Our longest day

Today marks the sixth anniversary of the longest day of our lives. Well, it actually began a few days before but extended for 22 more from this point on, while a little life hung in the balance and the rest of us held our breath.

I am not the centre of this story, but his life in many ways has been at the core of mine.

The time from when we knew he was on the way, till the time we said goodbye, has been like a BC – AD division of history in my life. There is Before Elijah and After Elijah. So significant it has been. And due to his coming and passing, so much in my heart and life changed. One night I wrote a list six pages long of areas of my heart and thoughts that had been impacted by this season. I only stopped writing because I was too tired to continue.

I think more about him in this month of February, but there isn’t a day that I don’t think of him at all.

That long long day was a succession of phone calls and drives to KEMH, tension, precious moments, the continuation of normal, exhaustion and tears.

And it was followed by a much much longer night. A night which is not mine to tell but in which I was deeply enmeshed and which was mostly invisible to almost all around. A night which lasted years…

Some of you are my Facebook friends because of contact made around this time six years ago… And others or you are still my friends because of the love and care expressed through that time. I feared judgement and we received grace. I expected rejection and we got loved. I still have all the emails in a folder… A great many of the stories shared were different situations but of people’s greatest pain and have lodged in my heart as the most significant kind of sharing – and like the little box of Elijah memories under our bed, I cannot open the email file – I know it is there and i treasure it all.

The story isn’t finished, I don’t know when it will be, or even if. But for me there has been a great healing by a Gentle Friend who has walked beside in every moment.

Before Elijah was born I had a sense of stepping off a precipice. This impression came to me as I was giving birth to Miss Taryn who was three months old when Elijah was born. The precipice impression was as gripping to me as the birth process happening at the time. Tarri was posterior, the doc had commented that it was as though my body had forgotten it had done this before (7 year gap) and the pain was more like a first than a seventh delivery. I was totally loony on the gas but felt Gods presence acutely. With this impression of the precipice came the correlation to birth… That I had no option but to trust in time passing, in the process and in those caring for me… and the God who sees, cares, comforts and walks beside. In going over the precipice I had no option but to trust in those same things.

So I did.

Some years later I had another impression. This time, of having been set gently down. I had indeed gone over that precipice, but like the eagle, He had swept in under me and set me so gently down that I didn’t even know when it had happened.

Just that He had.

And so we remember
The presence and passing
Of a little life
Who mattered
One through whom
We grew and were changed
One who
Forever will be
Part of the fabric
Of our family

Mother guilt

There was a post in a group for big families about “mother guilt”… I wrote this post there but thought I’d share it here too as I think it applies no matter whether we have 1 child or 13…

When we had our 6th I spoke to our obstetrician who was an older father of 6 and said “how can we be sure we will be able to give each of our kids what they really need from us?”. He put his pen down and leaned back in his chair smiling and slightly shaking his head… I KNEW he understood my question. I don’t remember everything he said but one of the things was that not everything our kids need has to come from US as their parents. That slightly discomforted me because in essence I really WANTED to be the sun in our kids worlds… (another issue to work on) but the very next morning as I went to wake kids for school, there was the 3 yo in bed with the 7 yo being read a story. And I understood what the Dr had said – and was happy about it.

His other answers would have been from the perspective of an older parent along the lines of… our kids (like us) have their whole lives to fill. To learn, to grow, to experience. We don’t need to pack it all into their childhoods. And not everything we want to give are the same as what they actually NEED…

And to that I would now add:
– concentrate on what they need, not on what we want, or even on what we think they want – and we will find MUCH less to feel guilty about. Love, safety, security – our best to deliver a whole and rounded life… these are their true needs…

– recognise the difference between guilt and grief. Guilt implies that there is something we could have or should have done differently. Guilt implies wrongdoing or harm caused. If something is true guilt – we can usually do something about it… change the scenario, apologise, restore with he person we harmed… But no child is harmed by lack of luxury and these are so often the things we feel ‘guilty’ over.

– Looking back there’s not a lot I feel *guilty of (have tried to keep short records with our kids – not because I’ve done it all perfectly – and still talking to them about things now they’re nearly all grown up), but there are a number of things I feel a measure of ‘grief’ over. Sadness for a few of life’s ‘optionals’ that we just couldn’t do because of time or money or prioritization restraints… and that’s OK. Guilt is debilitating – particularly false guilt . Its like continually feeling compelled to run into a rock wall as though you should be able to run through it when you cannot. Grief or sadness IS still sad, its a statement of how it is, but it doesn’t bruise OR abuse us in the same way.

– every single family, big or small has its own set of restrictions. We live much more content and peacefully when we accept whatever our OWN sets of restrictions and benefits are.


PS Date: 18 June 2020
My understanding of the way I mothered has grown over the last 6 years since writing this and apart from rewriting the whole thing – just want to add a couple of things.
Guilt is something Jesus paid to take off my shoulders so in the last 6 years as I’ve come to understand some things differently, I have indeed had washes and waves come over me as I see things I wish I’d done different if only I’d understood then. The stunning thing about His love though is that even while the retrospective realisations are true – He also takes the these burdens off me as I turn each of those things… and the kids themselves with all the results and effects to Him for His care. I’ve known some fresher sorrows, but He calls me to trust Him.


The watches of the night

The most agonising sorrows I’ve ever felt have been for others… a little of me in there too, but mostly others. When I watched a particular message by Michael Card, and heard this song for the first time, my heart sang with relief to know my sleepless nights were because my heart had a taste of the sorrow of Messiah… the man spoken of in Isaiah. To know this sorrow was how He felt for me… incredible.

I know the roundabout of sorrowing for another and feeling like the specifics of the Psalms don’t fit my cries, but when I learned that lamenting is worship, at least when addressed to the Father, it felt so purposeful instead of so very fruitless.

Prayers are eternal. Not a single word ever dissipates into nothingness.

So once again, if anyone’s headed for a sleepless night, know that addressing our sorrows to Him is very much prayer… and very much worship when we know and trust His heart for us.

I love this song by Kristen Getty – but I love her reading at the beginning of this clip even more.

A snippet:

I have cried upon the steps that seem
Too steep for me to climb,
And I’ve prayed against a burden
I did not want to be mine.
But, here I am and this is where
You’re calling me to fight,
And You I will remember
Through the watches of the night

BE/AE division

Five years ago a tiny boy was born. Though I’m his Granma not his Mum, his life to mine has been like the BC/AD division of history. There was life Before Elijah and now After Elijah. All my previous beliefs, attitudes and assumptions (bar 3 Rock Solid Knowings) were thrown up in the air, each examined and measured under Light, one at a time. Some ditched completely. Many placed carefully and permanently back where they belonged. And still others added over time building on what is sure.

I remember him every day and I’m grateful.

I remember his parents every day and I still sorrow.

And every day I remember the God who loves him more and longs to provide the reunion.