2013

2013 was simultaneously the best and worst year of my life.  It was the first full year that Skip worked for himself.  The business made great progress and we paid all our bills and acquired no debt.  We found out in January that we were going to have a baby.  Cue the ecstasy that was the next 37 weeks and 3 days.   Mom retired and we spent even more time together than we used to.  Bonus points: most of this time was spent poolside!  For the second time in my life, I became a part of a small group of Godly women who encourage my walk with the Lord and make me laugh until I almost pee my pants.  I started teaching online (along with still teaching at WRHS) and got to do fun things with the extra income like buy a mattress and book a long weekend in Orlando.  All these things made 2013 the best, obvy (which is teenage/hispter slang for obviously)!

Then came September 6^th.  Some would say we lost it all.  I’d be tempted to agree.  I’ve been guilty of saying “everything changed.”  I play these little mind games with myself where I ask questions that are impossible to answer honestly and then try to force myself to answer them.  One of those questions has been “would I willingly go through it again if I knew the outcome would still be the same?”  Would I decorate a nursery and make sub plans and pick out a name if I knew that it would end in death and I would never meet my baby on this side of heaven?  The thing with impossible (torture) questions is just that- they’re impossible.  But, since I’m being forced (by me!) to answer, I’d have to [guess] yes.  I cannot say that the good of 2013 outweighed the bad, because, no one in their right mind (and I still think I am!) would say that.  What I can say is this: there was good in 2013.  There was even good after September 7^th.  There has been good because of September 7^th.  Not everything changed.  The biggest change was the worst of my life, but not everything changed. 

Am I glad that 2013 is over?  Yes and no.  As blogger “friend” of mine pointed out, 2013 will forever be the only year that included Levi.  2013 will forever be the year of my first pregnancy.  I experienced a love I’d only heard about in 2013.  I felt an outpouring of support that I never could’ve imagined.  2013 will forever be the year I became a mom.  So yeah, I’m mostly glad it’s over, but I’ll hold tight to it all of my days.

And, you guys, it feels mushy and idealistic to admit, but I am SO hopeful for 2014.  I hope that it will come out of nowhere and trump 2013 in a big way.  I hope that this blog will be filled with words that make us all cry tears of joy.  I hope that I’ll keep my resolutions (more on those later-stay tuned!) and that 2014 will be one for the history books. 

But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear Him,

on those whose hope is in his unfailing love.

Psalm 33:18

Some People

Skip is the partier in the family.  I don’t always look forward to big party scenes and usually spend the ride to the party convincing Skip that there are many good reasons that we can’t stay long.  We’ve even got a little signaling system so I can let him know I am ready to go without announcing it.  We’ve dubbed it the “3 pat” and it usually works like a charm (except when Skip announces “she’s giving me the 3 pat, that means she’s ready to go!”). 

Last Friday night we went to the Virtual Sounds Christmas party and I was actually excited about going.  Why you ask?  Well, the guest list was full of people that I love and hadn’t seen in way too long.  I was most excited to see Amber.

A week after the greatest tragedy of my life, Amber came to my house, sat on my couch and told me I would be okay. She’s the first person who said it that I actually believed.  Amber had lost “baby girl,” her third daughter, nearly four months before.  I heard about her loss when it happened.  I was 5 months pregnant and had just found out we were having a boy.  Amber’s brother was a good friend of ours, and through some conspicuous Face.book posts, we learned that they had lost their baby.  I remember feeling so sad for her. I never imagined how deeply impacted by her loss I would be just four months later.

Seeing her at the party gave us a great chance to catch up.  Her advice is invaluable and the bond we share is difficult to explain.  It’s like she’s living my life only a few steps ahead and she can, in retrospect, warn me about what’s to come.  She’s the one who told me that some folks would not acknowledge our loss.  She’s the one who warned me about the misery that is PMS + grief.  She’s the one who told me that other books might help me, but it would be scripture that heals me.  I’m so sorry for her loss and so grateful for her experience.  We spent a good while talking about our Christmases and the jewelry we wear that keeps our babies close on a daily basis.  I think knowing that she’s such a blessing to me makes dealing with her loss just a tiny bit easier.  I hope so, at least.

