Isaac's "Should Have Been" 1 Year Birthday

Our Isaac's due date was November 7th, 2013. I usually carry our babes a good 8 or 9 days past their "due" dates. So-- sometime in the next few days, we would have been celebrating his 1st birthday. Especially today, I've tried to take an honest look at where my heart is in the grieving process, and the resounding thought that comes to mind is this: even in the darkest of days, we have not been without HOPE!  I know I've written about hope so many times, but it's a theme worth noting. Because really? Hope keeps us moving forward with anticipation for what is to come.

Fourteen months ago, HOPE meant one day we would see Isaac again. That Truth coursed so deeply through me that there were many times I'd just shake my head and think, "I should be way worse off than I am. I am hurting so deeply, crying- weeping!- a primal sort of wailing (as a dear sister, Jessica Aviles so aptly worded it), that I ought to be out in our woods burying myself under a pile of straw and leaves never to come out of the hole!" And yet, even in those worst of days, the Hope that we have because of what Christ accomplished for us on the cross has ruled and reigned in my heart in a profound way.

I came across a poem that I wrote last year on November 7th as Steve and I spent the afternoon out at Isaac's grave to pray and reflect. I intended to add more to it, but I never did. Maybe it's just how it was supposed to be:

In the crisp fall winds,

Surrounded by serenity and Grace.

All life around me proclaims,

A God worthy of my praise.

Confidently, I will declare, LORD: You are GOOD!

I cry out to you, oh LORD,

Soulful aching deep.

All I know is Isaac's gone,

Abiding. He in Your arms, I in Your grace.

Confidently, I will declare, LORD: You are GOOD!

HOPE-- it's what keeps us moving forward! Today, HOPE looks different. Not less. More. To be really honest, I am in awe of our God who comes so near to His creation (rebellious as we are!). A God who redeems and restores and brings beauty out of the ashes. "To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the LORD has planted for his own glory.Isaiah 61:3 A God who pours out HOPE in abundance, such that this mommy's heart~ almost crushed beneath the weight of holding my stillborn son~ is being filled with joy. I can look back and say I am thankful for the the painful journey, because a grand deepening has happened in my heart. In the past, I honestly wasn't too able to relate to people who had suffered. I can no longer say that, and for that-- I am thankful. Sometimes, fires chisel us into something-- someone- more beautiful than before. The scars we carry are just that-- scars. But they're healed scars if we allow the Healer to do His work in us. They're marks of the hard things that have shaped us paired beautifully with the healing that Christ brings. So today? HOPE. It's even deeper than I knew it to be 14 months ago. I am living Isaiah 61:3 these days. Because now, not only do I have HOPE to see Isaac again one day. But I have the HOPE of meeting my sweet little girl who the Lord promised to us almost 7 years ago.

I am ok! Really-- I am good, friends! THANK YOU for praying for me. The journey of walking with the One who holds Isaac AND Steve, Ian, Tyler, Matthew, baby girl, AND me in His hands is the greatest adventure of all.

So tonight, sweet Isaac, know that we love you, and know that we are OK! One day we're going to have a grand birthday party of parties!!!

Confidently, I will declare, LORD: You are GOOD!

Baby, Baby!

Sweet Little One,

My child-- my fifth! You who are here because your big brother went to heaven way too soon. You who I've longed for, knowing that holding you would bring healing to my empty arms. No, not because you are the healer, but because the Healer uses His creation to rub close-- skin-close, womb-close-- and bring healing. You should know that you are loved and you are longed-for. You are treasured, and you're only the size of an avocado!

I have been praying peace over you, sweet baby--- that you, my little one, would one day be a powerful force of peace-- shalom-- in this world that desperately needs peace. Because the most powerful is most often the most different from what we might expect... a Carpenter. A Servant. A Washer of Feet. A Nazarene Rescuer. So may the peace that your life announces be powerful, because you are made in the image of the One who took on all of the world's "ugly" power to announce powerfully different news- the Kingdom! A Kingdom of Peace. Joy. Hope. Healing. Redemption. Restoration. From your tiniest of days, may you know, sweet baby, the Giver of Peace. May His peace rest heavily in and upon you, and may that peace radiate onto others like a thick, fluffy, warm blanket in winter!

