SIX MONTHS

Grieving is a strange thing. In some ways, it seems like it should be a very private and personal process. In other ways, it seems like it needs to be public and shared.

Public grief is a tricky thing though. Although I want to be open about how God is working in our lives, and what He is teaching us, I want to be careful in how I portray our grief.

I don’t want to ever pretend like grieving the loss of a child is easier than it is.

God is good. He is faithful. He has walked with us, comforted us, provided for us, and continually reminds us of who He is. But that hasn’t taken away the pain and the tears.

 In the last six months I have found myself crying in food courts, walking through Hobby Lobby, during Christmas toasts, and on airplanes. I have walked out of baby dedications, wedding ceremonies, and restaurants. I have been angry, impatient, and bitter with people that didn’t deserve my frustration. So when I write about what God’s teaching me, I want to avoid appearing overly spiritual or optimistic, because that isn’t realistic.

I don’t want to write about all the hard things either, begging for sympathy or for my own praise.

There are a lot of tears and fits before I get to the lesson learned in the blog. Although it is therapeutic for me to write about what God’s teaching me, my desire is for God to be glorified in my weakness.

With that in mind, today would have been Ezekiel’s six month birthday. Before I was pregnant, I made fun of the monthly pictures that new moms would post. Let’s be honest, I still do. It’s just a little more somber now. I appreciate the concept of celebrating milestones, I just think it’s a little cheesy. (Sorry to anyone who does this…) While I was pregnant with Ezekiel, I told my sister, “I will never do that.”

And, I won’t. But I do wonder. What milestones would we have had? I see babies around me growing, and wonder what our son would be doing now. Would he be teething, rolling over, sitting up on his own, eating real food, sleeping through the night?

A few months ago, I was putting some of the baby clothes and things away, when I came across a gift from a sweet friend in Denton. It was a calligraphy print I was given the week before Ezekiel was born as a decoration for the nursery.  It was kindly put away in the week following his burial, but it was uncovered as I was organizing.

It says, “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.” 3 John 1:4

At first it seemed like a slap in the face. I felt my stomach sink, and the familiar burn of my eyes before the tears start. But then I felt the peace of the Lord reminding me of just how true that is. And although the tears still came, I smiled too.

I don’t know what milestone Ezekiel would have reached at six months, but he certainly wouldn’t be walking, and he definitely would not have a relationship with the Lord. I don’t know how things work in heaven, so who knows if he is walking, but he is definitely in the Truth, in the presence of our God. And I couldn’t ask for a joy greater than that. A bittersweet joy – yes. But joy nonetheless.

So today, at six months, I am taking time to grieve privately, and also publicly. The state is on civil strike today, so everything is closed. It would be easier to make the day busy and distract myself, but the Lord in His goodness forced me to rest today. I am reading through prayers and journals from the last six months to remember what God has done.

I have met many women over the last six months that know what it is to burry a child. And many more that have lost babies that were too small to burry. So I think it is important to share what God is teaching me so that He might be glorified through it.

Today I am thankful for the God that knows what it is to suffer. The God that knows what it is to give His son. The God that understands our suffering because He suffered. The God that is good in all He does. The God that on my hardest days, reminds me of His promises and truth. The God that shows His love through sacrificial love.

Thank you for sharing in our grief. Our prayer is that the Lord is His goodness and mercy would comfort you today with Himself. That you would trust Him with your questions, anger, bitterness, and impatience, knowing that He is good, even when life is hard.

Adventures in Shoe Shopping

This weekend we were invited to a wedding for one of Franco's friends from Camiri. We quickly realized that we were going to need something a little nicer than our "Sunday best", since that usually involves our nicest jeans. :)

As we were contemplating how expensive this was going to be, Franco got a call from one of the elders at church. They just happened to have some suits they wanted to GIVE Franco! That afternoon we went, and it was as if the suit had been made for him. God's provision is so neat sometimes.

Then I went through my dresses (all three of them) and found one that would work... except that one of the straps was broken.

I decided it would have to do and brought it anyway. When we mentioned the dress to Franco's mom she suggested we go visit her friend, the seamstress.

The seamstress fixed the strap in five minutes and wouldn't let me pay!

SO, with money ($20) still in the budget, I went shoe shopping.

As I've mentioned before, shopping in Bolivia is never a relaxing endeavor. But, flip flops and tennis shoes are not appropriate wedding attire, so I was left with no alternatives.

We set out in the 90 degree heat to the market. When I found shoes I liked at the first stand, I was ready to buy them and be done. However, there were none available in my size... according to the lady who glanced confidently back at her pile of merchandise to confirm.

So we moved on. The next stand also had shoes that were less my style, but convenient and well priced. The young girl assured me she had them in my size, and came back with a different style of shoes, that yes, were in my size.

Feeling defeated, I followed my mother-in-law across the busy street. (The government is on strike since May and there are no police in town. Franco calls Camiri the Wild Wild West of Bolivia.)

Inside the market, we found a stand with a lady that Franco's mom seemed to know. She was very patient and showed me at least ten different shoes. I liked the first pair, but couldn't convince her to let me try them on. When I did, I realized they were sized differently because they are a Brazilian brand. So she brought me the next size.

 OF A DIFFERENT STYLE.

They fit, but now they were a different style that I didn't like. So she brought the same style, in a different color. That didn't go with my dress. After about ten minutes of feeling like the biggest most demanding drama queen in Bolivia, the lady brought out a different pair of shoes, in a different color, that I DID like!

So now we both have nice clothes to wear to the wedding and a fun story to tell.

The moral of this story is "Buy your shoes at Ross and save yourself the trouble of international shoe shopping".

And that God provides, even in mundane things like dress clothes for a wedding. :)

Of course the shoes don't appear in any of the photos....