Tuesday, December 29, 2015

There are holes in the floor of heaven…


and their tears are falling down... 

I should have known they’d be with me.  Someway, somehow, They always are.  
  
It’s my first visit to Tennessee since “the accident.”  
My first trip without my other half.  My anchor.  My Charles.  

The other anchor in my life, my other sweet Sammy, rode shotgun today, sniffling, sneezing and snotting the entire 11 hour trip.  She sat beside me, heart pounding, anxiety mounting, as we treacherously inched through a raging rainstorm with one headlight, fog, mist and almost zero visibility.  She hunched beside me as I gripped the wheel and I prayed over and over and over again-
Jesus-please. 
Jesus-be near-
Jesus-cover us in your grace, your protection, your mercy.  
Jesus-PLEASE.  keep them safe-keep them covered-guide them to safety.  
Because in front of me were 2 of the 3 children I have left on this earth. 2 of my precious babies were in a car, in front of me, in some of the  most dangerous conditions I’ve ever driven in.  
2 OF MY 3.   
I simply couldn’t breathe.  


And when we got here, to her home, the one my kids had never seen…it hit me like a freight train.  Mercy and Sam were never physically here- 
and yet, here they were.  On every wall, in every room, on almost every surface.   bits and pieces and memories. Everywhere.  

And it hurt.  Like you wouldn’t believe, it stung.  My sister, their aunt, not me, their mom-seemed to have more ways to remember them in her home than I did.  Little pictures dotted almost every surface & wall, butterflies peeking out, superheroes smiling, a lovely little corner of their things.  

So I escaped.  I hopped in the car, bound for the grocery, as usual.  Tears poured down my face in the blur of the night...and the radio that had sat silent the entire day- it suddenly beckoned me.  
Seek me. 
Search me. 
Find me.  
And I did.  

For the first time in at least 10 years, THIS. SONG. PLAYED.  

‘Cause there's holes in floor of Heaven…
and her tears are pourin' down. 
That’s how you know she’s watching’
Wishing she could be here now...

And sometimes if you’re lonely
Just remember she can see
There’s holes in the floor of Heaven
And she’s watchin’ over you and me

So I had another hissy fit-(to which I firmly believe I am completely entitled.)
I told Him again, for the thousandth time, how outraged I was.  How completely infuriated I was with His lack of a miracle for my babies.  How they don't belong in Heaven in yet, THEY BELONG WITH ME.
This is not supposed to be my life…

Yet it is.  

So I thirst like a withering vine in the desert for any tiny reminder, any little “sign,” any shred of a memory or moment.  I cling desperately to the little things.  
Like songs from decades ago-songs that remind my lonely heart that my precious little people are still and will always be with me, that He is with me, walking beside me, carrying me, drying my tears and gently reminding me that they are NOT gone, they are just waiting for me.  
In Heaven. 

Dammit-I'm stuck here, I'm left here, beseeching Him, actually... BEGGING HIM...for the peace to trust His voice, hear His whispers and fulfill His plans.  
I’ll wait here, fighting with all I am for what is left of my family and believing in His promises.  
I’ll wait here, safe in the knowledge that He created me knowing I would live this life and He will walk/carry/drag me through it, one single moment at a time.  (He might well be doing some dragging right now.) 

Quite simply, I know it’s not a coincidence that I write- in His infinite wisdom, He knew it would help me find my center someday in a painfully topsy turvy world.  He knew I’d use it somehow and He knew every one of you would read it.  Because He. knows. us.  He knows every choice our lives will be directed by, so He creates us to survive them if we fall into His arms and beg Him to show us the way.  He KNOWS we are fatally flawed, He knows we will fall, and He loves us in spite of it all.  Because He created us to serve Him for the number of days we will walk this earth.  And He knew my babies would be in His care far too soon-

For you created my inmost being;
You knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful, 
I know that full well.  
My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, 
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.  
Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.   
                                                                                                                                     Psalm 139:13-16

Which means that I must remain squarely in His care
So I will open my eyes and my heart WIDE-alert for every little reminder, overwhelmed with the love my sister and each member of my family has poured out over us and covered us with as we faced our first season of our Savior without Mercy and Sam.  
I will study and memorize every picture I see here, I will turn every corner and see their faces.  I will hold Sammy's blanket and Mercy's skirt, I will inhale what remains of their scent and be thankful.  That they will never be forgotten, not ever.  And that when I am too weak and weary to build my little remembrances-my family will do it for me, holding me up, anchoring my heart and preserving my loves.   One memory, one memento, one picture at a time.  












With love,
clan mac mama













Wednesday, December 23, 2015

I can't even count...

how many times a day I utter these words…
I just want my babies back.
I just want my life back. 
I just want to be a mama to 5 littles. 


And every. single. time.
I get slapped in the face by the cold reality that I just can't have what I want.  That the picture you see is a memory- one that I can't ever live again this side of Heaven.

