Whispers of the heart...

"It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the LORD...He sitteth alone and keep silence, because he hath borne it upon him...For the Lord will not cast off forever: But though he cause grief, yet will he have compassion according to the multitude of his mercies."

Lamentations 3:26-32

Many have written me or said in person that my openness and "realness" have been a blessing. Being an open book helps them understand a little better and know how to pray. 

I suppose I don't know any other way to be then I am. But I will say, I haven't been nearly as open as I wished to be at times. There are moments throughout the day that are so hard, so "real", and so troublesome that there really are no words to utter. Just tears. 

These are the moments that God just sits and listens to my heart, even though I speak nothing. He lets me tell Him every fear, frustration, fatigue. Memories spill out as I tell God who Molly was before the tumor, as if He didn't know. 

You see, that is the hardest thing. We are grieving two Molly's. The one we knew for about 6 years left us slowly, but is gone now. Our fearless, roller coaster junky who was always the first one up and the last one to bed. She always, ALWAYS was up for a laugh, prank, or joke. But there was so much more. She was sweet, loving, and snuggly. Sometimes moody, she could snap out of it with a tickle. Devotion to sisters like no other. She would be the first to stand up for them. 

But the Molly before our eyes, is not this Molly. She's a new daughter, in a way. She's a shell of who once was. Medications and tumor have changed her personality. We rarely see glimpses of who she was. To get an "I love you" before bed makes us soar. Her smiles are smaller. Her memories are dimmer. She lives in a place that she very seldom lets anyone join her. 

People say, "Enjoy the time. Make lots of memories!" And honestly, it makes me so mad. I would love to make memories and enjoy this time. But in a way, Molly is already gone. She won't let us enjoy her. She pushes us away. She yells. She cries. She demands. And the only joy that she really has is eating... but even that is harder for her now. 

So here we are, trying to do our best. We try to love the girls the way Christ loves us. We are trying to give them some happiness during this time. But the weight is so very heavy. The sadness enveloping at times. 

I realize that if this wasn't me writing this, and I was reading some other person's account, I would probably be confused and not understand. You can't get it unless you live it. But this isn't for anyone else. This is for me. 

I want to remember that the end was hard, so that when someone else is hurting with similar circumstances, I can help them along their way. If anything, I can try to carry some of their pain for them. That and prayer is all we can do. 

A wonderful friend, who is very wise, likened this journey to a mountain. The mountain is so high, you can't just go over it. The only way to the other side is to go THROUGH it. And that's what we are doing. The best we can. 

And I am so very grateful that despite feeling very lonely at times, I can tell it all to my Lord. He listens without judging. And He fully understand because once, He lost a Son. 

Jealousy: the great distraction

I'm not going to lie. So, be warned, I may look a whole lot uglier to you after this post. But the truth is, jealousy has reared it's ugly head. 

I'm not talking cars, houses, clothes, or any other earthly thing you can name. I'm talking down right, "Why is their kid fine and not mine? Look at the fun weekend THEY got to have while I'm here watching my daughter suffer. It's not fair that their kids can play outside while mine can only look at her tablet!" The real nitty, gritty, ugly kind of jealousy. 

It's natural. 

How do I know that? Because the Bible speaks of it so much. God knew we would all struggle with such things and so He added it to His Word so we would hear what He thinks about it. And let me tell you, it's not pretty. 

For instance, I Corinthians 13 speaks on love. Guess what does not make the love list cut? I'll give you a hint. It starts with a "J" and ends in a "always looking at what other people have."

James 3:16: "For where envying and strife is, there is confusion and every evil work."

 When I start looking at everyone else's circumstances, and let that seed begin to grow, then I miss out on all of MY blessings that God chose just for me... because I'm too busy letting the truth be skewed and confusion set in. 

Because that is what jealousy brings us: Confusion. 

So I ask myself tonight, what DO I know? What blessings ARE before me? 

And that my friend is when my list begins to get longer and longer and longer...

I don't desire to become bitter and enraged. I don't desire to compare my circumstances to others. I desire to be happy. I desire to make God happy. I desire to see things for what they really are. And knowing that my God supplies everything, then all that is before me can be a blessing in some way. Even when I have to look twice... or stand on my head to see it. :)

Don't look down

It's been a while since I've been able to write. My fingers and heart have longed to type out words from inside, but I simply haven't had the time. 

