Class of 2019

It's pretty rare that grief catches me off guard nowadays.

But it surprised me a few days ago.

I wasn't undone.

I wasn't a crying mess.

But I was restless.

I cried a few tears.

I wish Elijah would have a Senior year.

I enjoy the privilege of working with a wonderful group of ladies to organize a fun and fabulous Senior Year experience for the seniors (and their families) in our homeschool co-op.  I love working with these ladies.  I love helping things come together.  I love the experience for the seniors and their families.

I'm always aware of Elijah's age...I'm always aware of the days and experiences he misses.  Although, I honestly doubt he "misses" any of it...heaven holds him.

But I miss the milestone days and events for him.

And even though this would be Elijah's senior year, I have not felt sad about it.  I'm simply aware of more time passing since he's been gone. 

I had honestly not thought about much about it as the Senior Committee worked to get our year organized.  It's not that I've forgotten...it's just very rare that grief feels raw anymore.

We have a kick-off event for our senior families called Launch.  It's our first official meeting of the Senior Year experience.

I was cruising along just fine until I saw the Welcome Class of 2019 sign at our Launch event.

I watched friends take pictures with their awesome seniors with this sign.  I even took some of those pictures.  And I am very, very, very happy for my friends.  Truly I thank God for protecting me from jealousy and bitterness.

But I wish I could have a picture with that sign.

I wish for all that a picture like that would represent.

I know it's going to be a great Senior Year for our co-op.  I look forward to all the fun and joyful events that the Senior Committee will plan and organize.

I sure do not expect to mope my way through anything.  I don't believe that would honor my Lord or my son.

This is simply a moment to acknowledge that grief never completely goes away.  I would be disingenuous if I pretended that grief never hurts anymore.

I love you, Elijah...here's to a great year!

If you want to read more about Elijah, just scroll down or go here or here.

Many blessings~

Rach

Elijah's 16th birthday~

"I hope no one who reads this book has been quite as miserable as Susan and Lucy were that night: but if you have been--if you've been up all night and cried till you have no more tears left in you--you will know that there comes in the end a sort of quietness."  C.S. Lewis from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

This is how I feel.  I've cried hard and I've cried long...but over the years, the grief surrounding the death of my first child and only son has changed.  

A sort of quietness has come.   

I still cry over the loss of Elijah, but the tears are fewer and fewer and they rarely flow for long anymore.  The receding of grief has been a long, slow process.  Sometimes I've been concerned that the reduction in tears reflects a callousness or coldness in me...but I don't believe that anymore.  I think it's all part of the process.  My heart still hurts when I allow my mind to wonder about my son, but the pain no longer stabs.  

Much of grief's ache has been replaced by honest curiosity...I simply wish I could know my son.  I miss him, but I'm not able to share details and specifics about him that I miss simply because I never got to know him.  I still have more questions than answers, but I am more and more content with the truth that trusting my Lord is best and that He will one day allow me to see this loss with clear understanding.   

A sort of quietness has come.

Sometimes I wondered if I would survive it...could I survive it?  This Grief...this journey that so often felt impossible.  I could not avoid it, control it, nor forget it.  It didn't wait, it didn't mind its manners, it never played fair.  And I know it will never be finished this side of heaven.  But it has changed.

A sort of quietness has come. 

I have stared at it and battled it like the monster that it is.  Sometimes I felt strong, feeling the strength of the Lord coursing through me.  Sometimes I have resigned myself to it, weary from its constant abuse.  Other times I have felt equipped by it and have seen God's kindness and care in allowing me to share or minister to others.  

Through the years I have felt my Lord changing this grief.  I have felt Him turning it in His hands.  I have felt Him softening and smoothing it.  I have felt Him transforming it. 

A sort of quietness has come.

So, I bring you this idea captured in pictures.

Sea glass from my collection~

I love sea glass.  I have a small collection...much of it found along the North Carolina and Virginia coasts.  

I think it's the idea of Redemption that appeals to me.  Broken, jagged garbage drowned in an ocean.  The tossing waves and currents doing their hard work.  The jagged edges slowly worn down by shells and sand...and time.  And, eventually, a rare "jewel" produced.  

