So, it's my birthday.

And this morning, I just wanted to remember what it felt like that last year before the accident.  How precious, how adored, how loved I felt by each one of my children.  How wonderful it felt to wake up to smiling faces, happy birthday shouts from my little people, flowers on the counter, birthday presents piled high in the living room and anxious requests for me to "open your presents, Mommy!" And it wasn't about the presents, or the flowers, or the cards.  It was all about the 5 little smiling faces and the love they showered me with from the minute I stepped out of my bed.
Last year, we were so shell shocked that we spent my birthday driving to Maryland to get away for a few days and celebrate Eva's birthday with my family.  And I pretended like it didn't even exist.  Which was purely selfish on my part, since my kids wanted me to be excited just like they always are on birthdays.
But I simply couldn't wrap my brain around how to celebrate anything, let alone my birthday, without all my "gifts" surrounding me.
Because that is what my children were and are.  The most precious, cherished, honored, and incredible gifts I ever received.
And celebrating anything without ALL of them seems just so wrong.
But it's not. I know, somewhere in my rational mind, it's not.  I just wish the rational and irrational parts of my mind would stop fighting like twin 2 year olds over a bag of M & M's.

There's so much I don't remember anymore.  My brain seems intent on shutting out both the happy and the sad in some feeble attempt to keep my sanity.  Because that's what a daily battle with this grief is-it's a battle for my heart, my mind, my sanity, and my very soul.

Today, as much as I want to crawl into a hole and hide, away from the light and the reminders of how I still grow older but Mercy and Sam don't, I won't.

I've hidden from the light so much in the last 6 months, desperately seeking respite from the hurt and holes in my heart.

So I'm going to try hard, so very hard, to see the light, see the joy and feel blessed.  And for that I need you, ALL of you.  I need your prayers, your intercessions to the God who sees, who knows and who hears.  Please pray, for not just me, but especially for Charles, for Eva, Charley and Max.  The gifts who are still here with me, who need me, who love me and who look to me to learn how to survive life with THIS past, present, and future.

Can you do what I simply cannot right now?
For my birthday, will you gift my family with your prayers?  It is the most precious and fragrant offering-and I hope, will remind me of the grace, sovereignty and beauty of a God who will redeem this pain and restore the hope my family so desperately needs.

Return to your rest, my soul, for the Lord has been good to you.  

                                                                                                           Proverbs 116:7

By His Grace only and always,
clan mac mama

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

It's kind of like expecting a deaf person...

to understand sound.
A color blind person to grasp what a rainbow looks like.
A barren woman to understand the magic of a baby in her womb.
Or an atheist to understand that denying the existence of God because you cannot physically prove He exists is a bizarre kind of reverse faith, based on the exact same type of principles as believing He exists EVEN THOUGH you cannot prove it.
Trying to explain parental grief is pretty much just. like. that.  
Unfortunately, I've learned immeasurably more than I care to about parental grief in this last year and 12 days.  12 things for 12 days into year 2...

1.  Until you awake every morning to 2 of your kids, in a box, on your husband's dresser-Praise Jesus, you cannot, will not and should not understand how we feel.  I don't want you to try to, because it's simply awful and since we love all of you, we'd rather you just continue to pray for us and love us in the unconditional way so many of you have through the twists, turns, ups and downs of our new reality.

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness.  We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with wordless groans.  

Romans 8:26

2.  Wow-my kids were, and are-infinitely loved.  As are we.  Truly, we are blessed.  Even in the midst of this trial, His tender mercies are abundant and true.

Children are a heritage from the Lord, 

offspring a reward from him. 

Psalm 127:3

3.  I absolutely love to hear about my kids.  I love to talk about them, laugh about them, recall their antics and remember the incredibly neat little people they were.  Some of the greatest blessings in the last year have been photos, videos and letters of memories we have been blessed to receive.  Please send and share them if you have them-it's such a balm to our hearts.

I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in truth.  

1 John 3:4

4. I can't make peace with the death of my kids.  Ever.  But I can be a part of making a powerful statement for wisdom when using recreational vehicles.  And that is exactly what our family is doing through The SaMercy Fund.  Tirelessly, so many have already worked every event to promote our cause, and I've not planned a single one.  Or even been able to attend one.  Every one of the fundraisers has generously been scheduled, promoted and executed by family, friends and even those who have never met us or our kids.  They simply want to serve and lend a hand and heart wherever they can.
Every single penny that we raise helps us to begin partnering with the people that use and sell these vehicles to help raise awareness and to promote safety through educational classes/seminars/training.  We absolutely cannot sweep this under the rug and allow it to be considered a consequence of a way of life when people die or are horrifically injured because of such powerful vehicles.   Every human life is precious to God and it is our intent to honor that in helping to reduce these casualties.

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as for the Lord and not for men..

