But every once in a while I get an unexpected jolt to my heart, a little zinger deep in my soul that cracks wide open that wound again. The ache returns, the questions, the confusion, the sadness, the touch of anger that will yet again linger just a little too long, which in time I know will give way to an uneasiness of guilt.
It’s the little girl with long ringlets of red hair you catch a glimpse of hanging on to her mamas leg amid the crowd of mourners releasing balloons in the parking lot at a funeral on a sunny Wednesday morning. It’s the photo of a blue eyed red headed little girl with the dimples and precious smile that pops up unexpectedly in my instagram feed. It’s the pink toy aisle at Walmart. It’s the little pair of glittery pink sandals placed neatly on the corner of the cement down by the beach, while its owners little bare feet are down splashing in the water and wiggling in the sand.
It’s the little pink and white Sassy Pants and Tutus outfit hanging on the end of the clearance rack at the local store. The bandages, dog food, and paper plates are all purchased and bagged and in the cart you clank and clatter out the store door as you attempt to both hold open the non electronic door AND push and steer the cart through all at the same time… And then you glance over and see it. You see the little pink glittery outfit and it stops you in your tracks. You stand and look, a little smile, a little catch in your throat, a little snag on the innards all at the same time.
You slowly reach out and allow yourself to touch it, to pick it up, to hold it, to imagine it on the little princess who’s already wearing angel wings and traveling barefoot on Heaven’s streets of gold.
Just yesterday afternoon I found myself in the back corner of our yard with my youngest middle child. We had been gone on vacation and he was busy checking if there were any ripe raspberries on yet. I was hanging laundry on the line and then went back to join him.
There were a few on, and we both had our very first vine ripened, sun warmed, fresh raspberries of the summer. As we were slowly and quietly peeking and poking through the thorny branches in search of the deep red of the ripe berries ready to be slowly plucked, I somehow found myself in conversation with him about Faith.
I’m pretty sure he brought it up, and it started somewhere along the lines that he really wished she was still here, still alive, still on earth. I continued to slowly push away this leaf and then that leaf, occasionally putting a fresh berry in my mouth, and I found myself agreeing with him.
Of course I wish she was still alive and still on this earth with us.
But then I went on and heard myself say that even though I don’t know why it had to happen the way it all did, I do know that she’s actually the lucky one… because she got to go right to Heaven. She never had to experience any of the hardships and hurts and pains and sickness and sadness and disappointments that we have to endure every day here on earth.
I said that at first all she knew was sickness, her body was filled with illness from the very first split of her very first cell. She carried the incorrect number of chromosomes and never in her limited days here, ever knew the comfort and reality of a strong heartbeat, of a healthy umbilical cord, of a head and body not filled with fluid. But… she also got the greatest gift of all ~ she got the gift of absolute health before the world would ever deal their negative hand upon her.
Outside the womb she would never have to know the hurt of harsh words, the pain of bumps, bruises, scratches, cuts, broken bones. She would never have to endure being sick, or sad, or lost, or confused, or scared, or wresting with the general reality of being alive and living within a world filled with sin and sinners.
We talked about how we’re sure she’s playing with miss Autumn and might have even been there to help welcome the arrival last week of dear miss Mya. Oh my heart aches for all the other mamas who have lost children, and often I think about how much more sad it must be for the families who get to take their babies home, make life and memories with their babies, and then lose them much too early. Oh I can’t even imagine. I only get to grieve the what if’s, the should have beens, the could have beens. Although… perhaps they are both, in their own way, equally as sad and just as horribly heartbreaking. Lord I pray I never have to find out via comparison in my own life.
She was the lucky one I said again. She was the lucky one.
I said it multiple times, trying to actually convince myself of its truth. And I do know it’s true, deep inside I do. Most days I do know that an incredible amount of good has come because of our loss and this journey of faith that we never asked to be placed on.
No, this is not what we wanted, not what we ever imagined, not what we signed up for… but it is what we have been granted none the less… and somewhere deep inside, I do also know that that makes us somehow the lucky ones as well.
She was the lucky one who got to say hello to Jesus before she got to say hello to anyone else. She was the lucky one who got to skip the sin and pain altogether… and on days like today when my heart hurts and bleeds fresh all over again, I have to somehow also trust we are the lucky ones as well.
There were a few on, and we both had our very first vine ripened, sun warmed, fresh raspberries of the summer. As we were slowly and quietly peeking and poking through the thorny branches in search of the deep red of the ripe berries ready to be slowly plucked, I somehow found myself in conversation with him about Faith.
I’m pretty sure he brought it up, and it started somewhere along the lines that he really wished she was still here, still alive, still on earth. I continued to slowly push away this leaf and then that leaf, occasionally putting a fresh berry in my mouth, and I found myself agreeing with him.
Of course I wish she was still alive and still on this earth with us.
But then I went on and heard myself say that even though I don’t know why it had to happen the way it all did, I do know that she’s actually the lucky one… because she got to go right to Heaven. She never had to experience any of the hardships and hurts and pains and sickness and sadness and disappointments that we have to endure every day here on earth.
I said that at first all she knew was sickness, her body was filled with illness from the very first split of her very first cell. She carried the incorrect number of chromosomes and never in her limited days here, ever knew the comfort and reality of a strong heartbeat, of a healthy umbilical cord, of a head and body not filled with fluid. But… she also got the greatest gift of all ~ she got the gift of absolute health before the world would ever deal their negative hand upon her.
Outside the womb she would never have to know the hurt of harsh words, the pain of bumps, bruises, scratches, cuts, broken bones. She would never have to endure being sick, or sad, or lost, or confused, or scared, or wresting with the general reality of being alive and living within a world filled with sin and sinners.
We talked about how we’re sure she’s playing with miss Autumn and might have even been there to help welcome the arrival last week of dear miss Mya. Oh my heart aches for all the other mamas who have lost children, and often I think about how much more sad it must be for the families who get to take their babies home, make life and memories with their babies, and then lose them much too early. Oh I can’t even imagine. I only get to grieve the what if’s, the should have beens, the could have beens. Although… perhaps they are both, in their own way, equally as sad and just as horribly heartbreaking. Lord I pray I never have to find out via comparison in my own life.
She was the lucky one I said again. She was the lucky one.
I said it multiple times, trying to actually convince myself of its truth. And I do know it’s true, deep inside I do. Most days I do know that an incredible amount of good has come because of our loss and this journey of faith that we never asked to be placed on.
No, this is not what we wanted, not what we ever imagined, not what we signed up for… but it is what we have been granted none the less… and somewhere deep inside, I do also know that that makes us somehow the lucky ones as well.
She was the lucky one who got to say hello to Jesus before she got to say hello to anyone else. She was the lucky one who got to skip the sin and pain altogether… and on days like today when my heart hurts and bleeds fresh all over again, I have to somehow also trust we are the lucky ones as well.
Yes, we are somehow the lucky ones as well, even when I surly don’t feel so lucky, especially when I surely don’t feel so lucky.
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