I hesitate writing all that is going on because I don't want anything to be taken the wrong way. Even though many say I have every right to feel whatever feelings appears, for those that haven't gone through this, you may not understand. But I've determined to be truthful and real. My goal in writing has always been therapeutic. And if not one other person reads this, I will still be happy because I got it out. Yes, I know there are journals, but honestly, I'm too lazy to use a pen. :)

In the beginning of this phase, this stage of hospice care and waiting, Molly rejected my care. She was angry and let me do nothing for her. I was hurt and devastated that she didn't want her Mother to care for her. My, oh, my, how the pendulum has swung the other way. Molly requires me to do all her care. She not only requires it, but demands that I do everything for her. 

She needs to be fed. Taken to the bathroom. Cleaned. Changed, I even do the coloring for her, mostly. 

Hospice stated in the beginning of all this, that their desire was to aide us in many areas, but one in particular was to help us be parents and not always care givers. You would think the two intertwine, and in a way they do. But when Molly is constantly needing physical care, it is very hard for me to be mentally there or even have the energy for the happy, more fun moments. 

Molly has refused any home aide care for right now. I understand her need for privacy and the desire for me to do all her bathroom and personal care needs. I want her to continue to have as much dignity as possible. But when she will not let anyone else even hold her piece of paper as she tries to color, well, it gets draining. 

I have found myself in a different place than I have been in this whole journey. I have not once gotten angry at God. It is by His amazing grace that I have not felt a twinge of betrayal or that I was somehow cheated. I was never promised a certain amount of days with Molly. I was never assured that my life would be easy. And I am fully aware that God's plan is always best. 

But these past couple of weeks I have felt it cruel that God would continue our life in this state. No end in sight. No healing of hearts. No relief. (And this is where I hesitate in writing in fear that someone would think I am giving up and am done loving Molly. That is NEVER EVER the case.) I have only been able to look at my exhaustion, horror, and sorrow that has been before me. My vision has been skewed. 

It's true. I have no idea what God is doing right now. We don't understand why he's letting this suffering continue. But that's not for us to find out right now. There will be a day. For now, obedience is on the menu. Blind Faith. Falling backwards kind of trust. And I lost it for a bit. I was being clouded by what I was feeling and not what was true. Feelings have the knack for doing that. They cloud the facts.

But as God always does, He remembered me and gave me His word. 

As I was reading through the story of Abraham, I saw something that I never noticed before. Abraham, who was commanded by God to sacrifice his only son, traveled for three days before he got to his destination to perform the sacrifice. 

Can you imagine what that journey was like? Three days of knowing what you were to do, what was to come, what you would see and experience, and yet he kept putting one foot in front of the other. Why? Because he was focused on the act of obedience, not the journey to get there. 

This blew my socks off. 

We know what is going to come. We know what will happen at the end. We know the dark, ugly, and scary. The sorrow and sadness. The final good bye before us. But I don't think God intends us to focus there. He intends us to obey and keep going. Not to look down at our own two feet, but at Him as he waves His arms in the direction to go next. It reminds me of a toddler learning to walk. When they look down at their feet, they stumble. But when they keep their eyes on their parent, they make it farther. 

So the lesson learned, which seems like a funny one to learn during a time like this, is obedience. 100% trust that what God commands is 100% what I'm to do. Thank God I don't have to come up with the next step myself. Because I would have lost it a long time ago. 

So I am determined to continue on and obey. If anything, I know this little truth:

"For it is God which worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure...That ye may be blameless and harmless...among whom ye shine as lights in the world." Philippians 2:13,15

So shine on!

Thief

Like a thief in the night, cancer has come and stole from us. It's taken away so much from our entire family. And yet, there is no retribution. No police to capture it. No judge to punish it. 

What has it stolen? 

It's stolen independence.

The very thing we as parents instilled in our child from the very beginning, was to do for yourself so others don't need to do it for you. But no longer. The thief has taken the ability to walk to the bathroom by herself. To feed herself. To color by herself. 

It's stolen her smile.

Once the life of the party, always ready for a good laugh, we now wait to see and hear what was once so freely given. 

It's stolen our bond. 

Maybe not entirely. But it has changed it immensely. Sisters that once played together all day, are now in separate rooms now because the thief came. The times of laying all together on the bed and making up silly songs can no longer be. 