Colossians 3:23

5.  Grief is quite possibly the most powerful and debilitating trial I can ever imagine going through.  It has forced me to be selfish, to blot out the world at large and to realize that tending to my shredded family is the one and only priority I can have right now.  And for a fixer, a gift-giver, a glass half-full bleeding heart and one who always tries to see beyond the surface, that has been a bitter and hard pill to swallow.  It has revealed more about my character, my weaknesses, my soul and my connection to Christ than I could ever have imagined.  And it has opened my eyes to immeasurably more about the true character of God.
Never does he ever, leave or forsake us, no matter how hard we try to sever the cord when we are bitter, broken and hurting, He NEVER leaves.

Though one may be ovewpowered, 

two can defend themselves.

A cord of three strands is not easily broken.  

                                                                      Ecclesiastes 4:12

6.  Guilt is a clever little devil.  Or should I say, work of the devil's hands?  Even though I was nowhere near my children the day they died, I have lived the last year blaming myself in some way, shape or form.  I know it's not my fault, but to live each day knowing that I somehow failed to protect them?  I don't know if my son felt pain, if he knew for just an instant how horrible his injuries were and that he was almost dead?  Did he cry out, call out or know he needed mama?  Or was he just instantly gone?  I don't know if Mercy cried for me, or if she knew what had happened.  I don't know if she saw her brother, dead and broken, and if she knew she was going to die too.  And I don't know if she felt the crushing pain that must have filled her tiny, precious little body.  That, my friends, is a guilt and shame that burrows deep into the recesses of the soul and plants a very bitter root.

...Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.

1 Peter 5:8b

7.  Praise the Lord, kindness and grace are abundant in this world.  Simply put, there are just a tremendous flock of people who are exceptional in the way they serve, treat others and give grace.  It is my heart's desire to send a personal thank you note to each and every one of them-not because I'm a proper etiquette nazi or because I feel obligated-but because I truly want each of them, from the butterfly tattooed woman on the beach who found us by way of our church and sent us a letter, to the strangers who have sent meals, to the loving ladies who knit prayer shawls for each and every one us, and finally the incredible friends and family who have picked us up when we fell and keep falling, to know what a treasure it is to be held in their hearts, prayed for, and loved by each of them. In truth, that is just a tiny smattering of the blessings we have received.  Honestly, I still sleep with the very first prayer shawl I received, every single night.  But I know that not one of those people expect a thank you note, a pat on the back or acknowledgement.  Each one served out of the wellspring of love God placed in their heart.  Period.

Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. 

Galations 6:2

8.  Sadly- guilt, anger, judgement, selfishness and expectation are also dismally plentiful.  I wish we had made it through this year with a minimum of cuts and bruises on that end-unfortunately, we did not.  Harsh, thoughtless words have been spoken, judgment has been handed down and relationships have potentially been destroyed.  There is fault to be had on all fronts and only God can close and repair any of those gaping canyons that now exist.

Indeed, there is not a righteous man on earth who continually does good and never sins.  

Ecclesiastes 7:20

9.   Healing-For reasons I'll try to explain without sounding like a jerk, it is the buzzword that makes my hackles rise, my knickers twist up and my hair catch on fire.  Maybe it's because, to me, it says that I'm expected to return to the person I was before, that I'll be whole again and that the wounds left behind by the absence of Mercy & Sam in this life will be rendered cured.  That may not be what it means when people say it, but I tend to be a bit on the prickly side with that concept at this point in my life, so I'm just being honest.
His healing of my heart will be filling it with His presence and peace-and because I'm flawed and human-well, that means it may take a while.
A precious friend had her daughter go home to Christ 10 years ago on June 20.  Her "healed" heart still hurts, she still grieves and she still longs to hold her baby again.  BUT, because she has held onto Christ like a lifeboat in an epic storm, she has found joy & purpose again, she truly does laugh, and she adores the life she still has with her living children-I KNOW she does, because it radiates on her face ever single time I lay eyes on her!  So I'm holding onto that lifeboat too and praying for rescue.

And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.  

John 14:3

10.  It must be incredibly hard to be my mother, my father, sister, brother, friend, husband or child.  No one really knows what to do, what to say, or how to help.  As time wears on, I wish I could say that part got easier, but it some ways it's harder.  Time has passed, we've walked through all the firsts, we go out in public, we do things normal families do-but Mercy and Sam are still dead, we are still hurting with every breath we take, it is STILL too quiet in our home, I still look for them around every corner, and we never know when a new wave of grief will knock us down.  When it seems like we're normal on the outside, I think it makes the "how" of loving the inside of us through this grief even more complex.  

Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights.  No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was. 

Job 2:13 

11. On the flip side, it's a tremendous weight to be the parent of 3 hurting kids and really have no idea how to help them, how to make them feel safe again in a world that damaged them so deeply, and how to teach them to live THIS life to the fullest extent of God's will and plan for them.  How do we teach them to be bold, be brave, be Christ-like?  How do we honestly teach them how loving God IS when we can't explain why He'd allow us all to hurt like this?  How do we answer their why questions?  Making decisions for their lives carries with it an overwhelming sense of fear and worry, far beyond anything I ever experienced before June 11.
And for my husband?  How can I be the wife he needs me to be when I can't fix, mend or soothe the things that hurt him in the deepest part of his soul?  The incomprehensible loss of his children and the dissolution of his family.  I can't make any of that better, I can't change the past or people, and I certainly have no inspiring wisdom that springs forth about how to plan a future that is so drastically altered.  So into His wisdom, I have to lean.

