An Unexpected Journey

I hoist her up on the changing table to change the bazillionth diaper of the day. "Mommy is a scared." Abby says. I look at her with a puzzled expression. Where did that come from?  "Mommy isn't scared, baby. I am just changing your diaper." "Mommy is a scared," she says again. The sight of her lips swollen up huge flashes through my mind. I have been struggling with fear since she was stung by the bee, and we got the diagnosis. Serious bee allergy... Anaphylactic reaction... Epi pens ... Likely to be much worse next time... The doctor's words float through my mind. If I learned anything from Makiah's death, it's that tragedy is often fiercely unpredictable and our control of life is tenuous at best. Nevertheless, an actual diagnosis that could potentially cause the death of another one of my children has made my insides tremble... fear rearing its ugly head. But my 22 month old couldn't possibly know about any of t...

The cold wind cuts bitterly across my soul.   The rumbling grey sky reflects my thoughts.   Knees pressed down in the sparse dead grass.   My fingers in the dirt.   I press them in as if I could dig her up and everything would be as it should.   I cry like a baby and trace my fingers across her name.   Oh, God, help me! What can I do?   I ask it   as I straighten the tiny Christmas tree beside the cold hard stone.   Such a contrast…   the shiny colorful balls dancing with light right up there next to that grey, sour rock that screams of death.   What can I do when my life is like this strange juxtaposition of joy and pain?   Oh, I don’t feel it so deeply every day anymore, or I don’t think I could bear it.   But those special days.    You know, the special moments that holidays are full of…   watching the wonder in your tiny ones eyes when the lights and music of flashy floats pass by in the Christma...

  For two kilometers the little feet tread carefully down the dusty trail into the valley.   The blazing sun beats on his back and seems to mock the boy on his mission.   Ouch!   The toes complain as they stumble against a rock in the stream bed, but the little boy who owns them does not.   In fact his face turns quickly into a snaggle-toothed grin even as he winces.   A puzzling sight for curious onlookers.   Two of his classmates splash in beside him with their buckets, hoping to scare away any slithery creatures that might be lurking nearby.   Filling their rickety pails quickly, the three children turn hastily to climb back up the hill to their village.   The parched lips of their friends at school beckon them to return with their precious cargo.    Besides the heat and dangers of snakes, this trip costs them valuable time in the classroom.   But today will be the last trip.   Today the long awaited well will b...

My washer and dryer seem to hum their tune endlessly these days.  Tiny pink pajamas and bibs and burp cloths and downy blankets stirring up the song.  I am in the kitchen dancing with the broom over a pile pure white.  Turns out the table is not a safe place to leave the salt shaker!  Tumultuous laughter leaks out from under the bathroom door where the twins are splashing in the bathtub.  I hear their daddy exclaim, "No cannon balls!"  Every few steps I stop to put little bit's pacifier back in her mouth and buy another minute or two.  I lean in to peer at the places that won't sweep up and notice they are tiny stickers stuck on tight.  I grin because I haven't seen stickers for two years until this past week. And I wouldn't trade a minute of it.  I am absolutely giddy about my pink little loads of laundry.  When I am tempted to wish I wasn't dancing with the broom, I remind myself of the reason that my floors are constantly sticky!...

I would say I am sorry for not blogging more often, but really I am not.  It is hard to type while you are holding a baby and for the last 6 weeks my arms have been quite full!  Even now my newest bundle is pressed warm on my chest here in the overstuffed recliner.  She can feel the rhythm of my breathing soft against her head.  Her ear pressed in close to my heart.  The familiar beat lulling her to sweet sleep. Is this how God longs to hold us? Wrapped up tightly in strong but tender arms. His life breath pouring over us.   Our ears pressed tightly to His chest. Pulled in close where we can hear His heartbeat. And when we scream and struggle, He whispers words of comfort. And pulls us even closer.  To hear the sweet song He sings over us. Yes, I think this must be how it is.  Even when we don't comprehend the words of the song.  He still sings.  And eventually we learn to recognize the melody.   Then we stop ...