This is a picture of how I see my grief surrounding Elijah.  It is no longer dangerous.  It no longer rips and cuts.  This grief is softer now.  Every now and then I'm even hopeful that it could be considered beautiful.

A sort of quietness has come.  

But, let's be clear...it's not my work that has changed the grief.  It is the careful, thoughtful, relentless work of my Lord.  It has been Redeemed by my Savior...it's His story of Redemption.  

This journey...through this kind of grief...is still one that I wish I never had to make.  There is so much that I wish could have been different.  But I also see beauty. 

A sort of quietness has come.

I know my God in ways that I never would have otherwise.  I trust my God deeper than I knew I could.  

And I am thankful.   

Elijah in Daddy's arms~

Lately, God's had me thinking about the idea of Surrender...not resignation, not weariness, but precious Surrender...so I leave you with these lyrics by Lauren Daigle from her song "You Have My Surrender".

Here are my hurts 

Here are my doubts 

Here are the things that I can't figure out

Here are my storms, my crashing seas

Here are the burdens that have brought me to my knees.

Here are my prayers, my heart will wait

I will bind my will so you can have your way

Here are the things I can't undo

I am nothing, nothing without you

And I will take you at your unfailing word

More than all I want is to seek you first

I will bless your name when the night is long

God, you have my surrender.

Here it is if you're interested in listening~

If you're interested in knowing more about Elijah, go here.  Here's another bit of writing I did about fear grown by grief and freedom from it.

As always, thanks for taking the time to read...many blessings to you this year~

Rachel

Merry Christmas from the Gonzales Gang!

Hello family and friends...Merry Christmas!  

I miss writing...I keep intending to get back to blogging, but it seems that I'm still trying to figure out how to manage more time for writing...I think there's a lesson about priorities in here somewhere :)

Anyhoo...I never got around to Christmas cards (again!) this year.  I used to really love making and mailing my cards...again...life, time, school...sometimes, something's gotta give.  So, for your reading pleasure, here's the Gonzales 2016 Year in Review.

A big bit of news is that Steve is in the process of changing jobs.  The truth of the matter is that funding for research is HARD & DIFFICULT to come by and his job at UTSouthwestern Medical Center has been hugely affected by lack of funds for research.  Everyone wants good meds, nobody wants to pay for research.  His field has never really recovered from the recession and it was time to make a change.  So, he's in the process of becoming certified to teach and will begin teaching with our local school district in January.  Change can be hard, but it can also be rewarding.  We are thankful for new opportunities for Steve...he's really looking forward to a new direction...and lack of commute to Dallas! 

Our girls are doing great.  We continue to home school and are so thankful for the opportunity to be so involved with our girls' education.  I don't take it for granted.  All of them still enjoy archery and it looks like we're becoming Theater Parents as well :)

From Alice in Wonderland~

Bella continues to enjoy her artistic pursuits and is doing really well with school.  She's an 8th grader at our co-op, yet began some high school level stuff here at home, so we get to gently start the high school craziness here in our school.  I'm pretty much a "school manager" for her at this point...we have good conversations and discussions about her subjects and I go over her work, but she's quite independent at this point and is rockin' it.  Also, her braces came off this year and she just keeps growing!  A huge, grace overflowing big deal is that she was recently baptized...publicly professing her faith in Jesus as her Savior was a highlight for sure!  We're so thankful!  

Baptism in November~

Pencil draft horse~

Sophia began middle school this year and is really working hard...I'm so proud of her!  She continues to enjoy writing poetry and won for her age at our local Frisco poetry contest (for the 3rd time!).  She is especially loving that she's old enough to participate in our church's youth group now!  Wait...what?!  Seriously girls, quit growing!  She enjoyed singing in a children's choir and with Steve at our church's talent show this summer.  And she's becoming quite the baker...she loves being in the kitchen and blessing folks with her creations.    

Poetry winner~

Singing with Steve~

Gracia is 5, full of energy, has an entertaining imagination, and is usually pretending to be some kind of animal...to say that she keeps me on my toes would be an understatement :)  And she is absolutely fearless.  Our girls have taken up rock climbing at a local indoor rock gym...Gracia scampers to the top like nobody's business!  And she's small for her age, so it's funny to watch the reaction of folks as they watch the tiny girl conquer the wall :)    

Stylin~

Monkey~

Our family enjoyed a trip to CO this past summer.  It has been 10 years since we moved away from CO, so returning to a place we love so much was a HUGE blessing.  Our sweet friends opened their home to us...what a gift!  We thoroughly enjoyed being in the Rocky Mountains, visiting Boulder and Estes Park, and sharing our favorite places with our girls.  And we were thrilled to be able to see and spend time with friends!  We won't let 10 years go by again!

