Many of you may remember, a little over a year ago my asking for prayer for a young pregnant teen I called "T". It was my privilege to be her life coach/mentor/teacher during one of the most difficult times of her life. Today marks baby Lucie's first birthday. Today also marks the one year anniversary of her death. She only lived a few short hours because she was born with only one very small, shriveled kidney that wasn't functioning. I'm heading out to spend some time with "T" today. We'll be starting out by releasing balloons at her grave.
I thought I would repost what I wrote last year before the funeral as I was processing life's gifts.
I'd appreciate your prayers today. I love this girl. She continues to be one of life's defining moments in my life.
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In some ways life has flown by this week, and yet in other ways, life stood still. It's been a week of savoring both the sacredness and the sorrows of life. I've seen grace abound, yet I've also pleaded for more in the dark hours of grief, fumbling to make sense of how life and death come from the same Hand at nearly the same moment.
I've witnessed first hand an umbilical cord cut, ushering in new life; only to watch that life silently pass. Like a butterfly's dance in the wind, so has life been this week; a thing of beauty and grace, fluttering about and then suddenly it is no more.
The grace of God has trained this young woman and I for this moment. Forcing us to feel the burn of pain in order to benefit from the fruit of His grace both now and later. We knew life and death would come partnered together.
But it's hard.
It's hard to listen to a mother's sweet voice singing tender lullabies to her child and minutes later hear the guttural tones of a mother's heart being ripped from her chest.
I sat helpless by her side holding them both in my arms. Were the bitter tears I tasted my own or hers? I could not tell for they were mingled together.
"God, shower your grace upon us! Help us see You through this pelting storm!" My heart cried silently - I think. Maybe I whispered it aloud. Maybe that's why I tasted the salty, bitter tears.
I may have been the teacher, the mentor, the life coach through all of this, but He has taught me life lessons as well. Lessons I want to need to write down as reminders of these gifts He's given me this week, gifts cloaked in sadness and pain as well as some with great joy.
Processing Life's Gifts
When I look only for blessings through the conduit of happy times and prayers answered 'my way' as an assurance of His love, I'm limiting my experience of God. All things come to me through His hand. Dare I only select the tastiest seeds to dine on and ignore the seeds that don't taste as sweet? Are they not both meant for my good?
His gift to me is the full vocabulary of life's poetry and sometimes there are words and stanzas of sorrow and grief.
As I listened to this young mother's songs of lullabies and laments, I've realized His gift is all the music, even the discordant phrases and movements that are sometimes difficult and tragic. There is beauty to behold in His singing over me.
I can be as enthralled by life and it's stony and sometimes thorny paths as I can be with its sunshine and flowers.
The full measure of life's gifts include trials, the kind that change and transform me for His glory.
Those hard things that surround me can not destroy or harm me. Sometimes that hard place is actually God Himself standing up against what seeks to destroy my faith. He's my rock, my refuge, my fortress, a sheltering strong tower.
More than having life my way, He is what I want.
He is Life's Gift.
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