Lilia

Dear Lilia,

Today should have been your due date.  I don't know if I'd be sitting here on the couch, snuggling a precious newborn or if you'd be cozy in my belly and staying put for awhile longer.  If you're anything like your big brother Beckett, you'd have been my March baby.

I really only have a few ultrasound pictures of you.  Just your profile at 12 weeks.  They took a lot of pictures of you at 16 weeks, but I never got one to take home.  They don't print off the pictures of a baby after they've died.  I feel mad at myself that I never asked for one.

I think about you every day.  Every single day, I think about you - my daughter.  I wonder what you would have smelled like, looked like, felt like.  I wonder how your smile would have lit up your face and how your laughter would have sounded.

I imagine you now, a grown woman, flawless and radiant complete with the joy that comes with eternity.  I wonder if you know how much I miss you.  I wonder if you know how sad I am without you here.

It still startles me how much my heart aches for someone I never got to meet.  I carried you for only 16 weeks and yet you have left a mark that can never be erased.

Your dad and I chose your name because of the Hebrew meaning, which is 'what belongs to me belongs to God'.  I wanted to have a beautiful reminder of that every time I thought of you.  Your name invokes joy, rather than sadness and bitterness.  I cannot be angry when I say your name, because it is a constant reminder that you belong to God and that is absolutely beautiful.

Still, with the sadness over losing you, there has been joy.  Your brothers are all getting older.  We bought a house.  At times I look down the hall and imagine a pretty pink nursery breaking up all the blue rooms.  I have made new friendships through this journey, and strengthened old ones.  Already today my phone has been filled with beautiful messages from friends who remember you.

Tonight, I think we'll light a pink candle and read through the cards and letters we received after you died.  I hope that you are looking down on us and knowing how loved you are, sweet girl.

You are always loved, always remembered.

Love,
Your Mom

Seasons

From about 2008 until 2012 I was part of a worship team.

I started singing background vocals as someone still figuring out who I was, where I was on my journey and very unsure of myself.  It quickly became the only way I knew how to connect with God.  On stage, I felt like I was part of something bigger than myself.  I felt, in those moments, that I was right where God wanted me to be.

In 2012, I took a break from singing.  There were extenuating circumstances - I was really, really busy. When I married Todd, I jumped into serving full force.  I sang on the worship team, I volunteered on the First Impressions team.  I helped out with the Girls Night Out women's ministry, I led Life Groups.  I met women for coffee, talked about life and mistakes and redemption and grace.  I parented my then 10/11 year old, I had a newborn.  Then the newborn got bigger, and the Thursday night rehearsals and Sundays were too much.

But - it was more than that.  While my relationship with God was growing, I still was fighting this NEED to be part of the worship team to feel connected to God.  I was learning other ways to connect with Him, yes - but there was no denying that the tangible act of getting up on a stage and singing worship songs was by far the most significant way I could connect with Him.  And I knew there was more for me - I knew it was time to be molded, to be shaped, to be pushed and to grow.  So I took a break.

Recently Harrison, our worship pastor, asked me if I ever got the itch to get up there and sing again.

And I'd be lying if I said I hadn't.  I'd be lying if I said some Sundays my heart didn't ache for the familiarity of that stage.  For the early morning call time and final run throughs, for the comraderie of the band members.  For the way I maneuvered past amps, guitars and cords in heels - for the rush of the countdown clock hitting zero.  I miss the way we'd all file off stage and into the band room, congratulating each other on a job well done or offering up constructive criticism on how to fix what went wrong.  And most of all, I miss that moment on stage when you just forget that there are hundreds of people with their eyes on you, and you raise your arms and are alone, connected, worshipping your God.

I have never been a great vocalist.  I've always wanted to be, but it's not my gift.  Yes, I can sing and carry a song decently - but I'll never grace the stage of American Idol or front a band.  I know I'll never make it big or be famous.  But there aren't many things that can reach down into my soul and grab hold of me like a worship song.  Play me a song about Jesus and I'll probably cry.  Because music touches me.  And it touches most people.  It's a medium that reaches across all ages, all genders - from children to seniors, music moves people.