Today, I am so excited! In just a few more hours, we'll (hopefully) get to discover whether you are a boy or a girl. Perspective changes things. So today-- I am excited either way, because I get to know you a little bit more!

You are a gift and a treasure, my child! Can't wait to call you by name one of these days soon!

Love you to the moon and back,
Mommy

In Memory of Isaac Joseph Wilson

Thank you so much, Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, for sending Krystina Stuart with How Beautiful Photography to spend her Labor Day morning with us last year. These pictures are a treasure to us. Thanks for making the video, too, Krystina.

Deep Waters

Twelve years ago, Steve and I "spent" five years' worth of slowly-collected skymiles to fly down to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico to celebrate 5 years of marriage. For our honeymoon, we'd stayed in a humble little old cabin in the Rocky Mountains (Getting married at 22 years of age after just graduating from college didn't give us a lot of "play money," but we were married!!!), so we were pretty excited to have landed a snazzy trip down to a

fancy resort-- for a really good deal! Though it was an anniversary trip, we weren't quite ready to leave the newest member of our family home. So, we had a cute little blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy in tow, and you better believe he was an adored little man at Rancho Banderas for the week!

One day, we decided to take a boat ride out to Islas Marietas off the coast of Banderas Bay. It seemed like a perfectly good idea. Snorkeling in the beautiful waters bordering a tiny island. A small fishing boat, a skilled young boat driver, and a 5 mile ride out into the ocean. With our 11 month old baby boy. And a lot of waves. On a tiny fishing boat. FLYING over said waves. And no baby-sized life jackets. What seemed to be an extremely

This was before the ride began!

adventurous and fun excursion quickly turned into one of the most terrifying stretches of time in my life! I squeezed Ian in my arms as we lurched back and forth over the waves--trying as hard as I could not to imagine the "what-if's" of little Ian flying out of my arms and sinking into the depths! By the time we made it out to the island, the driver couldn't actually pull onto shore (he didn't have rights to the beach area), so he just kept the boat floating in the deep waves. We were to just jump out of the boat and snorkel around. Steve and I took turns, but I was already so stressed and nauseous that I couldn't even get my breathing calmed down enough to take much of a peek around beneath the dividing line of oxygen and H2O. I pulled myself back into the boat and grabbed onto Ian once again, praying we could just be back to shore.

Obviously, Steve, Ian, and I all survived to tell the story!  It is a story that still sends shivers through my body when I think about it!

I find myself riding on some pretty deep waters once again. This time, the waters look a lot different though. They are waters that surround a new life growing inside of me! Yes! I. Am. Pregnant. Again!

I knew since the week after I birthed Isaac's still body last September 1st that I just couldn't end pregnancy, childbirth, and "baby-land" that way. I knew I really wanted to be pregnant again, but there was no hurry for that. I've been on a journey into the depths this year, and as difficult as the journey has been, it's a journey for which I am so thankful. (More on that in another blog one day!) I have in no way wanted to rush toward a "solution" for my aching in order to somehow avoid the deep wrestlings of my soul. I knew that grieving well was (and will be, I suspect, for the rest of my life) super important. A lot happens between the fall and the springtime in the dormancy and life of a seed, right? A transformation happens, and the Lord assured me that the dormancy was a really good thing for me.

Remember the cocoon I wrote about? I feel like that cocoon is cracking open slowly but surely. Actually, in the springtime, I began feeling that I was starting to see the light once again-- albeit through a tiny crack in the edge of my figurative cocoon. In May, the Lord carried Steve and me through a hard little season of wrestling through what was to be next in terms of our family. Then, in June, we had a really, really fun (and I might add~ productive!) time celebrating Steve's graduation from Fuller Seminary out in Pasadena, California. On June 27th, we found out that we're expecting again! I'm no spring chicken, so it's a gift that I got pregnant in 1 month's time! We were a bit shocked and excited all in one! The day after we found out, the Lord woke me up with this scripture:

