Dear Ella's mom & dad,

you'll probably never know the priceless and precious gift you gave me today when you shared sweet Ella with me.
You'll probably spend a few minutes talking about me and wondering why I got all teary-eyed when you handed her to me and I felt the soft weight of her cuddly little body.
You might be a bit intrigued as to why I'd go to the trouble of taking my earrings & glasses off just to hold an itty-bitty girl in a rugged and cozy hometown market.
As you leave, perhaps you'll smile a bit at the memory, then head off to your home filled with baby snuggles, precious laughter and a wee bit of a girl who was the personification of God's grace and light to a broken hearted mama on a sorrowful Sunday afternoon.
What I wish I could tell you is how it took my breath away to see her reach for me, to light up the room as she smiled, and to have a few of the holes in my soul filled to overflowing by the innocence of a young spirit so willing to let me love her.

Every single day... 
Searching, seeking, I'm desperate to sense their nearness.

And He blesses me-

A striking chirp of a cardinal calling,
the gentle flutter of a soaring butterfly,
crashing waves on a sandy shore,
rolling thunder amidst a storm,
murmuring wind and rustling leaves,
tinkling laughter of a tiny little voice...
and the velvety touch of a pure and virtuous soul.

Ella's mom and dad-
Today you returned to me a precious piece of my soul.  In sharing Ella, you gave salve to a gaping, grieving wound and began to wash it clean.  To simply say Thank You isn't enough.  I could give you a million reasons why it's not enough, but there is only one that matters.

Your child, your "different" child, was Christ radiating His light right into that room, and the love that filled each of your eyes as you held her, gazed at her and shared her was simply majestic to behold.

Ella-
You are absolutely perfect in His sight.  And you are more than perfect in mine.  I wish that I could wrap you in a bubble and keep you from a world that demands unrealistic flawlessness.  I only held you for a moment and I would stand in front of a speeding train to keep the world from hurting you, so I can only imagine how much your mommy and daddy love you.  And for just one moment today, I felt the unconditional love of my sweet babies pour from your pure heart as it did from theirs.

Every day, I'll pray for you and Mommy and Daddy, Ella.  I'll thank God for you, I'll hold out hope with a little corner of my heart- that someday I'll get to snuggle you for just a moment again and tell you how perfect I think you are. I'll whisper in your ear how much better the world is with you in it.  And I'll tell your Mommy and Daddy how beholden I am to them for letting me have just a moment with you.

Jesus loves you Ella, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.
And I do too.

love,
clan mac mama

What was it like when I was born, mama?

That was the very last question I remember you asking me...I can still here your sing-song voice asking me as your arms were wrapped around my neck.  On your birthday, at just 5 years old, you asked me what it was like when you were born.  Honestly, I was speechless for a moment, then I whispered...
It was so quiet.  Just mama, daddy, the midwife and a corpsman.  You whispered your way out and it was just. so. quiet.
Such a contrast to the chaos a few hours before when we almost lost you-
I fought so hard for you, you know.  You did know.  I can still feel you squirming and shifting in my dry belly, hearing my whispers and knowing I was praying for you.  And you heard me, you listened and finally, after 2 days-out you came, silently sliding into the world and seamlessly into our family.
I called you my pocket baby.  I had fought so hard for you, it was incredibly hard for me to be away from you.  I took you everywhere, just like you were in my pocket.
I never expected you, you know.  Your dad and I, we would talk about having another little one, hoping we'd have a little brother for our charming mini Max-man.  But, God had other plans and he blessed us with you far sooner than we even thought possible.  Just 8 1/2 months after Max & Mercy came into this world, you became a twinkle in our eye and captured our hearts.  I laughed like a maniac when that stick turned positive, your poor dad-he cried.  Here we were, 4 kids under 6 and another on the way.  Talk about a kick in the proverbial pants!  We went from 2 to 5 kids in 17 months.  And what a journey that was.
You scared us in the womb, and I didn't know until you were born that you were truly ok.
You scared us coming out.
You almost drowned when you were 3...
then you started asking me about Heaven...I wonder if you saw Jesus then.  If you got a glimpse of that glorious face.  I still believe it was Jesus who opened Charley's eyes that day and made her see you under all that water, struggling to make your way up to the air.  You weren't breathing when Tolly pulled you out-and I thought then that it could have been the worst day of my life, never imagining that the worst day would come and I'd lose not just you, but my baby girl, my Mercy, my sweetness and light.