It's stolen days.

No longer do we assume we had a lifetime of memories because the thief has shortened this lifetime to a much shorter period. Graduation. Wedding. First baby. All taken. 

My heart is broken in thinking all that has been taken. But what good would it do to stop here. I can't get back any of these things. I can't. But I can see what the thief can NOT take.

It can't take our love. 

Love lives on through eternity. Love endures all things. Love lasts all things. 

It can't take our hope.

Knowing that pain will be gone. Reunions will happen. A future will be. 

It can't take our memories. 

Perhaps we will not be able to make as many as we once thought, but we will always remember the ones we have. Like the time we built a fort in the living room. Or the 5 times in a row  we rode on the dinosaur roller coaster. Or how every night, when we pray we thank God for one another. 

I am sad. I am weary. But I can not stop there. I know that this is not over. That good is still coming. And to the thief that thinks it took so much, know that the soul is eternal. And that can never be stolen. 

Sorrow and Joy

It's funny how we have expectations for everything in life.

We expect every light to be green as we ride to church on Sunday. We expect our spouses to know exactly what we are thinking, all the time. We expect our children to behave. After all, they were taught  the verse that says, "Children, obey your parents...". 

But many times, we are disappointed because what we imagined would be, is not. 

I thought, many a night, how Molly's last days would play out. I envisioned peace. I envisioned quiet. I envisioned hugs, kisses, and words that needed to be spoken to be spoken freely. Even welcomed. 

But I have been disappointed. As Molly's last days approach, peace seems far from her heart. The house is anything but quiet. Sisters compete for attention. Tempers flair as Molly demands to have more to eat. Visitors continue to come to the door. 

And the words, that I so desperately wish to whisper in her ear, can not be uttered because she rejects my company. 

She's uncomfortable and tired. She's scared and anxious. And she is completely and utterly angry with everyone and everything that comes in the room. 

So this is our good bye? How I wish for something so different. Our hearts break as rejection, anger, demands and disappointment swirl around our living room. 

It would seem that we should faint from all the emotions, tasks, and needs to attend to, that really no other but a parent can take care of. But somehow, we have strength to get to the next minute. The next hour. And even the next day. 

God has given us so many promises, but few bring me comfort at this time. But all I need is one. And He has supplied that for me. 

John 16:20 says, "...and ye shall be sorrowful, but your sorrow shall be turned into joy."

Sorrowful seems too small a word to really depict our feelings, but it's all I've got right now. Knowing, though, that after this sorrow, joy will come, well, that is something I can cling to. I HAVE to cling to it. To think of being forever sorrowful seems hopeless. 

But that is why Christ came to earth, isn't it? To offer hope. To bring joy and hope to the entire human race? 

Here we stand, on the cusp of tragedy and devastation. And He speaks to our hearts these words. He is not done yet. Joy will follow. 

Worth listening to

There was a time when I would have never said it, but would have believed it deep down in my heart, that God doesn't really hear all my prayers. 

It's true.

I walked around believing a few things. One was that  my life was so insignificant, why would He even care to know all the tiny details of my life, especially if I wasn't that important. Two, He was uninterested in the fact that I desired such trivial things. Are the specifics of my prayers really that important to Him? Does He really care that I desire a gray van? Or a pretty tablecloth. Third, I believed if I didn't pray it, God wouldn't have to know about it. If I didn't tell Him that my heart was struggling with doubt and worry, then He wouldn't have a clue.

Funny thing is, I was wrong on every matter. 

When I started thinking these "truths" in my mind, it shaped how I prayed. I prayed out of routine more than desperation. My prayers were recited from the mouth, not the heart. 

The real truth is, my relationship with my Heavenly Father was suffering so greatly because I simply wasn't talking with Him. 

Our lives ARE significant to Him. 

How do I know this? Well, just look at I Corinthians 6:20.

"For ye are bought with a price..."

If my life has been purchased, would the Purchaser really think it's insignificant? No! He would cherish it, love it, and desire the best for it. That's my God. He does care about every detail and He does think me important. 

He's interested in the trivial.

God finds no greater joy than to hear the prayers of His saints. This includes the small things. In fact, I remember my sister praying that her daughter would be beautiful. Now, some may gasp at such a thing, but honestly, don't we all want good looking kids? Come on... be honest. Guess what my niece looks like. Prettiest little girl, outside of my own of course. :)

God cares. And He desires to hear from you on all accounts. 

