Empty Pages

Stillbirth has a way of staying with you forever. Even when you're certain you've cried every tear there was, even when you're "over it" for good and you feel like it can't possibly reach you anymore, it can. I remember thinking all those years ago that the hardest part of stillbirth was the surviving--the living afterward. Its not something you should survive, I said to myself. The cruelty of it is that you do. And life goes on. New babies come and you think of her less and less with each passing year. And then one day, you spot a dusty book on the top shelf, pull it down, and find the pain is still there, right where you left it. Mother's Memories For My Daughter, the book says. Inside the front cover is a letter, written in your own handwriting on loose leaf paper. July 4, 1999. "To my child==Today I found out I'm carrying you!" And the innocent excitement breaks your heart. You flip through the first pages of the book, where you'd carefully written your life story for her and diagrammed her family tree, and on to the part where her story was to be written. "The day of your birth, first smile, first steps, first words, favorite lullibies, songs you liked to sing..." And you can't stand it any longer. "Things we enjoyed doing together" is too much. So you hurl the awful thing into the trash and fall to your knees. And you pray the only words that come to mind. Lord, please don't leave my baby girl with empty pages. She deserves so much more. Please fill them for her, Jesus. Better yet, tell her we'll fill them together when I get there. Tell her Mommy misses her and we're going to make lots of memories together soon, more than we ever could have here. All the books in the world can't hold the fun we'll have together. But Lord, for tonight, please just hold her, give her my love, and sing her a lullaby for me. Hold my aching heart in your hands too, and bridge the gap between us as only you can. Whisper to me your comfort, and tell me this story won't end with empty pages.

Grace

This poem, written several years ago as a sort of personal testimony, has now become almost an anthem for my everyday walk. Its on my poetry website, but bears repeating here. Coming through recent storms and looking back, I realize I could write the same thing today.


I did it “my way”--You loved me anyway.
I took Your blessings for granted--You blessed me more.
I turned my back on You—You showed Your face to me.
I took the credit--I took the reins,
And loving Father that You are,
You let me have them.
Until at last, broken and lost
I wandered home to your waiting arms,
Home to the joythat was there for me all along.
The joy of surrender,
Accepting through grace
What I couldn’t earn.
The joy of imagining
How deep Your love must be.
How infinitely larger than all my fears.
The joy of getting to know
Day by day
The tender hand that holds my own
And my every tomorrow
in Its merciful grasp.
Praise You for loving me
For all Your mysterious ways
For weaving togetherMy moments,
Even my failures,with unseen thread
Into something You can use
For making something beautiful of my life.

Storms

Sometimes it's still raining after "amen." Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to praise God in the midst of the storm, before you've seen any answers. I've been through some rough storms lately and found this song to be particularly meaningful. The image of God holding every tear I've cried in the palm of his hand is so comforting. I wish I could say I always praised Him and never despaired, but of course that's not the case. Nevertheless, this is a beautiful expression of how we should face the storms in our lives.

Praise You in This Storm, by Casting Crowns

I was sure by now, God You would have reached down
and wiped our tears away, stepped in and saved the day.
But once again, I say amen and it's still raining.
As the thunder rolls I barely hear You
whisper through the rain, "I'm with you"
and as Your mercy falls I raise my hands
and praise the God who gives and takes away.

I'll praise you in this storm and I will lift my hands
for You are who You are
no matter where I am
and every tear I've cried
You hold in your hand
You never left my side
and though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm.

I remember when I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry to You
and raised me up again
my strength is almost gone
how can I carry on if I can't find You
and as the thunder rolls I barely hear You
whisper through the rain "I'm with you"
and as Your mercy falls I raise my hands
and praise the God who gives and takes away (Chorus)

I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
the maker of heaven and earth.

I'll praise you in this storm and I will lift my hands
for You are who You are
no matter where I am
and every tear I've cried
You hold in your hand
You never left my side
and though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm.