An Unexpected Journey

We sit in her room with the happy, pink flowers hanging on the wall and the butterfly curtains billowing- the babies and I.  They lay on the bright, white bedspread and I show them the things that were special to their big sister, Makiah...  her purple, shell necklace that sings The Little Mermaid's song because she wore it all the time and drove me crazy playing the song... her tiny ballerina bear because she wanted to "be a ballerina not when I'm a grown up but now while I'm a little girl..."  her baby doll that giggles because she loved babies and wanted brothers and sisters more than anything in the world.  I show them her picture and they grin and reach for her, well, for it.  I get out the video camera.  Then it hits me.  The profound sadness of it all.  I am taping my girls' reactions to their sister's picture.  Because I can't video their reaction to their sister .  I almost never cry in front of the twins, but today I cannot keep the tears fr

It was like Christmas when it came in the mail… well, what Christmas used to be like.  I couldn’t wait to get the little package open!   I pulled at the stubborn tape, and then ripping it open with a jerk, I held my breath.  I carefully pulled out a dark blue notebook and gingerly opened the flaps.  There they were!  The pictures!  Just in time for the first anniversary of her heaven day, the pictures of the first well and it’s dedication had arrived…  and I felt a smile in my heart.   The well isn’t fancy and the crowd isn’t huge, but it is real.  Something my little girl wanted to do.  A way for her to leave a footprint, to impact another life.  The faces are precious to me.  A little baby in her mother’s arms.  We are connected, this mother and I.  Her child is in her arms and mine is not.  But a little girl’s gift, an outpouring of love from people like you, and a spout of fresh water have joined us together in a mystical way.  My loss is her gain.   I would change the loss i

I am not afraid to die.  Maybe I am afraid to live.  But I am not afraid to die.  How can I be scared of something my four year old has already faced?  But do I have what it takes to live-  strength,  endurance, courage to seek Him,  integrity to keep pursuing Truth?  Not enough.  I look inside and there are big gaping holes of not enough.  Faith?  Hope?  Love?  Not enough. I read in the book 1,000 Gifts that Jesus embraced his not enough.  He gave thanks for it and a miracle followed every time.  Can I give thanks for my not enough?  Not enough time with Kiah.  Will it ever be enough?  Enough time with our loved ones?  The bible says God set eternity in the hearts of men.  All loving relationships here end in sadness and separation.  No matter how wonderful.  They all end in death.   But something deep in the recesses of our hearts tells us this is not how it should be.  That place in our souls longs for eternity... for a  place of no goodbye's.   No, it is never enough. Tha

I was hesitant to go.  I don't have any artistic ability at all.  I can barely draw stick people!  What could I possibly do in an art therapy group?  But it was for local moms who have lost a child recently, and I decided it might help me to meet some who are walking this broken road, too.  We shared our stories and cried for and with each other.  The facilitator had us close our eyes and do some relaxation imagery.  When she said "now imagine that you are coming to a place of acceptance,"  all the relaxing imagery went out the window, and in my mind's eye I was fighting to free myself from an impossible box.  I was kicking and clawing to get out, but I was surrounded on all sides and shrouded in darkness.  I feel red.  I feel powerless.  I feel trapped.  I feel unseen.  I feel... angry. I was totally surprised.  I didn't think that I had been angry at all.  Sad.  Broken.  Depressed.  Crushed.  Not angry.  But here it was. Anger.  Surfacing in this class that