Held

Today is a sad day. So much so, that I almost did not blog about what I felt.

Three years ago today, my friend Dawn gave birth to a little boy, Maguire. From his pictures and the videos they have of him, he was the light of his mommy, daddy and twin older brother and sister's life. His giggle was contagious, and his smile was heartwarming. Eight months later, God took little Maguire home. I never had the opportunity to meet this amazing little guy as I did not have the pleasure of meeting his mother until 5 months later.

Dawn and I have come to be very close friends. We have shared many things: school trials, internship triumphs, we even had our daughters 4 days apart. Through all of this, I have also had the honor of sharing in some of her sorrows.

I must be honest, today when I woke up I was not thinking of Dawn or her son, Maguire. I went about my morning and completed my tasks upon arriving at work. About midmorning I received an email from Dawn and without really reading the title, clicked to open it. As I read I realized that this email was to myself and many of Dawn's other friends and family members and was not a letter of sorrow, but rather a celebration of Maguire's life, as short as it was.

I found myself completely overcome with emotion in that moment, sitting at my desk, reading the words of the bravest woman I know. It took me some time to compose myself, but the day was spent thinking of Maguire and the words that Dawn had written.

Once again, I came home and went about my typical nightly activities; dinner, bath time for Gracelynn, pick up after Gracelynn, laundry, bedtime for Gracelynn. A little after 10 o'clock, Gracelynn woke up and since she had not taken a bottle before bed I prepared a bottle and went in to give it to her. As I sat and rocked her while she took her bottle, the day rushed back over me. I was overcome again with emotion and found myself rocking my baby girl long after she had finished her bottle.

She slept so soundly in my arms and her entire body was completely relaxed against me. There was complete trust, complete security, complete peace. The words to the Natalie Grant song came to me. I encourage you to listen to the song by clicking on the link below.

Held by Natalie Grant

Two months is too little
They let him go
They had no sudden healing
To think that providence
Would take a child from his mother
While she prays, is appalling
Who told us we'd be rescued
What has changed and
Why should we be saved from nightmares
Were asking why this happens to us
Who have died to live, it's unfair
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held
This hand is bitterness
We want to taste it and
Let the hatred numb our sorrows
The wise hand opens slowly
To lilies of the valley and tomorrow
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held
If hope is born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait, for one hour
Watching for our savior
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held

In that moment, as I held my sleeping daughter, I realized with joy that little Maguire was being held too...in the arms of his maker.

Beauty in the Broken

If I haven't told you all already, Gracelynn is the most amazing part of my life. She is so curious and full of love and life. She never just "lounges" and literally goes full speed until she drops...only to recharge to go full speed again. To call her the Energizer Bunny would be only the half of it. I must admit, she is a handful to keep up with, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

I find myself enjoying those little moments when she reverts back to that tiny baby I once encouraged to try new things. I was so excited when she learned to hold her bottle by herself, and then how to use a sippy cup (new accomplishment...yay!), but now I cherish the times she is still enough to lay in my arms and let me give her a bottle. She used to fall asleep in my arms all of the time, and now if she isn't in her bed it is hard for her to go to sleep. There is just too much to see. But every once in a while she will completely pass out in my or Ben's arms and I can't help but soak in those moments.

I have learned so many things from her, but one of the most recent lessons is how she finds such joy in the most simple...sometimes even broken things. She has a shelf full of toys, a toy box in her room, a whole window seat of stuffed animals and several books...all of which is pretty much at her disposal at any time. But she so often will choose over those things to play with things like my flip-flops laying in the living room, or the (gasp!) dog dish. She approaches each new "find" as if she is Columbus discovering the new world; with this sort of amazement and vigorous curiosity. There are so many times that I get frustrated that she is finding all of the things I don't want her to find to play with...and ignoring all of the cool, bright colored, lighted toys that we lovingly provide for her.

The other day I had the trash by the front door to be taken out so it would be ready the next morning when our trash service came by. I had a couple of bags and then a few loose items that just needed to be put in our large trash can. Among those things was an old VCR that did not work anymore (hadn't in a long time...have no idea why we kept it) and our old vacuum cleaner. It had seen better days and while I had nursed it back to health many times, it had finally stopped sucking...which is its sole purpose in life. I had held off getting a new one because we have almost all wood floors througout our house, but there were things that we needed it for. So there it sat next to the front door. Of course I did not want Gracelynn playing with these things, and of couse those were the only things she saw in the room. There was no detering her, so finally I went with her over to the vacuum and VCR to let her "investigate" under my watchful eye.

