A Journey Beside my Jordan- Part 3

If you missed it...you can read Part 1 here.
And Part 2 here. 


"And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am." 

John 14:3

"Forgive me," I say to Him.  "My thoughts haven't been here lately. The world has been a kinder, gentler place.  For the first time in weeks, I heard the birds again and imagined the sky was blue again, and I didn't want to come here.  I knew You were going to show me painful things about You, about me, about my world You are changing.  For a moment, I wanted peace.  I wanted my aching muscles to heal from carrying burdens that we have been lifting together.  But something happened the other day, and I realized how much I missed You." 


He takes my hands in His.  


"There is pain buried so deep," I explain, "that sometimes it feels like it bubbles up and is going to swallow me whole.  I try to cover it with joyful things, hopeful thoughts, and busyness, preparing for the best, forgetting the worst.  And then- a word, a smell, photograph, a memory.  I can't erase them, I can't forget them.  They are there to remind me how human I am, how much I need You, how I need to rely on your strength, and not my own."  


He is so patient with my wandering heart.  "There is no shame in wanting to prepare for what is to come," He softly whispers. "But the purpose in preparing is not to cover up the past or to fill your mind with so much of the present that you forget Me.  Preparing is meant to fill you with hope- Hope that comes only from Me.  Please, let Me show you." 


We walk to the river bank where stones lay scattered.  They are stories and lessons waiting to be unearthed and shared.  He picks up a marbled yellow stone, dappled with creams and browns, and lifts it from a shallow puddle on the river's edge and places it in my open willing hands.  Years of letting the river flow over its speckled surface have worn away its rough edges.  It is smooth and round and firm and sure of itself.  


"Home," He says.  "Your home. Your home tells a story of My faithfulness, an earthly place I have prepared for you.  Will you tell me the story of your home?"  


I am thankful He wishes to start the day's lesson with a warm and happy memory.  


I sigh as I think of all the ways He has blessed me with my home- my old yellow farmhouse with wide pine floors and exposed brick chimney, that rests on twenty acres of land that is teeming with pine, oak, maple, and holly.  "There is no way I should be so blessed," I begin, "to have the home that I do.  It is my favorite place in the world, in the town I grew up in, on the street I grew up on, on the land that that my ancestors settled on hundreds of years ago.  We should have never been able to afford it, but You prepared a way for us to live here."  

"And how did you prepare your home for Me to live there?" He asks. 

 The question is a strange one, and I don't know if I understand it thoroughly, but I try to answer Him honestly.   "I remember a time when I distinctly and purposefully invited You to live here, in each room.  It was when we were preparing to become foster parents.  It was the first time since my babies went to live with You that I imagined my house could be filled with children one day.  I remember feeling so alone in this empty house that felt too big and wanting so badly to feel Your presence with me.  After so many children were taken away from this home, my desire was to create a place where children that were going to live here would feel how much I loved them, and how much You loved them.  So I walked in each room.  And as I walked, I talked with You."  

A growing smile slowly causes His lips to part and eyes to widen.  I can tell He remembers, but I continue talking because I can tell He is enjoying my memory of that day.  

"As I walked into the kitchen, I prayed that I would be a good cook- that I would prepare healthy, nutritious meals that would fuel us to do Your will.  I imagined little ones sitting on the counter, helping measure out sugar and dumping it into bowls, flour on cheeks, giggles, and sharing cookie dough on spoons....

I remember praying in the dining room and asking You to join us at our table each night, that our conversations around it  would be pleasing to You.  And I imagined asking about days at school, and loving to hear how excited my little ones would be as they learned new things....

I prayed in the living room that it would be a comfortable place to gather as a family.  That there would be lots of kisses and cuddles and games and laughter and blanket forts, and not a lot of television-watching there that would rob us of the time we would spend together....  

I remember praying as I walked up the stairs that you would protect my little ones as they learned to walk up and down them carefully....

I prayed in their bedroom that their sleep would be restful, that their dreams would be sweet.  I prayed that they would feel loved and secure and safe there.  I asked You to help me to teach them to pray there, how to thank You for their blessings, share their worries, and lay their burdens at Your feet....

I prayed that my bedroom that I shared with my sweet husband would be a sanctuary and place to enjoy our marriage in the fullness that You intended...

And I even prayed in my bathroom that You would help me use every opportunity, even when giving my little ones baths, to teach them that they are worthy of being treasured and honored and cared for."  

I walk towards our foundation, carrying my speckled yellow stone as I talk.  I lay it down gently, not wanting to damage the perfectly smooth surface.  "You heard me." I suddenly come to the realization the moment I lay it down.  "Everything I asked, You heard me.  You are there with me in that house, aren't you?"  

He nods, smiling.  "Every time you utter My name, I hear you.  And I'm with you.  In each room, in each new day, with every moment you share with the family I have given you.  Every time your home and heart seem empty, I am there.  It may not always feel like it, but I am there."  

He takes my shoulders in his hands, turning my gaze away from my stone and towards His face.  "But that's not what this stone is for. Your earthly home is a only a shadow of things to come.   If I took it away, My faithfulness would remain. The earthly possessions I give you now are only to teach you about the Hope I have stored for you.  Because, dear one, I am preparing a place for you Here the way you have prepared a place for your children There.  I walk and I talk with the Father, and I ask Him that all the places that you and I will walk together Here someday will show you the breadth and depth and fullness of the love I have for you.  You will not be disappointed.  I can't wait to show you."  I can tell His thoughts drift to a thousand different places.  He is imagining and preparing in His heart and mine for all the things He wants to show me.  

I smile now at the the thought of tomorrow.  I can prepare.  I can hope.  I can dream. Because He is already there now, waiting for me- behind me, next to me, before me... all at once.  

"But until that day comes," He says, His eyes narrowing towards a horizon filled with stones, "Let's keep stacking."    

A Journey Beside my Jordan- Part 2

You can read Part 1 of the story here.


"Again I saw something meaningless under the sun:
  There was a man all alone;
   he had neither son nor brother.
There was no end to his toil,
   yet his eyes were not content with his wealth.
“For whom am I toiling,” he asked,
   “and why am I depriving myself of enjoyment?”
This too is meaningless—
   a miserable business!
 Two are better than one,
   because they have a good return for their labor:  If either of them falls down,
   one can help the other up.
But pity anyone who falls
   and has no one to help them up. "



Ecclesiastes 3:7-10

"Let's take a walk," He says, pushing Himself off the mossy rock with His hands and then turning to me to gently guide me from sitting to standing.

"I thought we were going to add to our monument." I said, confused, as I brushed myself off.

"We are....but there is a particular stone that comes next, and it will require a little treasure hunt to find it.  I thought we could talk together as we walk." He says.  I can tell He is just as excited about our journey together as He is about reaching our destination.  He has things He wants to say, and things He needs me to hear.

"Back into the woods?" I whine once I realize the direction He is taking me.  "I want to be done with dark places."

He smiles at my lack of patience.  "It won't be so dark when I'm with you this time," He assures me.

As we walk, He is a step ahead of me, holding tree branches back and showing me the clearest path to take.  "I want to talk about that summer.  The summer after your third child came to live with Me."

"Uggh.."I moan as I avoid tripping over a stump after He points it out to me.  "Ok.  What do you want to hear?"

"I just want you to tell me about it.  Just what happened...what you were feeling, thinking, and all of the things that you did...."

"I thought You were there." I say, trying to make an excuse to skip over that part of my dark history.

"I was.  But you weren't exactly speaking to Me then.  I want to hear you talk about it now."  

"Ok."  I take a deep breath.  "After the second miscarriage in May, I was angry with You.  I thought you were ruining my life, like I had trusted You with everything, and you took everything away again.  So I thought I could just go on ahead without You and figure things out on my own.  So I tried getting pregnant again.  I just wanted to fix things myself.  And then you took that one away too."

"Were you angry with Me then?" He asks, with no tone of judgement in His voice.  

I feel my cheeks get flushed in embarrassment.  It all seems so silly and child-like now.  "No, I wasn't mad.  I was too numb to feel much of anything.  I was just curious as to why my body had rebelled against me.  I wanted to know why everyone else seemed to have no trouble starting a family and Justin and I did.  We deserved children more than anyone else."  I can't believe the honest words that I let escape my lips.  When the words were merely a monologue I let my brain mull over, they made perfect sense.  Now I feel so ashamed of how I let myself feel.

He senses my inhibition, and turns around to look at me.  "I'm glad you can tell me the truth.  I would rather hear you speak from your heart than words you think I want to hear.  I made your heart.  I love your heart.  I want to hear your heart."

I nod, as thankful tears stream down my cheeks.  "Alright."  I continue walking, looking down, watching closely where His feet step so I can follow closely. "So that's when I decided that I wanted to find out what may be wrong with me.  We went to the fertility specialist.  My older sister, Amy, had struggled with infertility and she encouraged me to go.  She told me all about the tests they would take."

"Were you nervous?"  He asks, as if He didn't already know the answer.

"Nervous about the tests....no.  The results...yes.  I think because Amy had gone through it before me, it didn't seem so daunting....  I remember being frustrated because it took forever to schedule the tests.  They had to go in a certain order, and one day we scheduled two tests, and then they told us we couldn't do both in the same day.  I was so frustrated.  I just wanted to get them over with."

"But the timing was everything..." He let the words escape His lips in a whisper.  "Sorry...we'll get to that later...go on, please.  We're almost there."

"So the third test was the worst when they had to inject me with this radioactive dye and watch it go through my body.  I felt so alone because Justin couldn't go with me into the room."  I let my mind go back to that dark room and imagined the look on the doctor's face when he saw what was wrong and was hesitant to tell me.  "Unicornuate uterus was the diagnosis- a genetic malformation that left me with only half of a normal-sized womb.  I remember nodding and accepting the news with an understanding that seemed strange to him.
'Have you heard of this condition before?  It's fairly rare.' he said.
'Yes, my older sister has it.' I told him.  I remember him looking intrigued.
'That's unheard of.' he said. 'Usually you don't even find two women who have the condition who know each other, let alone two siblings that share it.  I'm going to have to tell my colleagues about this one.  They're not going to believe it.'
I didn't feel honored to be an anomaly.  I felt like a freak."

He turns around to look at me, apologizing for interrupting.  "We're here." He says and points to a stone that looks oddly out of place for being in the woods.  "Please, keep talking."

I kneel down and try to lift the stone, but it is partially buried.  He kneels down beside me and helps me unearth the rock from it's resting place.  "So that I think was the darkest time for me, a time when I felt You were the furthest away.  Having a child seemed like such an impossibility for me then.  Not only had I lost three, they told me that there was only a forty percent chance that I could even carry a child to a viable term.  It all depended on how the egg was implanted.  I felt so crushed."

With a one-two-three heave, we lift the stone together, and I examine its unusual shape.  It looks as though it is two identical stones that are fused together, mirroring each other.  "This is the one You wanted us to find, right?" I ask, uncertain why we couldn't have just found one that was equally interesting by the river.                    

"Yes.  That's the one." He encourages.  "When you continue your story, you'll learn why it needed to be this rock.  I'm sorry I can not help you carry this one.  I need to walk ahead of you and show you the way back."

I  find that the stone is not so much heavy as it is cumbersome.  He shows me how I can use my hip to leverage the weight.  He is patient with me as he points out every stump and every tree root, and lifts every low-hanging branch that is in my way.  "Please, go on.  I just love to hear your side of the story."