Rock Cut, Rocky Mountain National Park

Dearest friends~

A reunion of our Sunday School class from our church in CO!

Rock Cut~

Bear Lake, Rocky Mountain National Park~

We enjoyed some visits from a variety of friends as well...some just passing through and some stopping to stay a while.  We love seeing friends and having visitors...hint, hint!

High school friends spent the day with us on their way home from a trip around the US.

A friend from PA who we get to see every year when he's in town for a conference! 

Another friend from PA who was passing through and came to church!

A friend from CO who came for several days!

Liz helped me celebrate my 45th birthday!

We are always thankful to celebrate with family too!  

My brother's birthday!

Oma and Opa!

We continued our tradition of going to NM for Thanksgiving.  We always have fun and the special treat this year was to meet Brandon's love, Kara.  And check out the roadrunner Uncle John carved for me...thankful for family ;)

I'm doing well too.  Many of you know that I've been experiencing a medical mystery since mid September when my left leg began going numb.  The quick story is that it's still numb (yes, the entire leg from the very top down to my toes), but thankfully I still have full use of my leg.  I've undergone a CT scan, 4 MRI's, a nerve study, and countless blood tests.  Last month a spinal tap revealed a high level of inflammation in my spinal fluid.  I've seen 8 doctors and specialists and still do not have a diagnosis...but there are lots of diseases we've ruled out...including MS, Lupus, Sjogren's, Syphilis, Tuberculosis, Rheumatoid Arthritis, two different cancers that can cause inflammation in the CSF, Sarcoidosis, and some others.  I see one more specialist in January...really hoping for some answers.  I've had moments of pure fear and panic, but by the GRACE OF GOD they have not lasted.  I'm not despairing and God is close.  I'm very thankful for the care of friends and family who pray for me and check in on me...God is indeed a very present help in times of trouble.  I may have to write some more about His care and kindness during this trial...writing has always helped me process things and events.

So, that's our update.  My plans for the weekend are to finally make some toffee and enjoy the process of getting the last details in order as we prepare for the arrival of my brother and my parents for Christmas.  

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope."  Romans 15:13  

This is our prayer for you...we love you and pray you have a beautiful Christmas and a fabulous New Year!

Blessings~
Rachel

15 Years in Heaven~

It's the eve of Elijah's 15th birthday and I want to write...but I feel like I've said most of what I want or can already.  

I hope he knows how much his Daddy and I love him.

I hope he knows how much his Daddy and I miss him.

I hope he knows he has three little sisters.

I hope he knows...

And I can hardly see the computer screen through tears.

Grief is hard.

It's hard because of love.

A heart that grieves is a heart that loves.

I'm thankful to know deep love.

I'm mostly thankful for the deep love of my Savior~

In Daddy's arms~

 
You can go here to read more about Elijah.  Or here to read more about some other aspects of my journey with grief.

Blessings~
Rach

When I Wished I Could End My Pregnancy

It was late into the night...probably early morning actually.

I had spent hours wrestling between crying, trying to sleep, praying, trying to get comfortable, begging for mercy...needing to flee from the darkness that threatened to suffocate me...yet only able to lie awake while I felt my baby move around inside me.

I was almost 28 weeks pregnant.

With a son.

Who was dying.

And I wanted my pregnancy to end.

Steve and I knew the medical prognosis for our son, Elijah, was zero chance of life outside of the womb.  Elijah and I had undergone two in utero surgeries to try to save him.  Steve and I had recently returned to CO from our surgeon in FL where we had gone to try for a third surgery to save our son, but we weren't able to have that surgery after all.  Our surgeon discovered that Elijah's kidneys had completely failed and there was nothing more (medically) that could be done for him.  (You can read more about Elijah here.)