I can't get the words out of my head so I think I will write them.  Over and over I turn them.  Trying to wrap my mind around what they really mean.  For me.  Oh I forget for a few hours or maybe even a day or two.  But they just seem to keep tapping me on the shoulder, demanding that I pay them attention. Do not love the world or anything in the world... Well, if I am honest, I love a lot of things in the world.  I love most anything chocolate.  I like hot baths and good magazines, the cooking channel, and lazy days spent shopping (I don't have those anymore but I can still think they are fabulous!).  Mexican restuarants...  melty s'mores by a crackling fire on a crisp, cool night... I could go on and on. ...for if anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. Wow, that seems so strong.   Except maybe it means if the love of the Father is in me, I will be too full to love the world.  I won't have an appetite...

Hot tears flood my eyes as I see rainbow toe pictures posted on Facebook.  Makiah's beloved preschool teachers are still remembering her in their classroom.  Papillon salon in Thomasville is donating part of the rainbow toe pedicures to the Well Project.  Even a girl scout troop is remembering her.  I got an amazing card from a sweet prayer lady and another from a mommy who lost her own child.  She is remembering my girl even though we have never met.  A pile of clothes came for my new little ones from a sweet cousin who must know that I think shopping is better than any medicine!  I really didn't expect people to remember the 2nd anniversary of her heaven day.  My heart is pricked by the beautiful notes and pictures sent my way. Not many of us would choose suffering if we were given the option.    I certainly wouldn't.  In a moment of agony just recently I gritted my teeth and told God between the sobs that I didn't want this sto...

Stroking softest cheeks.  Tracing perfect ears.  Running downy hair through fingers that cannot get enough.  A perfectly pretty package.  Such gifts of grace as these.  Four of them I have been given.  Three still near to me.  While gifts bring such joy, their loss brings such pain.  But when my sleepy thoughts hear the beckoning to wander down that stony path of agony and weeping, I will say not today.  I cannot stop the tear that slips beneath my eyelid, but I can avoid the torrents calling out my name.  I press  trembling lips to littlest cheeks  and tell her these are kisses.  And she will love them so.  But not as much as mommy.  I whisper near her ear.  A prayer of thanks to her Maker and that I will never forget.  Gifts formed in secret.  Healing wrapped in every touch.   My Maddie Grace

She is here in all her perfect squeezable little pinkness... Madelyn Grace King aka "Maddie Grace" 6lb 13oz and 20 inches long born September 21st Our fourth princess! The Twins greet Maddie Grace in their big sister shirts... still not sure what they think of this little squirmy bundle!

My bags are packed and itty, bitty clothes have that oh so sweet smell of baby detergent.  Red, yellow, green, blue, and purple... my toes are painted like a rainbow to remind me of the biggest sister in this special  hour that fast approaches.  Three and a half more days and I will be staring into the tiny, squished up face of a miracle.  My little  miracle.  Me- who thought that miracles were dead.   And this will be my third miracle in 18 months.  Life from death. In my yard another life from death drips early morning dew.  Delicate petals of pink and yellow like miniature bouquets swirl around the butterfly bush.  A gift from the first anniversary of Makiah's heaven day.   This sweet plant withered away to nothing last winter.   Just on a whim I buried the root.  Down deep under heavy, dark earth.  And left it there through the cold of grey winter days.  Forgotten and covered by pine straw. It caug...

Pitter patter of the rain.  Splatting on my windows.  15 days until she's here.  My thoughts are splashing on the inside.  A foot rolls across my belly... from underneath!  I am amazed at the miracle.  That this little life has grown inside without a doctor's help!  Every test said this was impossible.  And we had the infertile years to prove it.  My surprise.  My timely gift of joy.  When no one would have suspected that another little one was what I needed.  An accident?  Not in a million years!  Destined.  Purposed.  Created for such a time as this!  Made for glory .  His glory. Last night I lay in bed and could not sleep.  Brave words have flown away.  Pounding heart and butterflies churning.  I read too much.  Writings from a magazine earlier... placental abruption...  cord choking the baby... no prevention... late term dangers.   Maybe she hasn't moved ...