My goodness, you loved Jesus.  Your little boy prayers were such fragrant offerings to God and sweet music to my ears.  Hearing you recite our ABC scriptures and your Awana verses are some of my most treasured moments.  The joy on your face when you finished your Awana book-priceless.

I sure do miss singing to you.  I wish I could recall all the songs I made up when rocked-I remember thinking that I should write them down, that with all the memories a family makes when there are so many of you, I wouldn't have enough room in my brain.  And then I got busy and now I can't remember...and my heart breaks a little more.

We put your chair in Charley and Max's room.  We rock in it every night when we pray and tell you & Mercy that we love you to the moon and back.  Some nights I can barely whisper it, my soul hurts so deeply.  Charley always yells it, positive that the louder she is, the better you can hear her.  Max only makes it to that part about half the time-you know how quickly he falls asleep!   Eva kind of stares into space, I think wondering if you can really hear us.  And your daddy, well, sometimes he can say it and sometimes it's just too much.  

I sit on the back porch a lot now.  Even when it's too hot and my fingers are sweating, I love to be out here.  Your wind chimes are here and when I hear their sweet music combined with the wind and the sounds of all my birds, I swear I can feel your whispers and your sweet little hands caressing my face.  You used to take my face in your hands and make sure I was looking at you when you talked to me-I often wonder if you knew I needed to see you, really see you, because you weren't going to be here long enough...

I believe you knew.  You & Mercy.  Somewhere in your little spirits, you knew your time was short and the Holy Spirit gave you much to share, much to do and faith beyond your years.  I'll never understand why God allowed you to leave us so soon, but I'll never question His love for me.  Because without it, I'd never have had the privilege and honor of being your Mommy.  He knit you in my womb, he created your inmost being, he chose daddy and I.  He CHOSE us.  What a blessing, an extraordinary gift from an extravagantly generous God.

I'll also never believe that it was part of His plan for you & Mercy to die the way you did.  I'll always believe He had greater plans for you both, but free will and a fallen world destroyed them.  And he knew, He knew the end from the beginning and He still let us have you, hold you, love you.

Still, He will bring good.  By his mercy, He will bring joy from mourning and He will restore what the locusts have eaten.  His word promises us that redemption, promises us the restoration of the perfect world He created for us in beginning.  And until then, I'm clinging to the vine of His strength, His Word and His truth as I know it to be.  He will strengthen our family to fight the enemy from further destroying what He has given us, He will be our strong tower.  It is by His might that we will bend the bow of a fallen world and fight for the Gospel even when every ounce of our souls wants to give up.

It is God who arms me with strength and keeps my way secure. 
He makes my feet like the feet of a deer;
he causes me to stand on the heights.  
He trains my hands for battle;
my arms can bend a bow of bronze.  
                                             Psalm 18:32-34

So 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


Cupcakes for breakfast, pictures to hold...
close in my heart until I am old.
Even so old that I may barely see,
my sweet little boy will always be with me.
So many questions my little man asked,
answering them was quite a task.
Quiet, too quiet, it is here today,
we should be celebrating some special way.
A jumpy house, a pool or a park,
it's where he'd want to have his lark.
Frosted and Dairy Queen, Rucker John's too,
Treats and sweets is what he'd want to do.
So today, as my tears cover my face,
I'll think of you in your heavenly place.
And pray that in all that I do and say,
I honor you on your precious day.

The beginning-June 4, 2010

 Finally, June 5, 2010

Your 1st birthday-June 5, 2011

Always in the water, where you loved to be!

Your first cupcake!

 

Your 2nd birthday, June 5, 2012

We celebrated with the Blue Crabs, pool time at Nana & Papa's and Haley's graduation!

And a little putt-putt on Father's Day!

Your 3rd birthday, June 5, 2013

Parks, ice cream treats and nighttime basketball!

Your 4th birthday, June 5, 2014

Crazy time at Jump-in-Jax, capped off with park fun and cupcakes with all your best pals!

 Your 5th birthday, June 5, 2015

Scooters, legos, hexbugs and a pool party...

