can hold a baby doll, I am imagining the day when it will be real.  I gather all my dolls together and pretend to have an orphanage where all the babies with no family are mine.  I can't imagine anything worse then having no mommy or daddy.  Long after the other girls have left their toys behind to chase boys, I still secretly pretend with my babies.  As a teen, I have a very real dream of playing on the beach with my little blond-haired daughter, and I can't wait. College?  Yes,  It is necessary to become the kind of person my ideal Mr. Right would marry.  Graduate school?  Yes.  He still hasn't made his debut.  Work for several years after the wedding?  Yes.  I want to pay off the student loans and save for our next car so that when the big day comes, I can stay home as much as possible and be a mommy.  Infertility?  Yes.  I try not to let fear creep...

Pain.  Hyperventilating.  Flashbacks.  Laughter.  Love.  Crunching.  Spinning.  Glass.  Screaming.  911.  Disbelief.  Blood.  Begging.  CPR.  Paddles.  Strangers.  Arms.  Praying.  Hoping.  Sirens.  Riding.  Shaking.  Pleading.  Waiting.  Doctor.  Over.  No!  Horror.  Crushing.  Blackness.  Nightmare.  Breathe.  Replay.  Stop.  Please.  Stop.

I had forgotten until Cameron reminded me. The conversation was buried in my mind beneath the rubble of the wreck.   At 5:15 on October 8th we were riding in the car.  Makiah was playing happily in the back with a new toy- our first purchase for the twins. "Watch Mommy!" she exclaimed.  She was so excited to make it play music.  I told her what a good big sister she would be and that she would have to teach the twins to play.  Then while she was occupied, I shared with Cameron something I had heard a week before about Mathew 7: 24-27.  "Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock.  The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall because it had its foundation on the rock.  But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on the sand....

Today I heard someone speak about grace- God's unmerited favor.  The speaker showed this video (posted below) of a father who helps his severely handicapped son complete a marathon.  I have seen this video  before and cried about the compassion of a father for his child.  I have wondered if I could do the same.  Could I suffer and love and be so dedicated to another person's dreams?  But today I saw this clip with fresh eyes. Today I realized that I am the boy- completely, utterly incapable of doing anything for myself.  I have often prayed that I would trust and depend on God, but really there has always been a measure of relying on myself and what He has given me.  I have never felt utterly incapable... until now.  This complete brokenness of who I am, of my dreams, of my heart has brought to light a truth that has always been there.  I am nothing without Him.  There is a comfort in knowing that the Father always pl...

Purple. Orange. Pink.  The sky is streaked with beauty on this cool, crisp morning.  My cheeks are streaked with tears.  My insides are a pressure cooker.  The pain builds and churns and presses until it leaks from my eyes.  I feel as if this thing inside me will explode.  I cannot bear it.  Wails begin to escape from my lips, and I can no longer act civilized.  I cannot contain the thoughts pounding through my mind.  They pour in a rushing a torrent from my lips.  I do not care that people can hear. "I miss my baby!  I've never been apart from her for 4 long weeks before.  How can I live without her?  I do not want to learn.  I do not want to put time between the intersection of her life and mine.  I do not want to be ok.  I do not want to forget.  I do not want to do this!!  How can this be my life?  How can it have gone so wrong?  It was not supposed to be this way....

Why is my baby in a box and I am on my bed?  Why do I still breathe in and out and she cannot?  It's a miracle Cameron is alive.  He remembers the car's hood plowing into the side of his head.  It's a miracle I have only bruises and scratches and that there is still life in my womb.  Why not one more miracle?  Where is your miracle Makiah?  Oh, that you were little and safe and still inside me! Paul said to live is Christ but to die is gain.  This seems so clear to me now.  If we had all gone together, how sweet would be our welcome in heaven- not separated by time or pain or waiting.  Perhaps it would have been harder for others but so much easier for me.  Then I think of the twins and all the years of prayers that you have prayed for them.  And then I think of the dance. In September when I started bleeding and the doctor's discovered a hematoma, Daddy took you to the church to pray.  He said he was going to pray unt...

My eyes filled with tears when my mother-n-law told me of her friend's idea.  This sweet lady, whom I've never met, wanted to know if she could do something special in honor of Makiah.  She said God had put it on her heart to start a well project for her.  She would sell "living water well charms" through Operation Blessing International to raise money to build a well for underprivelaged children in a poverty stricken country.  She said when 600 charms have been purchased, a well with a permanent plaque would be built to commemorate Makiah's life.  Not only was this an amazing idea, it was linked to my daughter's heart in a way that shocked me... What this thoughtful lady could not have known was that only 2 weeks before the accident, Makiah came into the kitchen on a Sunday morning carrying her whole piggy bank.  She told me she wanted to take it all to "give to the kids who need clean water."  The preschool class at church had been raising mon...

In my dream I am playing happily with Makiah by a river when the sky begins to darken and swirl.  I scoop her up, and we run to the nearest building.  There is an empty desk inside the stark office and I hide her under the desk along with her two best buddies.  I tuck pillows around the three of them and over their heads to keep them safe.  Outside the menacing clouds have begun to form twisters.  They reach down from the sky like whirling, random fingers of destruction.  Somehow I feel the little office is not safe enough.  In my dream the children become tiny, and I carefully place the three of them in a box.  I grasp the box tightly to my chest, and I begin to run.  A relentless tornado has decided to follow me.  Wherever I turn it is there, doggedly pursuing me.  I run with all my might- like the wind- clutching my little box with its precious cargo.  Finally, I seem to have evaded the finger of destruction.  I run...

Outside the sky is grey and dreary.  I feel it should rain torrents today.  I think the whole earth should cry out in grief.  I feel my heart pounding in my head.  My eyes will barely open, and I think no more tears can possibly come.  Maybe I will stand in the rain and borrow the tears from the sky. I look down at sparkly pink toes, and they are lonely.  Makiah, our last Sunday together you spent the morning in bed with Mommy (because I am on bed rest).  We ate fruit loops and snuggled.  We practiced drawing your letters and painted our fingers and toes.  You wanted rainbow toes, but I didn't have the colors with me.  I promised I'd paint you rainbow toes later.  Once we were all pink you said, "I got an idea!  Let's put sparklies over the pink, and you have to do it, too, Mommy, so we can be twins!"  You are such a princess!  So pink toes became sparkly toes.  We giggled and hugged and admired our matching fe...

In a single second my life has been radically altered.  My precious gift from God, sweet Makiah Kaitlyn, has gone to be with Jesus long before her time.  I know in my heart that she is happy, but my arms are so empty... my house so dreadfully quiet.  I feel at times that a horrible blackness has enveloped me.  I feel as though my insides are screaming.  I am clawing and fighting to break out of this torturous body- to escape from this oppressive reality, but I cannot escape.  The dark anguish leaps on me again and again.  It sits on my chest and presses against my very life breath.  My heart feels utterly crushed and broken- pummeled into a thousand pieces.  Life as I knew it has been shattered and the shards that are left are painful and sharp.  Cutting me as I try to walk through them.  This is the valley of the shadow of death.  How dark is that shadow! Her room is perfectly untouched.  All of the dolls in her dollhou...