I do not believe...and yet it still hurts

There is this little pang every time someone says God has blessed them. Anger. Jealousy. Pity. Sadness. Dismay. Inadequacy. Failure. All of this wound up in a split second that makes me catch my breath and ponder each relationship...each person...their value in my life if they could think this thing that discounts me so easily.

I don't know what to do with it. I don't want to feel less-than for the rest of my life. I don't want to question my friendships because my friends simply subscribe to a different set of beliefs than me. I want to be better than that. But I'm just not sure it's ever going to get "better." I feel like I'm on a crash course...and I've recently learned that I'm not alone.

I was forwarded a version of this email and it made me feel all those things again. Never mind the inaccuracies lies perpetuated therein (I'm a stickler for the truth)...the pure HATRED that spewed out at me from my computer screen literally made me sick to my stomach. If this is what God and patriotism produce, then I want no part of it, thank you very much.

But where can any of us go when any single person holds the belief that their God, above all else, is the "right" God? There is no room for anything other than conflict if the heart of any belief is that you are somehow blessed and the other guy is somehow cursed or doomed to hell. Is there?

I know how it makes me feel. I just don't know how to let go of those feelings. And if I can't figure it out for myself, I'm not sure how I can convince anyone else to try to figure it out for themselves.

Family-Grief-God-Hope

If you get a chance (and you feel strong enough), you should watch this interview with Steven Curtis Chapman and his family on Larry King Live. They talk about the tragic accident that caused the death of their daughter/sister, Maria, back in May...the family's journey along the path of grief...and their faith.

Don't be so sure...

...there is kindness and empathy in those around you.
...people won't talk behind your back.
...anything good will come out of it.
...you know who your friends are.
...you have nothing to prove.
...your anger is resolved.
...it's going to hurt less.
...there is a God.

There is no such thing as a sure thing.

Easter hypocrisy

It's no secret on this blog that I struggle with the concepts of God and religion. We don't attend church, nor do we proclaim any particular religious affiliation. There was a time when I wanted to be a part of the Christian religious experience and I distinctly remember feeling angry when other people didn't share that desire.

My father never attended church with us and my mother inexplicably stopped going to church one day. We didn't discuss religion in our house. It wasn't that the subject was off-limits...we just didn't talk about much in our house. But I remember feeling a bit bewildered by the lack of any parent-led religious focus in my life. And I guess you could say my religious upbringing was...self-taught.

I remember feeling weird around my friend Kristine because she was Jehovah's Witness. "How weird!" Now I realize that I only thought it was weird because it deviated from what I held as "normal."

And then there was my husband. He had neither interest nor inclination to seek any sort of religious experience with me. I distinctly remember the day we were in a hotel room in St. Louis when he told me he didn't think he believed in God...and I yelled at him. I was angry. Not because I had all the answers and he didn't...but because I clung to a belief that there had to be a God out there somewhere. Again...what I held as "normal."

But the truth of the matter is, my religious upbringing wasn't faith as much as it was a lack of faith. For YEARS I desperately longed to FEEL any faith...despite the fact that I never really did. Looking back, I should have realized the train was off the tracks when I was sixteen and I stopped attending confirmation classes because I didn't feel it. Intellectually and emotionally, I knew enough about myself at that age to know that I couldn't go through with something I didn't truly believe.

And then I let the church youth pastor and choir director talk me into it. Yep...they called me on my big button telephone in my bedroom (not my own private line, but good enough for my sixteen year old sensibilities) and tag-teamed me. The plan? I would go through with confirmation despite not having completed the classes and just make the work up at a later date.

I'm sure it will come as no surprise to learn that I never made the work up. I never felt what I hoped to feel. There were MOMENTS of inspiration, but they were few and fleeting. What I do remember was the incredible pressure to conform...to pretend...to not disappoint. And that's how I became a confirmed Methodist...as part of a culture of appearance rather than substance.