And Charley can't have her time machine.
Max can't see them again.
Eva…
Oh, that sweet child is so far in a box that I have not one clue what she wants.
Wait- that's just not true.
In steadfast eldest child fashion, she is tenacious in her resolve to subdue the sadness. to fix it. to deftly gloss right over that GIANT gaping hole in our lives that used to be a family of 7.
She hasn't stalled one bit…
She dances, pirouettes, splits, leaps, and spins.
She plans, organizes, strategizes, plots and outlines.
She consoles me, upholds me, she dries my tears.
She utters a THOUSAND miles a minute-convinced the steady stream of spoken word masks the silence.  determined to consume the yawning void that used to be the chaos of 5 and is now the subtle silence of 3.
3.
Not 5.
3.
What does it feel like for them?  Truly? WHAT?
Every morning when I wake, I'm consumed with thoughts of them.  It's what makes me want to just stay asleep.  When I'm asleep, I don't know.  I don't know they aren't alive here anymore.  Or maybe it's why I never seem to want to go to sleep.  Because I know I'll have to wake again to the completely sucky reality that THEY AREN'T HERE.
It's why Charley won't sleep.
And she's 9.
9 years old.
And in her mind, her innocent black and white consciousness…
it's her fault.  
She shouldn't have asked.
IF she could just build a time machine, she could change her mind.  And they wouldn't go on that ride.  And Mercy & Sammy would still be here.
It doesn't seem to matter how many times I tell her it's not her fault…
she can't change it.
her heart is broken and she's, well, NINE.
She's not ok.
She's not fine.
None of them are.  and no matter how much anyone wants them to be, they aren't.

And how do I convince my littlest surviving child that he won't always feel so lonely, that someday, somehow, he will find joy again?  That he will be accepted simply for who he is?  The way he once was by his precious little soulmates?

I wanted to rise to the occasion of Christmas.  I wanted to triumph over the unspeakable sadness, the loneliness and the tears to force all of us to be joyful, thankful, peaceful.
I wanted to.  I really did.
And I failed.
We all did.
The only thing I forced myself to do was buy presents because I simply couldn't bear the thought of more sadness and disappointment on their sweet faces.

Maybe I'm just spent...I've risen to every occasion that has come my way since this began.  And I'm tired. No. NOT just tired.  I'm bone-weary, exhausted, emotionally drained and completely heartbroken.  I've endured football games without my little cheerleader and quarterback.  I've forced a smile and light conversation during our homeschool days.  I've packed Operation Christmas Child boxes.  I've cried my way through 8 Nutcracker performances without my baby ballerina and her biggest fan.  I've lit a garden of remembrance with my surviving son while my oldest child sobbed in the background & my now "middle" child hunkered down on the stairs.  I've endured the "how are you?" question without screaming my head off more times than it's possible to count.

I wanted to write today to bring hope-to encourage faith-to focus on the real reason we celebrate this precious holiday.

But the only thing I could write was this.

And maybe, just maybe, I'll find my words again.  If I just close my eyes, reach for Him and let Him tell me about the beauty He sees, I'll know the glory of His creation, His peace, His purpose and His provision once again.

Please pray for us.  Each of us is wading upstream through a fog we can't seem to clear.  Prayer and the grace of God have truly held us up.   And perhaps I've gotten too proud and too stubborn to ask for it as often as we need it (which is, seriously, every minute of the day)-perhaps I've allowed expectation of "moving on," flat out fury at what our life is now, and quite simply, utter exhaustion- to keep me from asking, from telling, from SHOUTING how desperately we need our Savior and every precious prayer rendered on our behalf.  We ache for each one.
We simply.
cannot.
live.
without.
HIM.

Him who gave us life.  Him who gave us breath.  Him who GAVE HIS SON for us.  He spared not HIS own son.  And what pride, what selfishness, what-could possibly convince me that he would spare my children from the consequence of human choice and sin, when He gave His OWN Son to save us from the original consequence of the choice to sin.
Human pride-
-fallible sin
-a corrupted and selfish world.


He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all--how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?  
                                                 Romans 8:32

And what are those things?
They are hope...and a future...and plans to prosper us, give us hope and a future.  All of these are His promises.  And He never breaks a promise.

So, for this moment, this night, this precious minute, I will cling desperately to that HOPE.

But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.

                                                                                     Isaiah 53:5

Please pray for our healing, our peace and our future.  Pray for yours.  Pray for every parent walking this earth without the fellowship of their precious child or children.  

In His grip and by His grace, 
clan mac mama

Monday, November 30, 2015

And on this last day of the month of thankfulness...

Honestly-I'm just thankful one more dreaded "1st" has passed.
I'm thankful for those who took the time to remember and acknowledge our sweet Mercy and Sam in this painful time, and to remind us of how much they were loved and are missed.
I'm thankful beyond measure for ALL of my children.

And yet-Every day feels like a surreal alternate universe, one that I pray I'll wake from.

In 2 short days, 20 years of marriage will be upon Charles and I.  20 years.  6 months ago, I had dreams of donning my dress and having a quiet little ceremony in the chapel on Parris Island with my husband and children...just us, just them.  I wanted them to witness us renewing those vows that we made so many years ago.  Those vows that led us down the path to becoming their parents.
And now.
Now.
Exactly how does one celebrate such an amazing milestone when 2 of the most beautiful fruits of that marriage are no longer part of our earthly joy?  I just don't have an answer for that.

I pray every day that God will reveal His plans- I pray that they will be to spiritually prosper us, to give our hearts hope and a future, to show us how we can glorify Him with the words of our mouths, the actions in and of our lives, and the meditations of our hearts.  I pray that He will meet us in our sadness, our brokenness and our longing.
Let me be very clear-  There is no "reason" for our pain and our loving God didn't "choose" us to suffer this.  He simply met us there.  He met & then carried our children out of their pain as they left this world so violently.
He carries us here moment by moment.
He is our undergirding and He is our strong tower.  He and He alone, will be our redeeming grace.