I smile. "So it was mid-October.  I decided to get proactive about things.  I knew I had an empty home, and an amazing husband who You made to be someone's dad, and an open, bleeding wounded heart that was just aching for a child to love.  And I knew that there were children who needed a family to love them.  When the doctors had discovered Amy's condition, she felt the same way, and she and her husband decided to become foster parents with the hopes of adopting.  So, it seemed logical since I was in the same season of my life that she had been in, that I would reach the same conclusion.  She encouraged to start the process of getting licensed to be a fost-adopt mother."

The stone all of a sudden seems lighter, like the burden of its weight was somehow lifted from it.  He bends down and removes a briar from my path, and turns to look at me.  "Sometimes your story will be told along side of someone else's.  And that someone needs to be a step ahead of you, removing the obstacles, to show you where I want you to go."    

I feel a sense of guilt.  "Was it my fault my sister had to go through everything she did- having a genetic defect?  years of infertility?  adopting from the foster system?  Was it just so I would know what to do and that I wouldn't be so timid to walk where You wanted me to go?"

"That wasn't the only reason." He explains as He stops and turns to me. "But it was a part of it."  He looks at the stone in my hand, rubbing each side tenderly. "She learned lessons about Me going through her trials, just as you did.  And she ended up with the exact family I designed for her, as will you."

"Oh."  That was all I can think to say.  Suddenly my words don't seem that important anymore.  And then I let my thoughts escape into a verbal deluge, "But if I had just waited another three months, I would have been pregnant with Molly, and I wouldn't have even had to share her path anymore.  Why couldn't I have just trusted and waited?  Why did I need to even become a foster parent when You knew how much pain would result from it?  Why did you even have to show me I even had this genetic abnormality when I was about to have a healthy pregnancy?"

He is so patient.  "Because you fell down, and you needed someone to pick you up.  You weren't letting Me do that for you.  I had to send someone else.  Also, Amy wasn't always the one I called to lead as you shared parts of your journey.  When I opened Amy's womb to bear a child, she knew that you had walked the path of having this condition and it had still resulted in a healthy pregnancy.  You needed each other."

I can see the clearing ahead, the river bank, the foundation where I can lay this stone down.  We walk, side by side.  "Plus, it was all about timing." He continues to explain.  "I needed you to decide to become a foster parent in October, because at that moment I was preparing a very special life that I designed for you to love.  And I needed you to start your foster classes in December...but that story is for another stone."        
    
I lift the stone onto the foundation, eager to examine it in the light where the dark shadows of the forest can obscure it no longer.  It looks heart shaped now, almost an abstracted form of a womb, with the two mirrored sides attached at the base.

I look at Him, shaking my head, lips pursed, eyes squinted..."Two sides of a complete uterus, huh?  That's not funny." I say sarcastically.

He laughs.  "I thought you would get a kick out of that."

A Journey Beside my Jordan- Part 1

Joshua 4:1-6 (NKJV) And it came to pass, when all the people had completely crossed over the Jordan, that the Lord spoke to Joshua, saying: “Take for yourselves twelve men from the people, one man from every tribe, and command them, saying, ‘Take for yourselves twelve stones from here, out of the midst of the Jordan, from the place where the priests’ feet stood firm. You shall carry them over with you and leave them in the lodging place where you lodge tonight.’ ” Then Joshua called the twelve men whom he had appointed from the children of Israel, one man from every tribe; and Joshua said to them: “Cross over before the ark of the Lord your God into the midst of the Jordan, and each one of you take up a stone on his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the children of Israel, that this may be a sign among you when your children ask in time to come, saying, ‘What do these stones mean to you?’…21″When your children ask their fathers in time to come, saying, ‘What are these stones?’ 22 then you shall let your children know, saying, ‘Israel crossed over this Jordan on dry land’; 23 for the Lord your God dried up the waters of the Jordan before you until you had crossed over, as the Lord your God did to the Red Sea, which He dried up before us until we had crossed over, 24 that all the peoples of the earth may know the hand of the Lord, that it is mighty, that you may fear the Lord your God forever.”

