Sudden Ends.

What is your only comfort in life and in death?  That I am not my own, but belong, body and soul, in life and in death, to my faithful savior Jesus Christ.  . . . Because I belong to Him, Christ, by His Holy Spirit, assures me of eternal life and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for Him.

And we know that in all thing, God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.  For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters.  Romans 8:28, 29

 It took me two weeks to put my last blog post together and another three days to get it posted.  While I was crafting the pregnancy announcement,  unbeknownst to us, the baby is my womb was dying. I spent a long night Friday up with cramping, a panicked Saturday morning in the ER, and a confused afternoon facing the fact that my newest little joy was dying inside of me.  In fact, he/she had probably been dead for a couple of weeks. 

 Now, as I read through what I wrote three weeks ago, I feel like my expressions go beyond ironic to cruel.  If God delays answers to remind us  that we do not compel Him to answer, then why does he answer prayers and then take the answers away?  If answering prayer unexpectedly reminds us that God has a sense of humor, what does unexpected loss say?  And if the joy of being pregnant was right for yesterday, why isn't it right for today too?  As I flopped down on the bed after coming home from the hospital, I pounded my fist on the comforter and said damn for the first time in my life.  "Damn.  Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn." 

But Faith chooses these moments to assert its strength.   Even in that moment, a voice in the back of my head said, "Damn what exactly?", and I had to answer "Nothing, Lord.  Nothing at all."     If my eyes were focused on my own disappointment, I might be tempted to despondency, but faith is a really buoyant thing. In moments of real pain, it insists on looking up at the big picture. I find that when my cynical side digs up a stock question for a time like this, my spirit lifts up my mind and reminds me of what I've always known was true. 

At eight weeks of life, was my child even a person?  Absolutely.  Life is not dependent on the presence of a heartbeat anymore than light required the sun.  There are creatures in the universe that don't even have bodies.  Why should my child be less alive for the lack of being whole?  We named our baby Blessed even as she passed (I say she because Boogaloo expressed a desire for a baby sister.  Of course, at eight weeks, we don't know one way or the other.)  I was conscious of Blessed's soul when she was in me, and I am certain she is in Heaven waiting for me.  One more thread to call me home.   

Why would God wait this long to answer my prayers and then take the answer away?  That's not a question that I can answer without seeing the whole picture, but it's also the question that draws up the greatest response from my faith.  It says in the Bible that sometimes the good are taken so that they may be spared trouble, and Blessed are those who die in the Lord.  I was already unnerved by the changing times when Boogaloo was born.  Blessed is one child I won't have to worry about.   In this world in spite of God's miraculous power, we are still subject to the broken and brutal forces.  Life faces assault on every side, including the mindless biological, and in battle, there are casualties.  I wish my child hadn't been one of them, but so does every parent who loses a child. 

Is my baby really in heaven?   Yes.  I know that for sure.

What does unexpected loss say about God's sense of humor?  That God has a sense of priority.  Much as it aches to consider it, the well of joy can only go as deep as sorrow digs it.  We grow when we hurt.  Loss is cognitive dissonance on a spiritual level.  It can breed empathy, establish bonds, and open us to new possibilities.  And as much as He cares for us and treasures our tears, He also uses us to move His kingdom foreward.  We need to trust that all will be recompensed in the life to come. Faith in the world to come should be our great comfort, along with the hope that everything will be made right. 

Why does God answer prayers and then take the answers away?  To remind us that our lives are not paramount.  He is.  And ultimately, He is our only sure happiness and safety. 

If the joy of pregnancy was right for yesterday, why isn't it right for today also?   We won't know that until we get home.    When I cross the threshold of Heaven, and I'm greeted by all the people I hold dear who have gone on before me,  one of those people will be my little Blessed. 

Does it hurt?  It ripped my insides out.  Physically, it was 16 hours of waiting followed by 48 hours of being wrung by an invisible hand.  Emotionally, everytime someone expresses sympathy I well over with tears. I cringe every time Boogaloo says "I'm a big sister" and asks to hear one of her baby books because of course, she doesn't understand yet. We told her that baby went to Heaven to be with Jesus and Nana, but she's still a big sister because baby is alive up there.  To stand at the gate of life and feel its opportunity opening for someone is the essence of hope,  and I rejoiced in it, but that hope got snuffed for this life.  Snuffed hope sucks the joy out of a situation.  But because of the shocking buoyancy of faith, I still have peace.  After all, my baby has simply been raised to another level of existence.     

Miscarriage

My mind is not at home tonight.
It begs your pardon for taking leave,
but it felt the need to wander a bit,
through sunset downs,
and curl up in the shadow of a twilit tree.

Sometimes the Soul is a prickly bedfellow,
so Mind mindfully slips away to allow Soul
its Space to slowly pack away the unused hopes,
Time to put the possibilities back in the attic,
a Chance to rearrange the living room of life to suit
Life.
Now.

Then, when every tiny finger of a dream is packed up,
and the work-a-day worries and mercies are out for use again,
Mind will come in, look around, and smile at Soul,
go up to the attic,
and grieve.

Because hopes are not things to be thrown away.
They should live in boxes in the basements of our lives
while Mind,
Soul,
 and Spirit
bustle and breathe,
groan and believe
that there is a Reason for all things. 

