Communion and a Piano Recital

That's what was on the agenda today. Church, communion, and an afternoon piano recital. At first glance, not a particularly taxing day. I am still amazed at my ability to allow myself to think that. To allow myself to wake up without the forethought of how the days events will be shaped by the absence of Martha Anne.

The first land mine...communion. Although this was the second time we have partaken of the sacrament without her, it was pretty emotional for me. I just kept thinking how grateful I was for the cross. More so than just for the assurance of my salvation, but now also for the assurance I have that I will see my daughter again some day. It was too hard to hold back the tears...something I must confess I have never been really good at anyway. So, I missed her a little more than usual today at church.

The second land mine...a piano recital. Emma and Lydia really did a good job with their pieces, and I had already dealt with and prepared myself as much as possible for the fact that this would be our first recital without M.A. So all in all I was doing pretty good. At least until Dr. Bacon, the girls' piano teacher, gave out awards for the guild performers from last year and this year. He mentioned a student who had received a Superior rating from last year's competition who was no longer with us. Emma and Lydia's sister....my precious Martha Anne. I missed her being there so much I thought I was going to fall to pieces. I held it together as best I could, so as to not freak anybody out, but all I really wanted to do was just sink inside myself and never come out.

I know I will see her again...I don't doubt that at all. I know she is in a better place. I believe she knows joy and happiness that I can only imagine. I know that I am still so very blessed with what is still a beautiful family. But as much as I know all of this, I also know that losing her hurts more than anything I could have ever imagined.

God's Provision

This has been an interesting week.

As indicated in previous posts, I have been feeling more vulnerable and weak than usual lately. I know that there is ample prayer cover being lavished upon our family. So this week I have been praying that God would make the strength that comes from intercessory prayer so evident to me and my family that we would all feel just a bit stronger in the days ahead.

No surprise...God's provision was more than I expected. Not only have I felt a bit stronger this week, I have been contacted by 5 friends from the past...no let me rephrase. I have been contacted by 5 Prayer Warriors who have committed themselves to prayer on behalf of our family. Three of these dear friends are serving in leadership positions in their church and have also shared our story with them so that they may join in prayer for us as well.

My eyes are filled with tears as I type this. My Redeemer is Faithful and True. He continues to hold me in the palm of His hand. In His providence, He knew I would need this encouragement at this particular time...and once again He provided. I feel so unworthy and yet so very thankful.

Tonight I praise God for those who have been steadfast in lifting us up since October 13th and I am so thankful for those who just this week have come along side us to help us continue this painful journey. Father, thank you for Jim, Kevin, Chris, Lori, and Shannon. Please bless them and their families.

Fragile - Please Handle With Care

I feel like this should be my moniker this week. For some inexplicable reason I have felt extremely fragile this week. There are no particular milestones to deal with. Mother's Day and Father's Day are still a ways away, so I don't think that's it. M.A.'s birthday is on Father's Day this year (how cruel is that?). I have really struggled to understand my feelings of frailty.

I wish I could say that as I write this I have figured it out. Not yet I'm afraid.

I'm not sure if it is just coincidence or if my family is feeding off my feelings, but several of us seem to be in the same place this week. Zan shared with me tonight that she has felt the same way this week. Like she could just ship the girls off to the grands, close the shutters, lock the doors, pull the covers over her head and never come out. As we were watching a video I made for Zan last Mother's Day, she asked me..."How does someone just disappear?" All I could say was "I don't know". Lydia wrote M.A.'s initials in the condensation on the passenger window of my car...unbeknown to me. I didn't notice it until driving home from work on Monday. You should have seen the look on my face when I looked over and noticed a large MAT on my window. When I called Zan to find out who may have written it, she told me that Lydia has been writing M.A.'s initials on a variety of mediums...walls, table tops, notebooks, etc. My heart broke for her. She misses her sister so much that I guess she is trying to find some comfort in just writing her initials. And finally, Emma and I had a good cry in the car this week as she told me she struggles with remembering the sound of Martha Anne's voice and what her smile looked like. She is afraid that as time passes she will just forget her altogether. I assured her I did not think that would be the case...but deep down inside, I really don't know. We are all strangers in this land of grief and I am not sure what promises to make to my children.

So as I wind up this entry I am assuming the feelings we are all experiencing are just a part of this roller coaster ride we will be on for the rest of our lives. I want to close this entry with a profound quote given to me during a grief group this week.

A wife who loses a husband is called a widow. A husband who loses a wife is called a widower. A child who loses his parents is called an orphan. But...there is no word for a parent who loses a child, that's how awful the loss is! - Neugeboren 1976.

We Are Not Alone

I have been re-reading John Eldredge's Wild at Heart. I read it for the first time a couple of years ago and was really impacted by it. I don't know what compelled me to pick it up again. I was looking for something to read the other day and it just sort of stood out there in our bookcase. It wasn't in a particularly conspicuous place, but I seemed to keep glancing back by it, so I decided it was time for a re-read.

Last night I was reading the section towards the end where John Eldredge writes about battling the enemy. He writes, "Has it ever crossed your mind that not every thought that crosses your mind comes from you?...We are being lied to all the time. Yet we never stop to say, "Wait a minute...who else is speaking here? Where are these ideas coming from? Where are those feeling coming from?"

For some reason those words struck a cord with me last night, even though I read them years before, and actually remembered reading them. I was so moved by them, that I actually found Zan in another part of the house and read them to her. She said, "Yeah that's cool", and kind of gave me this look. I told her how the concept applied to something that had happened at work that day, but there was still something different about the passage. I couldn't put my finger on it at that particular point in time.

Then today, as I was on my long one hour trek to work, I began to think about Martha Anne (as I usually do). I was thinking back upon how she died, and in trying to keep my faith strong I was thinking how much worse things could have been. A long drawn out battle with cancer. Watching her lose her hair. Holding her as her body would be racked with pain. Then...it happened! Just like John Eldredge had written. This voice inside my head said, "Yeah but who are you to think that you deserve such grace?" "What have you ever done to merit such favor?" "What makes you more special than all the other parents who have to watch their children suffer with cancer?"
As the guilt was beginning to sink in, I had no idea that the toughest blow was yet to come. The voice spoke again. "Your faith means nothing." "Aren't you just thinking these things to avoid the horrible reality that your daughter is dead?"

I was devastated. Then in an instance I remembered the words of John Eldredge. I literally said out loud, "I know who you are and I know what you are trying to do." "I may be smaller than you and I may be vulnerable right now, but my God kicked your butt once and He will do it again." "I will not let you rob me of the joy of my salvation." "I will not let you use my daughter's death against me."

I called Zan and told her that maybe God's delivering Martha Anne from a horrible battle with cancer, that she could have wound up losing anyway wasn't favor on us. Maybe it was grace lavished on her. Zan reminded me how Martha Anne would be devastated by her sin. How she would literally cry and genuinely want to do better. I remembered how both of us would go in at night to check on her as she slept. We both at times would lean down to kiss her softly, and she would be startled. When asked what she was doing, she would say, "I wasn't asleep...I was praying".

I don't need to or ever want to forget that Martha Anne had her own personal relationship with God. And I am ashamed to say, I think it may have been even more sincere than my own. Perhaps God answered a prayer of hers. Perhaps He saved her a second time because of her heart. Not because of mine or Zan's.

I turned the radio up and sang praise songs the rest of the way to work, praising and thanking God for giving such a powerful reminder to me. We are not alone...Martha Anne was not alone...and we are not helpless.