But before they could release us, our doctor was legally required to counsel us that we could choose to end the pregnancy...to have an abortion.  It was the strangest thing.  We had tried so hard to save our son and now this doctor, who had already done two surgeries to try to save our son, was required to counsel us of our option to "terminate the pregnancy".  He himself does not perform abortions and the hospital that had cared for us does not perform abortions...I was thankful for that.  Steve and I even had to sign paperwork that stated we were aware of our "right" to an abortion, that we had been properly counseled.

The thought of killing Elijah horrified both Steve and I...there was no way we could ever choose that for our son or ourselves.

Yet here I was, in the middle of the night, wishing my pregnancy would end...begging God to not make me finish this pregnancy knowing the outcome.  Our son would not live, could not live outside of me.

And as I lay there with tears trickling down my cheek, I understood abortion differently.  I had always believed that abortion was the taking of a precious life...I knew it deep in my soul...a precious life.  That belief did not change.

But I also understood deeply that abortion was a decision made out of hopelessness.  A decision made in the middle of circumstances that looked and felt dark.  A decision made because fear was speaking and despair was strangling.

I was not an unwed woman.  I was not a victim of rape or incest.  I was not a teenager whose parents would be disappointed or angry.  I was not being pressured by my boyfriend who didn't want a baby.  

I was a married woman who had tremendous support from her husband...a husband who was as devastated as me.  I was a woman who wanted to be a mother.  I was a woman who had the loving support of family and friends.  I was a woman who believed in the Lord and His sovereign, mysterious ways.

Yet, I understood what it was like to want a pregnancy to end...to want my pregnancy to end. 

And God forever changed my perspective on abortion that night.  I do grieve for the babies.  We should all grieve for the babies.

But I also grieve for the women who made a drastic choice when they were searching for an answer.  I grieve for the girls who were hurt and turned to a tragic outcome thinking it would bring peace.   I grieve for the women who thought they had a solution to a problem they didn't want to face.   I grieve for the women whose abortions haunt them.

I grieve for the women who believed the lie whispered by fear.

I carried our precious son for another 10 weeks...he was born on January 5, 2001.  He lived for 100 minutes.  We held him, prayed over him, cried over him, sang to him...all he ever knew was our love and then the Lord's presence.  I shudder to think what we would have lost if we had chosen differently.  God gave us strength to face our "crisis pregnancy" and He gave us 100 minutes of memories with our Elijah...I am so very, deeply, forever grateful.

Elijah in Daddy's arms~

My husband has been very affected by the recent video releases concerning Planned Parenthood.  He called me from work one day just to say Thank You for carrying Elijah and how thankful he was that we had not aborted our son.

Thank you Lord for changing my perspective that dark night, for growing compassion in my heart, and for giving us your strength~

Many blessings~
Rach

From Faith to Fear...and Back Again~

Here we are again...the day my son was born, but no cake and candles to celebrate what would be his 14th birthday.  

Here we are again...the day of his death, the same day as his birth...painful...tears still spill...heart still hurts.

If he had a tombstone, there would be no dash between the dates...there were no days lived here on earth...only 100 minutes...only minutes~

Elijah in Steve's arms~

I've written about Elijah many times, but I haven't gone into great detail about some of the darker corners of my experience with grief...I thought I'd change that with this post.  This is a story I can tell because, by the glorious grace of God, I'm well on the other side now.  This is a story I can tell because my God rescued me...restored me...He is the Redeemer~
 
Faith is something that Steve and I felt like God lavished on us while I was pregnant with Elijah, during his birth and death, and even in the raw months afterwards.  It wasn't easy...at all...but somehow we survived.

I know it was and is God who made us survivors.  It was absolutely Him...left to myself I would have crumpled up and quit living.  But God gave us a desire to keep living, to protect our marriage, and to keep fighting for our faith. 

I don't know how to describe it other than sometimes I felt like it would dishonor God and our son's memory if I let grief overcome me...if I let it defeat me.  There was no way I was interested in letting death have the last say.

This doesn't mean that it was easy...it was hard and got harder.  In the beginning, I continued to feel and know God's closeness...His comfort...His protection.  Even in the desperate questions and pleas for understanding, I felt my Lord.  Even in the tears cried in the darkness, I knew His presence.