Now...years later...having been pushed over the cliff head first and having my child-like beliefs in God come spilling out, I find myself needing to use basic survival skills of brutal skepticism and (finally) truth/honesty. All alone, finally asking myself how I got here and where I go from here. Oh, there are probably a dozen or so people in my life who would love to tell me what to believe...but they can't tell me how to get around the little problem of not feeling it. They answer with what they have been similarly taught...you just have to.

And if you don't?

That's probably why finding myself standing in Walmart and saying to my five-year-old son, "Easter isn't about getting presents," has bothered me now for more than two weeks. Seeing an older gentleman standing at the photo center counter smiling that approving smile at me that said, "You're raising him right," has caused me yet another crisis of conscience. If he really knew...

In response to some offhand comment from me, Sam asked who Mother Nature is.

On Easter Sunday he insisted that everyone gets candy on Easter.

And when I asked him if he knew who God was, he simply said, "No."

And the thing of it is...I'm finding it easy to explain to him that there are a lot of stories out there to explain why our world is the way it is. I find it easier to explain that Daddy and I don't know what we believe. And I was not shocked or angered when Sam said he doesn't believe in God. Having faced all that our little family has faced, it's no surprise to me that Sam doesn't readily accept anything on faith. Steve and I have 30+ years experience (each) on the little guy, and we're just now forming our true belief set.

But I am bothered by the reflex that made me defend the "meaning of Easter" while standing in that Walmart. Years of indoctrination into a belief system that is seemingly all around me caused a knee jerk response. I still retain my own version of "normal" somewhere in side me. Though we were never a religious family by any means, Christianity is still obviously the predominant religious culture where I was born and raised. In fact, I can list on one hand the number of other faiths I crossed paths with during my formative years. And all of that half-formed belief still causes the words to form and spill out of my mouth before I can even examine what they meant to me.

I've got to do better than spit out automatic responses that don't mean anything to me. I've got to be more honest with my kids about what these things mean to us as a family. And I've got to leave room for Sam (and eventually Myles) to decide for themselves. It's important to me that they never find themselves on the wrong side of fortune and feeling like their foundation God-belief has been ripped apart into a million pieces. It's important to me that they never feel like their chosen God has abandoned them...only because they realize they never really chose...that they were influenced by something outside of themselves or, even worse, someone else chose for them.

And while it may seem like I'm just covering my ass so I won't have to take the blame later in life (it's always the mother's fault, you know)...what is really motivating me is my belief that it is of utmost importance to me that they never feel like Steve or I feel. Abandoned. Misled. Lied to. Lost. Ignorant. Angry. Cheated.

I want them to have REAL exposure to different beliefs...what it means to believe different things...so that they can make a choice what they believe before they really NEED to. I don't want them to grab hold of what is easy...to fall into something without thought...to go with the flow. I want them to examine everything (or as much as humanly possible) and affirmatively choose. Because Easter may very well be about getting gifts...if that is what they choose.

And yes...I now appreciate the irony of my yelling at my husband for not believing.

(I have written and re-written this post in the hopes that it is clear and not offensive. I apologize if I have missed the mark and offended anyone. But after seeing that Islam has overtaken Catholicism as the world's largest religion, and the resulting goofiness, I felt inspired. Or maybe I'm just distancing myself. Either way, it is what it is.)

All alone

Steve stayed home with Sam for spring break today...so that means no baby at work today! I've gotten A LOT of work done without a little person attached to me. But I'm noticing something strange and a bit overwhelming...

It's easier to miss Alex and Travis.

I think it's probably partly the place. This office held so many hopes and happy thoughts...and so many tears and sad thoughts...without the distraction of sweet little Myles, it's easier to reflect on where I was...where I've been...where I am now.

I think it's also probably partly that I finally understand the sentiment that a new baby doesn't replace the ones who are lost. They are still a part of my narrative...still a part of my heart. And I can acknowledge that without betraying Myles in any way.

And of course, part of it is that I KNOW where Sam and Myles are. And I KNOW they are being taken good care of by their father who loves them. I don't have to take anything on faith or fanciful promise. It is verifiable and fact. I've got more brewing on the topic of my own faith (which I'll share in a bit), but I'm still sorting it out in my head. The one thing I know is that I'm not a person of faith and I'm having to come to terms with that...and it's easier than I feared it might be.