 [He] satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's. Psalm 103:5

 It's hard to put into words the immense pain of birthing a stillborn child unless you're a mom who has walked this hard journey. Likewise, it's hard to express the array of emotions surrounding carrying another child after walking through such deep loss. Excitement. Sheer awe of the privilege of carrying another child. Tears just thinking about hearing this baby's newborn cry for the first time. And let's just be honest. Down-right FEAR. So the verse above? It's a verse I keep going back to as the tumultuous waves of fear like to rear their ugly peaks in my heart and mind sometimes. Yes, He satisfies our desires with good things so that our youth is renewed like the eagle's. The first half-- yes, Lord. And the second half of that? I've often felt like a crippled, old, wrinkled lady through my months of grief, and He's reminding me that He is renewing my youth!

A friend of a friend of mine has a beautiful blog, and she's expressed so much of what I've thought and felt (I hope this is ok with you, Kate who I've never met!). One day her blog was titled, "When My Fear Encounters My God." In it, she writes, 

"But what happens when the thing you fear is not irrational but rational? What happens when the thing you fear has happened before and there is no calculated or determined reason why, therefore no way to prevent it from happening again... like the death of a baby." She goes on to say, "The answer for me, right now, today, is that I can face my fears with confidence because I already know the end of the story. I already know that victory and rescue are waiting. Love is waiting. Hope is waiting. The light that no amount of darkness can penetrate is a lantern in every opaque night ahead of me. The goal is not "do not fear," but rather, face this present fear with courage, hope and trust in the 100% totality of Jesus and let the peace of Christ transcend all my human understanding. One of two realities will always be true.... Jesus will either extinguish my fear or hold me in the storm, and in both cases, my chant is clear, my confidence is singular... He has overcome! Peace is not a feeling. It is a reality you come to know when trembling in the arms of the One who is Peace. Peace is a person."

Of course, multiple times in the Word, we are told, "Do not fear." But I think that's because fear is a logical consequence of the brokenness in which we live. God knows this, and He continually reassures us that He is WITH us. I read a book by Sheila Walsh called Extraordinary Faith 10 years ago. I really resonated with her definition of faith. She said something to the effect of, "Faith is my soul's unswerving gaze on Christ no matter what the circumstance." It made so much more sense to me than the often-times "name it claim it" theology of faith that tends to float around our American culture. It's resonated a lot with me this year, and it resonates deeply now because what I really KNOW is that Jesus is truly, deeply, and intimately WITH me. No matter what. Jesus is worthy of my soul's unswerving gaze.

The Lord placed a rainbow in the sky directly out our hospital window the morning after Isaac was born. We're holding onto His goodness and His promise and asking that this our 5th child would be a healthy, strong little one who is full of the peace of God- so much so that he/she will just announce peace with his/her presence. (That might sound wierd? But it's what the Lord has had me praying over this little one!)

What I know deep in my bones is that no matter what, He. Is. With. Us. And He is near.
Thank you Jesus for this new little gift!

Coming around March 7th, 2015!!!

     

We found out while we were at the beach with my family, so here's how we revealed the news to mom and dad! We made a pregnant sand lady. HA!

Deserts Will Bloom

I'd like to start this post by letting you all know how deeply grateful I am for you, my friends, my readers, my prayer warriors. When I DO write, it's because I know that writing forces me to seriously wrestle with what's going on deep inside of me and to put words or pictures to those deep places. It's helpful for me because so much of the time I'm just plain busy. And I think that all of the rumblings in my brain will somehow magically just stay there in my "endless" memory bank. Ha! If you've ever been on your own journey of grief, you might have experienced something similar; I feel like I've lost half my brain since Isaac went to heaven. (My memory is something I pray that Jesus will restore, because it really IS extremely fuzzy at times.) Anyway, please know I am incredibly thankful for you!

And apparently, this post was going to be about deserts blooming, but I never finished it after starting it in June or July sometime. I guess what I really needed to say was THANK YOU. I'll be writing again soon. :-)

When You're Alone, You're Really NOT Alone

Today, I ventured out to Honey Creek Woodlands Natural Burial Grounds on my own for the first time. It's Isaac's 8 month birthday today, and it was so good to go out to such a peaceful place to write, cry, pray, and reflect. Here's my afternoon in pictures. After all, they tell a thousand words.