Shrouded in darkness, muscles sore and aching, struggling to find a clearing in the dark woods that once seemed never ending, I finally can see Him.  A break in the trees and thick forest undergrowth allow me to make careful labored steps through the dead leaves and briars that cover my path.  We are now standing by our river together.  I can tell He is overjoyed to see me, anxious to speak, but too patient and loving to let His words be the first to whisper over the sound of the rush of the water stirring over the rocks in the river bank.    

"I am tired," I say. "I don't know what I am doing here, but I know I want to be where You are, and I know You have things You want to teach me.  But please, show me slowly.  I feel so weak."

Walking backwards, He takes me by my hands and leads me to a large rock, covered in a carpet of thick green spongy moss where I can sit and rest for just a few minutes.  He bends down in one graceful movement and removes my shoes and socks and then rolls up my pant legs.  He then takes my hand in His, and pushes my sleeve up to my elbow with His other hand.  He does this again with my other sleeve.  "He did not bring me here to rest," I think, disappointed, shoulders slumped in defeat.  "He brought me here to work.  I'm about to get dirty."

I am reassured by His presence that the work that is about to be done will not be easy, but it will be profitable.  He is capable and strong and promises that my burden will be light because He will carry most of it.  I am overcome with thankfulness when I think how precious our time will be together.

"What are we going to do here?" I ask Him.

"I am going to show you how I have been faithful." He says with kind, patient eyes.  "We are here to stack stones together to build a memorial for you and for generations to come that declares, 'God is good.  And that I am working all the details of your life for the purpose of allowing you to see Me more clearly.'"

A wave of excitement washes over my weariness and floods my muscles with a new found strength.  "Where do we begin?" I ask.  He points to the opposite side of river bank, where four partially exposed large shards of flat broken rock jet out of the mud.

"We are going to use these four rocks to build our foundation."  He says.

I step slowly into the water, and let the coolness lick my toes, then ankles, then calves, then knees.  I walk over to the water's edge on the other side of the river where the rocks seem as though they have found their final resting place.  They seem too large and too unwilling to be moved.  I wonder why He didn't choose stones that didn't require so much ambition.

"I want you to uncover them so you can see their worth." He says.

I use the palms of my hands to sweep away dead leaves and mud from the first one.  The stones have been there so long that tiny tree roots and moss have radiated all over the surface.  I use my fingers to dig into their growth and I rip them away.  After a few minutes, with dirt caked under my fingernails, I look at the first stone with a sense of proud achievement when I can finally see the surface.  Then I swallow hard in horror when I realize what these stones represent.

They are made of granite with a smooth and polished flat surface.  They are headstones, and they tell the story of four lives lost.  I feel the sting of hot tears building behind my eyes.  I try to blink them away, only to feel them slide down my cheeks and fall into the river below.  If my babies had lived long enough to have been born before they reached death, these would have been the rocks that would have been used to memorialize them.

I look at Him in disbelief.  "This is where we are starting?" I scoff. "With remembering death?  I thought we were going to examine Your goodness!"

"My definition of goodness and yours are so very different.  That's what I'm here to show you. Your children that live with Me now are the foundation of this story.  You could have never been ready to receive My fullest blessing if you were not emptied first.  Their lives were filled with meaning and purpose, and that's why you need to uncover them."

I realize that I was the reason that these stones were buried so deep into the mud and mire.  I had cast them away, wanting to bury the idea of them, to forget that they were a blessing because the hope of imagining their existence on earth hurt too much.

As I uncover the three remaining stones, I let my mind wander to the times when I was thankful for life growing inside of me.  Positive pregnancy tests.  Flickers of heartbeats on ultrasound monitors.  Shrieks of joy when sharing the news with loved ones.  Counting to the number nine as I flipped the pages of my calender.  "They are such sweet memories." I tell Him.  "You're right.  I should have never allowed them to get so cloudy and covered."

