tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89926588677407753752024-03-14T06:50:39.711-07:00Joy Comes in the MorningMichellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18013169612457525434noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8992658867740775375.post-80694520892765287712024-03-11T17:59:00.000-07:002024-03-11T17:59:59.528-07:00Remembering our son.<div class="separator"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNhNX_a6tLaBgoFhyphenhyphenNVB79LUKe9Chex0S1nTrqA86XwOlDiLl0o7r0e8tnCeRdlulGgUtZLRJ-lt4kzSBRIkWFC-5_6wtr35ISKbHCfTq5euZwE9zpeX1HZ4-k0tdH3019WcPslZkRjv4DG0Z6omcuHcWEc0gCIe_9qMwPO7obuvLUzZ14Y2FIope7F_4L/s1350/335594404_604639348182307_9189398277840907662_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNhNX_a6tLaBgoFhyphenhyphenNVB79LUKe9Chex0S1nTrqA86XwOlDiLl0o7r0e8tnCeRdlulGgUtZLRJ-lt4kzSBRIkWFC-5_6wtr35ISKbHCfTq5euZwE9zpeX1HZ4-k0tdH3019WcPslZkRjv4DG0Z6omcuHcWEc0gCIe_9qMwPO7obuvLUzZ14Y2FIope7F_4L/w320-h400/335594404_604639348182307_9189398277840907662_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div>Today, March 14, 2023, we honor the life of our son, </div><div>Matthew Isaac Eastman.<div><br />17 years ago, the Lord allowed us to walk through the most heartbreaking experience of our marriage, our family, our lives.</div><div><br />On March 10, 2006 my OB/GYN looked at me with sad eyes and softly stated, “You have miscarried.”</div><div><br />On March 14th, I delivered the lifeless body of our son.</div><div><br />Never has my heart felt such anguish.<br />Never have I wept with more intensity.<br />Never have I felt such lack of control.<br />Never have I felt so - alone.</div><div><br />But the Lord met me in that hospital room.<br />In the late, dark, silent hours of the night, I cried out,<br />“Lord! This has to be bigger than me!<br />I am not the first woman to lose a child, and I will not be the last.<br />So I will not ask ‘Why?’<br />I will ask ‘What?’<br />What are You going to do with the death of my son?”</div><div><br />And He has faithfully answered that question for 17 years.<br />Starting with, <br />“It’s not about you.”</div><div><br />And I have never been the same.</div><div><br />“May those who fear You rejoice when they see me, for I have put my hope in Your word.<br />I know, Lord, that Your laws are righteous, and that in faithfulness You have afflicted me.<br />May Your unfailing love be my comfort, according to Your promise to your servant.<br />Let Your compassion come to me that I may live, for Your law is my delight.”<br />Psalm 119:74-77</div></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18013169612457525434noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8992658867740775375.post-8715254524471057712022-03-14T10:53:00.005-07:002022-03-14T11:00:33.793-07:00Remembering the LIFE of our son, Matthew.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEimsyctVR0RayZYPy7l2ay2duu8KNkMXLiZe2v9Os02eqvjh3mLtiHRRRR6RwZzExh2Ug9O6tlde_-DjYev6-7hbJdVwpXiePj754hoH91M9e87odCxFlOsZp_MWoCBqOjNrZchLWcLbeoAA9fl5d7pmk3Xf3XJY3exr-e5NllJkWPxcjvCMfXhaM3nIw=s3899" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3899" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEimsyctVR0RayZYPy7l2ay2duu8KNkMXLiZe2v9Os02eqvjh3mLtiHRRRR6RwZzExh2Ug9O6tlde_-DjYev6-7hbJdVwpXiePj754hoH91M9e87odCxFlOsZp_MWoCBqOjNrZchLWcLbeoAA9fl5d7pmk3Xf3XJY3exr-e5NllJkWPxcjvCMfXhaM3nIw=w496-h640" width="496" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">16 years ago, the Lord allowed me to walk through my deepest sorrow.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Delivering a lifeless baby.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Our fourth son, Matthew.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Because a baby is not considered a "life" until he has lived 20 weeks in the womb of his mother, our son's name cannot be found in the record books of California births.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He did not receive a birth certificate; there is no death certificate.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In the eyes of the medical community and our government, Matthew Isaac Eastman never existed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And yet.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhy_6X3Ibn0bKgSkpt8ru1ewkF6ZxEjyyKcnrpC1IkGBOa0xdUaEpFECJrpmOBucQg1Z9VzYND7CdYhpnO1ssJ8CGn-bdRD2CLsAYf8EoC5tYvg52HEXLB5ufaV01atOH4O4ahDGcTcTwFm96IMnZWmJT2WPF3NGJl3K30YN4R4vTa-VZ9hAUwV42nFvQ=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhy_6X3Ibn0bKgSkpt8ru1ewkF6ZxEjyyKcnrpC1IkGBOa0xdUaEpFECJrpmOBucQg1Z9VzYND7CdYhpnO1ssJ8CGn-bdRD2CLsAYf8EoC5tYvg52HEXLB5ufaV01atOH4O4ahDGcTcTwFm96IMnZWmJT2WPF3NGJl3K30YN4R4vTa-VZ9hAUwV42nFvQ=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Our son, fearfully, wonderfully, and purposefully designed by the God who created him, is REAL.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">His heart had already stopped beating before this image was captured, yet it gives evidence that he existed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He LIVED.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And because our God is a good God who knows our needs before we present them, He orchestrated a dozen details that would bring us tremendous comfort while grieving the death of a son we never knew.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I delivered Matthew at St. Joseph's Hospital.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A hospital that places a large purple teardrop on the door of the delivery room to alert all who enter that this is not a room of rejoicing, but a room of sorrow.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A hospital filled with nurses possessing huge hearts who see the purple teardrop, walk into the room with compassion radiating from the faces, fall on their knees next to the hurting mother, take her hand, pray with her, and whisper sweetly yet with authority, "This is not your fault. Do not let your mind go there."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A hospital that creates their own birth certificate and fingerprints/footprints to honor the life that is no more.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A hospital that moves the grieving mother out of the mother/baby unit so she does not have to endure the sound of babies crying and visitors arriving to celebrate new life while she weeps with empty arms.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A hospital that gives parents the dignity of choosing where to bury their child.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A hospital that values and honors life.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhTSxz35TrzyoJIK03ezqpAGcQBcyONUCJCrZqINrved4xbmKllgh0jeOA-3VtP5_U2U2J1I8lEPnVULf6NvuRynARgiZi0Mr9_fjJgEhqDzhTvaKL0ShLgjFv7lW3xlMQdz3gamv0NJ0Wk9ZqaZpCrCHlKaybRTU5m17X6R5Yv6Bj5BqMl-P9M_xSOXw=s3021" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3021" data-original-width="2351" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhTSxz35TrzyoJIK03ezqpAGcQBcyONUCJCrZqINrved4xbmKllgh0jeOA-3VtP5_U2U2J1I8lEPnVULf6NvuRynARgiZi0Mr9_fjJgEhqDzhTvaKL0ShLgjFv7lW3xlMQdz3gamv0NJ0Wk9ZqaZpCrCHlKaybRTU5m17X6R5Yv6Bj5BqMl-P9M_xSOXw=w498-h640" width="498" /></a></div> <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhCsz0FVS1oopzToH0pp_KmEvrRt0XCiqqiu3vPERgDd7-vbEC7BiOYEZWCjToaL_bgb6gQQMsJjWwiToUAHPlJH5EZLSJS3OFwRbOx9syt4WN5ZJa4I-9NYvXSWQTyI8TJskpdLLykGdFeo1ElYtfhIdsyhi9dZW2mB6iVA9CMNopxhpLMuCzU4B27Cw=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhCsz0FVS1oopzToH0pp_KmEvrRt0XCiqqiu3vPERgDd7-vbEC7BiOYEZWCjToaL_bgb6gQQMsJjWwiToUAHPlJH5EZLSJS3OFwRbOx9syt4WN5ZJa4I-9NYvXSWQTyI8TJskpdLLykGdFeo1ElYtfhIdsyhi9dZW2mB6iVA9CMNopxhpLMuCzU4B27Cw=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The fingerprint and footprint have long since faded, now colored in with pen to remember their size.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The flowers that filled the hospital room and our home have returned to dust.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The cards and letters written by family and friends are safely tucked away in Mathew's box.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">His journal sits on our shelf next to those of his five brothers and his sister.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The memories of his brief life and his delivery are secured deeply within my mind's eye - and my heart.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Because my son did LIVE.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Only six people on this earth met him.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Only six people saw his tiny body.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Only six people know what it feels like to hold his tiny frame.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Only the tears of six people splashed across his face before he was dedicated to the Lord to be used for His glory.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And Matthew's life HAS been used by God. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Since the moment I was told his heart had stopped beating, the Lord has used the life and death of our son to allow us access to the hearts of countless other women walking through the same sorrow. And together we have witnessed the beauty of the Lord's promise ...</div><i>"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." Psalm 34:18<br /><br /></i><div>I would never have chosen a stillbirth.</div><div>I would never have chosen to hold a lifeless child - my own son - in my arms.</div><div>I would never have chosen the overwhelming grief that accompanies such a loss.</div><div>But I would also never choose to have it any other way.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am not the same woman I was before losing my son.</div><div>My husband is not the same man.</div><div>Our family is not the same.</div><div>And because the Lord redeems what is broken and restores what has been lost, using our personal sorrows to teach us how to enter into and walk with others in their own, I will praise Him until I take my final breath that there was a purpose for my pain.</div><div>And it was never about me.</div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18013169612457525434noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8992658867740775375.post-75919115535135794732021-03-13T19:40:00.001-08:002022-03-14T09:08:47.187-07:00Remembering Matthew.<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnmcyZReLuQa42HsZdi_QAfCIHnXKSHnXYkSfi7sviZ_9HUWFR-T1BtEA2c6FDYUe_2C_lTV4R8g6L8JyNnw1OPZO_hN0Tp0QMOihyphenhyphenQodjSXG28jq_0f514j2mdp6d3_KwOm97ty9xHQgB/s2048/IMG_5649.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnmcyZReLuQa42HsZdi_QAfCIHnXKSHnXYkSfi7sviZ_9HUWFR-T1BtEA2c6FDYUe_2C_lTV4R8g6L8JyNnw1OPZO_hN0Tp0QMOihyphenhyphenQodjSXG28jq_0f514j2mdp6d3_KwOm97ty9xHQgB/w640-h640/IMG_5649.jpeg" width="640" /></a></p>Though Matthew is a boy, his name and his life will be forever entwined - with flowers.<div>There were flowers in the delivery room before his lifeless body even entered the world. </div><div>A gorgeous arrangement of exotic white flowers delivered by a thoughtful friend who knew how much joy they brought me and knew I would need them even more under such heartbreaking circumstances.</div><div>There were flowers waiting for me when I returned home with empty arms.</div><div>Colorful flowers were dropped off by a lovely older couple who had walked through our same sorrow and wanted us to know we were not alone.</div><div>Flowers arrived in the hands of a delivery man; a large, stunning bunch of white long-stemmed roses in a tall, sleek glass vase selected by Dennis's birth mom.</div><div>Four days after I delivered Matthew, while leading a MOPS meeting at church, Micah, Luke, and Caleb walked into the room, each carrying a bouquet of flowers in their small hands, and presented them to me one by one. Dennis followed with his own bouquet and hugged and kissed me while thick tears rolled down my cheeks and - the cheeks of every other woman in the room.</div><div>And every year since, flowers have marked the anniversary of Matthew's delivery.</div><div><br /></div><div>Fifteen years.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes, I feel those fifteen years.</div><div>Sometimes, I feel like his tiny body was in my arms fifteen minutes ago.</div><div>Either way, I remember.</div><div><br /></div><div>I remember Dennis.</div><div>My sister.</div><div>My college roommate Ginger.</div><div>The four of us in the room, waiting, talking, crying, praying ... knowing what was to come but not knowing what to expect. None of them left my side for a second. </div><div>And then it happened.</div><div>My body felt the discomfort of the contractions.</div><div>Within a few minutes, a rush of pain.</div><div>The nurse made me push.</div><div>And then - a tiny, lifeless body entered the world.</div><div>Dennis, Stephanie, and Ginger followed the nurse to witness our child removed from the fully intact placenta and were there to discover with their own eyes that our child was - a boy.</div><div>The nurse wrapped our son in a tiny hand-made blanket and placed him in my arms.</div><div>I opened the blanket immediately so I could look at every detail of his body.</div><div>His skin was paper-thin.</div><div>His mouth was open, shaped like an "o" as if he had been singing.</div><div>Bumps covered his tongue.</div><div>His hands and feet, his fingers and toes ... so very tiny.</div><div>Every single part of him was perfectly formed. His ears, his head, his arms.</div><div>He was "fearfully and wonderfully made."</div><div>And the days numbered for Him by the God who so lovingly and purposefully created him were 133.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dennis held me while I held our son.</div><div>"What is his name?" he asked.</div><div>"Matthew. It has always been Matthew."