June 30, 2002

random thoughts...

My brother and sister-in-law (Dicky and Betsy) just had a baby boy! Luke Barlow. I'm so excited for them. (I'm excited for me) I'm excited that they are experiencing the wonder of new life. I remember when all of my children were born. Everything was new. The lack of sleep was difficult but what a great reason to not sleep. I remember when Graci was a baby, it was doubly exciting since she was a girl. All three boys were soooo excited about having a girl in the house. Every morning they would run into our bedroom to see if it was still true "we really do have a baby girl in the house." "Oh Mommy, I can't believe we have pink stuff in our house." "Yeah, and maybe someday we'll have a 'barbie' in the house too." Every morning was like Christmas in our house, I loved it... I loved the feeling I had when I woke up and realized it was true, the dream was true. I do have three incredible little boys and now a beautiful baby girl.... ahh

That was a season of life that will never be forgotten. But, like all seasons it ended and life got a little more difficult every day. Having four children under the age of 6 had it's difficulties to say the least. I remember trying so hard to "enjoy" that time in my life. I would talk to older, wiser women and they would tell me to relax and enjoy these days because they would pass so quickly and be gone forever. They might as well have been speaking another language because I couldn't imagine these days and their never ending list of things to do being over. And enjoying these days???ha, that was way out of the question. Everyday became exhausting and hard to get through. Some days I would cry out to God and say, "Lord, I can't do this, it's too hard and too constant, how do other women do this and come out with any trace of sanity? How will I make it?"

But those days eased up. We moved into a bigger house where I could homeschool. The kids were 8, 6, 4 and 2. We were just coming into a new season of life, things were getting easier because Caleb and Jonah could help now, they were so becoming so grown up now. Levi's personality was just starting to blossom and Graci was the exclamation point at the end of our "sentence." I was just starting to really enjoy and appreciate each one of my children in new way...

...There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven, a time to give birth and a time to die... a time to weep, and a time to laugh… a time to mourn, and a time to dance... He has made everything appropriate in its time. Ecclesiastes 3:1-11

I sure loved when the mornings were wonderful and everything under the sun was new. I loved waking up and being pleasantly surprised that the dream I thought I was dreaming was my reality, everyday. Now, I wake up in the morning and have to come to "grips" with the fact that the nightmare I was having is my new reality... everything is new again but it is hard, unpleasant and dark rather than refreshing, exciting and "pink."

Don't get me wrong. I hope I don't sound like a whiner and like I'm not excited about our new little "baby Luke." Not at all. I guess that's kinda my point... There is a newness, a hopefulness that came to my heart when he was born. I guess what I'm trying to say is that the Lord has given me a greater appreciation for life and birth that I couldn't have had without experiencing sickness and death first. The miracle is bigger and brighter now. The gift of a new little one is so much more precious. Now I know what those older wiser women were talking about when they said, "enjoy these days..." I think I just became older and a (little) wiser. Who'd a thunk it?

jami

June 24, 2002

...just thinking about surrender and all that it means, all that it used to mean before Levi had to leave and all that it means now.... I remember years ago singing along with the song "I surrender all" thinking it was such a cool song. It was so much easier to "surrender all" back then because the Lord had not asked me to give my son, I had not yet tasted the bitterness of sickness and death. Surrender was a warm and fuzzy word that meant I give up a few bad habits and He blesses me beyond words. I thought there were boundaries on this surrender thing. It's all different now. Surrender is such a scary word to me now. What will He ask me to lay on the altar next? What if I can't conjure up the courage to open my hands to Him? What if I turn out to be a coward and fail to finish well? I know He will give the strength as I need it but sometimes the hope that I depend on so deeply doesn't seem like enough to get me through the day. I want a physical touch, I want a chubby little man's hand to hold, I want Levi, I want him underfoot today... the hope of tomorrow is sometimes (most of the time) too far away... surrender... it's such a big word now. Lord, I know that what You do is right for me but it feels so wrong. It feels so empty. I have been reduced to a beggar... a beggar at Your table of grace. There is just enough to get me through the moment. If You gave too much I would stand and walk away, become prideful that I am a survivor. In my desperate hunger I know better. I stay close to your table, close to your feet. Being a beggar is not as bad as I thought it would be. Maybe it's because You are a kind master....