In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.  

Proverbs 16:9

12.  Finally, and most importantly-
Transparency is the greatest gift we can share with one another.  From the moment I could put my fingers to a keyboard again after the day our world imploded, I have vowed to keep our story out there, to beg all of you for prayer and to shine a light on the fact that while faith is messy, complicated, and HARD-It is the only way we can ever survive THIS life.   Your burdens may be different than mine, but each of us is walking in our uniquely fitted shoes-and those shoes desperately need God to keep them on our feet.
SO-I'll never be the quiet grieving girl in the corner, the stoic, yet broken-hearted matriarch, or a pretender that grieving while loving God is easy if I just give it all to Him.
I HAVE given it to Him.  I have laid it at His feet, sometimes with grace and sometimes with my teeth clenched and my fists ready to punch.  For 1 year and 12 days, I have done my very best.  And my best is all I can ever do.  HIS best is what will carry me through.

And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with the Lord's holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ.  

Ephesians 4:17b-18

And as I just looked out my window for a moment,

2 pure white, busylittle butterflies flitted into view...
As if to say, "look at us mama, look at us!"
Our Father is just. so. good.

love,
clan mac mama

Unconditional and simply selfless LOVE-

It's who he is, woven into the fabric of how he lives, how he loves, how he serves, he IS love.
My husband, the man who God chose for me, the father of my children, he is my love, but more importantly, he is who God appointed to raise up our babies.  
From the moment he laid eyes on each of them, he was entranced.  He adored and continues to adore them with every part of his heart and his soul.  Even as he grieves Mercy & Sam, he continues to selflessly give to Eva, Charley and Max.  He is determined to lean into Christ to sustain him as he lives and more importantly, he is determined to teach our children the same.
I wish I could find words that eloquently speak of him, that give you the picture of the man I see.  But there really aren't any-you just have to witness it.  And that's what I do, every day of my life.  I, and my children, are truly and unequivocally blessed.
Today will be a dichotomy of joy and sorrow, happiness and tears, grieving the life before and trying to find the life ahead.
One year ago today, my husband woke to his first Father's Day without 2 of his children-
it's the last of the firsts.
Today, to honor him,  I choose to share each of the most important firsts in our life.
And the last Father's Day he shared.
And the very last picture of our complete family.
I pray that today he will find joy in Eva, Charley & Max, be comforted by the memories that sustain us and find hope in the future that Christ promises us.

Charles, my love-
The Lord bless you 
and keep you;
the Lord make his face to shine on you
and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn his face toward you
and give you peace.  
                        Numbers 6:24-26  

Eva & Daddy

Eva, Daddy & Charley 

Max & Mercy joined the party!

Sweet Sammy-the best plan I never knew God had.

Celebrating the father he was and is-June 2014

Our last family photo

June 7, 2015

A Letter to My Son on His 6th Birthday...

           Samuel Charles McCawley
                     June 5, 2016






To My Lil Man Sam,
Where do I begin? I remember crying the day your mama told me she was pregnant. We had always talked about having another child, abut having more children. Just did not expect it too happen so soon. God truly does work in His own ways. I may have cried, but I was still ecstatic, tremendously happy that we were going to have another baby. I will not lie, I wanted another lil boy. another lil man around the house. And God blessed us with you, my sweet lil man, Sam.

The beginning was filled with worry, the midwife and corpsman was concerned about you. Your mama prayed and talked to you. I admit I was lost. See my son, my faith was not overly strong then, I think I more or less just went through the motions. I have struggled over the years with my faith and my commitment to Christ. Which I do not think you ever did even though you were so young. You had such a love for the church, for Christ and all those around you. I think I learned more from you in your five years here with us than you ever did from me.

I look back over the years and I wish I would have done more with you. There were plenty of times when I think you sought me out, when you just wanted to spend some time with me and I put you off. I am so sorry for that my son and I want you to know how much I truly love you and miss you. I pray I could turn back time and do things right by you. I am so sorry that I was not there to protect you. I should have never sent you and your siblings to Texas to my family. I am sorry that I felt a desire for you to know my family the way you knew your mama’s. I should have never put you on that plane.
I remember seeing you walking down that jetway to the plane, holding the steward’s hand. You were such a big, lil man. I started to call you back because I didn’t get a hug, but I stopped because I was worried that you would get upset and then not want to go. So I turned to your sisters and brothers instead and gave each of them a hug and told them I loved them and would see them soon. Never knowing that a choice would be made in Texas that would prevent me from seeing you and Mercy again, from telling you how much I love you and feeling your little arms hugging me back. A choice that would result in grieving over you instead of you celebrating your 5th birthday again with your grandparents, aunt, uncle, and cousins in Texas. I am so sorry my lil man, I pray and wish that I had called you back and hugged you and told you how much I love you and was going to miss you.

Today we were supposed to be celebrating your 6th birthday in South Carolina, in Parris Island, in our tiny little house on base. Today was supposed to be filled with what you want to do, not with sorrow, not with us wondering what to do to honor your memory. I know that you would love to go on a bike ride, or a scooter ride, but I am sure that you would have learned to ride a bike in this past year, so a bike ride it would be. We would be close to the river there, so we could go fishing. I so looked forward to having more time to take you fishing. There would be cupcakes and presents and most of all there would be the sound of your laughter, the sight of your cheshire cat grin, and of course the sounds and sight of you stomping off when you got mad at your brother or sisters for trying to intervene in your present opening, playing with one of your presents, not paying attention to what you were saying or trying to get them to do or just because you did not get your way. I miss that chaos. I miss the way your strong lil personality infused our family spirit.

I know there will come a day when we are reunited in heaven. I know that you are there in heaven with Mercy, bugging Jesus at every turn to answer your questions. I know that you are missed and loved here on earth by many. But none so more than by your mama, daddy, Eva, Charley, and Max. My son, I am truly sorry that choices here on earth sent you to heaven before God’s plan for you was fulfilled. I promise you and God today that your life, your memory, your presence will not fade. God promises us that as long as we have faith that He will make good from every situation, from every event. I may have struggled in my walk of faith during the time that you were born, but your love, your strong desire to know Jesus has shown your daddy the way and I promise to not let you down again my son.

All My Love,

Daddy

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

I wasn't supposed to be there today.

I sat in that auditorium 1 year ago this weekend, bittersweet tears falling from my eyes as I fully realized that in just a few short weeks, we were leaving.  Pulling up stakes on the Marine Corps traveling road show and unexpectedly starting over yet again.  This day, these hours, precious laughter and tear stained moments, would be my girls last recital with the dance family we claimed as our own.  Wistfully, Corry and I sobbed while Maura and Casey graced the stage together for the last time before Maura headed off to Meredith.  My heart filled and then broke as Sydney floated across the stage to Cinderella to honor her dad, Jay.  And finally my heart just crashed when Jessica danced a heartfelt farewell to her dance sisters who would soon go off into the world to find their way.
Every moment of that precious day, we spent in that auditorium, from early morning to late in the evening, touching up lipstick, adjusting costumes, chasing down little people and pinning up buns.  Mercy popped up and disappeared, flitting from big girl to big girl, cartwheeling with Kaylan and conning Samantha out of her lunch.  Hugging Nana Cathy and chattering away at Papa Freddie.  Plopping herself down squarely on Kevin and convincing him to let her video, photograph and just generally do whatever she wanted.  (He always was a sucker for that little bean-loved her from the moment he set eyes on her the week after Charles deployed.)  Insisting on using the last itty bitty byte of space on my phone to video Abbie in her very first recital.   Hugging and mugging for one last dance picture for our Halls Creek crew.
For some reason I couldn't quite pin down, I felt compelled to watch her dance.  To not take a single picture or even attempt a video.  I set the stupid camera down and just sat there in that front row next to Corry and stared, captivated by the precious happiness that radiated from her graceful little soul.
I just wanted to see the joy on her sweet face when she flitted across that stage, when she tried to take charge of any of the tinier dancers who couldn't quite keep up, when she realized Mommy was watching and so proud of her hard work!
And her brothers & Charley-they were remarkably patient, sitting through not one, not two, but THREE recitals for their sisters.  (Mind you, there may or may not have been some electronics and a Dairy Queen bribe involved, but they were AWESOME.)
And I never dreamed, not even with the unease that been settled in my spirit for the previous few months, never once did I dream that this would be the very last time I would watch my daughter dance on a stage.
And I didn't even take a picture.  Or if I did, I simply don't know.  Because I just can't bring myself to upload that last memory card.  Of the last 2 months of the life I'll never know again.  Of the life I just never believed was truly mine.
I could never really wrap my brain around the fact that I could be that blessed.  We had a beautiful home, 5 healthy kids, my husband was finally reaching a career goal that he had strived long and hard for-
Maybe I knew that the other stupid shoe just had to drop.
And drop it did.

We visited the Pentagon last year on Eva's birthday.  It was the first time I had set foot in it since before 9/11.  Once upon a time, it's hallowed halls had been familiar to me, as I had been honored to serve there as a tour guide while I was on active duty in the Marine Corps.  A beloved childhood friend, who is now a Colonel in the Air Force (yup, I'm really that grown up,) took us on an impromptu tour.  As we crossed from one of the inner rings to the outer one that houses the memorial chapel for 9/11 victims, Jimmy pointed out the burn marks that still scar the building from the impact of the plane and the subsequent explosion.