</div><div>He nodded and whispered his son's name for the first time. "Matthew."</div><div>'Gift of God.'</div><div><br /></div><div>Stephanie and Ginger came back and the four of us wept together as we stared at this precious life. A life that weighed just 14 ounces, not even a whole pound. A life that fit inside my hand. A life that had never taken a breath, yet changed my life, forever.</div><div><br /></div><div>I remember.</div><div>My husband's tears splashing on my cheek.</div><div>The tears of my sister as her own personal losses mingled with mine.</div><div>The tears of my friend who wept with me and for me because she loved me.</div><div>The tears that fell from my own eyes when the nurse came to take our son away.</div><div>The tears that flowed like silent screams until I could hardly breathe as I lay in the dark hospital room, alone.</div><div>The tears that poured out as I prayed, begging the Lord to make sense of it all and crying out, "This has to be bigger than me, Lord! I am not the first woman to bury a baby, and I will not be the last. <i>Please</i> use this for something bigger than me!"</div><div>The tears that rolled down my cheeks the next morning when the nurse brought Matthew back to us so we could dedicate him to the Lord, and the fresh round of weeping that poured out of both of us when Dennis's best friend looked upon the lifeless body of our son before switching to the role of pastor, opening Scripture, and offering praise to God for the beauty of Matthew's life.</div><div><br /></div><div>And I remember the day I stood on the sand, years later, staring into the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean as tears once again wetted my cheeks as I was finally able to say, "Thank You, Lord, for taking my son."</div><div><br /></div><i>In everything give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you. I Thessalonians 5:18<br /><br />The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord. Job 1:21</i>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18013169612457525434noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8992658867740775375.post-32726477306432579982020-09-30T18:21:00.002-07:002020-09-30T18:21:39.888-07:00Thrilled and thankful!<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipLypRxffK4lRog20WpPIq-vA6F-5nJpUr155Qc56gc38Ya8pyO8B6keKcpIb5YHzz-YXlrNg9cgbG5Xc1xEf25vagCXXShI0QMtyRtUHUsNB0_ZUNjM1Tqaw_g-bS5ycTn9p4tUL8d9vg/s2048/IMG_2652.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipLypRxffK4lRog20WpPIq-vA6F-5nJpUr155Qc56gc38Ya8pyO8B6keKcpIb5YHzz-YXlrNg9cgbG5Xc1xEf25vagCXXShI0QMtyRtUHUsNB0_ZUNjM1Tqaw_g-bS5ycTn9p4tUL8d9vg/w640-h480/IMG_2652.jpeg" width="640" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">After years and YEARS of waiting, someone has finally written a book about miscarriage and stillbirth.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Not just any book - one filled with pages of ENCOURAGEMENT - EMPATHY - and TRUTH.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">A volume that should sit on the shelf of every believer as a resource, and one that should be lovingly and prayerfully placed into the hands of a woman suffering the unique sorrow of losing a baby in the womb.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I cannot remember where I learned of this slender gem, and I had no idea if I would be pleased with its contents, but I took a chance because resources to encourage and support women who have buried their unborn children have been woefully wanting. So you can imagine my delight when I found myself saying (and writing in the margins) "Yes! Yes! YES!" page after page as the words of the author hit the proverbial nail on the head when describing the physical, emotional, and spiritual aspects of miscarriage and stillbirth. She has walked through the same sorrow, so she "gets it." She is honest about the pain, the anger, the discontentment, the fear, and every other thought/emotion wrapped up in suffering the loss of a child that was so desperately wanted.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But after all of the personal stories, she does what every godly author must do. She points her readers to the cross. To the Savior. To the only One who can heal their broken bodies and wounded hearts.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">She pours Scripture into their thoughts, and then says, "Go. He is waiting for you."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i>Thank You, Lord, for the beauty of this small yet significant book penned by a woman who clearly loves You and wants others to understand Your love for them. I pray it will be a source of comfort, healing, and truth as it finds its way into the hands of women who feel lost and alone in their darkest hours. You are the One who heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds, so I ask that each woman who seeks comfort within these pages will find YOU on every page - and find healing because she surrenders her heart, mind, and body to You.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilfB5NpshGcRbSdeML16tsWjcu_n5VT-89VqWF5lLhz4Ohjpo-Q4yTlloyB1OmSqBpsyku1CFpRjpTW8uOhYFH1jZjfZV02sxzn-nQ3fJ10_C-ccg7PrrAqXpFcs-H9scIhyphenhyphene9fp10Wnz1/s2048/IMG_2654.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1535" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilfB5NpshGcRbSdeML16tsWjcu_n5VT-89VqWF5lLhz4Ohjpo-Q4yTlloyB1OmSqBpsyku1CFpRjpTW8uOhYFH1jZjfZV02sxzn-nQ3fJ10_C-ccg7PrrAqXpFcs-H9scIhyphenhyphene9fp10Wnz1/w640-h480/IMG_2654.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2lY_cXXDVFsKm26-FDgeaZTMh5OQk-nma7VkA8hGeMrBMSAEzlH9feFAN4ESEl5Xwkv4dtUI2PUVLzgYCVv3pD7nk5sWlav6P8XfHU128pDKjzimPu3JsuB_uQjs_vCcJxrIz0R7O4xJJ/s640/IMG_2656.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="444" data-original-width="640" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2lY_cXXDVFsKm26-FDgeaZTMh5OQk-nma7VkA8hGeMrBMSAEzlH9feFAN4ESEl5Xwkv4dtUI2PUVLzgYCVv3pD7nk5sWlav6P8XfHU128pDKjzimPu3JsuB_uQjs_vCcJxrIz0R7O4xJJ/w640-h444/IMG_2656.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaS5un3cz8vEdsBMWpVHmf-sdp0KKQFLuOgaasPErDDc0sSX1XGiQ4StORKnbg38eUSaDHEMujqliZz0v1TKhXrxeqcqPretB1Coczt3G4pZOl1L7tRuH0BZMZ87XukbZaoeIj3AP098Cu/s640/IMG_2657.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaS5un3cz8vEdsBMWpVHmf-sdp0KKQFLuOgaasPErDDc0sSX1XGiQ4StORKnbg38eUSaDHEMujqliZz0v1TKhXrxeqcqPretB1Coczt3G4pZOl1L7tRuH0BZMZ87XukbZaoeIj3AP098Cu/w640-h480/IMG_2657.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18013169612457525434noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8992658867740775375.post-70125781322704042702020-03-14T19:40:00.003-07:002020-04-20T18:49:22.728-07:00Remembering Matthew's life while rejoicing over a new one.<div class="separator" style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); clear: both; color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">
Today, on the 14th anniversary of Matthew's delivery, I held a three-week-old baby girl in my arms while celebrating the upcoming wedding of one of my COMMITTED girls at her bridal shower.</div>
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It was a beautiful way to spend such a personal day.</div>
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Fellowship. Delicious food. (I love quiche!) Fun conversations. Purposeful conversations. A devotion to encourage and affirm the future bride. Games of familiarity and frivolity. A time of affectionate reflection.</div>
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It was a sweet day.</div>
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Holding a new baby was the perfect way to reflect on the life of my son.</div>
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Anyone looking at me probably saw a "precious new baby" in my arms. But there is so much more going on behind the scenes. The tiny bundled creation was not the firstborn child in her family. She is the fourth. Her mother suffered three miscarriages and all of the heartbreak and sorrow that comes with each one. </div>
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I will never forget the evening I spent with her and her husband after their first loss. After hours of talking and sharing, she took me outside to show me the plant her husband lovingly placed in a flower pot to forever remind them of the life of their firstborn child. After staring at it for a few minutes, I asked if I could pray with them. I held my sweet sister in my arms while I begged the Lord to comfort them both. And as I prayed, she wept.</div>
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The dam holding back all of the emotion gave way, and she fully surrendered to the pain, allowing the tears to wash it all away. She would not let go of me, and her husband stood silently next to us knowing that this time, she didn't need him.</div>
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She needed a woman who understood. A woman who has buried her own child. A woman who has walked through her same sorrow. A woman who asked the same questions, experienced the same fears, felt the same confusion, and imagined that she, too, was drowning in despair.</div>
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That day, in those unforgettable moments on her front lawn, the Lord chose me to be that woman.</div>
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<i>Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. II Corinthians 1:3-5</i></div>
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And today, the Lord circled back, allowing me the honor of not only hugging this precious young woman once again but taking her sweet baby, the one she has waited for and prayed for, into my arms and holding her close to my heart.<br />
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The heart of a mother that still aches for her son.</div>
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The heart of a mother that mourns his loss though the tears have ceased to flow.</div>
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The heart of a mother that praises God because everything He does, everything He allows, is for a purpose. Even the pain.</div>
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The heart of a mother that knows that without the loss of Matthew, she would have never learned how to sit in sorrow with other women who weep for their babies.</div>
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The heart of a mother that never wants to forget those darkest of days, because, without memory, compassion grows cold. </div>
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I never know <i>how</i> the Lord is going to minister to me on Matthew's anniversary, but I know He <i>will</i>.</div>
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And today, He used the precious six-pound body of a newborn baby to let me feel close to LIFE. Fresh, sweet, innocent, beautiful, not-a-care-in-the-world <i>life</i>.</div>
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<i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">O Lord, You have searched me and known me.<br />You know when I sit down and when I rise up;<br />You understand my thought from afar.<br />You scrutinize my path and my lying down,<br />And are intimately acquainted with all my ways.<br />Even before there is a word on my tongue,<br />Behold, O Lord, You know it all.<br />You have enclosed me behind and before,<br />And laid Your hand upon me.<br />Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;<br />It is too high, I cannot attain to it.<br />Where can I go from Your Spirit?<br />Or where can I flee from Your presence?<br />If I ascend to heaven, You are there;<br />If I make my bed in Sheol, behold, You are there.<br />If I take the wings of the dawn,<br />If I dwell in the remotest part of the sea,<br />Even there Your hand will lead me,<br />And Your right hand will lay hold of me.<br />If I say, “Surely the darkness will overwhelm me,<br />And the light around me will be night,”<br />Even the darkness is not dark to You,<br />And the night is as bright as the day.<br />Darkness and light are alike to You.<br />For You formed my inward parts;<br />You wove me in my mother’s womb.<br />I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;<br />Wonderful are Your works,<br />And my soul knows it very well.<br />My frame was not hidden from You,<br />When I was made in secret,<br />And skillfully wrought in the depths of the earth;<br />Your eyes have seen my unformed substance;<br />And in Your book were all written<br />The days that were ordained for me,<br />When as yet there was not one of them.<br />How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God!<br />How vast is the sum of them!<br />If I should count them, they would outnumber the sand.<br />When I awake, I am still with You. Psalm 139</i><br />
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This is the day the Lord has made, I WILL rejoice and be glad in it!</div>
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<i>Thank You, Lord, for the gift of our son. By Your providence, his life began and ended in the womb, and forever changed ours. </i></div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18013169612457525434noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8992658867740775375.post-39052825541272193452020-02-15T13:39:00.003-08:002020-04-20T18:48:03.523-07:00Remembering our son.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">March 14, 2019</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;"></span><br />
