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

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  

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

  

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

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

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

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...

Watching the world continue to spin...

despite the joyless pit I'm in.
Those around move on with their days,
as I'm reminded in too many ways,
that MY days will forever feel wrong,
and my time till I see them again too long.
My heart is fractured and filled with pain,
although-my loss is Heaven's gain.
Watching the dreams of other's fulfilled,
observing how their lives they will build,
crushes and tramples the shards of my life,
each breathe I take like a plunging knife.
So often I must be reminded to breathe,
I suck the air in with a sigh and a heave.
Smiling and small talk don't come with ease,
the need to see me ok I simply cannot appease.
The journey of life that once looked so bright,
no longer fills my heart with delight.
The rest and respite I desperately seek,
often elude as tears from my eyes do leak.
The laughter and camaraderie has left my home,
so often my sweet beans feel all alone.
In the night I woke to the sound of sweet Max,
"Mama, can I sleep with you?" he asked.  
Never once in the years since he came to be,
did he ever need to sleep with me.
From the moment he was knit in my womb,
2 lives were linked as yarn on a loom.
Now the yarn is split and frayed,
without his twin he will spend his days.
Sweet Charley wanders, unsure what to do,
missing sweet Sammy & Mercy too.
The little mommy that dwelled in Eva Grace,
longs to see each little face,
of the babes she helped to love and raise,
the hurt in her heart a filmy haze.
Each day I beseech the One whom I trust,
to patch their hearts, I insist He must!
For never will those holes be filled,
but for the leaks, dams only He can build.

…dams. only. He. can. build.

How do we celebrate joyous remembrance of birth...

when we are so painfully reminded of death?
In the darkness, I slowly crawled out of sleep this morning, painfully aware that on this 2 month anniversary of Mercy & Sammy's home going, it is also the day my husband would normally "celebrate" his birth.
My husband.
The man I've held as he has cried rivers of tears for our children that are both with us and with Jesus.  This strong man, who in his ultimate weakness, has reminded me every day that it is only the Lord who will carry us in this painful journey.
I begged Jesus this morning to give me the grace to know how to both celebrate and comfort him today.  How do you say Happy Birthday to your husband when you know he's not?  When you're not?
So I simply thanked Jesus for him and told him so.  Because I am truly blessed beyond measure by his love, his dedication to our Lord and our family, his grace in grief, and his strength in continuing to trust the Lord even when I don't.
I. am. blessed.

Always and forever, I am blessed.  He is blessed.

So, today, we'll choose to quietly be thankful for my Charles, because without him, I would never have been blessed to be Mama to my 5 extraordinary children.  Extraordinary because they come from our Creator, each created in His own image, knit in my womb and called His children for just the number of days He ordained for each of them.  Days we cherish and remember with gratitude and infinite love.

 

I'm so thankful for you, my love.  I pray that today is filled with wonderful memories of the years we we were blessed to celebrate with our babies.

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

I praise God for each of your days and the blessing you are to our children and me.

I love you to the moon and back.

tiff

Blue Bear and Teddy...

are my nighttime companions lately. Blue Bear was Sammy's favorite buddy that he commandeered from Charley several years ago and Teddy was MY Kringle bear that Mercy discovered in a box some time ago and just fell in love with.  There was no travel completed, no nighttime endured and no snuggle time complete without those 2 loveys.  Now I find myself unable to go to sleep without them wrapped in my arms, secure in my love.  I'd set myself on fire to be able to wrap Mercy and Sam in my arms instead of a stuffed substitute.

 

Reality has set in.
Every step I take…
Every store I visit,
Every breath I suck in…
I'm reminded that I will live the rest of my time here without my sweet children.  No more family pictures where bribery must ensue to ensure 7 smiling faces, no more SUPER SAM jumping out of the car or off the bunk stairs like a storm trooper, no more pirouettes from sweet Mercy, no more pantry invaders or chocolate thieves.
Reality sucks.