Simply put-that's pretty much what every day life is like for us.  Not just for me, but for Charles, for Eva and Charley and Max.  The plane has crashed and burned-the fire is out, the damage has been assessed.  And when it's all said and done, the burn marks remain, scorched and blackened scars that will fade with time but will always and forever carry the shadow of the massive implosion of a once light-hearted family.   Constant, painful reminders of what is lost and won't be regained until we pass from this temporary, broken home into blessed eternity.  Whispers of a lonely little Max who finds tragic joy in strangers thinking his sweet pal LG is his twin...

A precious friend asked me today if I ever had a good day, or even just a good hour.
I honestly didn't know how to answer her.
Because I don't know.

Do I laugh?
 I do.
Will you see a smile on my face?
Fairly often, I'd say.
Do the hugs of my children and the sound of their laughter bring me unspeakable joy?
Without a doubt.
Do I enjoy a good meal and find delight in the company of true friends and treasured family? 
Indeed.
Do I love my husband today more than I ever thought I could love another human being?  
Unquestionably.  
Do I spend time doing ordinary, every day tasks that once upon a time seemed so mundane and for which I'd give my left arm to be doing for ALL of my children? 
Certainly.
Do I thank my God every day and beg him for mercy to get through this life, living His will, not mine?  
I do my absolute, humanly flawed best.

Yet I find that now, every one of those things is colored with a lens that, no matter how much I polish it, how hard I try to clean it or how much I adjust it, it just can't be clean or clear or unblemished.

I find myself haunted by the visions of what might have been, what should have and what will never be.  I watch my daughter dance and realize that-
we. were. NOT. supposed. to. be. here.

Still, here we are.

Precious memories were shared with friends and family today, tears mingled with joy as I watched Eva grace the stage once again.  Hugs from so many- tender touches, kind words, special memories shared.  As Heather and I watched Eva, I thanked God for this cherished woman who was not only Mercy's very first teacher, but who has ceaselessly given my Eva the gift of both her time and her love to honor Mercy and Sam.  Seeing our true brother in Christ, Brian, race around, dividing his precious time photographing not just his beloved girls, but my Eva. And finally, when Miss Christy wrapped me in her arms and let me just breathe and cry, I was completely convicted that I was just where I was supposed to be at just that time.   And for one simple extraordinary moment, I envisioned what it would have been like to see Mercy finesse the stage on pointe with the inate elegance of her enchanted, dancing soul.

I'll see you again someday, my precious and tiny dancer.  I'll hold you in my arms once again and hear your beloved voice whisper-"mama, watch me!"  And because it will be Heaven, I can sit with Sammy's soft hand wrapped in mine, all the while watching you dance your heart out for your beloved Savior- The One whose spirit lived in you from the moment you were conceived, Whose love you shared with all who crossed your path and Whose life consummately sacrificed gave you yours forever.

Yes, my sweet friend.  I do have joy-
He is bringing beauty from ashes and will restore what the locusts have eaten.  And the prowling lion will never have my family, for we belong not to this world, but to the heart and soul of Christ, from whom all blessings flow.  

Keep dancing, Mercy, keep dancing in my heart and in my soul.  I love you, baby girl.  

...that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent.  

Lord my God, I will praise you forever.  

Psalm 30:12

With His love and only by His Grace, we all still stand. 

love, 

clan mac mama

a lightning rod in perpetual storm...