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Sweet Matthew,<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">It has been thirteen years since I held you in my arms. Thirteen years since I looked at your little face and your tiny hands and feet. Thirteen years since I sat on a hospital bed, broken, overwhelmed with sorrow, and wondering how I would ever recover from the loss of my baby.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">BUT GOD.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">After everyone left, after the nurse took you away, when the room was dark and silent, the Lord met me in my darkest hour.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">And that night, just hours after saying goodbye to you, the Lord began to gently bind my wounds and revive my crushed spirit.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Tears flowed freely day and night for weeks and my heart felt like it was being smashed inside my chest, but even in the deepest moments of grief, He held me tightly in His grip. He sustained me in my sorrow.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">And He protected my mind. For, Matthew, I could not do so myself. I wondered ... did you feel pain when you died? Were you scared? Did you know who I was? Would you know my voice? Recognize my face when we reunite in glory?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I wondered if I could have prevented your death. Was it something I did? Something I ate? Did I put my selfish needs above your needs, preventing you from being healthy and whole?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">The questions and fears did not linger long, but they made sure to knock on the door of my mind, begging to be allowed in. And each time, I had to force myself to speak the truth I knew was real even though I didn't understand it, or like it.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Your journal is filled with my questions, my thoughts, my confusion, and my praise. I knew you were fearfully and wonderfully made by God, and I knew He loved you with an everlasting love. I knew He had chosen the day of your death just as He had chosen the day of your birth. I knew He was powerful enough to restore life to you. But, He didn't. And though I didn't know "why," I had to ask, "What, Lord? What do you want me to learn from this?"</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Matthew, your death changed everything. It changed how your dad and I view God's sovereignty. It changed how we view our family. It changed how I pray. How I trust God. How I read Scripture. Everything I knew before was now being seen, pondered and lived through the lens of suffering. And while it was the most intense trial the Lord has ever asked me to walk through, it is also one of the greatest gifts He has ever given to me.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">The Lord used your death to strengthen me, Matthew.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I am not the same woman I was the day I held your precious, lifeless body in my arms.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">He used your death to push me to my knees in prayer.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Bury my face in the pages of Scripture.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Fall in love with worship music so I could praise Him through tears.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Learn to say, "I need."</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Learn to swallow pride and accept help.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">He used your death to teach me how to recognize and comfort the hurting, even when it was uncomfortable.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">He used your death to start a ministry that reaches out to women who are as broken and sorrow-filled as I was the night I wept inconsolably on the closet floor.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Your life, your 133 days, were purposeful and beautiful and changed the trajectory of my life, forever.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">You are our son, Matthew Isaac Eastman.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">From the moment we knew you existed until this very day, we have acknowledged your life.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Every year, on the anniversary of your delivery, your father brings me seven bouquets of flowers, representing the lives of each Eastman child. Though we have never felt your arms around our necks, listened to you laugh, or heard you whisper, "I love you," in the darkness of night, you are an Eastman. And you are ours. Our precious son.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">It took time, years actually, but I will never forget the day I stood on the sandy shore of the Pacific Ocean on Mother's Day, with your sister Ellie bundled in my arms, and finally cried out, "Thank You, Lord, for taking my son," while tears streamed down my face. It was the most difficult act of obedience I have ever surrendered to ... praising the God who takes away.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">And yet, as the sound of the crashing waves faded in the background while I walked away from the shore, I felt a peace and contentment I had never experienced. I thought I had surrendered in the dark night of the hospital room, but I had merely taken the first step </span><i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">into</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;"> surrender.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">And God carried me through every step thereafter. Faithfully. Patiently. And with grace.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Oh, Matthew, as deeply as you are loved (and missed) by me and your father, I am thankful you have only known the perfect love of the One who created you, the One who numbered your days, and the One who chose to give you - to us.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">You are real. You are ours. And you will never be forgotten.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I love you. ❤ Mom</span><br />
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Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18013169612457525434noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8992658867740775375.post-10384793264551284122020-02-15T13:36:00.005-08:002020-04-20T18:46:14.387-07:00Remembering Matthew twelve years later.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This was the sky that greeted me this morning.</div>
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Bright blue.</div>
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Clear as clear can be.</div>
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Soft, white, fluffy clouds.</div>
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A gentle breeze.</div>
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A perfect backdrop for the day we remember and honor the life of our son, Matthew.</div>
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Twelve years.</div>
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It has been twelve years since my doctor looked at me with a downcast face saying, </div>
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"I think you are miscarrying."</div>
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Twelve years since I held our son in my arms, washing his tiny face with my tears.</div>
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Twelve years since I watched my husband fall apart when he unwrapped our son so his best friend could see him - and dedicate him to the Lord.</div>
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Twelve years since hearing our dear friend read these beautiful verses from Psalm 119:73-77 ...</div>
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<i>Your hands made me and fashioned me;</i></div>
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<i>Give me understanding, that I may learn Your commandments.</i></div>
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<i>May those who fear You see me and be glad, Because I wait for Your word.</i></div>
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<i><b>I know, O Lord, that Your judgments are righteous,</b></i></div>
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<i><b>And that in faithfulness You have afflicted me.</b></i></div>
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<i>O may Your lovingkindness comfort me, </i><i>According to Your word to Your servant.</i></div>
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<i>May Your compassion come to me that I may live, </i><i>For Your law is my delight.</i></div>
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Twelve years since I sat on my hospital bed saying, "Lord, this <i>has</i> to be bigger than me losing my baby. I am not the first woman and I certainly won't be the last. There has to be <i>more</i>."</div>
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Twelve years.</div>
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In the beginning, I wondered if I would laugh again.</div>
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I wondered if the tears would ever cease.</div>
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If the painful ache to know my son and feel him in my arms would diminish.</div>
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If anyone would remember him.</div>
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If he knew I was his mom and would recognize me in heaven.</div>
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I wondered so many things through my sorrow and my tears.</div>
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And the Lord faithfully walked beside me every single one of those days - </div>
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and turned my mourning into <i>joy</i> and my weeping into <i>laughter</i>.</div>
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And why would He not?</div>
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He is a God who "heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."</div>
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Because He does so faithfully, we can echo the words of the Psalmist,</div>
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<i>"This is my comfort in my affliction, that Your promise gives me LIFE."</i> <i>Psalm 119:50</i></div>
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And like the bright blue sky that follows a storm, </div>
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<i>Weeping may last through the night, but JOY comes in the morning! Psalm 30:5</i></div>
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Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18013169612457525434noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8992658867740775375.post-17349233264161646782020-02-15T13:34:00.002-08:002020-04-20T18:00:00.174-07:00I have to remember.<div style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY1rX3VtuX2UR7LnYgeMRLbNWJc9BaPP3x-ZnzxHTfRjEqwdXIWv6aD-mtiu-6F6fP38sqLR6TGoQG2huydluITnUT7-sqwR7RHJbh_wy6X4B8l80C0LZMotBv5nkcHbIf0fmMCVZFty-i/s1600/photo-1581956190574-c082e720b3fc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="530" data-original-width="800" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY1rX3VtuX2UR7LnYgeMRLbNWJc9BaPP3x-ZnzxHTfRjEqwdXIWv6aD-mtiu-6F6fP38sqLR6TGoQG2huydluITnUT7-sqwR7RHJbh_wy6X4B8l80C0LZMotBv5nkcHbIf0fmMCVZFty-i/s640/photo-1581956190574-c082e720b3fc.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Seek the Lord and His strength; </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">seek His presence continually.</span></i></div>
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<i><b style="font-family: inherit;">Remember</b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> the wondrous works that He has done,</span></i></div>
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<i style="font-family: inherit;">His miracles and the judgments He uttered. I Chronicles 16:11,12</i></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">Some memories are sweet.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">Some memories are sorrowful.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">How easy it is to bask in the sweet, and quickly run from the sorrowful.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">And yet, Scripture asks us to REMEMBER.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">Not the hurt and the pain, but the work of the Lord in the midst of both.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">Because good or bad, sensational or sorrowful, He allows it all.</span><br />
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<i>I know, O Lord, that Your rules are righteous,</i></div>