Sweet boy, mama misses you so much.  I'll forever hold these moments and every minute I was blessed with your life close in my heart-waiting with bated breath until I can hold you once again.
Happy Birthday in Heaven, my pocket baby.   I'll bet you're holding His face in your hands and asking so many questions-and He's holding you right back and answering every one of them with grace, light, beauty and truth.

all my love,
mama

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

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

   

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

  

I woke today...

to the sound of pouring rain.  The world around me reflecting the state of my heart, the trees catching the tears of the heavens, the rumbles of my anger filling the sky.  Dreary, dull, dark.
I am frankly so angry at their absence today that I cannot put together a complete thought-
So I simply prayed for Jesus to be near.
For the holes in our hearts to be filled up with His love and abundant Mercy.

It's the worst feeling in the world to know that I am powerless against the truth of my children's death.  I cannot change it.  I cannot turn back the clock.  I cannot DO ANYTHING to change the fact that I will live the rest of my life without their laughter, love and sweetness.  That I will never see Mercy dance on pointe, see Sammy catch a touchdown, meet their children, dance with them at their weddings, say goodbye to them when it's MY time to leave this earth.  The story of their lives is complete, but mine has many chapters left-chapters without them here, with me, where they belong.

Painful-that's what watching the rest of the world move on is.
Lives don't stop.  Our grief doesn't necessarily change things.  Some simply remain the same.  And the compounding nature of those static things makes me want to rip the world apart with my bare hands.

But...
Yesterday was 2 more lovely pearls in the jar that Mercy & Sam gave us to fill with the souls of those who choose or return to Jesus.

So I will hold on to yesterday and the hope that filled my heart when those pearls dropped into our jar.  I will hold on to Charles, Eva, Charley and Max.  I will pray for the rumble of thunder to fill the sky, that I might hear the anger of God for the injustice that is this world.  And I'll stand for Jesus.  I won't compromise my soul to satisfy the needs of this world or the desires of humanity.  I'll simply stand for Him and in Him, because its the only thing that will keep me from wishing every moment of the day that He had simply taken us all together-that we would have reached eternity as a whole family instead of this fractured and broken brood.

Why, my soul, are you downcast? 
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God, 
for I will yet praise him, 
my Savior and my God.  
Psalm 42:5 NIV

In Christ,
clan mac mama

The first month-

without Mercy & Sam.  

While it seems as though the days have lasted 100 hours instead of 24, that each minute crawls by, my thoughts constantly consumed by the absence of my sweet beans, the month also appeared to speed by like an old movie reel on fast forward- tape flying everywhere, grainy images flooding my mind, black dots clouding the images, garbled sounds and static filling the rooms of my mind.  

Entire days will pass by and I will wonder if I simply dreamed those years.  The happy ones.  The busy ones. The ones where we were told so often how blessed we were, how busy we must be, and well "don't you know how this happens?" and "my goodness, are you having any more??"  

Lately, the evenings are simply the hardest for me.  I dissolve into sobs and just crawl into bed, lights on, teeth not brushed…last night Charley just laid her little body across mine as I wailed.  Then she brought me Sammy's Blue Bear and Snoopy, her now treasured sleep companions, so that I could have a night with them.  

The silence is simply deafening.  The laughter of my children is no longer the music that fills my days.  Loneliness fills the hearts of each of those of us left here waiting.

Waiting, aching, keening... to see them again.  

I wonder what it's like there.  

Do they know we miss them? 

Can they feel our sadness?  

Have they asked all of their questions? 

Do they remember us? 

Do they remember how much we loved them?  

I beg God to help me remember times I have forgotten.  I lament the years I didn't blog much.  I pray for others to share their memories and moments.  

And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.

Matthew 28:20

In my soul, I know He is with me.  In my soul, I will still thank Him, praise Him, bless Him.  For it is God who lent them to us, to fill our lives with laughter and joy.  Someday, He will once again fill my mouth with a song of praise and gladness.  

Because your love is better than life, 

my lips will glorify you.  

I will praise you as long as I live, 

and in your name I will lift up my hands.  

Psalm 63:3-4

He put a new song in my mouth, 

a hymn of praise to our God.  