In the bleeding moments of my brokenness, I have so often asked-"Have I displeased you, my God?"  I haven't just asked, I have shouted this, I have sobbed this.  Because I wonder, every. single. day.  WHY US?  WHY my children?  WHY?  Have I lost your "favor," my God?

Yet, this I know-
If the Lord granted His favor only upon those who looked as though they "deserved it", the starving child in Ethiopia would never lack, the homeless mom who simply cannot find a job wouldn't lack, the proud homeless vet who served his country wouldn't lack, the martyr for Christ wouldn't lack, the neglected and abused child wouldn't lack.  I don't covet God's favor, I simply covet His priceless love, grace, and redemption.

So today, I'm extraordinarily thankful for Christ and His sacrifice.  And if I just keep my eyes and heart focused on Him, I can tune out the static of this world that distracts me from the hope I have in the promise of eternity with all of my precious babies and my sweet husband.

He said to me: “It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the thirsty I will give water without cost from the spring of the water of life. 7 Those who are victorious will inherit all this, and I will be their God and they will be my children.
                                                                                                            Revelations 21:6-7

Saturday, November 07, 2015

Walking in my shoes...

I read a poem recently about the shoes I walk in.
The shoes I never wanted to wear-
the ones of a grieving mother.

And then I thought...
What about HIS shoes?  The grieving father and the shoes HE must wear?  The man whose heart is just as broken as mine-yet he stands in the shadows with his grief while the world comforts the grieving mother?
What about HIM?
It's SO not just me.

My husband- he is the shattered, grieving father in the darkness... in the midst of this nightmare.
So many times, helplessly, I watch the man who leads our family sobbing and broken.  It's gut wrenching to try and hear him when he can barely speak the words he needs to get out.  What's it like for him?  To put on that uniform every day and have to walk into the office where he would sometimes take our kids for a bit while I went to appointments or ran errands.  The place where he took them for the kid version of "Jane Wayne" day every single year.  That place where people just laughed as they watched the little fire team and a spare literally march by.  To have to drive, EVERY DAY, by the spot where we were standing when we got THE call.  To know he has to drive by the stupid Polaris dealership every. single. day. and see their proud display of that damn death trap that killed our kids.  To sit and watch him with his head in his hands because he simply can't fill out another piece of paper to inform YET ANOTHER person/agency/entity/organization that his children have DIED.  To see the regret etched in his eyes for the times he was gone, the memories he missed because of deployments, schools, PCS moves, classes…you name it.
What's it like to know your children are no longer of this world and you can't change it, fix it, mend it, patch it…nothing?  There isn't a single. solitary. thing. you can do.  And for a father?  That is simply the worst part of it all.  That he. can't. fix. this.

His son doesn't have a brother anymore, his son doesn't have a twin to share his life with.  His daughters don't have their sidekicks to plan every holiday months in advance, invent new games, dress up and hide in forts and corners with, watch scooby marathons with, simply GROW UP with.
And
he.
can't.
fix.
it.

We took the kids to the movies a while back.
It sucked.
We both spent the entire movie remembering what it was like when we took the 5 of them-the popcorn juggling, candy fighting, potty breaks, spilled drinks-
it was just too quiet.  Too easy.
Every. single. day.  It's just too damn quiet.

Every day, my husband, their father, aches for what was, what should have been and what will never be here on this earth.

The daughter he will never walk down the aisle, the son he will never see serve Christ, his family or  his country, the grandchildren he will never know.  But most importantly, the baptisms we will never share with them.  That moment when they come to Christ, when they CHOOSE Him, when they choose JOY and share it with those they love.   Don't get me wrong, they LOVED Jesus, but they hadn't walked forth in baptism yet.  They were so little!  Baptism just beginning to be a concept they could grasp.
Clearly, they've already gone to Christ.  The last thing any parent truly wants…baptism by way of actually meeting Christ.  Forever.

And yet, Jesus said...
      "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."
                        Matthew 19:14

It's amazing to me how God created the human body and mind, preparing it for those times when it would be overwhelmed by the circumstances and choices of this fallen world.  He created it to withstand the insanity that threatens the human mind when it is simply overtaken by pain too great to bear...He gave us-
Shock-
And I'd venture to say we're both overwhelmingly grateful for it now.  Beyond thankful for the time we were numb and could show infinitely more grace than we, alone, could ever be capable of.  That shock was truly God's gift and provision for preserving what was left of our sanity.  Some days, I'd give my left arm to have it back.  And I know Charles would too.

So many days, shock seems like it would be so much easier. To just go back to that place of numbness and just putting one foot in front of the other.

Because when you're still in shock, it's not real.
And we just don't want it to be real.  And maybe, for a tiny window of time, all the moving and chaos of finding a home let it be "unreal" for just a little bit longer.

All of a sudden-it's been almost 5 months now. We've changed seasons, the time has fallen back, the holidays are upon us.  We live in home they never lived in.  We sleep and wake, eat and play, cry and laugh...we LIVE here in a home that never knew them.
Bless the hearts of every one of you who wants to know if we are settled...
No.
We'll never be settled.  Ever.  Not until we are all settled, once again, as a complete family in one place.  Reunited, every tear wiped away, all our sorrows forever forgotten, in our forever home with Christ.

