Kiss Your Miracle

Snot, puke, and tears. That pretty much sums up our week – sickness. Sky is starting to get better now, but Micah’s at his worst so far. Even drinking his bottle is a struggle since he can’t breathe through his nose. Last night at 3am after he projectile-vomited the milk he’d just had (I think from gulping in too much air), he looked up at me with big, red-rimmed eyes as if to say, “What’s happening to me, Mommy?”

This morning I’m grateful my kids haven’t been sick much in their short, little lives. Good health isn’t something I want to take for granted, especially not in my family. I’m also thankful for Veggie Tales, Starbucks coffee, and the fact that today is almost over.

When Adam and I were dealing with infertility, Mother’s Day was difficult. I loved celebrating my wonderful mom, but it was hard to get around my own personal sadness.

Then I got pregnant and everything changed. Last year I celebrated Mother’s Day with our baby girl in my arms. When they handed out carnations at church, they gave one to me. I remember handing my little pink flower to nine-month-old Skylar, who immediately scrunched it up in her tiny hands, and as I watched her I let myself cry a bit. The whole day felt like a sigh of relief. God had given me what I’d asked of Him, what I’d always wanted, and it was good to take a day and dwell on it.

A year has gone by and in that time God has given us another baby – our sweet Micah Nathan. But hard things have happened this year too, and sometimes they get all my attention. Lately my thoughts have been weighed down by grief.

But today is Mother’s Day and once again I brought home a little pink carnation from church. It’s sitting in front of me now, reminding me of my answered prayers and filling me up with joy and gratitude. Sometimes there’s nothing better than to sit and think about the things God has done.

“I will consider all your works and meditate on all your mighty deeds.” – Psalm 77:12

One night last week Micah slept from 8:00pm until 6:30am without waking up at all. I ended up with eight consecutive, glorious hours of sleep, but told myself not to raise my expectations just yet since he might not give me another night like that for a little while. And for the next two nights he didn’t. But this week he’s slept a solid ten hours for the past five nights in a row. Since he’s not even three months old I feel vaguely guilty for this, like I’m experiencing something I shouldn’t get to have just yet. But mostly I’m just thankful. Sleep is wonderful.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about death. My dad’s death, Jill’s death, and even my own. I listened to a podcast last week by Francis Chan and can’t get it out of my head. His topic was Revelation 4, which describes the throne of God in heaven. Chan’s main point was that most of what we obsess over on earth will mean nothing to us on that day. All any of us will want in that moment is to hear Jesus speak the words “well done” over our lives.

I wonder about my dad and Jill, and what it was like for them when they opened their eyes and found themselves staring at the actual throne of God across the crystal sea. Were they thrilled? Relieved? Terrified? I have no idea and that makes me want to cry. I believe heaven will be wonderful, but none of it is familiar, so in that sense it’s intimidating. I don’t like that I can’t picture exactly what my dad is doing right now.

Life has a heaviness to it these days. Once the kids are asleep, my thoughts immediately go to my dad, my family, Jill, and her family. I’ve never felt grief like this and I wonder how long it will take for things to feel normal again or if they ever will. But the Bible says that the Lord is close to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18), and I know God is with me in the sadness.

He keeps blessing me, too. This past weekend was nice in so many small ways. The sunset on Friday was amazing. Adam and I had no plans at all and spent loads of time playing with the kids on the living room floor, watching Cubs games and the Kentucky Derby. On Saturday we got a new baby pool for Sky and she liked it so much we couldn’t get her out of it. Best of all, Micah laughed for the first time this weekend.

Little physical blessings don’t erase grief. But each one reminds me that God is good and loving and He has filled my life with wonderful things I didn’t earn and don’t deserve.

“Our days on earth are like grass; like wildflowers, we bloom and die. The wind blows, and we are gone – as though we had never been here. But the love of the Lord remains forever with those who fear Him.” – Psalm 103:15-17a

Lately I’ve become more aware of the things I say, mainly because my words often come back to me out of Sky’s mouth. The other night she was having a bath and I’d just finished washing her hair, one of her most dreaded activities. As she rubbed the water out of her eyes she said, “See Skylar? It’s not so bad!” Yesterday I was trying to make dinner while she fussed and whined and held onto my legs. “Calm down Skylar,” I told her. Suddenly she stopped and said to herself, “Take a deep breath.”

It’s great to watch Sky’s brain at work, taking in new words and trying them out for herself. It’s also a little scary to think about how closely she’s listening to everything we say. She makes me want to be more careful. And she makes me laugh a lot. Grief over my dad’s death has become much more intense lately. I’m not really sure why it’s hitting me so hard now, other than maybe the permanence of death takes time to absorb. I am so grateful for Micah and Sky, the energy they draw out of me, and the laughter they fill our house with every day.