I read the book to them for the zillionth time.  Eyes sparkle as if the words have never fallen on their ears before.  "Open!"  "Open!"  The one with curls exclaims and drags the bag of legos to my feet.  We stack the tower that is never finished because little hands much prefer to knock it down.  Then we make our daily attempt at using the crayons until the adventurous one takes a bite or two.  Back into the closet they go while I am hoping she has not acquired a permanent taste for colored wax. They call for a "Nack!" and I whisk them into the highchairs for a snack of goldfish and applesauce.   Giggles fill the room as I tickle our way through naming the body parts of my captive audience. Our days are mostly the same.  The routine doesn't change that much.  Except that it will in 4 weeks when we add another tiny, wiggly one to the mix.  I have the first short gasps of panic as I think of how we will all adjust when the gra...

I admit my attitude was not the best... ok, so it was a lot worse than that.  I walked in the door from my first day back to work at my part time job with the school after being off for the summer, and my excited munchkins made a beeline for me.  I reached down to embrace one of them who was headed for my legs with arms outstretched.  Before we could hug each other, she projectile vomited all over me.  Lets just say even my shoes were filled... I mean filled!   Ugh!  (Now, I know this is totally gross, but don't you people read this blog because it is "real?" :) My first thoughts, well, after "disgusting!!" were something like "Seriously, God?  I am eight months pregnant in 100 degree weather and the first day back from work looks like this?!"  I am sure none of you ever think that way... So the rest of that evening was hard.  We repeated versions of that welcome home scene quite a few times.  Between dodging puke, cleaning her an...

“And Rehoboam son of Solomon… did evil because he had not set his heart on seeking the Lord.”   The words seemed to reach up to me and curl around my thoughts   last night before I drifted off   to sleep.   It is so easy for us to “do evil.”   What earned the son of Isreal’s wisest and most glorious ruler, Solomon, this epilogue?   The simple fact that he did not purpose to seek the Lord.   I think of my own days… chasing toddlers, doing dishes, planning meals, sweeping the floors again and again.   It is so easy to seek other things- like a nap! Or that good feeling when the house is clean and the aroma of a healthy dinner wafts through the door to greet my hubby.   Or the satisfaction of talking with a friend.   None of these are bad.   But it is so easy for daily living to crowd out the one thing that makes all the difference in enjoying everything else…   the one thing that determines if we finish well…   the one t...

"I will dance for the King, all the days of my life..."  The music swirls around me during the morning worship service.  Memories reach in and wash over me.  Suddenly I am singing this song with her little legs wrapped around my waist and her blond head nestled into my shoulder... the weight of her arms tight around my neck. Then a new picture fills my imagination.. her little arms in the air as she twirls on her tiptoes.  Tiny bare feet dancing gracefully with the song.  She is radiant with joy and pure delight shines in her eyes as laughter flows from her lips.  Blond curls swooshing about.  I picture angels... commanding and majestic (forget chubby babies with wings- in scripture when people saw angels, they fell prostrate in fear!) gathered by the hundreds with booming voices ringing out the chorus.  Little children are swirling about their feet in total bliss.  Sounds that rival the delight of any Christmas morning break out with pea...

I sit on the crisp white bed in Makiah's room for a long time thinking about it first.  Bouncing my eyes from the beautiful oil painting of a castle in the sky to the bright picture she painted of a house and then back to the shelf displaying her favorite things.  I thought we might sell our house and God would spare me from this moment, but it hasn't worked out that way.  Our family is growing and this baby will soon need a room.  So I sit on her bed contemplating what I am about to do. I get a text.  It is from a friend far away.  She says I am on her heart and wants to know what I am doing.  Tears fill my eyes, and I think she must have a hidden camera in my house! She responds no... but God does.  She reminds me that He always fills in the gaps for us and that she is praying Jesus will wrap His arms  around me and that she wishes she lived close enough to help and hug me herself.  I am undone.  By the love of a Father sent thr...

