Nine years ago Faith was stillborn on Palm Sunday weekend. We would watch church from home, all of us sitting on our couch, numb, while watching the children waving the palm branches and singing Hosannah on the Highest, and then hearing the announcement about us… about Faith… No one knew I had even been pregnant.
Their first announcement of her life was of her loss… of her already being in the arms of Jesus.
As the years continued, Easter has always been hard. The season of Lent basically the season of her life as we knew her. Her first birth day was the following years Easter Sunday. The continued passing of the years and the waving of palm branches always a squeeze on my heart as I remember her, remember the horrible details of this entire journey.
And I am always pricked by the reality that there is one less child up there waving her palm branch and singing.
Yes, selfishly I want her here on earth with us. And yet… And yet, I am also always struck with the thought – and what if she had lived and wasn’t healthy? I am already so tired and so weary living THIS current life, however would we have continued through life caring for a sick child as well? I’m also always stuck with the thought that why would anyone wish a life on earth vs a life in heaven? The pain, the sickness, the corruption, the endless difficulties… Why would we not actually be rejoicing that she didn’t have to suffer through any of this – why are we not just beyond grateful when she opened her eyes she was already in the arms of Jesus, pain free, disease and sickness free.
Disease and sickness free – something she never once knew. She bore the burden and fate of Trisomy 18 from the very moment her first cell divided into her very existence. Sin in its most horrible state as it struck to the very marrow of the most innocent.
And yet, despite that reality – I will fully admit I still selfishly wish her in my own arms.
Today as I stood in church there were tears on my cheeks as I watched all the children and their palm branches. I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to still be hiding in the dark in my bed. And I couldn’t sing the words to all the songs praising God in all His greatness and goodness. He is. I know He is. But some days are just hard to put physical words to that when what is in my heart and soul is anything but praising His goodness. I just could not open my mouth and sing of His goodness.
In my non-singing this morning, I was struck with a thought ~
I am not the only one who lost a child this week.
Two thousand years ago God also watched and witnessed the journey of losing His son, losing His child this very same week. He watched the pain and the suffering, and I’m sure His heart also broke wide open in the pain and sorrow we feel and experience here on earth upon our losses.
It was His plan all along. He gave His son to die. He created His son to die. To die for me… for you… for each and every one of us. And I really stopped and sat with that for a while. I’ve not thought of GOD’s grief much before. He was a father who watched His son suffer and die. He was a father who hurt and grieved just like we do. He knows the pain. He is also a loss papa.
I admit I think often of my funeral. Maybe not so much about my death, those details aren’t of concern or on my thought radar really. But the funeral itself, the happening, the event… that’s common conversation with me – both in my head and with my family and friends.
I have a notebook. It’s in my underwear drawer. It has all my funeral details in it. It’s a continual work in progress. I’m always adding little notes to it. The clothes, the coffin, the verses, the songs, the flowers, the colors, the earrings, the fingernails, the food, the drink, the coffee mugs, the little bits about my obit…
I’m not planning it in any morbid way. I’m not “planning” planning it. (I’m not suicidal or anything of that sort.) But I am ready. I am ready for Heaven. I want my celebration of life to be easy for those closest to me, and I want it to be a genuine and real celebration of my life.
As I sit here writing, I realize I have so much more I want to write, to share… There is so very much in my life that I have not documented, have not shared, have not blogged as I would have liked over the last years.
I am deep in my season of hard. Deeper yet in my season of busy. It’s been a rough go lately. Not that all things are negative and horrible… but we’ve been trudging through some pretty significant things that I’ve not taken the time to share about. My running, my health and wellness, Brian’s health and wellness, the teenager, the grandbabe, my cake business, my word of the year, trips and vacations we’ve taken, our current car saga, thoughts and stories of hurts and joys and triumphs and frustrations and celebrations...
Through all these things I’ve had to let my love for blogging and sharing currently just not be a part of this current season of busy. Someday perhaps it will be different. Someday perhaps I’ll have time to write my book, update my blog, share my life and loves and wisdom through my love of words. But that is not this season.
So I will pop on now and again out of the blue with an update or two for now, probably Faith specific. And today the world is a little harder, and a little heavier, so I will take the time to say a few words as we continue to walk forward into another Faith week this week. Another Easter season. Another Palm Sunday. Another birth day to be celebrated without her here with us in our house, at our table, in our lives.
Our sermon today naturally talked of palm branches. And that they signify the recognition of hope and future. That Jesus is coming. That whatever is holding us down right now, He will lift us up from… Lift me up from, lift you up from.... When the tears fall from our eyes, may we welcome Him into our hearts.
When I walked out of church, I found my heart still aching, my soul still dreading trudging through this week, the tang of my bitterness still lingering within me… but for the first time in nine years, I also walked out feeling slightly different about my thoughts on palm branches and Palm Sunday.
And... perhaps I need to add a little note in the notebook to incorporate a few palm branches here and there at my funeral.