in short-
I seriously thought my husband got struck by lightning today.
Not kidding.
And I honestly felt like I wouldn't even have been surprised.
That's really what our life has felt like for the last 9 months.
A merry go round of sadness, frustration, fear, pain and complete crap-a** circumstances.  One hurdle after another.
This week-my Marine managed to bust himself up again-pretty good this time.  Double break in his collarbone...cue the surgeon, please.
There are no words to describe the fear that seized my soul when I answered the phone to what I though was his call and it wasn't him on the other end-I couldn't even let his coworker speak, I instantly peppered him with questions, namely-
"WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME ON MY HUSBAND'S PHONE?"
To his credit, he remained 110% Marine Corps calm in the face of my harangue-and thankfully, save for the extremely painful injury of a collarbone broken in 2 places, my beloved man was ok.
Mostly.
As ok as you can be when you're hit with another blow in the absolute WORST year of your entire life.
I wish I could say I was that stoic and strong caretaker that I'm supposed to be in the face of yet another wall we hit going 90 miles an hour...
I think I'd rate this one an EPIC FAIL on my part.  Which is exactly how we ended up with him outside in a raging thunderstorm (that was parked squarely on top of my little house,) searching for our spare house keys because we couldn't find the car keys as we raced out the door to his pre-op appointment.
You see, it's like this.
9 months ago, my husband answered the call that would forever alter our lives.  The call that would destroy our dreams, shatter our family as we knew it, shred our future as we dreamed it and pulverize the peace in every corner of our souls.
And since that moment, it has felt like we keep hitting a brick wall going 90 miles an hour at least once a week.
Please don't take this as a "poor me, I'm so downtrodden," kind of post.  Take it for what it is.  An honest look at the tornado that ripped my home from it's foundation and dumped my family in a foreign land.  One where we don't really know who we are, how we got there or how to get back to where we came from.
I rapidly alternate clinging to The Word and my Savior with episodes of gut wrenching, wall beating, lung shattering moments of anger that literally set me ablaze.
And I'm just so. bloody. tired.
I'm tired of people who give lip service to Christ, whose actions truly speak SO MUCH LOUDER than their words, or lack thereof.
I'm tired of tossing and turning, tormented by lack of sleep and troubled by fitful dreams when sleep finally comes.
I'm tired of watching my oldest daughter pretend that she is JUST FINE.  Because someway, somehow, she got the skewed idea that she should "just focus on the happy times" and it'll all be OK! Because Mercy & Sammy are with Jesus, so what on earth should we be sad about?  SERIOUSLY?  Of course they are with Jesus, but that doesn't make their death and absence from this life any less awful to deal with!  
I'm tired of my sweet son CONSTANTLY pestering me to watch TV first thing in the morning because he is so lonely and morning was his time with them.  It was that precious time when the best of the mischief happened and the bonds that anchored him to his twin and his brother were knit together so tightly.
I'm tired of seeing my innocent little Charley bean rapidly morph from patient and kind big sister into a selfish and manipulative shell of herself, just trying to find a way to fill the void that her heart constantly feels.
And I'm tired of ceaselessly hitting that brick wall.
Now, let's be realistic here.
A shady contractor, lack of sleep, severely strained relationships, some stinky health issues for both Charles and me, abundant car troubles, broken a/c, yet another sinus infection and a pervading sense of doom don't make me Job.
And I certainly can't claim Job's all encompassing and unwavering faith.  But I can sure as heck tell you that there is a tiny corner of my soul that is in awe of Job in a way that I can't fully put into words.
Because friends-the character that Job displayed in the face of constant and great adversity is so far beyond my comprehension.  I wish, with every part of my heart, that I could display even one ounce of the faith that Job lived.
But, honestly, I'm just so tired.
So, tonight I ask for your prayers once again.
For my hurting husband, our precious children and for our weary and world battered hearts.
Please cover Charles in prayer as he undergoes surgery tomorrow.  Please cover me in prayer as I shoulder both of our responsibilities.  Please cover our children in prayer as they make yet another adjustment in an ever changing landscape.
But, simply and most importantly, pray that we know these simple truths...
But He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." 
                                                                                    2 Corinthians 12:9a
I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. 
                                                                                    Phillipians 4:13 

There is absolutely NO way I can get through even one more minute without these truths tattooed on my heart and in my soul.

I pray tonight that each of you knows the simple truth of the unending and merciful grace of Christ, that you would know how loved and cherished you are by The Father, and that you would understand the blessing that each of your prayers is in our lives.

In His grip and only by His Grace,
clan mac mama

fighting my Father...

I've been fighting my Father.  My Lord, my Savior, my Abba, my Almighty.
Tooth and nail, I've waged in a bloody and emotional battle with Him.  I've screamed, I've cried, I've begged and I've cursed.  Layer upon layer of pain has landed squarely in His lap.

Because in the interest of complete transparency, I really just don't want to be an inspiration, the strongest person you know or the reason why you change your life.
I don't want to be any of those things BECAUSE I am those things BECAUSE my kids died.
I'm broken, depressed, and often, so furious I could spit nails.
And in the midst of it all, I'm supposed to find purpose, listen for His voice and somehow inspire all of you.

And I just. don't. want. to.

What I WANT is to be a Mommy.  A wife.  A mother whose worries are about school, friendships, teenage angst and little people learning to read.  A wife who listens, who puts her husband first, who plows over anything in her way to make sure her husband knows she is his #1 fan, cheerleader and soulmate.

What I WANT is my kids back.
And while I know I can't have that-and while I know He knows my pain, therefore I know He can carry me, lead me, and help me find the purpose in the pain.

I. still. don't. want. to.

I want to sit on my couch all day, staring at the television in my pajamas, so intently focused on the fake life I'm watching that the one I now hate living doesn't invade my consciousness.

I want the people who made life changing choices to stop posting their blessed life and dreams come true all over social media.  It's incredibly insensitive, and is a literal salt poured into an open and gaping wound of a life filled with exponentially shattered dreams and broken hearts.
I want the people who are supposed to love us no matter what to remove their expectations from our grief and just grant us grace.  Because as a wise pastor I know and love reminded me the other day, expectation and grace ARE mutually exclusive and simply cannot exist in the same relationship.

I want to have just one day where I know joy in my heart instead of angst in my soul.  One day where every time I look at the children I still have,  I'm not seized by fear over their futures. Over the choices they may make to blot out the loneliness, the guilt, the anger and the pain.  One day where the pain on my husband's face and in his eyes disappears for just a little while, a day where I know he isn't faking it for the world to see, but is truly, honestly, joyful.