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<i>and that<b> in faithfulness You have afflicted me</b><b>. Psalm 119:75</b></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><br />As the 12th anniversary of the loss of our son Matthew draws near, <i>I must</i> <i>choose to remember</i>. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">And so, I will.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">I will remember who God is, His faithfulness, how He worked in the dark and devastating days surrounding the stillbirth, and how He has used Matthew's life for His glory by allowing me and a team of women to offer comfort and hope to those who have suffered the same sorrow. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">Losing a child in the womb, whether through miscarriage or stillbirth, is grief only those who have walked through it can imagine or understand. We need each other. To talk, cry, share, ask questions, scream, hug, listen, and pray. And to do these things, to empathize with a woman who is drowning in fresh grief after losing her precious baby, we have to remember our own pain. Our own story. Our own heartbreak and tears. And most important ... how God showed Himself a faithful, loving, comforting Father when we didn't think we could get through another day. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">Once we connect with those memories, we are able to identify with <i>her</i> pain, and then - sit down beside her in the cold, dark pit until she is ready to climb out into the sunlight once again.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">We do not remember in order to re-open old wounds or invite bitterness into our hearts.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">We remember so we can offer PRAISE to a God who "heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." He is a loving and merciful God who sits with us in our darkest moments, never leaves us, never forsakes us, and promises that He is our rock and our fortress. A place where we can run - and feel safe.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">My soul is cast down within me; </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">therefore</i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><b style="font-family: inherit;">I remember you</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">from the land of Jordan and of Hermon, </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">from Mount Mizar. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Psalm 42:6</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When my life was fainting away, </span><b style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-family: inherit;">I remembered the Lord</b><span style="font-family: inherit;">,</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">and my prayer came to You, </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">into Your holy temple. Jonah 2:7</span></div>
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<b style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: inherit; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">I will remember</b><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: inherit; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"> the deeds of the LORD;</span><br />
<b style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: inherit; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">yes, I will remember Your wonders of old</b><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: inherit; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">. Psalm 77:11</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Praise the Lord!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">in the company of the upright, in the congregation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Great are the works of the Lord, </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">studied by all who delight in them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Full of splendor and majesty is His work, </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">and His righteousness endures forever.</span><br />
<i style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="font-family: inherit;">He has caused His wondrous works</i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><b style="font-family: inherit;">to be remembered</b><span style="font-family: inherit;">;</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">the Lord is gracious and merciful. Psalm 111:1-4</span><br />
<b style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></b><b style="font-family: inherit;">I remember</b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> the days of old;</span><br />
<b style="font-family: inherit;">I meditate on all that You have done</b><span style="font-family: inherit;">;</span><br />
<b style="font-family: inherit;">I ponder the work of Your hands</b><span style="font-family: inherit;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I stretch out my hands to You;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">my soul thirsts for You like a parched land. Psalm 143:5</span></div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18013169612457525434noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8992658867740775375.post-18834091451743070712020-02-15T13:32:00.003-08:002020-04-20T19:02:00.902-07:00Remembering our son, Matthew.<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">March 14, 2017</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">When I held our son Matthew after he was delivered eleven years ago, his entire body fit inside my hand. He weighed only fourteen ounces and measured about eight inches long. So tiny, so fragile - and so silent.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Babies are supposed to cry when they are born. They are supposed to wiggle and squirm until they are quieted by the soft voice and life-giving source of their mother. But when a baby is delivered without breath, without life ... there is no sound. There is just </span><i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">silence</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Soon, however, the air fills with the hushed voices of the nurses as they do what must be done, the tender words of a husband seeking to console his grieving wife, and the sobs of the mother who weeps for her baby that is no more.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">The pain and sorrow of the day Matthew was delivered have long since passed, but the memories have not.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Gentle nurses.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Praying friends.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Visitors ministering to my aching heart.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">A sister who would not leave my bedside.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">A faithful friend who wiped away every tear, including her own.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">A husband who felt helpless and scared, but bravely and tenderly served and loved me every moment we were in that room.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">And a God who kept His promise never to leave me or forsake me, for I felt His presence every hour.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">The overwhelming ache of death and loss have gone away, but the memories remain.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">And I pray they always will.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Every time I sit on my couch with a woman who has suffered a miscarriage or a stillbirth ...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Every time I respond to an e-mail from a woman reaching out for encouragement and support after her own loss ...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Every time someone asks me how to minister to a woman who has lost a baby ...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I want to REMEMBER the pain - the sorrow - the agony - and the grief.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">If I don't remember, I cannot join her in her pain, and that is exactly what I want to do.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Anyone can listen. Anyone can pray. Anyone can give a hug. Anyone can cry.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">But only those who have walked the same path of suffering </span><i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">understand</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">. And understanding is exactly what these women seek in the darkness of their despair.</span><br />
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<i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;"><b>Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. </b></i><br />
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<b><i>For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too</i>. </b><i>II Corinthians 1:3-5</i><br />
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I had no idea when I sat on that hospital bed over a decade ago that I would be part of a miscarriage ministry that reaches hundreds of women. I had no idea I would meet women from all over the world who cry in the middle of the night in the safety of their closet ... fear they will never have another child ... feel like no one understands what they are feeling or thinking, or wants to ... are afraid to tell anyone what they are <i>really</i> thinking ... wonder if anyone will remember a baby they have never met ... are shocked when someone asks, "Why are you still crying about this?"... and hate Mother's Day. Just like I did.</div>
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What I did know, without the tiniest bit of doubt, was that losing Matthew was not about me. Millions of women before me had buried babies, and millions after me would do the same. "This has to be bigger than me, Lord! It HAS to be bigger than me!" I repeated those words over and over in the darkness of my hospital room.</div>
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Before He could use me to comfort others, however, He had to comfort my own heart first. And He did so faithfully, with compassion and grace, until I was able to use my own sorrow to serve other women who found themselves weeping through the night for the babies they would never know.</div>
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How grateful I am to belong to a God who always fulfills His promises, and meets us where we are. Especially in our deepest grief.</div>
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<i>Let Your steadfast love comfort me according to Your promise to Your servant. Psalm 119:76</i></div>
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<i>This is my comfort in my affliction, that Your promise gives me life. Psalm 119:50</i></div>
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But praise Him! He doesn't leave us there!</div>
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<i>The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. <b>He restores my soul</b>. Psalm 23</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>Thank You, Lord, for the dark valleys, because without them we would never appreciate the splendor and beauty of the mountaintop view. You are a God who gives and takes away, and while we may never understand the "why" we can know the Who, and choose to give thanks in everything because it is Your will. For Your glory - and for our good. Thank You for the gift of our son, Matthew Isaac Eastman. He was our precious son when he was in my womb, he was our precious son when we held him in our arms for those few hours, and he is our precious son still because he was created by Your hand, for Your purpose, and for the days You appointed. I have never been the same since the day I delivered Him, Lord. Thank You. You used his brief life to change us, and I know You are not finished with us yet. Matthew's life was not in vain - and for this truth, I am forever grateful. You are a good God whether You give or take away, and sometimes we see You best when You take away. Thank You for being an ever-constant, ever-faithful God. I love You. </i></div>
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Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18013169612457525434noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8992658867740775375.post-34041006442857761822020-02-15T13:31:00.002-08:002020-04-20T19:03:50.700-07:00Obediently Ministering.<div class="separator" style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); clear: both; color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">
The Lord blessed me through a thoughtful conversation with a sister in Christ Sunday morning. A sister with whom I have worshiped for a few years but never had occasion to meet, until three days ago. She is an elegant and stylish woman, so after complimenting her lovely outfit, we engaged in a twenty-minute conversation that took a turn I was not expecting. I am not sure how it happened exactly, but we landed on the topic of miscarriage and infertility, and before I knew it we were sharing personal stories and discussing the fact that some of the hardest trials in life are the least discussed. I was encouraged by her honesty, her vulnerability, and her sincerity, and after parting ways the Lord kept drawing my thoughts to the miscarriage ministry.</div>
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Almost every time we receive a note from a woman requesting our hand-written letters, she shares her surprise with how little help/support there is for women who have suffered a miscarriage or are battling the sorrows of infertility. When I lost Matthew I searched and searched for support groups or websites or <i>anything</i> that would help me through the grief, the pain, and the heartache I was feeling. I wanted to find someone who understood, someone who "got it." But my search was in vain. It has been almost a decade since that time, and while there <i>are</i> more resources available, there are not <i>enough</i>. </div>
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Rewind to the conversation I enjoyed with my newly-discovered sister on Sunday. When we are hurting, we should not have to search the internet to find support or uncover someone who identifies with our pain. We should only have to look within the four walls of our church. We should only have to look into the faces of our sisters in Christ. We should only have to bend the ear of a pastor or an elder. The body of Christ is made up of <i>millions</i> of believers who have walked where we walk, survived the same trials we are currently trudging through, healed from the hurts we are experiencing, and found JOY in the morning after weeping that lasted long through the night.</div>
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In short - <i><b>we have each other</b>.</i></div>
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We belong to a God who is wholly sufficient to meet all of our needs, yet He chose to give us <i>people</i> with whom we can walk through the valleys and climb to the mountaintops. Flesh on flesh, shoulder to shoulder, face to face RELATIONSHIPS.</div>