     "And God shall wipe away all the tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away."
                                                                                                              Revelation 21:4


And if I'm really honest, I'll tell you that they are starting to feel like a dream.  A really wonderful dream that we lived for 6 1/2 years.  
Because, truthfully...I can still barely look at their pictures.  Watching a video of them is impossible. And just holding their clothes can make me sob uncontrollably.

So I don't.  And Charles doesn't.  But our kids need us to, and truly, our hearts need us to.  So we will.  One image, one captured memory, one piece of their lives...at a time.  We'll walk, in tiny...itty bitty...baby steps...
of the shoes we must wear.  

     "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." 
                                                                                             Matthew 5:4

Finding hope and joy in the daily presence of Christ, despite our circumstances, that will be the greatest blessing we can receive.

But, please, please, please, share with us your memories.  Your laughter.  Your moments.  Tell us about our babies.  Remember them, laugh about them, keep them alive in your hearts, your lives and your spirits.  Share those photos, tell those silly stories.  Help us take those baby steps.  Help us find comfort in not only who they were, but more importantly, who they are now.

And finally-
I know I've been quiet, not posting or sharing.  It simply wasn't time.  And I knew it was time when the Lord placed this verse on my heart-

      After the earthquake, there came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.  And after the fire came a gentle whisper. 
                                           1 Kings 19:12

My heart needed a quiet, humble place in which to listen.  To listen for whispers He provides.  To listen for the quiet breeze on which He sends the Holy Spirit.  

My heart needs Him.  My mouth will praise Him.  My life will serve Him.  And by both their births and their deaths, our family will serve him by ensuring the lives of Mercy and Sam will continue to glorify Him, spread His truth, share His love, live in His peace and glorify His saving grace.

     I will extol the Lord at all time, 
           his praise will always be on my lips. 
     I will glory in the Lord;
          let the afflicted hear and rejoice.  
     Glorify the Lord with me; 
          let us exalt his name together.  
                                           Psalm 34:1-3


Each prayer that is offered is a life giving affirmation of love- so, please continue!  Not just for our family, but for every family that is walking in these horribly ill-fitting shoes of grief.

With love and by His Grace,
clan mac mama












Thursday, October 08, 2015

The title of this post was supposed to be...

Mornings suck. 
Especially this one, since I woke up crying AGAIN and just didn't want to get out of bed. But as I lay there, drifting in and out of sleep, I could hear the sounds of Charley & Max, dumping legos on the floor, inventing in their room, laughing as they enjoyed the freedom of a morning of mommy sleeping in. 
When I was finally ready to make my way to the Keurig, I passed by the living room and was caught off guard by the sight of Charley's Bible and Community Bible Study workbook open on the floor.  Now, mind you, that sweet child loves her some Jesus & studying His Word, but most mornings, like any other homeschooled, bookworm 9 year old, she is off in la-la land with her current favored book.  THEN, I happened to hop on Facebook while drinking my coffee and this is what I saw...
Charles had snapped a picture of Charley helping Max with HIS Bible study.  And now she is in their room, "teaching" him his math.  Not sure why I used quotes there...she really is teaching him. 

And this was my encouragement this morning from a sweet friend who gave me a special cross and verse based daily blessings to go with it...

Tiffany, you can teach God's great truths to people who are able to pass them on to others.  
-inspired by 2 Timothy 2:2

In Paul's letters to Timothy, this is what he actually said:
You then, my son, be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus.  And the things you have heard me say in the presence of many witnesses entrust to reliable people who will also be qualified to teach others.  
2 Timothy 2:1-2  

I am uniquely qualified to teach MY children.  To lead them to Christ.  To teach them to teach others.  And when I am so often plagued by my perceptions of failure, sadness, doubt and insecurity, and most heavily of all, grief, HE relieves my afflictions.
HE stirs in the heart of my children the seeds Charles and I have planted.  The seeds that every other believer who has invested their love, time and hearts into my children, all FIVE of them, He has and is watering those seeds.

And He is calling me to water the seeds He planted when Mercy & Sammy went home to Jesus.  This is my answer.  To keep writing, to keep sharing my heart and to share our journey. 

I'll be honest-I haven't published anything recently because a seed of doubt had taken root, watered by opinions and discomfort.  Then, in true Sovereign God fashion, the encouragement started rolling in-texts, facebook messages, treasured wise women stopping me and telling me to keep writing, keep letting Him lead and keep fanning the flames of the presence of God that engulfed that day when we laid our precious babies to rest. 

And there is no "I" in that mission.  There is no "I" in what He will put on my heart to share, in how to serve, in the ultimate goal to bring good from what was intended by the enemy for evil.  There is only HE.  "I" am not the writer, "I" am not strong, "I" am weak, broken, grief stricken and overwhelmed. 
HE is the writer of my story, He is the author of my life.  Of every life He creates, He is the author and perfecter of our journey.  And he uniquely equipped each one of us to travel the path we call our lives. 
But-and there's always a but-we have to choose Him, choose JOY, choose HIS way.  Because without it, we stumble, we grope, we flail about, certain of our SELF sufficiency while we fail miserably in our insufficiency. 
But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."  Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.
2 Corinthians 12:9