I was also looking forward to seeing “Brettney.”  Brett and I go way back to Phaniels Baptist Church where I was his youth leader at the ripe age of 19 and he was a high schooler.  Courtney is the girlfriend we’ve been praying for since way back when.  I am proud of the man he’s become and grateful for the girl she is.  I’m also thankful for the friendship that is growing between the two of us.  Courtney is almost ten years younger than I am, comes off a tad shy, and only really knows me as a girl that loves her boyfriend.  That’s why when she broached the subject of Levi and our grief and listened intently to my candid responses, I was blown away.  She brought up my blog, asked about us trying to conceive again, and acknowledged the beauty of my relationship with Amber.  I cannot tell you how much that means to someone who is grieving.  Being given permission to talk for a minute about something that is always on your mind but is never comfortable conversation is such a relief.  I spent the whole ride home telling Skip how impressed I was with her willingness to step out of her comfort zone and do something many close friends have been unable to do.  We’ve been saying it for awhile but I’ll say it again, that girl is a keeper!

I really enjoyed myself at the party. I am beginning to genuinely enjoy social engagements and for that I’m also grateful.  I am still learning what it feels like to have fun in the midst of such deep sadness.  But, I am hoping practice like Friday night will make it easier.  And, I didn’t even have to give the 3 pat!

Training

Sunday, we had a mission emphasis service at Charity.  Our Life Group (which is pretty much my favorite hour of the week) had a guest speaker, a camp pastor from Virginia.  He started by asking if any of us had ever heard of Patrick Springs, Virginia.  Since I am a little slow on the draw lately, I totally missed that he had on a shirt with the camp’s name across it, and enthusiastically announced that I had gone to said camp when I was a little kid.  He spent the next 30 minutes showing pictures and telling stories of a place that was so very near to my heart as a child. 

I went away to camp for a week for the first time when I was seven years old.  I was one of the youngest campers and I just loved it.  I came home with camp songs stuck in my head, pen pals from all over, and a deeper love and understanding of my Savior.  I went back the next six years, once even after we’d moved from Eden to Kannapolis.  I don’t even think I can grasp or convey how profoundly those hot, summer weeks at camp impacted my life.  It was at camp that I learned about daily quiet times, a practice that I didn’t really get the hang of until college and don’t really have mastered these days.  It was at camp that I learned the importance of Godly role models and the impact even teenagers can have on a lost world.  It was at camp that I hid God’s Word in my heart.   Many camp experiences created a foundation for my faith.  A foundation that (I say with pride in Christ and not in me) has not been shaken. 

When I hear of people who have lost a child (or any loved one for that matter) who do not know my God, my heart breaks for them.  Aside from the assurance that my baby is in heaven and we will be together there one day, I take refuge in the knowledge that the God who made the universe cares for me.  His mercies are new every morning, and he has a plan for my life. 

That little stroll down memory lane really got me thinking about my “training” and how all those years ago at camp, God was preparing me. He used year in AWANA, Campus Crusade for Christ and Sunday School in college, Tuesday night Bible Study at Lucy and Mere’s, and my life group at Charity to ready me for the greatest tragedy of my life.  I’m grateful for the scriptures that friends and family often share with us, but I am especially grateful for the ones that come to mind as I am driving to school feeling swallowed up in sadness. I cherish that still, small voice that speaks truths to me when I’ve grown so weary of grieving.  I hope I never take it for granted.  I hope that when we get to parent living children, we will help them commit God’s word to memory to ready them for the storms of life.    

Train up a child in the way he should go, 

and when he is old he will not depart from it. 

Proverbs 22:6