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Whether those relationships are lived out through public support groups or private conversations matters not. What matters is that we are serving one another, encouraging one another, and comforting one another just as God Himself comforted us when we needed Him most.</div>
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How thankful I am for the women in our ministry! They willingly relive the pain of their own loss(es) to minister to women whose pain is fresh and overwhelming. They empathize with, speak truth to, share Christ's love with, pray for, and offer hope to women who reach out to us with broken hearts and a sometimes paralyzing fear that the wounds will never heal.</div>
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Every time these sisters write a note of encouragement they become living examples of Scripture, and someone is blessed because of their obedience.<br />
Just as God intended.<br />
And it is beautiful.</div>
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<i>Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, s<b>o that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction</b>, <b>with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God</b>. 2 Corinthians 1:3-4</i></div>
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<i><b>Bear one another's burdens</b>, and so fulfill the law of Christ. Galatians 6:2<br /><br />Therefore <b>encourage one another and build one another up</b>, just as you are doing. </i><br />
<i>1 Thessalonians 5:11</i></div>
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18013169612457525434noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8992658867740775375.post-48798369593939039522020-02-15T13:29:00.004-08:002020-04-20T18:47:29.905-07:00Remembering our son.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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March 14, 2016<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ten years have passed since I delivered our son Matthew.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A son who would never know life on this earth, but has enjoyed the splendors of heaven and the presence of God day after day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A son who has never seen my face, heard my voice, or felt my touch. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But I have seen him. I have touched him. My tears fell on his face and my heart felt like it exploded in my chest when the nurse placed him in my arms. A tiny, lifeless, perfectly formed baby ... my son.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The details of that day are clearly etched in my memory, never, I hope, to be forgotten.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The Lord made Himself very real that day. March 14th, 2006.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He was there. In the kindness of the nurse. The thoughtfulness of friends. The compassion of my family. The prayers of the saints. The support and courage of my husband.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">God was there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He never left me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He did not leave me when my doctor told me the Thursday before, "I think you are miscarrying."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He did not leave me when we saw the black screen of the ultrasound, where a heart was once beating.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He did not leave me during the weekend when Dennis and I could only stare at each other, knowing the life inside of me was no more.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He did not leave me when I went to church on Sunday, longing to be with the body of Christ, but dreading the emotion I knew would consume me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He did not leave me when I stepped into the maternity room to deliver a baby that would not go home with me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And He is with me still.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It cannot be any other way, because He <i>promised</i> it would be no other way!</span></div>
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<b><i>"I will never leave you or forsake you."</i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It has been ten years.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And for the first time in a decade, I had to be reminded of the anniversary.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In the past, my heart hurt before my mind remembered.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The ache triggered the memory. And the weeping would last through the night.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But this year was different.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There was no pain to remind me of his death. No ache. No tears.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And I felt guilty. How could I not remember?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Before I could tumble down into the dark depths of despair, however, the Lord stepped in. He reminded me that the anniversary is just one day - and I think of, talk about, and remember Matthew - always.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He then drew me to this passage:</span></div>
<i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">Praise the Lord!<br />For it is good to sing praises to our God;<br />for it is pleasant, and a song of praise is fitting.<br />The Lord builds up Jerusalem;<br />He gathers the outcasts of Israel.<br /><b>He heals the brokenhearted<br />and binds up their wounds</b>.<br />He determines the number of the stars;<br />He gives to all of them their names.<br />Great is our Lord, and abundant in power;<br />His understanding is beyond measure.<br />The Lord lifts up the humble;<br />He casts the wicked to the ground.</i><br />
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<i>Psalm 147</i><br />
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<b>God HEALS broken hearts!</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The healing takes time. Six months, six years - it doesn't matter. <i>Healing happens!</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The brokenness, the pain, the heartache ... they lessen. The memories survive, tenderness exists, tears still fall ... but the open wounds of sorrow close, a scar is formed, and the heart is healed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Healing doesn't mean love disappears.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It simply erases the pain so JOY can show itself once again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And when we collapse our hurting, broken bodies at the feet of the Savior, asking Him to heal us and make us whole because we cannot imagine what life looks like in the days ahead ... He is faithful.</span></div>
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<b>God heals the brokenhearted.</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And because He does, we can embrace the truth:</span></div>
<i>For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:<br /><b>a time to weep, and a time to laugh;<br />a time to mourn, and a time to dance</b>;<br />Ecclesiastes 3</i><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When we accept this truth, we won't feel guilty when we find ourselves smiling, laughing, moving forward, and even - forgetting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We are not forgetting the <i>person</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We are forgetting the <i>pain</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And one day, Praise the Lord, none of us will ever have to experience pain or loss ever again.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><i>And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be His people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” Revelation 21</i></div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18013169612457525434noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8992658867740775375.post-67616465098284039672020-02-15T13:28:00.003-08:002020-04-20T19:06:16.123-07:00Why I will never stop talking about it.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Over the years I have been asked more than once, either sincerely or thoughtlessly, "Why do you still talk about it?" when I shared about my miscarriage, and our son, Matthew.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">And each time I found myself without a simple, succinct, or Biblical answer.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Until now.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">The next time I am asked, "Why do you still talk about your miscarriage?"</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I will reply, "Because it's not about ME."</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I am one of the millions of women who have buried their babies.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">And it will never end.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Women living in the darkness of miscarriage need someone who understands.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Someone who is willing to light a match that will dispel the darkness and prove she is not alone.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Someone who gets it.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Someone who identifies with their pain.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Their confusion.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Their sorrow.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Someone who may have a different story, but the same ending.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">A pregnancy that is no more.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">The death of a dream.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">My miscarriage is not about ME.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">It is just one small part of a greater whole.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">A purpose known only by a holy, tender, compassionate God who allowed me to walk through a trial I never would have chosen on my own. Because</span><b style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;"><i> He</i></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;"> </span><i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">-</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;"> had a plan.</span><br />
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<i>Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction,</i> <b>so that</b><i> we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. II Corinthians 1</i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I will NEVER stop talking.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I will never stop because there will </span><b style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;"><i>always</i></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;"> be a woman who needs to hear the struggles, pain, and depths of my heart ... because they match her own.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">And hopefully, after she sees, and believes, that I truly understand her thoughts, emotion, and sorrow, she will trust me with her own heart.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">And because she trusts me, she will let me lead her - </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">to the Savior.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I may not have known the "why" when I had to bury my son, but I know it now.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">And as long as I have breath I will be faithful to share my story over and over and over again, trusting the Lord to use it as He will.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Because He always does.</span>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18013169612457525434noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8992658867740775375.post-74501915340020545512020-02-15T13:26:00.004-08:002020-04-20T18:33:25.141-07:00Remembering the son I never knew ... and the God who has been faithful.<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">March 14, 2015</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">As the anniversary of my miscarriage drew near, the Lord kept pressing me to "remember."</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">This seems ridiculous in some ways because a woman never forgets losing her baby.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">But sometimes we only remember the parts that are sad, hurtful, or discouraging.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">There is purpose in that, and grief has to be worked through like any emotion, but when the dark clouds have lifted and we are able to glimpse hope, it is time to remember </span><b style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;"><i>the good</i></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Yesterday I spent the afternoon reading Matthew's journal.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">It was interesting to see the range of emotions written on the pages.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">One minute I am praising God and the next minute I am asking how I will ever recover and move forward.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">One page reflects my joy that Matthew has only known heaven without any earthly sorrow while another page reveals my intense desire to hold him in my arms again.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">The words that most captured my attention, however, were the ones asking the Lord what He was going to do with me. How was He going to use this for good?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I smiled when I read those lines because though I could not see it then, I can see clearly now.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">He may still have plans for me that I am unaware of, but I know what He has called me to do </span><i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;"><b>now</b></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;"> </span><i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">-</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">and I must be obedient.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Forgive my indulgence, for I am going to record a few of my journal excerpts here.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">For most, it will seem odd.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">But for the woman who has just lost her own baby through miscarriage or stillbirth, reading my thoughts will offer comfort and encouragement as she tries to process her own.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I know ... because I was that woman.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">God has been faithful every day and every hour since Thursday, March 10, 2006, when my doctor looked at me and said, "I'm afraid you are miscarrying."</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">He sustained me through four long days of waiting, hoping, praying, and accepting before Matthew Isaac Eastman was delivered at 3:45 am on Monday, March 14th.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">There have been times of extreme sadness and overwhelming emotion, and there have been moments of intense growth and understanding.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">And through each one, the Lord has been there.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">He always has - and always will be.</span><br />