And then there is pr"I"de.
Snarky little thing, it is.
It's often said that money or the pursuit of wealth is the root of evil.  I beg to differ, my friends. 
I'd argue that it's pride.
And that nasty, icky, sneaky fog of judgement that comes with it.  
Pride manifests itself through so many avenues.  Ways most of us never even recognize.  And I'm guilty of it every. single. day.  Probably every hour. 
Facebook is filled with it.  So is the internet, the news media, books, magazines, newspapers, blogs...you name it.  PRIDE is everywhere. 
Let me tell you about my pride now. 
It's still there.  But it's a whole lot smaller.  Like a raisin in the sun, it is shriveling and shrinking, moment by moment.   Losing 2 of your most precious blessings in a split second, then having to literally rely on the grace and provision of others to physically, emotionally and spiritually carry you through is quite possibly the most humbling experience of a lifetime. 
This season of grief, the summer of sadness was characterized most notably by this...
When we were hungry, we were fed.
When we needed rest, we were given shelter.
When we needed an ear, we were given compassion.
When we needed time, others cared for our children.
When we needed encouragement, He sent the Holy Spirit to give it-in too many ways for me to even count.
When we needed spiritual food, He fed us.

And you know what I learned?
I CANNOT, in my own strength, be the child of God He created and planned a life for.
There is no room for pride, self sufficiency or judgement.
So leave it at the door, my friends.  I promise you, you won't regret it.

Pride goes before destruction, 
a haughty spirit before a fall.  
Proverbs 16:18

Gracious words are a honeycomb, 
sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.  
Proverbs 16:24 

What started as a day filled with tears has become a bright and sunny morning, filled with HIS promises and the beauty of HIS story beginning again.  

As my sweet mutually grieving friend, Cassie, at www.bleepingamazing.com says...
Find the amazing. Sleep. Repeat.

HE is the amazing.

By His Grace & with my love,
clan mac mama  




Wednesday, September 30, 2015

My sweet little son just asked me if he could...

"go back to that place, you know, the one where Mercy & Sam's bodies are?"
Umm…
I was speechless for just a minute, then recovered enough to try and give that sweet little 6 year old boy an answer that would make sense to his confused mind and broken heart.
To say today was difficult might be a bit of understatement.
EVERY. SINGLE. THING. stung like a sharply honed knife twisted in the festering wound of our hearts.
When I picked him up from his playtime with a friend today, his first words to me after he tackled me with a hug-
"I miss Mercy and Sam, Mama."
This was followed by the conversation at dinner during which he quizzed me about whether their bodies were still here, could we go back to "that place" and see them, or "are their bodies in heaven now?"
I swear my life mostly feels like the Twilight Zone.
I seriously wake up EVERY. DAY. sick to my stomach, exhausted and certain that this must be a nightmare and I WILL. WAKE. UP.
Right?
I'll wake up and Mercy and Sammy will be standing at my bedside, staring me in the face and scaring the stink out of me as I startle awake.
I'll wake up and they'll be in the kitchen, raiding the Nutella and bread.
I'll wake up and they'll be in the playroom, building a fort and having a castle battle.
I'll wake up and THEY WON'T BE DEAD.
Right?
Nope.
This is my life now.
This is my story.
I spend my days worried that my 2 sweet, kind, formerly naive daughters have PTSD and that my son will marry the first woman who tells him what to do and how much she loves him…all because he misses his bossy twin and is so lonely his heart just hurts.
I spend my days wondering exactly what in the bloody heck we are supposed to do now.
Everything is different.
Nothing is the same.
Not
one
single
thing.
Yesterday, I sat on the floor holding a sobbing child who couldn't even catch her breath because she was crying so hard.
All because school days remind her of Mercy & Sammy.  And how much she misses them.
2 days ago, I had to take the iPod from a miserable tween who just tries to hide herself in it when she realizes how lonely she is and how much she misses her little tribe.
Today, I had to analyze how every single decision we make is affecting how they are handling this, how we are helping them to handle it and how completely broken we are as parents, in our marriage and in our lives.
Simply put-this is a royal mess.
And I AM ANGRY.
THIS is not how it's supposed to be.

It's fall now.
We should be picking pumpkins, planning costumes, riding on hay wagons and competing in costume contests.  We should have gone to Great Wolf Lodge with our friends.
We're not.
And I AM ANGRY.
I am not better, it's not easier.
Still, I can't look at their pictures.  I can't watch videos.  I can't even hold Sammy's pillow right now or pick up Mercy's ballet shoes.
Because it makes me MORE ANGRY.
Angry that this is my life.  And my husband's life.  And Eva, Charley and Max's lives.
I want to see the good.  I want to praise Him in this storm.

And I have.
I will.
I must.
There is simply no other option.
So I will give it ALL to HIM.  To the one who can heal.  The one who can mend.  The one who is sovereign.
He knew, He knows, He IS.
"One bold message in the book of Job is that you can say anything to God. Throw at him your grief, your anger, your doubt, your bitterness, your betrayal, your disappointment -- he can absorb them all. As often as not, spiritual giants of the Bible are shown contending with God. They prefer to go away limping, like Jacob, rather than to shut God out."
~Philip Yancey, Disappointment with God


I'm not just limping, I'm broken.  WE are broken.  All of us.  I've said it all, I'll say it all again.  Because this isn't a simple 3 step process-
1. Children die.
2. Grieve.
3. Move on. 
It's a circle.  An INFINITE circle of grieving what should have, what could have been and what will never be.  

