Hoping in Christ.

I woke up this morning, and lay in bed feeling so tired. A year ago we found out that our son had passed away at 19 weeks and 4 days. They, whoever they are, tell you that with time the pain becomes more manageable and it is true. Over the last year I had come to some acceptance of the loss, some understanding that Christ was working in a mysterious way in my life through this event that took place. And so I was quite shocked by my own reaction to my memories. I felt like if I opened my mouth a heart curdling scream would come out, but it didn't happen. Just a sigh escaped. It seemed more acceptable anyway. That wouldn't be a nice way to wake my husband.

Through everything I've tried to really cling to Christ. Mostly because I know I am a pathetic person, and my gut reactions to things aren't always perhaps the best way to handle things. I like to throw all those inappropriate and pathetic things at the feet of Christ...because He made me, and loves me, and accepts me despite it all. He's been my promise of better things hoped for. I was thinking about how selfish I am in hoping in the promise of Heaven, in particular because I really want to someday know my unborn son and hold him in my arms again. It's very selfish. I keep trying to justify it by remarking to myself that Heaven is the fulfillment of all our hopes and dreams, and so He couldn't forget about this one in particular. I have other hopes for Heaven as well; eternal happiness, freedom from pain and sickness, seeing the face of God, experiencing complete contentment, lack of laundry and dirty dishes.

Before we came home from Northern California I insisted that we stop at the cemetery so that I could change out the flowers at his grave. I still feel like I need to check on him, even though he's not there. The thought never crossed my mind that I might not be able to do it once I got there. I could hardly even look towards it. We left after only a few moments because I just couldn't stop crying. It never crossed my mind that it would all come back so fresh. Those darn silent screams were right there under the surface again. I just can't help wondering if that will ever go away.

Shortly after I had recovered from the labor and delivery last year I went out to the ocean to be alone, and even there I felt like maybe if I just opened my mouth and let them out that it would be ok. But I opened my mouth and nothing came out then either. It's very mysterious, that pain. So I keep throwing them, those screams, at Christ's feet hoping in Him and hoping in his ability to heal me.

We'll be spending the weekend being super duper busy. Saturday I know will be particularly hard because it was the day I delivered. We're going to go bowling, and miniature golfing, and put up the Christmas tree. Hope, hope, hope. Christ is my hope.