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<i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">Thank You, Lord, for putting me into the fire, and bringing me <b>through it</b>.</i><br />
<i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">I would never have chosen it myself, but now I see how many ways I can praise You <b>because</b> of it!</i><br />
<i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">Thank you.</i><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">July 6, 2006 (four months after Matthew was delivered)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Matthew,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Do you even know who I am? Do you sit on the laps of men and angels and ask them to tell you about me? When we join you in heaven will you run to us? Grabbing our hands to drag us through the streets of gold to show us your favorite places?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I miss you.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I can see your little body. Your tiny face. Sometimes I want that day back ... so I can focus on every detail so I can record them in my mind to play over and over again. At times I feel like the memories are fading, starting to grow dim, and I do not want that to happen.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I have nothing tangible to hold on to. No cry or smile, wiggle or laugh. All was silent, except for the sobs of anguish of those in the room. But you, my son, were silent.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Your due date is coming soon.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Should I tell your daddy that I am dreading this day? Should I remind him that I am not okay? Should I remind anyone?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I spoke with another woman who lost a baby. It was so comforting to hear someone speak my own thoughts - to know she fully comprehends my emotions and my pain. She cried. I cried. And it was good.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">It's so hard, Matthew because I WANT to talk about that day. I want someone to ask me about it. Anyone. Some have. Some will. But not many. Death puts you in a very lonely, dark and quiet place because people don't know what to do with you.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Perhaps there is a purpose to the loneliness. Perhaps there is a need for it. Perhaps the simple truth is that without it we cannot grow for we have no need to look UP.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Lord, help me in my need! I do not need to know WHY. I just need to know WHAT.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to learn? Teach? Use? There has to be something greater than me ... it has to go beyond that. You comfort us so we can comfort others. Who will I comfort, Lord? Who needs me?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Show me, Father, how the death of my son was not in vain.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Matthew, I love you.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">August 9th is coming, and you are not.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Knowing you are in heaven, seeing the face of God ... it makes me feel okay.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">But oh, how I miss you!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">You are forever my son.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Mommy.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">August 2006</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">(This is a note I recorded in my journal, written to friends asking for support as the due date approached. The Lord was working on me - teaching me to ask for help ... without feeling like a burden - and allowing my friends to love me when I needed to be loved. How else will they know, unless I tell them?)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I am writing to ask you to pray for me.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">After Matthew died people warned me the due date would be a difficult hurdle. It seemed illogical as I thought, "Either way my son is gone - what would a date matter?"</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">But they were right.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I am overwhelmed with emotion, sadness, and utter grief. I hear his name and I cry. I look at his memory box and I just want to scream until he is in my arms again. I miss him so much it aches.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I will confess to you, as Scripture commands, that for the past couple of weeks when someone has asked me how I am doing, I have lied. I say "I'm fine" just to avoid the emotion. To avoid breaking down in front of the person, not knowing if they actually </span><i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">want </i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">to hear my heart. I am a woman who has buried her son, and I am not okay with that.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I keep thinking of God's words to Abraham, "Is anything too difficult for the Lord?"</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">If nothing is too hard for Him than lessening my hurt and my grief will be easy.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I have to believe that God's ways are not mine, and I need to trust.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">And I will. I will do so in the midst of my tears.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">That is okay, right?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">"There is a time to weep and a time to laugh" and we are to "in everything give thanks" - so cannot both happen simultaneously? I pray so.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Thank you for loving me.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Michelle</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">September 2006</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Matthew,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I think of you every day. But I find myself not feeling sad when I think of you.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I really do not know how to explain it. At times I feel guilty because I CAN go through a day without thinking of you. I can picture your face and not cry. I can remember holding you and not feel my heartbreak. Shouldn't I still be sad, I wonder? Shouldn't I still be emotional and hurting and feel a sense of emptiness? As soon as I start to feel BAD for feeling </span><i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">good</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;"> - I have to stop.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Is this not exactly what I asked the Lord to do? Did I not ask for the pain to decrease? Does He not promise in His Word to </span><u style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">heal</u><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;"> the brokenhearted?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">If all of this is true, then why am I surprised to have found healing in my own heart? To find strength and joy where there once was pain?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">God did this, Matthew!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Praise be to Him!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I imagine my writings will grow more scarce as the Lord continues to heal and restore me, but know you are always in my thoughts and forever in my heart, my son. My Matthew.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I love you.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Mommy</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">🖋</span><span style="background-color: white;">🖋</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: molengo; font-size: 16px;">If you are working through the grief and loss of someone you love, I encourage you to write.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Even if it is simple scribbles on scratch paper, record your thoughts.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Not just to remember the details or the pain, but to see the way God works in the middle of it all.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">We cannot always find the beauty in the ashes when they are falling down around us, but </span><b style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;"><i>we can look back</i></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">, and see the finished product when hope and joy have been restored.</span>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18013169612457525434noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8992658867740775375.post-83354493355574655032020-02-15T13:22:00.002-08:002020-04-20T18:21:46.345-07:00Rejoicing - and Mourning - on Mother's Day.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuORNgo9bKtcumdnT6hcb135n981h0Z7t74SbTOE6BBLS_m5hxu0hu08TFxFhgqZmyBZ8_SBWPXjOP0elM3rYf1JmhO0iITHXU0c7nqBleJDBeEFWtUUVgIx0KcdUkd9SmCDor18uKLAxf/s1600/photo-1515863068002-cad5c25d7b48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="800" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuORNgo9bKtcumdnT6hcb135n981h0Z7t74SbTOE6BBLS_m5hxu0hu08TFxFhgqZmyBZ8_SBWPXjOP0elM3rYf1JmhO0iITHXU0c7nqBleJDBeEFWtUUVgIx0KcdUkd9SmCDor18uKLAxf/s640/photo-1515863068002-cad5c25d7b48.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">May 11, 2014</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Mother's Day is bittersweet.</span><br />
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For some women it is filled with flowers, cards, gifts, and breakfast in bed. Their children shower them with hugs and kisses, and their husbands remind them that they are valued and adored.</div>
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Other women enjoy a tea, luncheon, or shopping spree with <i>their</i> mothers, making wonderful memories as they talk and laugh together. </div>
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This day is wonderful for both ... a day they look forward to with delight and anticipation as they wonder what their husbands and children have in store for them, and find creative ways to honor their own moms.</div>
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But for some, Mother's Day is filled with absolute dread.</div>
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The woman who buried her beloved mother and no longer has a reason to shop for the perfect gift or write thoughtful sentiments in a lovely card.</div>
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The woman who is estranged from her daughter and knows she will not be receiving a phone call, a card, or any acknowledgement at all.</div>
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The woman who longs to be pregnant, but her arms remain empty.</div>
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The woman who surrendered her baby for adoption and wonders if he will ever know her.</div>
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The woman who had a nursery designed, and clothes lovingly folded, but lost her baby through miscarriage.</div>
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The woman who buried her living child after an unexpected accident.</div>
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While others revel in the attention of their spouses and children on this day, these are the women who are forgotten ... ignored ... overlooked ... and grieving in a way that breaks their hearts into pieces so small that only the Lord can put them back together.</div>
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We need to be careful.</div>
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We need to pay attention to the women who surround us.</div>
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We need to think before we speak.</div>