There is no moving on.  There is just learning to, somehow…someday... live again.  And we simply aren't there yet.  How do I know?  Because last night, I laid prostrate in the middle of a wood floor and howled myself into a snot covered, filthy, exhausted mess of a mama.  And tonight I want to get an ax and chop down every tree in my yard.  

Maybe then I'll sleep.  From the sheer exhaustion of the physical exertion-maybe then I can sleep.  

I dreamed of Mercy last night.  But I didn't get to hold her.  Instead, I lost her.  And when, finally I had found her, she was just out of my reach.  
Just. out. of. my. reach.  

Do you know what the Holy Spirit whispered to me in that dream last night?  If this anger consumes me in it's fiery furnace, Mercy and Sammy will ALWAYS be out of my reach. For now and forever more.  

So.  
I need your prayers.  I need mine.  But most of all?  
I need Jesus.  
I need to let Him hold me, mend me, and carry my burden.  

Carry it, Jesus.  PLEASE.  
Just carry it.  

28 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
Matthew 11:28-30

I give You my burdens. 
Help me, Jesus.  Help me. 

love, 
clan mac mama

   



Saturday, September 19, 2015

skies a-painted in tie dye sunsets,


His whispers calm those last regrets.
Sammy's scent on a bumblebee pillow,
tears falling like the leaves of a willow.
butterflies flitting here and there,
memories, memories, everywhere.
cardinals resting in the trees,
shattered dreams drop me to my knees.
words of wisdom from God Most High,
to my beaten, broken heart, a lullaby.
the healing power of His Holy Grace,
evident in every place.
What good, I asked, could come from this?
Watch and wait, He says, don't miss-

My grace.
My peace.
My gentle bliss.

He reveals deep and hidden things;
he knows what lies in darkness,
and light dwells with him.

Daniel 2:22

Indeed.  
Light. 
dwells.
with.
Him.  

The alcoholic healed by His grace. 
The dying woman who sought His face. 
The tired old man who changed his ways,
blessed was he with brighter days.  
The roads we walk, the shoes we wear, 
together he brings us close to share
the burdens of this fallen place, 
so that, well indeed, we'll finish the race.  

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. 
2 Timothy 4:7

Finishing the race well?
Eternity never meant so much until 2 of my precious children died.  
Then I understood what it meant for God to watch His. only. begotten. Son. DIE.  
For me. 
For you. 

I promise you, it's a pain I wouldn't wish on anyone, ever.  
And God caused himself that pain… by choice!
If I thought I was in awe of our God before? 
I simply had no clue.  

I write because He gives me words to speak.  Precious words that can only come from Him, through my heart and hands, for His glory.  

What will you do for His glory today? What will I?  

love, 
clan mac mama




  




Saturday, September 05, 2015

Our life on 2 26 ft trailers...

that's what is in the driveway of our new house.  
A house I never wanted, in a place I wanted to come back to in 3 years.  When we were done at Parris Island and ready to start yet another USMC adventure.  With all FIVE of our kids.  

When they called on Friday and said they could deliver them 5 days early, I wanted to feel blessed.  I wanted to be grateful.  Instead, I felt like I was going to vomit and pass out all at the same time.  
Our life is on those trucks.  Our old life.  The one where we were happy and had 5 amazing kids.  The one where we couldn't really believe how blessed we were.  The one where our biggest worries were homeschooling and then paying for college for our kids, what we'd do when Charles retired, whether or not our kids would rebel or stay true to the Lord, if they'd move away or stay close, if we'd finally answer the call to adoption on our hearts, if we might finally get to take a trip alone, just the 2 of us, for our 20 year anniversary.  That life where we loved Jesus, went to church and prayed about how we were going to glorify Him in our new home, a place we really didn't want to go, but were going anyway, because the USMC said so.  
This life?  It gives a WHOLE NEW MEANING to loving Jesus.  Because, let me tell you something…loving the Lord is SO easy when it feels like you're just. so. blessed!   New job?  I'm just so blessed!  New home?  I'm just so blessed!  Won an award?  I'm just so blessed!  Had a great day?  I'm just so blessed!  5 healthy kids?  I'm just so blessed!  Career success? I'm just so blessed!

Wait.  2 of my children died.  
Blessed?  Do I feel blessed?  
In a million ways, I actually do.  But is it an automatic thought?  Seriously?  NO.  
Am I blessed?  Well, duh.  I still have 3 amazing kids, a fantastic husband and a whole potful of people who love the heck out of us.  I have food on my table, clothes on my back, a warm bed to sleep in and a community of believers that still amazes me.  
But….loving God is so much simpler when you think He gives you what you want, what you "deserve", what you decide you need.  It's a whole new ball of wax when the tables turn and you're the tragic story on the news.  Talk about NOT FEELING SO BLESSED.  
Back to the automatic thought thing.  
I have to CHOOSE to feel blessed right now.  I have to CHOOSE to be thankful.  I have to CHOOSE to accept God's grace and peace in a time that feels like hell on earth.  When my whole body feels like it's covered by a 5,000 lb concrete slab and I just. can't. breathe.  
Am I choosing it every minute of every day?  
Again, NO.
But, am I choosing it some of the minutes of my day?  
YES.  
Tonight I chose to ask for prayer from some prayer warriors-I CHOSE to ask for them to intercede for me in my anger, my sadness and and my frustration.  
And they did.  And instead of breaking sh*t and yelling and sobbing, I'm typing this.  Because they prayed for me and I felt it.  I was covered by the power of the Holy Spirit that spoke into my heart. 
So…am I blessed?  Always.  
Does it make my days easier or take my heartache away?  Unfortunately, NO.  But it gives me this….