Psalm 40:3

Please just keep praying.  Only His strength will carry us through.  

love, 

clan mac mama

  

 

I dreamed of Sammy last night...

in my arms I held him tight.
So surprised was I to feel his hug,
a deeper hole in my heart was dug.
But blessed was I to see his face,
to feel the love of his warm embrace.
I pray Mercy will soon inhabit my dreams,
giving me kisses and dancing in bright moonbeams.
When morning comes I'll still feel her kiss,
bringing with it a fleeting moment of bliss.
I'll simply never understand why,
rivers of tears I'll cry and cry.
Oh God, my God, please help me SEE,
and rest in the peace that You can be.  

A Mommy...

was really all I ever wanted to be.
But I really think it scared me for the longest time.  That thought of being responsible for another human being.  Being entrusted with a tiny little life, self, heart and soul.  How on earth could I possibly do that when most of the time I didn't seem to be doing such a bang up job for myself?

Apparently I figured some of it out and didn't let fear get in my way, since up until 6 weeks ago, I had 5 amazing, happy, blessed little people to call my own little tribe.  And, oh sweet Jesus, how I loved my little tribe.  I would have made that tribe bigger if I could have.  I adored my big family.  The chaos might have driven me crazy and the noise impaired my hearing, but it was the beautiful music that was my life.

And then I put them on an airplane, innocently unaware that I would never see 2 of them again this side of heaven.  I put them on that plane so we could get the grunt work of our bazillionth PCS move done and they could finally meet some of their Texas family.  I put them on that plane believing they would come back to me.  Safe.  Whole.  Alive.

I. was. wrong.

I never dreamed that I wouldn't hold them in my arms again.  That I'd be standing in front of Yana's in Swansboro when words that I still can't even speak bubbled from Charles' mouth.  That I would collapse in a fit of screaming and wailing and hyperventilating.  That I would never. again. feel their hearts beat against mine.
the whisper of sweet breath on my face.
the gentle snuggle of a hug.
the sweet kisses of soft lips.
the whispered "I love you, Mommy…"

Countless hours are spent every single day recounting the time that led to that trip.  Why did I send them?  Why didn't I say they weren't allowed on ATV's?  Why couldn't I just get the damn move done with them underfoot?  Other people do it!  Why didn't I?
For the love of all that is holy, why MY CHILDREN?  Why 2 of them?  Was it not enough that we should lose one?  Was it not enough to rip our hearts out once?  More than one person has said I never do anything small-why the hell did that part of who I am have to include the lives of my children?!

I want time to stop.  I don't want the world to go on and everyone else's lives to be normal.  Because mine never, ever, EVER, will again.  I wouldn't wish this pain on anyone, but in some weird twisty way, I just want time to cease.  Because maybe if it ceases, the searing pain that causes me to wail like a dead cat while I stuff myself into a tiny hammock because its the only thing that brings me peace-maybe it will cease too.  If only for a moment.  Just one moment where I don't want to die just so I can hold them again.

But I can't die.  I have 3 other blessings that will need me more now than they ever have.  The horrible things that Eva and Charley witnessed have forever changed who they are, who they will be and how they will live.  The loneliness that encompasses each of them, especially Max, has drastically altered the landscape of their formerly innocent young hearts.

My heart breaks a little more every time I look at the sweet babies I still get to hold.  And I simply beg God to work a miracle in each of them.  I beg him to fill the cracks and the holes that puncture their hearts and souls.   He is the balm that will soothe their wounds.  And someday, I pray, that He will soothe mine.

I pray for purpose.  I pray for peace.  I pray for refuge.  I pray for forgiveness and grace.
In short-I just pray.  There is simply nothing else that I can do.

The enemy will undoubtedly use our pain, sadness and anger to create more evil in a fallen world.
Franky, the choice we have is simple.  Do we let him?  Or do we allow ourselves to be refined by the fire, to be clay in His hands, to someday have our sackcloth removed and be clothed with joy as we serve Him and glorify His good purpose?

Every single day is a battle of epic proportions.
Every. single. day.

A battle that can only be won through the power of our God…
by His might,
in His strength,
for His glory.

Pray for our family, please.  Just pray.

I love you to the moon and back, Mercy & Sammy.  Mama misses you more than you'll ever know.

love,
clan mac mama