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Seek to understand.</div>
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And ask the Lord for wisdom and grace to know how to love one another on this day.</div>
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Just because a woman is not holding a baby does not mean she is not a mother.</div>
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Just because a woman <i>appears</i> happy doesn't mean she is not trying desperately to hold it together when all she wants to do is run from the room and weep in secret.</div>
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Just because a woman is surrounded by her children, it does not mean they have a relationship that is mutually enjoyable and loving.</div>
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Just because we have our mothers with us, it does not mean that every woman around us will have the privilege of honoring the mother she loved for decades.</div>
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Mother's Day is a good day. A fun, lovely, heart-warming, joyful day.</div>
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and</div>
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Mother's Day is an incredibly difficult, lonely, and devastating day.</div>
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And the worst part is - the women who feel the latter will usually not tell us. They suffer in silence wishing that someone, <i>anyone</i>, would notice the ache in their eyes and reach out to show affection and grace. To say, "I know your heart is breaking today as you remember your sweet baby and wish you could hold her again, and I want you to know that I remember ... you ARE a mother. And today is <i>your</i> day!"</div>
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It is not wrong or sinful to enjoy the attentions of our husbands and children. Children are a gift from the Lord, and we need to give Him glory and praise for allowing us to experience the joy of motherhood. </div>
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But in our joy we cannot forget our sisters that wish this day would end before it even starts.</div>
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We cannot forget their pain.</div>
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Their sorrow.</div>
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The ache that tears at them until they feel like their hearts will burst, and they will never recover.</div>
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Pray for her.</div>
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Hug her.</div>
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Ask about her mother.</div>
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Remind her that she is not forgotten.</div>
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Her baby is not forgotten.</div>
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Her child is still a beautiful memory in your heart and your mind.</div>
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Ask her how she is ... what she needs ... how you can be a better friend.</div>
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Let her talk about the baby she miscarried or the child she buried. </div>
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Let her show you her mother's heart - even though you cannot see her child.</div>
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And <b>love her</b>.</div>
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Scripture is clear ... <i>"Rejoice with those who rejoice, and mourn with those who mourn."</i></div>
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Even on Mother's Day.<br />
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Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18013169612457525434noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8992658867740775375.post-3453050509813019472020-02-15T13:21:00.002-08:002021-03-13T19:41:40.292-08:00Remembering our son, Matthew.<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: molengo; font-size: 16px;">March 14, 2014</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">A few weeks ago, as we traveled to church, I was elated with the thought of worshiping with the body of Christ. I was sleeping well, feeling better physically than I have for a long time, and was eager to lift my voice in praise with my brothers and sisters. The children were equally excited (they love going to church!) and the car was filled with happy chatter as we rolled along.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">And then ... the first notes of the song "I Can Only Imagine" floated through the radio, and within seconds ~ I was weeping.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">This was the song that was playing when we lost our son Matthew, and I cannot hear it without thinking of him. Sometimes it is a sweet memory that lacks any intense emotion, but other times it's as though I am swept back all the way to that day when my sweet doctor looked at me and said, "I think you are miscarrying." Five words that changed my life ~ forever.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">In the past, I would have done anything to kill that overwhelming sorrow ... to bury the tears ... to run from the pain. But the Lord has been doing a lot of work in me the past few years to teach me </span><i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">how to feel</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;"> ... how to surrender to emotion ... how to deal with it honestly ... and how to let myself just </span><i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">be in the moment</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">, no matter how difficult, no matter how helpless or scared I feel.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">So, as the sadness of missing my son flooded my heart, I just let it sweep me away with full abandon. It was hard. I was completely taken off guard, and so was my family. Dennis gasped and reached out to hold my hand while my children were stunned into silence as they witnessed their mother express deep emotion that is not often seen in daily life.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeu-Qi_Oy6CYbZpMHWVtEGUmDfkN6VrFqcdTPN9_c8v3o_1n-b5FMF9XCYO2f79KB84a1G1mntOG32YClIoikqgaOrXokQ3ARlaLKt41g881JO1-VPR_bIAwsrSYyedcbMInqcxLB-I_Xg/s1600/photo-1586226900887-4fb28c224b57.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeu-Qi_Oy6CYbZpMHWVtEGUmDfkN6VrFqcdTPN9_c8v3o_1n-b5FMF9XCYO2f79KB84a1G1mntOG32YClIoikqgaOrXokQ3ARlaLKt41g881JO1-VPR_bIAwsrSYyedcbMInqcxLB-I_Xg/s640/photo-1586226900887-4fb28c224b57.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Eight years. Matthew would be eight years old today. It does astonish me that I feel such powerful emotion when so much time has passed, but when I stop and consider that love has no boundaries ... time, memory or space ... I realize that emotions should not surprise me at all. My son has been gone for eight years. I never knew him. I never heard his laugh, felt his arms around my neck, or heard him say, "I love you, mommy." I have no idea what color his hair is, whether his eyes are green or a sparkling blue like those of his brothers. I do not know what his voice sounds like, or how his mouth curves into a smile when he is overcome with joy. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">And that is the wonder of it all.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I do not need to know or experience any of these things to feel a deep, sincere, affectionate love for Matthew because ~ he is my son. And my mother's heart remembers every detail of the precious few moments I had with him after he was delivered. He never took a breath, he never grasped my finger, but he was REAL. He was whole. </span><i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">He was mine</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">. And I loved him.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I love him still.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">It is moments like this - when I remember, and I describe the details - that my heart catches up with my mind and the sadness and longing for my son pours over me as though I had never shed a tear over his tiny body. It feels like the mourning is fresh each time. Oh, those first moments with him when I held his lifeless body in my hands, looking at him in awe and wonder that such a tiny thing could be so wholly complete. Every detail of his body was skillfully designed by the hand of the Creator with joy ~ and with purpose.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Scripture states that our days are numbered before we take our first breath. And the Lord's plan for Matthew's life was 133 days, in the womb, without one moment spent on this earth. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">As much as I wish I had known my son, it is a joyous comfort to know that he has ONLY known heaven! His brothers and sister were given life, but they were also given the trials and burdens and </span><i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">pain</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;"> of living, with no way to escape until the Lord calls each of them home. They have experienced hurt and disappointment and sin. Matthew has no idea what those things feel like ... he only knows the beauty, joy, splendor, and never-ending worship of heaven. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">He has seen the face of God! He has met the saints of old. He has walked the streets of gold!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">While we wonder and dream and imagine what heaven will be like, my son already KNOWS.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Matthew does not have to imagine.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">He has walked with the Father.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">He has seen His face.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">He has fallen on his knees before a holy God.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">And he has ...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">forever worshiped the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.</span><br />
<br style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Oh, Matthew, how I long for you, and how I envy you! You are living the reality of heaven while the rest of us wait to have its treasures unfolded before us. You are blessed, indeed. As much as I wish I knew you ... as much as I wish you knew me ... I would never trade what you have enjoyed your entire life for what you would have experienced down here. The love of a father and mother, the affection of siblings, the beauty of a sunset, the delicious scent of cookies baking in the oven, the power of the ocean, and the loving touch of a spouse ... none of them can begin to compare with what your eyes have seen and what your heart has rejoiced over as you worship your God with full abandon and joy.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">You changed my life, Matthew. The Lord had a purpose for us the moment He created you. We had no idea what it would look like in the end, but </span><i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">He did</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">. And all of His ways are GOOD.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I love you, sweet baby. Forever and always ~ I will love you.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><i>I can only imagine what it will be like, when I walk by Your side...</i></span></div>
<div style="color: #202020; font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><i style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">I can only imagine, what my eyes will see, when Your Face is before me!</i></div>
<i><div style="text-align: left;"><i style="font-family: inherit;">I can only imagine.</i></div></i>
<i><div style="text-align: left;"><i style="font-family: inherit;">Surrounded by Your Glory, what will my heart feel?</i></div></i></div>
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<i>Will I dance for you, Jesus? Or in awe of You, be still?</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Will I stand in Your presence, or to my knees will I fall?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Will I sing 'Hallelujah!'? Will I be able to speak at all?</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">I can only imagine!</span></i></div>
<div style="display: inline;"><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I can only imagine, when that day comes, when I find myself standing in the Son!</i></div>
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<i>I can only imagine, when all I will do, is forever, forever worship You!</i></div>
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<i>I can only imagine!</i></div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18013169612457525434noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8992658867740775375.post-47796473911059590262020-02-15T13:18:00.003-08:002020-04-20T19:12:38.811-07:00The "WHY."I am not sure why I have never written about this before.<br />
Why I talk about miscarriage and Matthew.<br />
<br />
Maybe I thought it more fitting for the miscarriage website, or because I think people really don't want to hear about it. Either way, I know now that I was mistaken. Some things need to be discussed whether they pertain to our personal lives or not. And the truth is, if a woman never suffers through a miscarriage herself, she will have a friend or family member who <i>will</i> suffer. And haven't each of us been in a situation when we wish we had something to offer ... something to say ... something to share that would be helpful and encouraging? But because we do not understand their pain, we sit feeling completely helpless and inept. And it is uncomfortable.<br />