Yet...somewhere in my soul I know-because of Him, in Him and simply, by His extroardinary grace...I know it's not about what I want, but about what He needs from me.  And He needs me to recognize that in Him and Him alone...
I. AM. STRONG.  I'm like a little Hercules in leopard print pants and too much jewelry.  My t
iny little spiritual muscles bulging when I let Him build me up.

Cassie (not so gently...) reminded me of that recently.  Sometimes we have to get a little cranky with each other to make a point-hers was this.
You have done and are doing, this hard thing.  This hard thing that is every parent's worst nightmare. And in the midst of it all, you have kept going, you keep doing and you refuse to give up.  And then she told me to just give up for a few days.
Just give up.
So I did.  Because I desperately, greedily, needed to.
I needed to give up for a few days.  I needed to be alone, be quiet, be still.  And not be your inspiration, the strongest person you know or the reason why you don't yell at your kids anymore.  (Or just not as much as you used to...)

Please, please, please-don't take any of this personally.  Not one single one of you.  I'm not angry that you say those things or feel them or even that you truly believe them.  Your love, concern, care and true hearts have been and continue to be such a blessing in my life and the life of my family.
I'm angry that I AM that person.
Because I don't want to wear this badge, be in this club or learn what it means to wait patiently for the day I finally meet my Jesus and see my babies again.

Not writing is my way of telling my patient, precious and perfect Creator to stick it where the sun don't shine. (this is probably not wise, considering He's pretty powerful and I'm like a tiny inconsequential ant...) So when I'm quiet, I'm probably behaving like a cranky toddler who refuses to do what the Father says because I just. don't. want. to.
Or it's really because I need to be strong and for Him to-
Set a guard, O Lord, over my lips.  
                                                         Psalm 141:3
To keep me bound-
Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouth, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. 
                                                                                                                      Ephesians 4:29
To forgive me when I confess that right now, at this very moment- I love my precious, dead children more than I love Him.
That I would set myself ablaze and give myself over the enemy for just one more moment of time with them.  Just one more hug, one more kiss and one more-"Mama, I love you."
Because He will forgive me-
He knows me.
He knows my heart.
He knows my soul.
And He created me to withstand this.  To survive it, to be strong, to inspire and to make us all want to be a better child of God.
When I am weak and weary, when I doubt, when I simply want to give up and die right along with my Mercy and Sammy, He shows up in the smallest of places.  He reminds me gently of my need for Him, of His boundless grace and how loving Him first and most is the only way I'll ever shed this sackcloth and be clothed in joy once again.

He blesses me...

...In the hug of my son, the "I love you!" of my daughter, the simple presence of my parents. Sometimes a mama just needs a hug and a broken hearted child just needs her Mom and Dad, no matter how old she is...

...In a verse sent by a friend, reminding me that even though I feel terribly alone, abandoned and forgotten, I AM NOT-
You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle.  You have recorded each one in your book.    
                                        Psalm 56:8
...By another friend encouraging me, one who fights his own battles with the world over his disabled son every day-who thanked me recently for not giving up on his family even when the going got so rough it seemed like it would never be peaceful again.  Who knew just what to say to remind me that my words have weight, purpose and meaning.

...By faithful friends, ones who are the hands and feet of Jesus as they plod painfully alongside us through the minefield of grief.
And the King will answer them, I assure you: Whatever you did for the least of these brothers of Mine, you did for Me. 
                                  Matthew 25:45

...And by the soul saving words of a fellow grieving friend, whose offer to pray for those we simply can't pray for right now was a priceless, precious spiritual gift.
Greater love has no one than than this, that one lay down his life for his friends.  
                                                                                                                              John 15:13  

Because as true, soul seeking, Jesus loving, self sacrificing followers of Christ, we can truly only lay our burdens down-
at the foot of the cross
at the feet of Jesus
in His rest
and in His appointed time.
So many blessings, so many relationships that only He could ordain, that only He could bring to pass, that only He could shift and shape.
His sovereign, simple grace weaving it's dominion over us all.
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  
                                                                                                                 Matthew 11:28  

But these are really NOT my words.

Our Creator left a priceless and precious gift when He shed His blood for us 2016 years ago...
The Holy Spirit...the indwelling and precious presence of Christ in all who believe.  And I believe and know with all that I am as a child of our great and mighty God, that it is from Him that all these words flow.