I am a magnet for four year old girls. We have been on a little vacation with my parents, and at the pool I seem to have constant companions who want to play with the twins. And they are all four year old girls. And my sweeties love it. And I cannot help but go there... to the what ifs. A few hours before the accident Cameron had a bad feeling and we prayed Psalm 91 and asked for protection on our trip. An unanswered prayer. But what if God had answered us with a miracle? What if she were here with us? I think back to another "what if." What if I had gotten pregnant again when I planned? The pinings for baby number two started when Makiah was barely one. My whole life I had been waiting for the day when I would have a rowdy house full of sweet little munchkins. Every month was a roller coaster of excited hoping and then a crash of disappointment when that little test was negative again. I remember purposely trying to turn my energy and focus on my time with Makiah....

They seem to crash over me this week.  The waves.  Of grief.  My hubby told me once it was that way for him...  sorrow in waves.   My ears are filled with the sound of pounding on my heart’s shore.    They won’t look at her picture or say her name anymore.  My babies.  They love to point to the grandparents’ pictures or call the name of their aunt “Lala” (aka Laura).  But they turn their heads now when I show them Makiah’s picture.  They used to imitate excitedly, “Kiah!”  Now they turn away with lips gone silent.  And inside I feel a desperate cry and stabbing pain.  A wish to right this wrong. She isn’t real to them.  They have never seen her bouncing curls, felt her tickling touch, or heard her giggles.   She doesn’t come to visit.  Ever.   This mystery sister.   I know they are too young to understand, but that is not the point.  This is just the fi...

Babbling babies and muffin crumbs.  Sun glimpsing through rugged pecan trees.  Gentle breeze and soft, purring kitty.  Morning light stretches onto our porch.  And I am thankful.  Thankful that all five of us (baby number 4 included!) are sitting here in our normal groggy state.  Nothing new.  Nothing exciting.  And my heart is beating with thankfulness. Yesterday we traveled home from visiting Cameron's parents.  Like we did that day.  We stopped at a mall for a short break.   Like we did that day... we had eaten in the food court, and Makiah and I played "I spy" while we waited for her Daddy to shop.   We made another quick stop to pick up something handed down for the new baby (thank you Melissa!!).  Like we did that day... the last time I touched Makiah was when we stopped to meet someone at a Mcdonald's to pick up a baby seat purchased from Craig's list.  When Cameron suggested we eat at Cracker Barrel ( li...

Peanut butter and honey sandwiches.  It’s amazing how good the simple things can taste when you are really hungry.  It’s the first time I have had peanut butter on a sandwich since Makiah died.  Peanut butter in any form was her favorite food, and I just couldn’t bring myself to eat it.  Until today.  And it was good.  And I think she would have smiled. There are a lot of things that I locked away and wouldn’t, couldn’t  do since she left us.  I wish I could say that I was quoting scripture and saying faith promises as I dug my way through the heavy dirt of the first year’s grief.  But I didn’t.  In fact, I didn’t really read my bible for an entire year.  A verse here and there maybe, but I just couldn’t seem to bear to read it.  The promises rang hollow, and it felt as though the words were mocking me.  But this January I decided something had to change in me or I would wither up and die inside.  Well, actually...

Dearest Makiah, Mommy and Daddy were there for both.  Your coming into this world and your going out.  Both were painful and messy- although in very different ways- but how beautiful were the moments in between!  Four years, four months, and twenty eight days of precious minutes.  Full of diapers and sillies and tears and messes.  Mermaids and "tiny fings."   Trips to the "liberry" and dreams of princess hair that "went all the way down to the bottom!"   Tickles in your "armpicks," peanut butter on a spoon that was "galicious" and veggies that were "asgusting." Memories pressed deeply into your mommy's heart.  Even if the details slip away when my mind is old and worn, the love of you is permanently engraved. Makiah.  Makiah Kaitlyn King.  You told me often that you wanted people to call you by your whole name, silly girl!  Your name is special to my heart.  Makiah comes from a Hebrew name (spelled Macaiah) found i...