Friday, January 28, 2011

Comfort (Warning: VERY long post ahead)

It isn't unusual for babies and small children to have some kind of security blanket or comforting friend.  I mean, even my 20 year old brother still sleeps with Blank, and I'm pretty sure he's not embarrassed to admit it. I'll admit that I have a teddy I sleep with, gifted to me by my husband as the first birthday gift of our relationship.

As with all things, no two kids are ever the same in the way they need comforting. My daughter, AM, is three now (be still my heart). When she was only a few months old, someone gifted her a very soft & fuzzy white blanket - only about 12 inches square - that had a small angel tucked into a pair of wings. The angel was quickly abandoned, but that blanket has stayed. "Fuzzy", as he is affectionately called (yes, he), could be found stuffed under AM's nose, and is usually a dull gray color between washings. I'd post a picture, but it'd probably gross you out. My very thoughtful mother-in-law even saved us by buying 2 more of the exact same blanket to use as backups (we quickly stopped bringing him into stores for safety reasons). Of course now all 3 are often needed, though we can usually manage to convince her that one will suffice. Car trips, nap & bed time and general being around the house are all occasions to need Fuzzy within reach. When it came time to send AM to preschool, we were able to convince her that Fuzzy would keep her car seat safe and warm while she went to play. I'll be honest, I was a bit worried.

EF has never had any one toy or blanket he felt particularly drawn to as a source of comfort. I think AM's devotion is enough for all. Though, bless her sweet heart, if EF is feeling blue, AM will offer up a Fuzzy to him. You have no idea the level of sacrifice this entails. This simple act of empathy always make my heart grow 20 sizes as it swells with pride and joy. What else can fill a mother's heart as she sees such displays between her children?

Those simple acts remind me so clearly that God uses humble and seemingly foolish acts to demonstrate his own qualities. If my daughter is able to find comfort in a blanket, and then share that comfort with her little brother, how much more will the God of all things lavish his comfort on my own troubled spirit?

2010 was a year when I needed God's comfort in a profound and extreme way. Few people know that before Ainsley, Dan and I were expecting another child. It was with joy we found ourselves "in the family way" just about a month and a half after getting married. And it was with a very heavy heart that we celebrated our first Christmas as a couple, no longer looking toward a baby in our future. The first few months I spent here were lonely - new state, new apartment, no job, no car - and then were filled with the grief of losing my child. I thought I could never feel so devastated again. I was wrong.

In July, Dan and I discovered I was pregnant again. We were nervous - 3 kids ages three and under left us thinking that life was about to get extraordinarily overwhelming - but so joyful. Children are always a blessing and we knew that the Lord was able to give us beyond all that we'd need. Little did we know that once again we'd have to walk the dark road of grief. And let me be honest here - you may think going through something you've gone through before makes you prepared to handle it. You'd be wrong. In fact, this time around, it seemed things were harder, the grief heavier. I'd say it's because we knew the joy of children, and were somehow more aware of all the potential joy now taken away. I'd say it's because you think after going through two healthy and relatively easy pregnancies (as if any pregnancy could be called easy! HA!), you think you're safe, protected. (Obviously that's just not true, but it doesn't stop you from believing it anyway.) I'd say it's because this has been a time when most of my friends have announced their own expected bundles of joy. Now, let me make this very, very clear: I am so insanely happy for the friends of mine who are about to become parents (whether for the first or second or third or... you name it... time), but it also breaks my heart a little bit. With every announcement (and I counted at least 2 dozen among my Facebook friends within a few months), I felt reminded that I was no longer on the list. With every status update about sleepless nights, weird cravings, contractions, milestones and ultrasounds, I felt the painful stab of knowing that I wasn't experiencing the same thing. 

I needed God's comfort. I needed it bad. I was getting so depressed, it was beginning to play out in my life. I would find myself snapping at AM and EF as it insidiously eroded away my patience. My head was saying, "Snap out of it. You know God loves you. You know He plans all things and is wiser than you'll ever be. It's not their fault, stop taking it out on them", but my heart was just crying out and seeking ways to make others as miserable as myself. I spent nights unable to sleep, tossing and turning with the thoughts of my children I would never hold. I sought consolation among friends who have experienced miscarriages, or who knew me through other terrible moments in my life. And, as one friend shared, "It's like carrying a 500 lb stone for the rest of your life. It's not that the stone gets lighter, it's that you get stronger."

In effect, I was trying to make myself unavailable to the comfort and grace God wanted to lavish upon me. I would shake my minuscule fists and scream, "I'm angry. I'm hurt. You have taken away such joy. I don't trust you to give me anymore." And most people would stop there, nursing the anger and frustration until there was such a wall built up that it seemed impenetrable. What foolishness. God can do all things, and he promises to give us comfort. It took a long time, the prayers of many and immersing myself in the promises laid out in places like the Psalms, Lamentations and even the New Testament. 

Why should we ever seek comfort anywhere else? 

Lamentations 3
18 So I say, “My splendor is gone
   and all that I had hoped from the LORD.”
 19 I remember my affliction and my wandering,
   the bitterness and the gall.
20 I well remember them,
   and my soul is downcast within me.
21 Yet this I call to mind
   and therefore I have hope:

 22 Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed,
   for his compassions never fail.
23 They are new every morning;
   great is your faithfulness.
24 I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion;
   therefore I will wait for him.”

 25 The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,
   to the one who seeks him;
26 it is good to wait quietly
   for the salvation of the LORD.
27 It is good for a man to bear the yoke
   while he is young.

 28 Let him sit alone in silence,
   for the LORD has laid it on him.
29 Let him bury his face in the dust—
   there may yet be hope.
30 Let him offer his cheek to one who would strike him,
   and let him be filled with disgrace.

 31 For no one is cast off
   by the Lord forever.
32 Though he brings grief, he will show compassion,
   so great is his unfailing love.
33 For he does not willingly bring affliction
   or grief to anyone. 

And so while I would gladly welcome a new bundle any time now, I can honestly say that I am finally feeling that comfort. I'm no longer devastated when I read all those Facebook statuses. And I can never thank the Lord enough for opening my eyes to the grace that has been there all the time. (and those who have been lifting me up before the Father)


  1. I am so sorry for your losses, but it seems that your heart is in the right place, and you've followed the right path to get it there. Even though motherhood is totally not on the horizon for me, this was a very lovely thing to read.

  2. You know Bekea...I just read this (April 22). I'm SO sorry I didn't know. I love you. Every word you wrote is true. It's a very private loss and a private grief. HUGS. Debbie

  3. *hugs* I'll be praying for you, please pray for me too.