I learned recently that Missionaries aren't just those people who make the absolutely incomprehensible choice to leave all they know, put their lives at risk and live in circumstances we would never dream of to spread the love of Christ and the Gospel.
We are ALL missionaries.  Every single believer in this fractured and fallen world is a missionary.  And while I can't lead a single one of you to Christ, I can love you the way that He loves me.  I can write when I don't want to, I can be so transparent I'm practically see through and I can be honest.  Because it's in the blatant and raw honesty that you will see the Love of Christ, the Hand of God, the Truth.
That nothing in this world will ever separate us from the love of Christ and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit.  NOTHING. Not even this.
Because-
His mercies never come to an end, they are new every morning.
                                                                                                       Lamentations 3:22
And truthfully, they are new every moment of the day.
So, at this moment, today, Lord-
Please, forgive me.
Forgive my anger.
My disobedience.
My distrust.
My idolatry.
Create in me a clean heart, O God.  Renew a loyal spirit within me.  
                                                                                                            Psalm 51:10

Thank you-every one of you who has blessed us with your overarching love, your fragant and precious prayers, your blessed words of encouragement even when I really didn't want to hear them.  Thank you for continuing to read my words, to hear my cries and to keep your hearts open to the precious love of our Father.  Please don't stop loving us, praying for us and speaking your hearts to each of us.

So if I can inspire one thing in you today, please let it be this.
Don't let the sun go down on your cries today.  Our prayers are a precious and fragant offering to the Holy and Almighty God-offer them with all that you are and ask Him to reveal to you just what it is you will do to bring Him the honor, the glory and the praise that is His and His alone.
BE His missionary, wherever you are and in all that you do.

BE Jeremiah 17:8
They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream.  It does not fear when the heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.  

with all the love in my heart, O God, please, let these words be precious and pleasing to You.
love,
clan mac mama

Tomorrow, anew, we will begin.

the sorting, the shifting, once again.

Storage sheds filled with shattered dreams. 

Of a life left behind in tortured screams. 

Boxes filled with so many things...

Once held dreams aloft on wings. 

One side of me wishes to set it ablaze, 

to watch it burn in a hellish haze.  

To erase the memories, will it bring relief?

Or simply exponentially increase my grief? 

The other refuses to part even with ashes of a flower, 

the one Mercy presented me in her final hour...

Sam's scooter resides in a corner aside, 

the one he never got to ride.  

Pray, please pray for our strength to be vast, 

As we confront our precious past.  

One little trinket at a time, 

playing out in a bittersweet rhyme.  

Moments drift by on a breeze, 

gripping, grasping, I'm on my knees...

begging for His precious power 

to bring me through just one more hour.

Just.

One. 

More. 

Hour.  

Pray for us, friends.  Please. 

love, 

clan mac mama

 

I took them to Costco again...

the 3 of them.  Instead of the 5.  I was blessed to have an "extra" in the form of the sweet boy child of a friend.  So I felt a little less naked.  A little less glaringly NOT MYSELF.  

Not a mom of many. 

Not that "blessed" mama everyone needs to stop and gawk at with her little tribe marching-(well...let's be honest here- careening...)-about.  

Not the one who gets her heart "blessed" every single time she even stops for milk at Walgreens.  

I am not that mom anymore.  

I can't commiserate on big family dynamics or crazy little people.  

I can't empathize when a fellow mama unloads about the chaos of many hands tugging on her skirt...

I can't, I can't, I can't.  

Because it isn't my life anymore.  

I'm not the mama of many.  No one stops me to bless my heart, ask me if I know "it" happens, or "are you done?"

Until today.  

The sweetest man in Costco today stopped me and asked if I had "just 4" kids!  

"Are you done?" he queried, "don't you want just one more?" "It just seem like someone is missing..."

Just. one. more. 

YOU HAVE NO IDEA...I screamed in my head.  

"Five," I finally stuttered out, "I actually have FIVE kids."  

"Well, that's just wonderful!" he answered, his face alit in the sweetest grin.  

He simply had no idea. 

Not one inkling that the innocent question he threw at me in jest would shatter my fragile peace once again.  

Not one clue that I felt like SUCH A FAKE.  

Because I don't have 5 kids anymore.  I have 3.  

2 of them aren't mine anymore.  They belong to Jesus.  In truth, they never belonged to me to begin with. They were never JUST mine... 

So, now I have 3.  

And I spend every waking moment worrying, contemplating, begging, pleading and beseeching-

please don't let me screw this up.  

Please don't let me make any choice that will put them in harm's way.  

Please, LORD JESUS, PLEASE-

just keep them safe.  Lead them, love them, fill them to the absolute brim with your presence, your holy spirit and your perfect, pleasing voice.  

Please, help me learn how to have just 3.  Equip me to straddle the gaping canyon in our life where there used to be 5.  

Convict every person who knew them-

TALK about them. 

SHARE your heart. 

TENDER your memories and...

SPEAK their names!

Don't ask us for anything other than to simply survive.  

And if you see us struggling-

Don't shy away in discomfort, expecting someone else to fill the void and pretending you don't see the tears streaming down our faces.

 

Truly,  I tell you, whatever you did for the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.          

Matthew 25:40

We, those who live through hell on earth-we are your least of these.  

None of you, NOT ONE, would ever choose these shoes.  So, please, whenever you have a moment where you think we're OK! peer DEEPLY into your hearts, your souls and your spirits and ask this one simple question.  

If you were faced with the life we now live, would you be ok?  

Would you, could you...

be OK?  

simply so tired...

clan mac mama