New Beginnings

"Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart," Psalm 37:4

"Ignoring what they said, Jesus told the synagogue ruler, 'Don't be afraid; just believe.'"  Mark 5:36

This past Sunday, my pastor said something that struck me.  (That's not unusual.  It is his job.)   He said that one of the reasons God delays answers to our prayers is to remind us that we do not compel God to answer.  No matter the legitimacy of our request or the strength of our faith, the ultimate action  of fulfillment comes from God, and He will dispose of His blessings in His time and also for His purposes.  God isn't bound by the limitations that bind human intermediaries, so it's a mistake to get impatient with God when waiting for something you have asked for.  He can take His own time and still make things happen.    

His sermon hit home because we have recently had a prayer unexpectedly answered, and this past week was the day I started mentioning at church . . . that I'm pregnant. 

This felt like a long time in coming.  I know people who have waited much longer than 4 years between children, but there's just something about waiting for a child that makes any period seem just shy of eternity.  Maybe it's the way each monthly cycle holds out the hope of a different result.   We prayed.  We trusted.  Then finally we gave up.  I stopped asking for answers.  I learned to ruthlessly discard that little nagging hope that said, "But it could be different this month."   We gave away all our baby stuff to those less fortunate, and I started thinking about how soon we could afford to start adopting.  We involved ourselves in house searching, in setting up a socially stimulating summer for the Boogaloo, and in trying  to launch my tutoring business. 

Then, out of the blue, about two weeks ago, just as complete though transient chaos hit our house search, I started feeling odd.    I tabulated my symptoms and thought, "That's not just wacked out hormones.  That has to be something substantial."   I didn't want to get my hopes up.  I'd been disappointed too many times.  So I waited a whole week beyond my period date before I took a pregnancy test. 

It was positive, obviously. 

Then began the elation and the mortification and no small bit of silliness. (What if it's twins?!)  But among all those feelings was the strong feeling that we had underestimated God.  Or perhaps pre-empted is the right word.  I won't call the feeling we had been acting on doubt, but we had decided what we could stand to hope for, and a baby had ceased to be one of them.  We shifted our focus (as we probably should have a lot earlier) to the things  that we were responsible for -- when we could get our loans paid off, when we could afford to adopt, when we could buy a house (well, we thought that was under our control.  Now we're waiting on prayer for that one too.). And then, all of a sudden, there was a baby. 

So what should we learn from all this?  We're really not in charge of as much as we think we are?  Never get rid of anything because you never know when you might need it again?  God has a sense of humor? Church people love to help pregnant people? (seriously, all we had to do was ask and sometimes, not even that.  Thank you.)  Perhaps, as the pastor said,  we simply need to trust.  Trust that this is right for now, and tomorrow will be right for tomorrow.  And then rejoice in each blessing with gratitude because God didn't have to give it.  With a new baby on the way, that is a very timely lesson.  

Searching for Inspiration (and a House)

It's too hot to think.  It's not supposed to get this hot in Portland until August.  Everyone is sweltering and altering their daily plans because it's just too hot for Portlanders to function.  I had been going to treat my readers to a prepared rant on the conflict of interests that is house hunting, but the heat wiped out everything I was thinking.  The only thing that's running through my mind at the moment is the Dora the Explorer  theme song, accompanied by the gentle shushing of the fans. 

House hunting, though, that's an experience.  The last time we bought a house, we weren't contending with a designated lease period.  We were living in military housing so we could take our time.  We visited one or two houses at a time, two or three months apart. And houses were staying on the market for two or three months at a time.  If we liked a house, we had plenty of time to consider it.    Leisurely was probably the best way to describe it.  Granted, we bought at a high point in the market, but the point is that our first and only experience with house buying was not a stressful experience.    Now we're caught in the crux of a different situation. 

See, now, the market is hopping.  Houses will pop up briefly and be sold three days later.  It seems like half of renting Portland wants to buy a house, but only a tenth of owning Portland wants to sell.  And we have a lease that lasts until October.  Breaking the lease will subject us to fines and fees in the neighborhood of $3,000, which is simply not feasible.  Likewise, staying after our lease is up and paying by the month would be ridiculously expensive.  However, trying to pay a mortgage payment, a rent payment, and the little bit of extra that we're paying to keep our rental all in one month too is also a financial infeasibility.    The trick will be timing, which requires (forgive me) constant vigilance.   

Every night my husband checks his email for new houses.  Every night, he adds a couple to our ever growing list of houses.  Then we select a few in a common area and email the realtor.  We keep the realtor busy.  I think we've crammed 10 houses into a week.  We put on offer on a short-sale.  They asked us to play back-up to another offer.  "That's good," our realtor said, "but you'd be crazy to count on it."  So we keet looking.

The most interesting part of this process is watching the effect that it has on Seth and myself.  For a while, it felt like our personalities were merging and switching.  He was the manic stress hound, pushing frantically to find some solid ground, and I was telling him, "Love, don't worry about it.  Look at the facts.  New houses pop up every week.  We're not going to be left without options.  We can just look. (How many times has he said that to me?!) God will provide.  (That too.) Really."  That was kind of empowering, actually.  I don't often get to be the level-headed one. 

Something good: http://lahash.org/pathofhope/

At the end of April, I set myself a goal to write about something good in the world either in May or in June.  So far, I'm really glad that I gave myself two months because May and June are turning out to be fuller than I imagined.  We are house hunting, self-educating, school testing, and I am still trying to develop my own tutoring business in a haphazard way. 

But, until I get some time to sit down and do a little research, here is a bright spot on the world radar.  An old classmate of mine is part of a ministry in Tanzania that works to bring education and healing to the poorest of the poor.  They have just launched a new initiative called Path of Hope to help children who have been affected in one way or another by AIDS.  Give them a look and see what God is doing in the world. 

http://lahash.org/pathofhope/