When I am just about to finish sweeping the remaining mud off of them, I hear the water splashing and feel it swirling behind me.  He is standing beside me, waiting to help me carry the stones to the place they are about to reside.  Without caring about his own comfort by trying to keep His clothes dry, He dips into the water below until He can rest the first stone upon His shoulder.  I watch as He stands effortlessly, and He treads slowly through the water to the opposite river bank.  I walk behind Him, my hand under the stone, knowing that I'm not really bearing any of the weight, but wanting Him to know I want to help Him.  Once we step onto the dry land, with a loud echoing thud, the stone is dropped and cements itself into the wet sand.

We walk back and forth three more times until the stones are placed where He originally created them to be.  In a celebration of finality and accomplishment, I kneel down beside our foundation.  The four stones fit perfectly together like puzzle pieces, and I trace their edges with my finger, pretending to glue them together with the mud that still clings to them.

"I'm a little sad," I tell Him."I'm sad that my babies were never memorialized properly.  There are no names or dates or dashes between the day there were here and the day they were gone."  With my index finger, I draw the letters "M-A-G-G-I-E" into the second stone representing the daughter we knew we had lost.  "I'm sad that no one will know they were here."

I find myself wishing that the stones were prettier.  The lives that they represent are so precious to me, but no matter how hard I try wiping the stones clean with my hands and sleeves, the dirt from the river still clings to them.  In defeat, I place the palm of my hand on the first stone.  "December 2007" I speak out loud and let Him know I remember my first baby.  "Maggie: May 2008" I say as I place my hand on the second.  I hear Him whisper behind me. "April...She came to Me in April.  I wanted you to still have Mother's Day with her."  I nod, remembering the sweetness of my first Mother's Day, the day before we watched the ultrasound show her life had been swept away weeks earlier. "July 2008." and "December 2008,"  I speak as I touch the last remaining two.  I miss them, and now these dirty rocks without any words engraved in them are the only proof that they were here.    

"I wished they could have at least been born," I tell Him.

He kneels beside me, hands on my shoulders, meeting me where I am, and weeps with me as a weep.  I feel as though He is not weeping for the four lives that were lost, but for me- for me not being able to see and understand what He wants me to.

"Can you show me what You see when you look at these stones?" I plead.  I think He has been waiting for me to ask.

He goes to the edge of the river and picks up a large clay jug.  He dips it into the cool water, filling it to the brim.  He walks over to our foundation, raises the jug above it and pours the water over it, saturating the stones.  The water fills every crack, washing away all of the remains of Earth.  I can see the rocks clearly now; the stones aren't merely granite slabs.  When I look closely at the first stone, I see bits of blue topaz sparkling all over the surface.  And the second- diamonds, the third- rubies, and the fourth- blue topaz.

"What are these?" I ask.

"Birth stones." He says, smiling.

In a wave of enlightenment, I feel my heart overflow with thankfulness.  "These babies were born." I say with enthusiasm "...Straight into heaven.  You made them all into a miracle, transforming them from perishable to imperishable.  They knew no pain or loss or the sting or sadness of death.  They knew me...and then they knew You.  The stones don't need words or letters or dates to point others to their lives.  Instead, their lives point others to You."    

I am satisfied with the stones used to represent their four lives.  They are now beautiful and meaningful.  They represent death swallowed up in victory.  They are created for what they were always meant to be- testimonies of the Goodness of God.

"Is this what you mean when You said You are going to show me Your goodness?....How all of the things that have happened were meant to bring You glory?"  I ask.

He nods, smiling.  I look around at the river bank that is covered in stones, each a story waiting to be picked up, told, and stacked on top of this foundation.

"Can we stack a few more?" I ask, no longer feeling weary.

"Not yet," He says.  "You need time to grieve, to understand, and then to celebrate."

With arms folded in front of me, I walk over to the large mossy green rock and sit down so I can take a look at and admire the foundation we laid.  I am beaming with pride and accomplishment. He sits next to me, His arm squeezes my shoulders together.

"Well done," He says.

With wide eyes and eyebrows raised, I look at Him in disbelief, "I'm pretty sure You did everything."

He smiles and chuckles. "Now we're getting somewhere."