I am so looking forward to Heaven... I am looking forward to it for myself, for our family but especially for the children in our family (Caleb, Jonah, Graci, and my sister's children, Carli, Casey and Sydney)... yesterday they got into the "Levi box." They were looking at his little clothes. I watched without them knowing. Their eyes were wide as they remembered. They smelled his clothes as if hoping for a smell to take their minds back to when his smell in the house was common. Jonah was looking at a picture of Levi... my heart broke to see him rub his finger across Levi's face in the picture wishing it was still an option to touch his real face...

We (7 of us) were driving down the road when out of the back seat Sydney (only two days older than Levi) said, "When I die and go to heaven I will tell Levi how much y'all miss him..." Sweet, sweet, tender Syd. She's at such a loss without him... so am I.

I still catch myself "painting pictures of Egypt." I think of life before the diagnosis. I think of life as he became sicker and sicker. I remember in the "last days" when he was frustrated because he couldn't express himself, his paralyzed body, the constant pain of watching him hurt. It was very difficult to say the least but I would take it all back today if only I could. It's selfish I know, I just long to communicate my love and devotion to him. Even if he couldn't talk to me I just want to be able to tell him what a privilege it was to be his mom... then I think of him and how much he needed to be relieved of that sick body. I think of all the things the Lord spared us from, no seizures, no chemo, no radiation, relatively no pain for him... the blessings of him seeing angels, seeing him lift his little chubby hands to praise the Lord (I have no greater joy than to see that my children are walking in the truth. 3 John 4). But then my rebuttal to myself and God is but why did he have to get a brain tumor in the first place? Then I remember the miracle we saw... the man we met in Levi... the depth we have grown... I wouldn't trade the nine months of watching Levi go from a boy to man. I wouldn't trade what the Lord did in our own hearts. What a predicament that is, isn't it? I can't live without him but I can't give up what the Father taught us through his sickness and death.

I know this is a confusing update, jumping from one thing to the next but I guess that's where I am, still confused, jumping from praise and gratefulness to regret and sorrow. I am certain of one thing though, I have never longed to know HIM more than I do right now.... I find comfort in 2 Corinthians 5:1-5

Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. Meanwhile we groan longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling.... so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. Now it is God who has made us for this very purpose and has given us the Spirit as a deposit guaranteeing what is to come.

jami

June 11, 2002

I know that my last update was quite the "downer." Since then, I've had friends write me and encourage me, countless people praying for me, just loving on me and I am so grateful for such love, such commitment. What a blessing to have friends and family that love us at such a level. Friends who choose to "walk" with us through this. It must be kinda depressing to read about such intense sadness. Some stand at the door of our grief and say "Nope, no further, it's too sad and I don't want to feel sad..." (and that is completely understandable.) But, then there are those of you who walk through that door with us, taking your hearts to a place that it has not yet been called to go. I've learned so much from you because if I were to search my heart before Levi was diagnosed (and if I was honest) I'm not sure I could have chosen to go into the darkness of someone else's heartbreak. I hope I would, I hope I could, I hope I would have been just like y'all. It's funny, courage and strength have taken on a new "face" for me now. I see it in your tears, I read it in your letters and e-mails, I hear it in your prayers for us. If Levi had not had a tumor and then gone, I would have never known this side of love. I would have never seen the "profile" of Christ's face. Thank you, thank you, thank you.... I pray for you, showers of mercy and grace from the Lord...

This morning I was reading in 1 Samuel 1. I was reading about Hannah and how she cried out to the Lord for a son. She wept in a way that the priest, Eli thought she was drunk (I can relate to that, Jeff says that when I weep for Levi I sound drunk). Before she had a son she said to the Lord: "..."if you give me a son, I will give him to You for all the days of his life..." My first thoughts are, "You'd better watch what you say, girl, don't bargain with God. Do you know what it means to give your son over to the Lord? It's a permanent thing..." But of course, that's because I'm a coward these days... The Lord gave Hannah a son (Samuel). Then, Hannah said: "I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord." I've read this passage many times in my life but it takes on new meaning now. It hurts more, It's deeper and more intensely admirable that she kept her word.

