I Made It. . . Almost

I can't believe I made it through a Monday without any tears. Most Monday mornings I sit on the couch for an hour or so, before I begin my day. My boys take FOREVER to finish a meal, so I'm allotted this time if I can ignore the singing, talking, and goofing off they are doing. During this Monday morning ritual, I usually find myself caught up in my memories of the day Felicity was born and died. I know she died before birth, but it still seems weird to me to write that she died and then was born, especially since we didn't know she had died. Needless to say, it was the most traumatic day of my life and sometimes when I think back on it, I feel like it was somebody else, because I just can't believe I could have survived that day. Some things that I said and did that day I now realize happened because I was in shock. There's no other explanation.

Rather than this morning, last night was my time to filter through my emotions and memories. I stayed up after everyone else was in bed (happens more often than it should, but Paul goes to bed usually around 8pm since he has to get up so early). I wrote in my journal, which is something I've been faithfully doing (not everyday, mind you), for the last 11.5 years! I'm hoping to look back in my journals in a few years and see how much life has improved since Felicity's death. I journaled during my divorce, and when I look back now, I'm just in awe at what God did in my life. Hopefully I'll be able to say the same thing about Felicity's death someday.

I've blogged a lot about how I believe God is sovereign in all things, but I sometimes wonder if people understand what that means. It took me awhile to understand the term myself and to wrap my mind around the complexities of what it means. Being sovereign means God is in control. He allows everything to happen. He can heal people, but he can also allow them to become ill. He can protect some people from a natural disaster (Act of God) and allow others to be killed. While we live in a fallen world because of sin, and Satan is moving about on this earth, all things (good and bad) happen because God allows it. Many people will disagree with me, but to say anything other than that God is ultimately in control is to subtract from His very nature.

So what I'm saying is that God allowed Felicity to die. While I hate that she's gone, I accept this fact. It's hard for me to put into words where I'm going with all this. I'm reading Holding on to Hope by Nancy Guthrie which is a great little book that is good reading for any person who's encountered suffering. She writes,

If God has allowed suffering into your life, it is for a purpose. A good purpose. A holy purpose. The world tells us to run from suffering, to avoid it at all costs, to cry out to heaven to take it away. Few of us would choose to suffer. Yet when we know that God has allowed suffering into our lives for a purpose, we can embrace it instead of running from it, and we can seek God in the midst of suffering. Accepting suffering drives us deeper in our devotion. . . . Surely if God would require such intense suffering of his own Son whom he loved to accomplish a holy purpose, he has a purpose for your pain and my pain. And perhaps part of that purpose is to learn obedience from what we suffer. Why has God allowed so much suffering in your life? Ultimately the purpose is not to disfigure you for life but to mold you into a person who thinks and acts and looks like Christ."

So in my few quiet moments I'm trying to reflect on how God wants to mold me. This may involve changing certain behaviors or habits, as well as changing my attitude. I'm trying to be more aware of things that displease God. I have a LONG way to go. But I know that I don't want to become bitter because of Felicity's death. Rather I want to draw closer to God.

90 minutes later . . . Okay, so I didn't make it. I just got off the phone with my new friend, Jennifer, who's also a grieving mom. She lost her son, Isaiah, in August. While talking with her, the tears flowed, but in a healing way. There's so much comfort in talking with someone who knows, someone who gets it, someone who doesn't question the way you're feeling. Thanks Jennifer!