She found such joy out of these items. She loved pushing the buttons on the VCR (something we don't let her do on our working VCR, DVD player and cable box), and she absolutely LOVED the vacuum...now that it was off!!! As she "played" with these things, it occured to me that she had no clue what these things functions once were...and she didn't care. On that same note she had no clue that they were broken and therefore were being tossed out in the trash...and once again she did not care. It was incredibly refreshing to see someone, even my 10 month old daughter, find such a huge amount of joy in something as simple as pushing buttons on an old VCR and laughing at the vacuum.

Then I wondered...where does that curiosity and joy go? I seem to have lost it and I know many other adults that have to. So when do we stop wondering? When do we stop investigating? When do we stop finding joy in the simple things of life?

I know many of us could look back at that "moment" when our eyes were opened and the world wasn't as bright and fresh as it once was. Most of us move forward from that moment and don't really realize what exactly we have lost. How incredibly sad that most of us have never mourned our lost childhood...never stopped to think that while growing up is neccesary, there is a side of it that is truly sad. I then realized with a pang that there would come a time when Gracelynn would stop investigating the world around her. When she would begin to take her surroundings for granted. When she would stop finding the beauty in the broken things of life.

So once again, I cherished that moment. And I challenged myself to try once again to find the beauty in the broken.

Golden Perfection

I am exhausted. This past Tuesday was my hubby's 28th birthday and yesterday we had his birthday party. For two weeks we had been planning to have his party outside. I wanted to have the whole set up with tiki torches, the fire pit, chinese lanterns...etc. Then we started watching the weather and all that was in the forecast was rain, rain and more rain. I thought "It's Kansas...things could change", but by about Wednesday I realized that even if it did stop raining (which didn't seem likely) it would still be a sopping wet mess in our backyard AND the grass wouldn't be cut. So I made the decision to move it inside...to our tiny little house.

So yesterday my adorable husband calls and says that he really wants to have the party outside and that the weather is going to be nice. AHHH!!! So I left work, ran my little tush off (I wish literally) to get things together, and it was a beautiful evening! The tiki torches were lit, there were candles on the tables, the chinese lanterns were hung and the food was great. The company...even better. Several times throughout the night Ben looked at me and just said "Thank you...this is so great" and I knew all of the work (and stressing out) was totally worth it. So yes, I am tired today (sitting in the clinic seeing clients and doing paper work) but it is worth making my husband that happy.

This morning when I got up to come into the clinic and I stepped into the bathroom to begin getting ready I reflected on the previous evening. There were plenty of laughs and tons of good food. There were many interesting topics and some pretty heavy discussions. And of course as usual there was lighthearted banter between friends. After the sun went down, Ben lit the fire pit and we roasted marshmallows and ate s'mores to end the evening. Our good friend, Zach, was attempting to achieve that "golden perfection" in his marshmallows, but they always ended up getting scorched on one side. We teased him (sorry Zach) about his quest for golden perfection and we made several references to it as the evening went on. As I showered off the smell of bonfire smoke this morning I couldn't help but make the link between Zach's unmet need for golden perfection in his marshmallow and my own Christian walk. Fire is the source of change that God is using to slowly perfect me for His will. At a safe distance I am being prepared slowly and in His own time. But too often I become inpatient with this process and I thrust myself into the flames, thinking that I know better and that I am "helping". More times than not, I end up getting scorched. Now, unlike the Zach's poor marshmallow, God doesn't take me off the wire hanger, toss me in the trash and start over...thank goodness! But those scorch marks still remain and God must then work to repair the damage that I have done.

Why am I so quick to throw myself on the flame? Why do I time and time again make the same mistake of becoming inpatient and thinking that I know better? How many times must I get burned before I learn that HIS timing and HIS will are perfect? When will I allow Him to help me reach "golden perfection"?

All deep questions...most of which are still unanswered. And all from a little, fluffy marshmallow.

Hope your Saturday is going well...Happy Father's Day to all of you daddy's!