But somewhere along the path of grief, I lost my footing.  It was so subtle at first...I didn't even notice.  I was so determined to not let grief win that I began to rely on my own determination and will power instead of the faith that my Lord had provided.  

I began to linger over my questions in a way that caused me to examine every thought and prayer and to try to figure out what I had done wrong...why had Elijah died?  Did I not pray enough?  Did I not have enough faith?  Was I being punished?  Why did Steve have to suffer if I had caused this?  How can God be glorified when a baby dies?  Wasn't God all powerful?  Is it okay to be disappointed with God?  Wouldn't God have been glorified if Elijah had miraculously been healed?  Why hadn't He done it then?  What could God do that would make losing Elijah seem worth it?  Was I going to be a bad mom and Elijah was actually being spared from me?  Was I so horrible that this is what God had to use to change me, to refine me, to draw me to Him?  

And for me, the worst question to consider...

Who else was going to die?

Honestly, I think most of those questions and others that I asked were normal and not dangerous by themselves...I think they were part of the process.  What was dangerous, though, was how I began to reflect everything inward...how I began to accuse myself...and how I began to accuse my Lord instead of continuing to look to Him.  It was the subtle beginning of a very dark journey...an intimate walk with fear~

Before I go any further, I want to share that I was aware of truth and had a decent understanding of theology, but my emotions and my mind seemed to be disconnected.  I was aware that many of my thoughts were irrational, yet I couldn't seem to control them, let alone change them.  I was aware that my Lord is good, caring, honorable, compassionate, yet I felt like I had lost my ability to trust Him personally.  Also, none of this happened over night...it was a slow, painful struggle that was years in the making. 

The more I struggled with my faith, the more I dug in to things that I thought reflected a woman of faith...involved at church, involved in bible studies, etc.  I was also determined to keep living and enjoying life.  I love being in nature (and we lived in Colorado) so Steve and I spent a lot of time biking and hiking and enjoying God's creation.  I was determined to be victor in a strange battle that I thought I could control.

I began to struggle with prayer.  I thought my prayers didn't count or couldn't be heard or wouldn't be considered by God.  My experience told me I didn't pray well enough or long enough or earnestly enough.  If something was important to me, I asked Steve to pray...I knew my prayers were pointless.    

One of the ways I "controlled" my faith was to not give voice to the things that scared me the most...I never articulated the words that would reveal my darkest fears.  I was afraid my fear would grow if I acknowledged it aloud, so I determined to control it through silence.  I was afraid I would somehow cause my fears to become reality if I ever used audible words to describe the dark places my thoughts took me.

I was afraid Steve would die~


At first, Steve and I thought we wanted to try pretty quickly after Elijah died to have another baby, but then I decided that I didn't want to have any more kids because then I could control who else might die.  Another baby couldn't die if I simply didn't have any more.  I carefully crafted my pitch to Steve and presented my plan to focus on a career and the fabulous lifestyle we could have and all the amazing traveling we could do if we didn't have any more children.  Steve kindly listened and simply disagreed with my plan...he was kind and gentle as he told me we didn't have to have kids right away, but he didn't think not having any was a good plan.  I remember having a mix of emotions to his reaction...thankful for his understanding and gentle patience, yet worried because I realized how much he wanted more kids and I wasn't sure I did anymore.

September 11, 2001 changed much of how I felt about having kids.  When the attacks first happened, I was sure it was better to not have children who would have to grow up in this world.  But those events also caused me to consider what I truly valued and the possibility of more children became important to me again.  We became pregnant with our beautiful Isabella in the fall.

To say I was scared during that pregnancy would be an understatement.  We were so excited, yet I was very frightened.  My doctors kept an extra close watch on me during that pregnancy.  It was a tremendous relief when all looked well via ultrasound.  But that pregnancy also began another dangerous journey...I ate my way through my emotions...a destructive habit I'm still recovering from.

Isabella arrived in July 2002...her birth was an amazing experience.  It was both beautiful and overwhelming to walk out of that hospital with our new daughter...my arms full of love instead of empty. 

Pregnancy hormones are already a lot to handle...and postpartum hormones can be tough too.  I'm pretty sure hormones deeply affected some of my experiences and may have even exaggerated some of my grief.

I remember sometimes being amazed and delighted by Bella and then crushed as I realized even more all that Steve and I missed and would continue to miss with Elijah.  I would marvel at how she was an amazing blessing from God and then rage at God over the loss of our son.

I was deeply afraid Isabella would die too~

Here's an example of how strangely fear was gripping me.  The first time I flew with Isabella was beyond frightening to me.  I was afraid something bad would happen...even though I had never been afraid of flying before.  I specifically worried that the top of the fuselage would come off mid-flight and I wouldn't be able to hold Bella tightly enough to keep her from flying out of the airplane.  I spent time planning my holding techniques, trying to determine if I should keep her attached to me the whole time or if she'd be safer strapped into her car seat, wondering if a Baby Bjorn would be enough to keep her from getting sucked away.  And I was aware that this was all irrational, but I still tried to figure out how to manage this fictional situation.  It almost seems laughable now, but at the time, I was very serious.  Nevermind the fact that IF something like that happened, we were all going to perish anyway.

I stayed home with her for 12 weeks and then went back to work part time.  Part of me wanted to stay home with her, but another part of me was simply afraid of the responsibility of caring for her.  When I examined my track record of caring for my kids, the stats weren't very good...50/50 for keeping them alive.  I honestly thought she was in safer hands being cared for by someone else for part of the day.   

Sniffles made me nervous, colds scared me, and I barely held it together when Bella was diagnosed with pneumonia at 9 months old.  Any sickness caused panic and I took her to the pediatrician a lot.  I was aware that I was more afraid than would be considered normal, yet I couldn't make the fear go away.  Our pediatrician was very understanding and so kind.  When Bella turned one, I told her that I was aware that I was a very nervous mom and had decided to not bring Bella to see her for every little thing...she agreed it was a good idea.  A small victory in my battle with fear.

Isabella's bout with pneumonia had caused us concern...enough for me to plan to quit my job.  I gave notice and began staying home full time right before Bella's first birthday.  Another victory. 

But fear continued its ugly assault.  I became even more scared of Steve dying...I was especially worried about a car accident scenario.  I was afraid every morning when he went to work and every evening when he drove home.  If Steve was late getting home from work, he would find me angry instead of welcoming.  I was angry because I was afraid, but I wouldn't share my fear because I wouldn't speak about it because then it might happen.  Instead I would tell him he was inconsiderate and lecture him about how easy it would have been to simply use his phone to call me to let me know he was on his way or when he would be home.  I was angry because I had planned his funeral in the time I had waited for him. 

I began to think about death a lot.  I never felt suicidal, but I often wished I could die (or that Jesus would hurry up and return).  I believed Isabella would be okay without me...I didn't feel like a very good mom...Steve was (and is) an incredible father.  I wanted to be with Elijah and I just didn't want to hurt anymore.  I knew Elijah didn't need me...he was in heaven, after all.  It's strange to write about this because it seems really foreign that I ever even thought like this...I'm so thankful that God didn't leave me in the darkness.

And my struggle with faith seemed to just keep getting worse...and fears kept growing.  I was doing the things I thought I should be doing...still going to church, still attending bible studies.  At one point, I was even leading a bible study.  I felt like I was trying my hardest to get close to God again, yet He was elusive despite my moral and religious effort.  Questions constantly swirled in my mind and I felt like answers never came.  I did not feel at all like I was being fake...I honestly felt like I was trying hard to get back to a place of faith where I had been before.  I was actually pretty honest with others about some parts of my grief...the struggles I had with prayer and questions about God's ways, my disappointment in how He had "handled" Elijah, and the ups and downs I felt.    

Yet I would not speak about fear.  I would not speak about the things I was afraid of the most.  I would not share how it woke me at night and worried me in the day.  Even Steve had no idea how dark my thoughts were.  
 
And then I had a miscarriage in the fall of 2003.  My tiny little remnants of faith shattered down around me.  They turned into sharp, ugly shards which cut and dug into me.  

I was undone...and I was done with God.  