He is all knowing.

This is Bible truth 101. If you were raised in a church, no doubt one of the first things you were taught is that God is all knowing. But why is this so important? Well, I used to think they taught us this so we would be scared to do something naughty. (Which by the way, didn't stop me. If you ever get the chance to, and desire to have a good laugh, or be simply shocked, give my Mom a call. She could tell you some stories.)

But the REAL reason this is taught so early on is because once we believe God knows all, it's easier to talk to Him. There isn't that guilt, or need to hide your sin from Him because guess what! He knows about it. 

The fault in thinking that God doesn't know everything will show up in your prayer life. Conversation with our Beloved will be dull and surface level if you assume He doesn't know your heart. 

So when did things change?

Well, I can assure you it wasn't overnight. There was no 12 step program I could check off and BAM! perfect prayer life. It was a daily thing that began to resonate in my heart. "Maybe He does really care. Maybe His love for me stretches further than I know. Let me look into this..."

I still struggle with believing at times. But it's not nearly like it was before. I think like anything, once tested and proven true, it's easier to believe. I tested God. I began to pray for small things, big things, and everything in between. And as He began to move, I began to see just how wonderful He truly is for listening and answer me. 

So I pray I can continue to apply this daily, as the prayers get harder to utter, due to the pain of the words. I pray that my God, who is so gracious and mighty, will continue to listen and answer my prayers how He sees fit. And most important, I hope that I don't let these things creep back into my mind. Because honestly, we need prayer now, more than ever. We need God to be in the insignificant... and the significant. 

Be not consumed

"Remembering mine affliction and my misery, the wormwood and the gall. My soul hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled in me. This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope. It was the Lord's mercies that we were not consumed, because his compassions fail not. 

Lamentations 3:19-22

When Peter and I were married, we knew kids were on the menu. We wanted to be parents and when the time came, we were very excited. That first pregnancy test was so thrilling. We lived in Germany at the time and had to wait HOURS before we could call family to tell them the good news. 

The excitement was short lived. 

A few short weeks and we lost the baby. 

To say I was devastated is a true understatement. My world was rocked. I honestly never thought such a thing would happen to us. Despair set in and I was in a bad place. I felt lost and confused. I couldn't understand why God would do this to us. Little did I know, He had more in mind. And He wasn't doing something TO us, but IN us. 

In less than an eighteen month period, Peter and I lost 5 babies, four pregnancies. I had to have two surgeries, more blood work than you could imagine, and we even did genetic testing. We were so desperate for an answer. But this answer did not come until years later. 

When I lost the twins, pregnancy number four, I was done. I told Peter that my mind and body could not take any more and for now, I had no plans to get pregnant again. Funny how our plans are not always His plans. 

Through a miracle of God... no really, a miracle, we conceived again. When I found out I was pregnant yet again, I bawled my eyes out. Why?! I couldn't go through this again. My soul was broken and my heart could not take another hole. But as days went by, and we hit milestone after milestone, I was beginning to see that this time was different. God was planning something big for this baby. And for the first time in a long time, I could envision holding a child in my arms. 

Samantha Rose Little was born January 18th, 2007. She was not easy in getting here. To say it was a rough delivery would be putting it nicely. But she made it. I made it. We made it and we finally held that perfect baby in our arms. All 6 lbs, 12 ounces of her. And this was only the beginning of life. It got better from here. 

The pain and hurt of losing my babies never fully went away. And I know that it never will. The wound is not as raw now, and for that I am thankful. 

It wasn't until a friend of mine, years later, lost a baby that I began to understand part of God's plan. Through it all, I was able to understand what she was going through. I was able to perhaps say the right thing that I needed to hear when I lost my babies, but never heard. And more so, I was able to pray in a more accurate manner, knowing all the ins and outs of this kind of grief. 

God unfolded a beautiful plan for our lives through loss. He showed us that compassion and empathy only come when you have experienced such things yourself. He showed us that we could have been angry and bitter, but instead, He humbled us by using us in another persons life. Amazing. He orchestrated all these events so that we could be used for Him. 

For this very reason, I am beyond blessed. To be used. To be able to help. To be softened enough to hear His still small voice. 

I should have been consumed by my grief, but I wasn't. Why? Because His compassions fail not.