"I am with you always..." Matt. 28:20

Missing Isaac

Missing this little guy a lot tonight...

...wondering what he looks like by now. He should be almost 6 months old had he had a chance to live here on earth this side of heaven. But then, I guess he's actually 6 months young now! No more "old!" in heaven! Here are some pics of the other boys at 6 months:

Ian's too old to have digital pictures readily available from 6 months old. :-)

 Here's Tyler (6 months) and Ian (2 1/2)

And Matthew (6 months)

 I often wonder what Isaac will grow to look like. I've always imagined him having Tyler's brown skin, Wilson-blue eyes, and Matthew's curls, but brown-haired. I bet his great-grandparents are having a blast with him!

Thanks for indulging me; just keeping it real tonight (not that I don't always try to do so). We're missing watching him laugh and play and be entertained by his amazing big brothers. I was so excited to watch them all together.

As always, I'm so thankful for the HOPE that we have because of Christ.

Love you, Isaac Joseph!

A Crusty Cocoon, Bitter Herbs, and Hope

If I were an artist, I'd create a massive mural of all of the different images that have been so poignantly descriptive of my journey over the last 7 1/2 months. Actually, the months extend long before the gut-wrenching Day. The images began a good 16 months ago. One day, I'll share them all, but we'll stick with the now for now. :-)

The cocoon- a crusty one. It's a word picture descriptive of my interior right now. Yes- crusty. And cocooned. It's an ugly picture, but it isn't without hope.

Last night, our family sat together to remember the Passover. The years of suffering. The bitter pill that the Israelites had to swallow in their captivity. The blood of the lamb marking them as the LORD's, and His rescue of His people. And then~ the ultimate blood of The Lamb that marks us and redeems us as His. We had a joyful, crazy, Jewish-dance(attempt!)-filled, occasional meltdown-filled (since it was 9 o clock when we finally began after soccer practice!) time

together. In my mind's eye, I imagine this sacred tradition being very solemn, somber, sacred, and somewhat intense. We got the intense. With 3 boys, we get a lot of intense around here! But then, isn't the sacred simply the presence of God? Emmanuel. And it's just like God to meet us in the messy- even when it looks like yelling boys and tired tears from a 7 year old who just wants to light a few more candles and a mom nervously reminding, 'please don't break the crystal'  when really, we are remembering The Lamb of God being completely broken for us. It's there that He meets us. Right. In. Our Mess. He's so unlike us. I want to run from the mess, but He. He comes into it and transforms us amidst it.

So we're following this printed liturgy, and we get to the part about the parsley. I don't know if it's because we used a different liturgy this go-round or if it's that I arrived at the table with new glasses this year. But these words- they jumped out at me: "The parsley symbolizes the growth of springtime and is a sign of hope

and renewal." Huh? This paradox: bitterness and renewal. Though bitter, parsley is green with life, and it is a sign of spring. A sign of hope. A sign of renewal. We eat it remembering the bitter enslavement of God's people that would eventually end. We eat it remembering that it's our own rebellion that has enslaved us, and we are pierced with the Truth that Jesus took on the bitterness of the whole world so that through sacrificing Himself, the only Way to be truly free would be freely available to us. Hope in the bitterness. Beauty in the brokenness. Or maybe beauty through the brokenness? The cross wasn't the dead end. It was just the beginning. The brokenness yielded full redemption and LIFE!

The bitter parsley reminds me of my own cocoon. Both are pregnant with paradox. These seven months have been a season of deep bitterness. I don't mean that my heart has been bitter, but that my Isaac's too-soon-for-my-liking heaven-going has been a deeply bitter pill for me to swallow. But this cocoon of late-- it's a hard place in which to wait. Because that's what it is-- a season of waiting, not knowing exactly for what I'm waiting. Learning to be ok with the wait, knowing that Jesus will birth something (hopefully it'll look more like a butterfly than a moth! ha!) out of my cocooned brokenness, because that's just the kind of God that I follow. This is the hope that Jesus gives me. "This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for [my] soul." Heb. 6:19

What's the wait in which you find yourself? Are you willing to settle into it knowing that the "cocoon" truly is where transformation happens?