24 years have passed since I slept with a stuffed animal.  I took Nana's teddy with me to Boot Camp because she left us 4 days before I hit the yellow footprints at Parris Island.  And my children left us just 9 days before we were set to go back there.  What is it about Parris Island and my family?…If anyone ever tells me we need to move back there, I might punch them in the throat.

Every day I struggle with having enough FAITH to let God carry me.  Faith to believe that He will someday bring us great JOY again.  Faith to believe that there is NOTHING I could have done to change the outcome of that day.  Faith to believe that my time with them was real, not a dream and that I really did do my best.

Regret sucks too.
Regret for time wasted, angry words, frustration, impatience and too many no's.  Too much busyness, too much house, too much to do.
Regret for memories not shared when I was SO BUSY.

Thankful.
I'm thankful for the gift of being their Mommy.  It's a gift I wouldn't give back even if it meant I didn't have to feel this horrible, awful, soul sucking sadness and pain.

Nights are awful.  If I fall asleep soundly, I usually wake too many times to count, haunted by weird dreams, empty arms and holes in my heart.

Sweet Jesus, please give us rest.  Our Eva, Charley and Max need us.  And we are so tired, so sad, and so shattered that we can't do it alone.
I only want to see one set of Footprints.  Because, Jesus, I need you to carry me.  For a long time.

Because he loves me, says the Lord, 
"I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he
acknowledges my name.  
He will call upon me and I will answer
him;
I will be with him in trouble, 
I will deliver him and honor him."
Psalm 91:15

love,
clan mac mama

Stuck-

is how I feel today. Grieving your children when you have no home is beyond draining.
Maybe it's why I can't seem to find my way in my grief.  It's so frustrating to feel aimless and without rest.  I desperately want to see and hold their things, to sleep in my own bed, to wrap myself in their blankets and smell their clothes.  To look everyday at their pictures on my walls and to see the earthly things they covered in their sweetness and presence.  I just feel stuck.

AND-
Grief is simply exhausting-

Be merciful to me, O Lord, for I am in distress;
my eyes grow weak with sorrow,
my soul and my body with grief.
Psalm 31:9

I am simply. so. tired.
Grieving my children, grieving the loss of all I knew to be true of my life here on earth, just grieving-is quite honestly the most exhausting thing I have ever walked through.  And that is saying a lot.  I gave birth to 5 children in 7 years, 3 of them in a 17 month period, so I know exhaustion.

Every night is a round robin of fitful sleep, followed by mornings that I don't want to face.  Each day brings new hours to fill with things I don't want to do, because everything reminds me of their absence.

We're buying a house.  A house that doesn't have rooms for them.  A house they never lived in.  A yard they never played in.  A house.  We're buying a house.  A house I pray we'll fill with new memories and love.

Why?  I just couldn't do it.  Couldn't live where we lived before.  I couldn't walk in those same places all the time, drive the same roads, live the same life.  Because my life will never be the same.

God spoke to me through a friend yesterday.
I've been consumed with anger and frustration.  With the unknown.  With the WHY?
He placed her in just the right moment with just the right words to remind me of this truth.

He sees what we do not.
He knows what we do not.
He is sovereign.

This morning he reminded me to...
Be. Still.

I've never been very good at being still.  Of waiting on Him or His guidance.  Like a steam locomotive, I tend to plow ahead, sure I know what destination He is pointing us towards.

Guess what.  The destination isn't here.  It's not of this world.
The destination He points us toward is eternity with Him.  And that's where my babies are.
So for now, I'll spend my time pushing forward like a steam locomotive, serving His purpose,  in this world,  with the ultimate destination in mind.  Eternity with Him and my babies.

Mercy & Sammy-I love you and I miss you so immensely that I can't put it into words that even begin to touch how I grieve.
Tell Jesus we love Him and I'm glad you're safe with Him if you can't be with me.

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