Hope.  

Hope that I will find grace and forgiveness.  Hope that I will be a good and faithful servant to the God who created me.  Hope that I will exercise my free will in a way that brings honor and glory to the one who created it all.  And finally, HOPE…that God's love will be more so much more powerful than any pain I feel and that I will allow it to heal me, and my husband, and my children.  

Thank you, Kellie, for letting the Holy Spirit prompt you when you sent this to me for the 2nd time in 2 days…

I waited patiently for the Lord; he inclined to me and heard my cry.  
He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure.  
He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God.  
Many will see and fear, and put their trust in the Lord.  
Psalm 40:1-3

So I will wait.  
I will praise.  
I will stand upon His rock.  The only rock that can support my 5,000 lb weight and take it from me.  

2 26 ft trucks.  
Filled with an old life.  
Please pray for the new one.  For the steep incline of the mountain we have yet to climb, the valleys of grief we will fall into and the bumpy, cobbled road we'll travel for now and maybe, for a very long time.    

With love, 
forever the clan mac mama of the 5 many mini macs

Tuesday, September 01, 2015

Waking up crying...

is how I start most days lately.  As the shock has worn off, I'm like a wound with no scab-constantly bruised by the littlest reminders.  This morning it was Max being funny and eating his cereal like a dog…it reminded me of the pudding eating contest at the Chocolate Festival that Mercy tried so valiantly to win.  I even remember what I wore that day, where we ate, how much fun we had and how much junk we stuffed our faces with.  The kids thought they had woken up in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory and their parents had lost their minds!

Yesterday was our first official "school day."  For the first time in 6 years, I didn't have to clamor about over the din to accomplish even the smallest of tasks.
It. was. awful.
Not the teaching my sweet kiddos part, but the quiet.  The deafening quiet that has invaded my days, my home, my children.   The sadness on Max's face every morning when he wakes up to the realization that he's all alone in his morning ritual of waking Mommy up.  His best friend isn't here to build a lego tower with, be the bad guy or dress up like a superhero…all before the sun rises.  His twin isn't here to jump into the middle of it all and change it all around to her way, all while convincing her brothers it was her idea.





Fall used to be my absolute favorite time of year.  The crispness of the air, sweet smells of baking, hours spent planning for Halloween, Nutcracker rehearsals and anticipation, saturday morning Upward football with my littles, the breathtaking colors of the trees and the world around us, filled with the beauty and wonder of God's creation.

Now I dread the start of everything.  Because it's all a reminder of the memories we won't make with Mercy and Sammy.  The questions I won't get peppered with, the wonders they won't point out.  The Christmas presents I don't have to buy, the constant juggling of 5 little people that I no longer have to do.

I beg God to show me His purpose.  I beg Him to show me Mercy and Sammy in my dreams.  I beg Him to turn back the clock, to give me another chance to be a better wife and mommy and everything else.  I simply BEG Him to take this pain away.  
For 2 weeks I haven't journaled to my Creator a single word.
I haven't been able to find the strength to say much of anything.
I've simply begged, I've screamed, I've cried, I've raged so loudly I think they can hear me down the street.
This is NOT SUPPOSED TO BE MY LIFE.
So now I'll beg God for this.
For the grace to wait on Him, to trust Him,  to let Him lead me, to let His words speak to my heart and to the hearts of my beloved husband and children.  I'll pray for the JOY of My Lord to invade my heart.  And it's not the joy you're thinking of.  Joy is far deeper than happiness, happiness is something that I'll never fully feel again this side of Heaven. But JOY?  It's far deeper than the happiness that we find in our circumstances.  Joy is the presence of God within us, contemplation of His plans for our future, and the willingness to let Him lead the way.

My sister just sent this…at just the right moment, to speak His Word into my heart…

Fear not, for I am with you;
be not dismayed, 
for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you, 
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.  
Isaiah 41:10

Strengthen me, Jesus.  I'm just too broken to do any of this without You.

with love,
clan mac mama

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

My arms simply ache-

to hold them.
Im consumed by a burning desire to read them a book, sing them a song, brush their hair back, clip their little nails, hear their giggles and sweet voices…
but I can't even look at their pictures.
But I SO desperately want to. NEED to.  
I want to sit and watch every video, look at every picture, touch every single thing they laid their little hands on.
I'm just terrified that it will cripple me and I'll simply never get up.
Most days I don't want to get up.
But I do.
I. just. don't. want. to.

What I want is simple.
To hold them.
And I can't.
Not this side of heaven- and lately, not even in my dreams.
Sweet Jesus- please, oh please, let me see them in my dreams.  

But more than that, Lord, please carry me, hold me, strengthen me.
I know there will only be one set of Footprints for
a
very
long
time.

Praise the Lord, praise God our Savior!
For each day He carries us in His arms. 
Psalm 68:19

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me 
all the days of my life, 
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord 
forever.  
Psalm 23:6

With Mercy, with Sam, with each one of my loved and cherished ones.

