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

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