<br />
I cannot speak for every woman - I can only share what I know. My motives for being so open about my miscarriage are these: 1) I want to be a woman who praises God publicly when He does great and amazing things, and - when He allows hard things to happen. 2) I want to acknowledge our son Matthew just as I do every living child we have. Matthew was real. He was created in God's image just like Micah, Luke, Caleb, Josiah, Isaiah, and Ellie were. I held him. I saw his face. He is our son. He deserves a place in this family, and he deserves to be honored. 3) I want to comfort other women the way the Lord comforted me. The number of women who walk through this trial alone is astounding. Whether their husbands/friends refuse to support them or make it appear so with their silence, they feel like there is absolutely no one else in the world who understands. And that is not okay. It just isn't.<br />
<br />
And so - I talk about it. I talk about Matthew like he is a member of the family - freely, without shame or embarrassment. When people ask me how many children I have, I always say seven.<br />
It is who I am - I want to use my life to let others see what God can do. It took me a long time to be able to do so, and I have no intention of going back.<br />
<br />
I talk about it because people ask me questions like the ones below. And if they are asking me, they are asking other women. Women who may not be as far in their healing. Women who may be more sensitive than I am. Women who may not know the Lord. Women who are afraid to speak boldly and cry out, "It doesn't MATTER if you understand! Just love me. And if you don't know what to say, just be silent."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGhfVUtVz-ziM8igA8sUVtPGWfbvQO5CcKMLTTi7CmMoWkVe8C03rXSckpRJPfVaW5Y15JsEq4qHFIgHhHgq75F7tm47Bzs78wAG6BAbF51tWHokaa9wZVdaww1HfP0nJgFnbQJvN6ad5x/s1600/photo-1500994802273-2dd2df834939.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1107" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGhfVUtVz-ziM8igA8sUVtPGWfbvQO5CcKMLTTi7CmMoWkVe8C03rXSckpRJPfVaW5Y15JsEq4qHFIgHhHgq75F7tm47Bzs78wAG6BAbF51tWHokaa9wZVdaww1HfP0nJgFnbQJvN6ad5x/s640/photo-1500994802273-2dd2df834939.jpg" width="462" /></a><i>Why are you still talking about this? It happened so long ago.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>Do you really still cry about it?</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>Is it really that emotional and hard losing a baby? It seems a little dramatic to keep bringing it up.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>Don't you think it is awkward for other people to listen to you?</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>How do you know your baby even went to heaven?</i><br />
<br />
And you know what? All of these are fair questions. They come from people who have never experienced the loss of an unborn baby, so they are trying to understand. They come from men who will never fully know what it is to have the heart of a mother. They come from people who are just trying to figure it out for themselves and need answers. They come from women who have experienced a miscarriage or stillbirth but responded in a completely different manner, so the way someone else responds seems odd or outright ridiculous.<br />
<br />
I talk about the loss of Matthew because before it happened I never heard ANYone talk about miscarriage. And if it did come up, they either dismissed it like it was no big deal or spoke of it with shame in hushed tones. I do not want women to be ashamed to say, "I am hurting." "I feel like I am never going to break through this fog." "I am ANGRY! I don't want to be angry, but I <i>am</i>!" And because well-meaning people just don't know what to say or do, I want women who are aching for their babies to know that there <b><i>is</i></b> someone who understands and 'gets it.'<br />
<br />
I remember being the one sitting on the couch looking into the eyes of a friend who had lost a baby, feeling awkward, afraid to speak for fear of saying the wrong thing, and wondering what in the world I could to do to help her. I thought I was a good friend, but truthfully, I was bumbling and fumbling and more concerned about my own comfort than hers. So I guess, there are two driving factors behind my motives to share my story ...<br />
<br />
I hope I am able to help equip others to minister to a woman walking through the grief of a miscarriage or stillbirth.<br />
<br />
And more importantly, I pray that every time I share my story, and the wonderful things God did through my loss, it will give another woman the strength to do the same.<br />
<br />
We do not have to understand or agree with the way everyone handles trials, or how they deal with grief. But as the body of Christ, we <i>are</i> called to be of one mind, unified, and to live at peace with everyone. And sometimes that looks as simple as being present ~ and quiet ~ and letting the Lord do the rest.<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fffefd; color: #001320; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Be still, and know that I am God</b>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fffefd; color: #001320; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.</i></span></span></div>
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Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18013169612457525434noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8992658867740775375.post-91846272473520685822020-02-15T13:14:00.004-08:002020-04-20T18:03:54.599-07:00I have never been the same.<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">It has been seven years since I delivered our son Matthew ~ who had already gone home to be with the Lord. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Seven years since the shock of those unwanted words, "You have miscarried." </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Seven years since Dennis and I held each other, sobbing, as we realized that our baby was no more - and there was nothing we could do to change it.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Seven years. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">And still, every single year, the date sneaks up on me.</span><br />
<br style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">March 14th, 2013</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">The memories and emotions do not flood my mind as they did in the past ... some years are harder than others. Year five was the most difficult, stretching, humbling, and - the year I grew the most. This one has been the easiest, the least emotional. Until last week when a friend delivered a card inside a bag of returned items. I opened it expecting a simple hello, and instead, found a card expressing her thoughts and prayers to me as the day of Matthew's delivery date approaches. I was touched and moved, overwhelmed and - grateful.</span><br />
<br style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Grateful because the Lord used her card to open up a heart that had been unknowingly running from the emotion of losing a son. </span><i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">My</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;"> son. Matthew.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">It has still been the easiest year, but these past few days the Lord has been pressing on me ... pushing me into a place of utter dependence on Him ... forcing me to share the deep places of my heart ~ with only Him. I have a husband who loves me, and loves our son. I have friends who will listen to me and let me cry if that is what I need to do. But as I shared passionately with the young women who lined my couch last week, I need to run to Christ </span><i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;"><b>first</b></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">. HE has to be the One I seek when my heart is broken. HE has to be the One I cry out to when I feel confused and overwhelmed. And HE has to be the One I ask to dry my tears.</span><br />
<br style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">The Lord is the One who gave us a son.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">The Lord is the One who took him away.</span><br />
<br style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">And the Lord is the One who has healed me.</span><br />
<br style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">The ache of missing our son will never completely go away, and I have asked the Lord that He would not let it. I never want to forget. I never want to lose the connection to the pain. Because once I do, I will no longer be effective in ministering to other women who are siting where I once sat ... on a hospital bed, with empty arms, wondering what in the world just happened.</span><br />
<br style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I remember every moment of that day. The nurses coming in with that look of understanding and sadness. The social worker hoping to explain the "why" but without ever mentioning the name of the Lord - the only One who ever knows the why to any of life's trials. One of our dearest and oldest friends coming to dedicate Matthew to the Lord, a grown man, weeping, as he shared in our sorrow. Dennis not knowing what to say or do for me. And crying out to the Lord ... praying every second because I could think of nothing else to do. "It has to be bigger than me losing a baby, Lord. I am not the first woman, and I will not be the last. There </span><i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">has to be more</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">." And five years later ... five years of sharing my story with other women ... five years of searching Scripture to understand this God who carried me through the hardest part of my life ... five years of trusting Him even when I did not understand ...</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">five years later - He created </span><i>Joy Comes in the Morning</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">And, oh my friends, how He has grown me and blessed me and continues to heal me through this ministry! The women I have met, talked to, listened to, prayed with ... I would not trade one single moment with any of them. The loss of a baby through miscarriage or stillbirth is a hard burden to bear ... sometimes rendering us unable to function for a time. But through the trial, the heartache and the pain, God is at work! In us, around us, and one day - if we will let Him - THROUGH US.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">There is a wonderful song which shares this phrase: </span><i style="caret-color: rgb(32, 32, 32); color: #202020; font-family: Molengo; font-size: 16px;">If I lost it all, would my hands stay lifted, to the One who gives, and takes away?</i><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">I will admit, there were times that I had to ask others to help keep my hands raised to the heavens when I was too weak to do it myself. But when I look back on that time, I can see the hand of the Lord so clearly, and how He prepared me for that moment. He knew me better than I knew myself, and He knew that yes, even in the most difficult days of my life, I would still praise Him. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">The day I delivered Matthew Isaac was the worst day of my life.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">And the day I delivered Matthew Isaac was the best day of my life.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: "molengo"; font-size: 16px;">Because it was that day when I finally understood what full surrender to a holy God really meant ... and I have never, ever been the same.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWHYKkF-9wQxtx_XMEv_fhl6eTqXIpaM_aFE54M-cMGQ8O4oVZRvtpNEG3mjlv6s13oT9eZxJ-nQkQt6KII7DN9yUxXBBVGr0Ny99kLJymH-4OC7Hu9ey3_FXFCzYWLZJZIA2QSks_SJb-/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="468" data-original-width="770" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWHYKkF-9wQxtx_XMEv_fhl6eTqXIpaM_aFE54M-cMGQ8O4oVZRvtpNEG3mjlv6s13oT9eZxJ-nQkQt6KII7DN9yUxXBBVGr0Ny99kLJymH-4OC7Hu9ey3_FXFCzYWLZJZIA2QSks_SJb-/s640/unnamed.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">I know, </span><span class="small-caps" style="font-family: inherit; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Lord</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">, that Your laws are righteous,</span></i><br />
<i style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="text Ps-119-75" style="font-family: inherit; position: relative;">and that <b>in faithfulness<span class="crossreference" style="vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-15974DT" title="See cross-reference DT">DT</a>)"></span> You have afflicted me</b>.</span></i><br />
<i style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">May Your unfailing love</span><span class="crossreference" style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-15975DU" title="See cross-reference DU">DU</a>)"></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"> </span></b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><b>be my comfort</b>,</span></i><br />
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><span class="text Ps-119-76" style="font-family: inherit; position: relative;">according to Your promise<span class="crossreference" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-15975DV" title="See cross-reference DV">DV</a>)"></span> to Your servant.</span></i><br />
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><span class="text Ps-119-76" style="font-family: inherit; position: relative;">Psalm 119</span></i></div>
Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18013169612457525434noreply@blogger.com