And I was blessed - SO blessed - to be a part of it for a long time.  And I hope that someday, I'll be ready to take part of it again.

For now, I'm forcing myself to sit still.  To find peace.  To learn how to connect with God in a less tangible way than on a stage.  To find those worshipful moments when it's quiet and when I'm alone.  Or when I'm with my kids, or my husband.  To learn how to praise and give thanks without a spotlight.  For me, it was a much needed break.  God is stretching me, and He's teaching me, and He's using me in other ways.

Singing has been part of my life since I was a child.  But now, I choose to make peace with that being a season in my life that has prepared me for another season.  And I pray I'll revisit that season again, but this season - my season now - is exactly where God intends me to be.

All of my life
in every season
You are still God
I have a reason to sing
I have a reason to worship.
         - Desert Song, Hillsong

Is God moving you to enter a new season in your life?

Prep

One thing I've really wanted to get better at doing is prepping healthy foods and snacks ahead of time, so that when we are on the go, in a rush or super starving there is always a good choice readily available.

I wish I was better at it, but I am definitely not.  And if I'm going to be shopping for and purchasing a lot of fresh produce, I need to use it up before it goes bad.  We were using a TON of it for juicing but then we had a dishwasher disaster which involved our apparently recalled dishwasher, a heating element that wouldn't turn off, something about a fire hazard, and yes - plastic {dishwasher safe!} juicer parts that are now melted and completely unusable.  So without the option to currently juice our veggies - I knew I had to get moving and prep them for the week for snacking.  It'd be stupid to let them all go bad!

I saw a great Sunday night prep blog post on Green Plate Rule and it gave me the motivation I needed to get moving this afternoon while Beckett was napping.

I started by making one of our favorite healthy snacks - No Bake Energy Bites.

Then I started some dark chocolate and coconut butter granola!  You might see this recipe on an upcoming post at The Pinterest Project so you'll have to wait for it!

And then while that was baking, I started my produce prep.  I washed my produce in a white vinegar and water rinse and got to chopping!

And now we are all set and ready to go for the weekend!

Beckett's already had his hand in the cucumber container...

Got any food prep tips for me??

Cookies!

Even a crazy food lady like me has to make concessions for things like girl scout cookies.

Beckett's first - the do-si-do.

I think he liked it.

This kid now says "No, no, no" when he sees me bust out a camera.  Pretty soon, no one around here will let me photograph them.  Jeez.

If I'm quick though, I can still catch a little grin.

Why yes, his shirt IS dirty, thank you for noticing.  It happens.  Lunch + toddlers + independence = mess.

Grief + Acceptance

Yesterday would have marked the start of my 39th week of pregnancy.

Grief is a greedy emotion.

It's like being in a relationship with a partner who takes and takes and takes.  It's unrelenting in its persistence.  It's hard to move forward - and just when you think you have - it pops out from around a corner at you and gets all up in your business.  All you want to do is just. move. on.

A little innocence dies in you when you lose a pregnancy.  The innocent, naive joy that comes with pregnancy - it goes away.  There's a dark and twisty side that rears its ugly head.  It's the piece that feels cynical about other people's pregnancies.  A whisper that reminds you a positive pregnancy test and a due date doesn't mean you'll actually bring a baby home.

In the days that followed our loss, I found myself tempted to blurt out the news at the most inappropriate times to people I didn't even know.  "I know I look normal, but would you believe I just found out the baby I was carrying died and I had no idea until a doctor told me so"

Grief makes you question your own sanity.

And it's exhausting.

And every night, as darkness falls and the questions begin to swirl around in your head AGAIN, you're reminded just how exhausting it is to wonder, to ask why, to wish for things that aren't.