For we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.  
2 Corinthians 4:18

Thank you, my sweet sister Sam, for that reminder.  For the nudge to remember that this life is but a blip and what I can no longer see or touch is waiting for me on the other side of eternity…



For now I'll just beg for dreams-

love,
clan mac mama

Friday, August 21, 2015

So, it's been a little while...

because we moved.  AGAIN.  4th temporary house in 2 months and 10 days.  It also happens to be the 2 month mark for my close pal, Cassie, in the loss of her son, Noah.  The fact that we are walking this journey together seems so surreal that I can't even find the words to describe it.  Her boys were Eva's 1st big "brothers" and they adored her.  She was one of Eva's first "friend aunts."  You know, those awesome friends who love your kids like their own even when they are little and covered in snot/vomit/poop/dirt… Now we spend inordinate amounts of time commiserating over crying in random public places, how it's even possible for a body to make that many tears and how we absolutely hate cooking/grocery shopping because it's the most tangible reminder of the holes in our lives that used to be filled with our kids.

Honestly-every single moment carries with it a reminder of what is missing from my earthly life.  The jar of still full peanut butter…because my peanut butter eaters were Mercy & Sammy.  The bananas still in the bowl, going brown…Sammy was my banana man.  The chocolate & lollipops still in the treat bin…Mercy and Sammy would corral Max into sneaking a bunch of that, and now that they aren't here, it just doesn't occur to him to sneak all the sugar in the house in the space of 15 minutes.  The single box of pasta that now feeds my family…The milk that takes so much longer to run out…The laundry piles that no longer seem to grow like gremlins…

Some days I can be thankful for the time God gave us with them.  Some days I simply can't.  Lately, it's been a whole lot of those not thankful days.  That's not to say that I'm not thankful for the time I had, I just haven't been able to wear the rose colored glasses that say, "Gee, my kids died in a horrible accident when they were 5 and 6, but I'm just SO GLAD I had that short little time with them."  Nope, not there.  Honestly, I probably never will be.  No matter how many days God planned for my sweet babies, I will never believe it was enough.   I used to think that the worst thing I'd walk through would be when either Charles or I drew our last breath and left the other behind.  I'd think about that old Kathy Mattea tune, "Where've You Been," a love song about a lifetime of commitment and marriage that makes me cry every. single. time. I hear it.  (just listened. just cried.)  I just couldn't wrap my brain around how one or the other of us would face each day alone when the time came.  It just made my heart ache.
Honestly, I'm not sure I ever even gave much thought to what it might be like after- you know, when I'm with JESUS.
Do you think about it?
Because I sure as heck do think about it now.
A lot.
I just started reading this book by Randy Alcorn, Heaven.
Did you know most believing Christians don't give much thought to Heaven?  That even some pastors avoid the subject because they themselves think our earthly world is so much more interesting and Heaven sounds awfully boring?
I used to think it sounded boring.  Seriously, who wants to float around and strum a harp all day.  Not sure where I got the idea that Heaven is harp strumming and I can fly, but I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one with that skewed earthly idea.
Then I started that book.
Read it.
It's not an "I died and met Jesus in a field of flowers" kind of book.
It's an honestly written, scripturally based, eye opening look into the life we are promised, the ONE ETERNAL life that makes this earthly one just a blip of time in a fallen, broken place.
You know what else it made me ponder?
How I'll spend what's left of my time here.
Who will I serve?
How will I live?

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.  
Galations 6:9

Honestly, most days I do just want to give up.  Cassie probably does too.  Just getting out of bed requires monumental effort.
I. AM. WEARY.

key word- I.

I just can't do this alone.

His grace must be sufficient for me, his power will be made perfect in my weakness.  And I will boast ALL THE MORE gladly about my weaknesses, so the power of Christ will rest on me.
Only He can bandage my wounds and help me seek new hope.
I don't mean I "boast" of my sadness, but I do share it, because for some purpose only God knows, I feel so compelled to write that it's almost a physical need.  I know when I have something to say, because all of sudden I just want it to rain, I want quiet and I want to spend the day in my jammies, at this keyboard. Letting HIS voice tell me what to say.  (Nope, not a tangible whisper in the ear people, just a gentle prompting by the Holy Spirit.)

I also realized something else in the last few days.
This isn't a punishment.
(Cue thunder-I swear I've been praying for a rocking good storm and I'm hearing some rumbles…God rocks.)
I wasn't a bad mom.
I didn't fail God.
I didn't disappoint Him and he didn't take my children to prove a point.
They are with Him because He chose them.

For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight.  
Ephesians 1:4

Do I believe He caused their accident?
Duh-NO.
I believe earthly choices led to a horrible situation that resulted in the death of my sweet babies.
I also believe He was with them the moment it happened.  That he took them by the hand and guided them to the place of eternal happiness, hope, and joy- HEAVEN.  

Unfortunately for all of us left behind- our hearts are broken and our lives feel shattered.  What do we do to find hope again? feel joy again?  dream new dreams?

I don't know.  So I'll do the only thing that I know will help me SEE.
I will…
Rest in Him.

And that is what I am off to do just at this moment.  I am going to listen to the sounds of His creation and pray that whatever works He has ordained for each of us in the midst of this sadness, we will open our hearts and minds to His will and His will only.  Be it His will and not my own that sets the rhythm of this "new" life.

Please keep praying.  Your words to God's heart have sustained us and given us so much peace.  Please don't stop.

All my love,
clan mac mama

 Happier times...