And that's how I spent the next year...disappointed in God, very fearful, questioning everything I thought I believed.  I wanted to be around people of faith, so I still went to church.  Participating in worship was painful and I usually cried through most of it.  I still took notes and learned from the sermons, but only in an academic sense.  Rarely did I "feel" like God was interested in me.  It's weird, because I still believed He cared for others, heard their prayers, was sovereign over events...but He wasn't personal to me anymore.  I felt like He was still all I thought Him to be...but only to others...none of Him applied to me...I felt like I was far from His care or concern.  I'm aware that this doesn't even make sense...yet it's the best I can do to describe the disconnect.

We learned we were pregnant with our sweet Sophia in the fall of 2004.  I was nervous...again.  And I began crying...a lot.  Yes, pregnancy hormones sure can do a number on a woman...but I was crying all the time.  I clearly remember sitting on the floor one evening with a box of tissues, crying...grieving about how I wasn't the Christian I wanted to be...nor the wife, the mom, the daughter, the sister, or even the friend I wanted to be.  I saw with crystal clear realization that I was an emotional, spiritual, and physical mess...I knew my faith was in shambles, I knew my "moral work" was not fixing anything, I knew my fears had grown into a destructive force, I knew I could not hold it together any more...I knew I needed help.  

I told Steve I thought I should see a counselor.  It was one of the best decisions I've ever made.  I began seeing Pam Pedrow, a counselor at our church's counseling center, soon afterward.  She is a blessing and a gift and I am deeply grateful to God for her and her ministry.

I don't remember everything about my meetings with Pam, but I kept a journal during those times that reflected what I was struggling with and what she was helping me work through.  I do remember the first time that I shared with her that I was aware that fear had grown and twisted into a destructive force (it was in our 1st or 2nd meeting).  I knew I had to say the words that scared me the most.  I remember crying so hard that it was hard to speak and breathe, but I finally got the words out.  To me, they hung there in that room like physical vapors...and then a gentle breeze came through and they swirled and dissipated and disappeared.  They were gone...and so was their power.   My own silence had given them their power...I felt betrayed by myself...I had been deceived.  That day I learned that fear and deception are some of the enemy's favorite tools.  I also learned that secrets and silence are favorite tactics of his too.  Fearful silence...a dangerous combination...one I try not to practice.

One thing that I loved about counseling was that it was Pam's job and ministry...she was trained and experienced in knowing how to truly listen and help.  She was not a friend who I felt like I was burdening or upsetting...although she became a friend through the counseling process :)  

Pam and I discussed many, many, many, many other parts of my experience with grief and its effects.  She was especially helpful in showing me that our Lord heard my prayers.  During one session when I was sharing about my questions and struggles with prayer, she simply asked me to think about Jesus physically sitting with me and listening to me.  Did I believe he was shaking his head at my inability to get the words just right?  Did I believe that he withheld Elijah's healing because he was waiting for me to be more eloquent or more passionate?  Did I believe he was frustrated because he wanted to heal Elijah, but couldn't unless I said the proper words?  Of course not!  Prayer is not like trying to cast a spell!  Once again, God used Pam to bring clarity...I clearly saw how my own thoughts and questions had become twisted and the damage they had done.

Pam was also very, very helpful in reminding me that God counted my tears...that He intimately understood the entire situation and He cared deeply about it...He grieved with me.  She was instrumental in me understanding and believing and experiencing God's personal love and care again...and to understand that He had always been there.  I was able to clearly see the ugly and damaging twists in my grief and pain and to cry to God in repentance and for restoration.  And He was faithful...as He always has been and will be.

I met with Pam for a few months...I was a renewed and restored person by the time our sessions ended.  Fear had done some major damage to the relationships that I loved the most...God, Steve, and Bella especially.  So much restoration took place during and after my time with Pam.  I was bonding with Bella in a stronger, healthier way and I was simply more pleasant and loving with Steve...all because fear no longer had a strong grip on me.  God used Pam in a mighty way and I am forever grateful.  

There are some parts of grief that never go away...I guess that's just how it is. I've continued to experience ups and downs in this journey.  Sometimes I still question and still struggle...I often wish I could just know why.  I miss my son.  

But being on the other side of this experience with fear has taught me to continue to turn to God, to be honest with my Lord...He has lavished me with much grace and comfort.  I am thankful that other parts of this grief simply don't feel as raw. 