You're so very ready to just move on.  To not feel sad.  To not grieve.  To not cry anymore.  When the tears come,  you stop and scold yourself.  At times, you want to take yourself by the shoulders and yell "JUST STOP."  You give yourself pep talks.  After all, people have it worse.  People go through worse.  People have been through it more times than you have.

Buck up, buttercup.

Grief will make you angry.  It can isolate you.  It can squash you and make you feel like you can't breathe.

So - there has to be acceptance.   Acceptance that things just aren't.  Acceptance that life is unfair, that people hurt, and things don't go according to our plan.  Acceptance that pregnancy still IS life affirming, and beautiful and joyous.  Acceptance that other people will have healthy pregnancies and deliver precious babies.  And these moments are beautiful, even if they are painful.

And acceptance brings peace.  Peace that will come more and more often and push out the grief.  Sure, the grief will always be there - always - but peace will settle in.  You'll find yourself smiling with pregnant friends, praying for their healthy pregnancies and babies, feeling joy over their squishy little bundles.  Even in the pain and the sadness, there will be joy and peace.

The next time grief shows up, you can welcome it with open arms.  Let it stay awhile and cozy up on the couch with you, next to a fireplace.  Sit still and feel it.  And then, ever so kindly, send it on its way - knowing that you will meet again some day.

And take comfort in this.

Lamentations 3:31-33

For men are not cast off

by the Lord forever.

Though he brings grief, he will show compassion,

so great is his unfailing love.

For he does not willingly bring affliction

or grief to the children of men.

Three

Three years ago today, my husband asked me a very important question.

Only, he wasn't my husband then, he was just my boyfriend.

And he asked me to marry him.

We have had a crazy ride already and I can't even imagine the craziness of the rest of our lives.

There are only a handful of times I can say with certainty that God spoke to me - in a way that felt VERY real - and the decision to marry Todd was one of those times.

Happy 3 year anniversary of our engagement to my husband!

single

My husband beat me to the punch this morning with his Valentine's Day post on Facebook:

I love having someone to celebrate Valentine's Day with. But today, my heart and prayers go as well to those who are single (and don't want to be), widowed or widowers, divorced, or separated. The culture makes this a tough holiday for you and today I want you to know how much you are loved.

I had a whole blog post formulating in my head about this subject, so I'm kind of mad at him for beating me to it, but ah well.  At least it shows we are on the same page, right?  Plus he usually says things better than I do anyway.

But I did not want this "holiday" to pass by without me acknowledging a group of people very dear to my heart.  Single parents.  And, because I was one not so long ago, single moms.  Regardless of the circumstance that put you where you are, being a single mom is a kick your butt to the moon and back, exhausting and often times thankless job.  In fact, people generally have pretty strong opinions and ideas about who you are, what you're doing wrong, how you're raising your child(ren) and what you should be doing better.

And well meaning married friends try to show solidarity with you by telling you they are doing the "single parent thing" while their husbands are out of town and they just don't know how you do it.

Well, as someone who is now home with children while my husband travels for work, I can say it's just not the same as being a single mom.  Because my husband comes home.  He takes out the garbage.  He brings in the income so that I can stay home with my children.  He runs errands, he does the laundry.  He brings home an income.  He is here when I need to talk through something frustrating or get advice.  He kills spiders.  He brings home an income.

You know what I'm saying.  As a single parent (mom OR dad) you do all of those things.  You're the spider killer, the laundry do-er, the boo boo kisser, the bedtime story reader, the nightmare soother, the bring home the bacon-er, the broken toilet fixer, the garbage taker outer...

And then holidays like Valentine's Day or Mother's Day roll around and it gets you down.  Even when you tell yourself it's just a dumb Hallmark holiday and it doesn't really matter - it will get you down.

So to all the single mamas (and daddies) out there - I get it.  You're loved and appreciated more than you know - not only by the kidlets you work so hard for but by Jesus, who is the lover of your soul.


 

Happy Valentine's Day to all of the single parents out there - and happy Valentine's Day to my husband who does all of our laundry and rolls out the garbage for garbage day.

xoxo