When Levi was 6 weeks old we dedicated him to the Lord. We turned him over to be used for the Kingdom of God. The Lord took me at my word but I'm having a hard time keeping mine. I'm back pedaling big time... Oh Lord, give me the strength and courage to be half the woman that Hannah was. Help me to lift my eyes toward You and "boast in my condition." The condition of emptiness. The painful condition of "being on Your anvil." When Levi was first diagnosed I wrote on my chalkboard, "There is no circumstance that God has not allowed in order to shape me more into the image of Christ. I will use it and use it well because He loves me enough to change me." That was so much easier to say and do when I still had Levi to hold. This is where the "rubber meets the road" and I am praying that the Lord gives me what I need to carry on. I pray that I will say along with Hannah, "My heart rejoices in the Lord; in the Lord my horn is lifted high... There is no one holy like the Lord; there is no one besides You; there is no Rock like our God." (1 Samuel 2:1-2)

I long to be transformed, "redone" into the person that HE has called me to be. I want the Lord to use me to the fullest in this. I long to be released from this cage of grief so that I can finish His plan for my life. I want so much to be a "bondservant to His freedom" but today I am only a pathetic lump of self-pity, missing what used to be instead of longing for what is to come. Not to be too dramatic but, my soul groans too deeply for words to be released from this bed of sadness and grief. Charles Spurgeon said, "Groanings which cannot be uttered are often prayers which cannot be refused." I like that, it gives me hope.

...just another thought about where I am in missing Levi... I've tried and tried to figure out this emptiness inside me. I haven't been able to put it to words... hopefully this makes sense to you--- Home... home is not the town we live in, it's not the street we live on, it's not even the house we live in. It's our family. It's being together. So, if home is togetherness then we're living out of a suitcase in a hotel, wishing we could go home but it's been foreclosed, sold, lost... it's not ours anymore...I wonder if anyone else who has lost a child feels that way too?

It is true of me that I am a "clumsy griever" but I am setting my face like flint before Him. I will not turn around for another. I will only learn to live in heavier pursuit of my true home, living worthy of the home being prepared for me, where Levi is waiting, where we will be together again...

jami

June 6, 2002

It's Thursday morning. Last night was a very hard night for me. I just missed Levi so bad. We were on vacation last week and then this week has been the "recovery week." I've kept myself so busy.... I knew it wouldn't be long before I would "break down." Last night I went out to water the flowers, it was quiet, nothing but the crickets. The stars were beautiful and there was a soft breeze. The beauty of the night made me slow down, come to a screeching halt, actually. All of a sudden, all of the pain and sorrow that I have "put off" for the last week and a half hit me right between the eyes. I felt so sad I could hardly bare it. I went to the sidewalk in front of our house and wept (weeping is so much stronger than just crying). I cry everyday still but this was one of those out of control, soul cries... I looked up at the stars through my tears and felt sooo angry at God. My thoughts were, "You made the stars, you made the crickets to sing in unison, you put the whole earth on its axis and worked its "schedule" to have day and night, winter and summer... You created the human body with all its intricacies... You could have healed Levi in the blink of an eye. But you chose not to and that makes me so mad at You. My heart is broken, my understanding of you is lacking... Do you care that I am in constant anguish? Do you love me? Why can't I have Levi? Why can't we be a whole family again? How will I ever recover from this depth of heartbreak?

I have a sign in our den that says "It's A Wonderful Life" then under it there are pictures of our family... It was such a "wonderful life" and I miss it so terribly. I look at the pictures of Jeff, Caleb, Jonah and Graci and they seem to have such dimension because I can take my eyes off the picture and then look at the "real thing." But Levi's pictures seem so flat and with NO dimension because that's all I get. There is no looking down from the wall to see a living breathing version of the picture. I miss the "real" Levi. I miss him so bad. It's been so long since I've seen him move...

Jonah was looking at the pictures in the den and called me into the room and said, "Mom, which picture do you like the most, the one with Levi and Graci eating a green popsicle or the one of Levi and Graci hugging? I said, "I think I like the one of Levi and Graci hugging because you can see their faces better." He said, "I think I like the one with them eating the popsicles because I know how much he loved green popsicles so I know he was happy." Then he looked at me and said, "If I could just hug him one more time....." We sat down and hugged each other for a while, no more words...

Last night was bad, really bad. But the verse that came to me this morning was: "Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul." Psalm 143:8

I know this update is pretty sad and depressing, but it's true. There's one thing I can say about our (the Lord and my) relationship since Levi left; "It's real." Which is good, I'd rather be honestly ugly than a beautiful liar. I feel like the velveteen rabbit, "I may be ugly but I'm real." And there's a freedom in that. My hunger for intimacy with the Father is stronger than ever. Even in my anger, frustration and lack of understanding He calls me. He calls me to pursue Him in this uninvited shadowland of my life. And so I do, fearfully, timidly and still with so many questions as to why it had to be this way. Like the Shulamite woman (Song of Solomon 3:2) "I will get up now and go about the city, through its streets and squares; I will search for the one my heart loves."

Still fumbling,

jami

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