The scars are there, but a scar shows that there has been healing...and, dare I say, some of them have become beautiful.  My God is in the business of renewing and restoring...He is THE REDEEMER~

"I sought the Lord, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears." Psalm 34: 4

"Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy!  He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him." Psalm 126: 5-6

These words from Isaiah are comforting and full of hope.
"...to comfort all who mourn; to grant to those who mourn in Zion—to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;"  Isaiah 61: 2-3

"I will turn their mourning into joy;  I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow." Jeremiah 31:13

Thanks for reading...hug your family~

Rachel~
   

Furniture Makeovers~

You probably know that I have an eclectic decorating style and I like to mix styles too.  You may also know that I love incorporating antique pieces into my mix and I also get a kick out of rescuing or repurposing old pieces.  And you probably also know that I love adding punches of bright color here and there.

And my girls, by default (and sometimes by Mom's overriding decisions) have embraced some of my style :)

We let the girls pick their own room colors last summer (as long as Steve and I liked the colors too) and we got their rooms painted last summer.  Bella's room is light turquoise and Sophia chose apple green.  Luckily, Bella didn't have any pieces that she wanted painted or needed to be redone in order to use.  Since then, I've been slowly getting parts of Sophia's room to come together by repainting and repurposing some furniture.

Sophia had a tall highboy dresser that had been mine when I first moved out of my parent's home.  It was a great piece, but it was tall and she couldn't reach half the drawers...we were just making it work until we could get this beast redone.

It wasn't in the greatest shape~

Transformation has begun~

Steve and I rescued this piece from the garbage.  Yep, our neighbor in PA had put it out on the curb for the garbage men to haul off.  We asked if we could have it and happily brought it home to live in our garage...I LOVE FREE FURNITURE!  We moved it to TX and finally, this past spring, I began the process of making it pretty and useable for our sweet Sophia.

It's not a perfect piece...had some damage to a drawer that my hot handyman, Steve, was able to fix.  It needed new hardware, and still has some bumps and bruises...but this baby is solid wood and all dovetail joints...it's really a beautiful piece.  I knew that the condition it was in meant that I was not going to be stripping it and staining it...I was definitely NOT interested in that kind of work...so it got painted instead.  

I cleaned it the best I could, sanded it, put a couple coats of primer on it, and then painted it.  One thing I was not prepared for was how many coats of paint it needed.  We chose a favorite shade of white (Moonlight White by Behr) and decided to add an accent color that would compliment Sophia's green walls...Glazed Raspberry (by Behr) is what we chose.  Some of the original hardware was broken, so I let Sophia pick out new knobs and pulls.  She also picked out a stencil that I added to the side.  

Progress~

The project was a bigger pain than I had anticipated and I learned that I am no good at stenciling.  You don't get a close up of the cute bird stencil because it looks like I did it after a couple glasses of wine...come to think of it, I should have celebrated with a glass or two after this was done :)  But I really love the finished piece...and so does Sophia :)

LOVE the finished dresser...the colors are so pretty in her green room!

Late this summer I began the project of turning this old desk hutch into a book and display shelf for Sophia.  

 

Just starting the primer...no shelves added yet~

We bought this poor ugly thing at a thrift store last summer for $20...I knew I could bring it new life!  It had a glossy finish and even though I tried to use a liquid furniture stripper, I could barely get the original paint to degloss....I'm sure it was user error, but it was frustrating.  So I gave this piece many coats of primer too and then many coats of paint.  

I love how this piece turned out, but I may never do a project quite like this again.  See those little mail slots (remember, it's a desk hutch)...they were a PAIN to paint!  I had to get a special short handled brush and could only paint two interior sides at a time because the brush handle would touch the side opposite where I was painting.  Seriously, what was I thinking!  And painting the accent color was a bit trickier than I had anticipated also.  I finally just got tired of painting...my solution for painting the furniture feet was to just dip them in the paint can :)

I got tired of painting...dipping worked~

Steve, my hot handyman, added two shelves...the bottom and middle ones.  And he added the cute little painted ball feet...and voila, Sophia has a new bookshelf :) 

The finished piece...ready for Sophia's room~

Steve is moving it upstairs tonight...Sophia will be so happy to have a place for some of her things again :)  And I'm so happy that I'm done with painting projects for a while :)

Here's to a little hard work, a lot of painting, and a bit of creativity~

Rach