It's interesting, to me at least, the complexity of this role of being a mother to living and dead children. It brings to the fore, all sorts of aspects of my own personality that I never even knew were there.

Me? Angry?

I worry that you are so focused on getting angry at God and maybe that anger is misdirected.

It's funny that this should come up.

When I read this comment the first time, I was perplexed...shocked. Me? Angry at God?

And then I realized...I'm not. I'm not angry with God anymore. I am...I don't know...ambivalent about God right now. No, ambivalent isn't quite right. I'm working certainly working on my own personal conceptualization of God...what I believe...without anger. I think it is BECAUSE I am re-conceptualizing God for myself that I am able to let go of the anger. I can't believe what I always believed about God...not now. And maybe I always had a juvenile view of God. Maybe we all do until we are forced to REALLY examine what we believe and why we believe it. Maybe my confusion all stems from my own ignorance on the topic. But I don't think so.

I do have anger. But it is no longer about finding fault...finding a reason...finding the why. It just is what it is.

But I do still have anger. I will admit that. Lately my anger is reserved for those people who, from the outside looking in, are able to so easily find fault or a reason or the why. People seem to find it easy to tell you how to make it all better. If it were that easy, don't ya think I'd do it your way?

It's kind of like the same old argument my husband and I fall back into on a routine basis...I KNOW what my problem is...I KNOW what the possible solutions are...what I need is for you to LISTEN to me work it out ON MY OWN. Nothing is more infuriating to me than having someone listen to you for two seconds only to tell you how to "fix" your problem...as though you are too ignorant to see the obvious solution staring you in the face. There is value (to me) in the PROCESS of all problem-solving.

And there is value to me in finding my own path to God (or whatever I end up with). The comments here on this blog have been immensely helpful in my realization of this...as have emails with people (with all sorts of different faiths). But the fact remains that when someone so easily sums up God (in what seems like twenty words or less)...I feel frustrated and cheated because I'm not being heard...because the process is being short-circuited for me...because I'm feeling like it should be so easy and I'm just too stupid to "get it" as easily as the next person. And THAT is where my anger still is.

God is complicated for me. It does me no good to have someone look at me like I'm dumb and tell me how easy it is for them. In fact, I find myself walking away from any and all conversations about God because people interpret and advise so freely without really putting themselves inside my head...inside my life. And then I find myself all constipated with thoughts and feelings about God and eternity and all that jazz...and nowhere to go with them. So I come here. Aren't you so glad?

So yeah...not angry at God. Just think people don't get where I'm coming from. It's easy for them and I'm glad for them. But it's not easy for me. I don't think it will ever be easy for me again.

And so there are no misunderstandings...this is not directed at anyone in particular (here or anywhere else). It is a generalization of my two years walking down this path...and how my feelings have evolved. It is my own personal self analysis...I'm not attempting to blame anyone outside of myself or condemn anyone for anything they might believe. I'm trying to figure myself out...why do I react the way I do at particular situations/comments/thoughts?

Any and all comments are welcome on this blog. Please don't ever be afraid of commenting because you might piss me off. Getting good and pissed off has, more often than not, lead to some pretty darn insightful conversations for me. As long as people are respectful with me, I will try to be the same. Doesn't mean I'll agree with you...but who knows...stranger things have happened.

Allow me to be clear (again)

When I posted my original thoughts on God a couple days ago, I was only explaining what I have come to learn about my own visceral reaction to the words "God has a plan" or "it wasn't meant to be." It was, in no way, intended to be a blanket statement/philosophy for anyone to "buy into." This blog is not about guiding anyone else...or telling anyone what is right or wrong. It is only about recording MY thoughts (on anything and everything).

Personally, I get very angry when I hear those words...almost to the point of physical illness. It has taken me a long time to figure out (for myself) exactly WHY I have that reaction. Perhaps I do over-analyze. I know that I am losing friends over my reactions (a fact that I recognize and fully accept responsibility for). But I also recognize that I cannot control my reactions unless/until I understand where they come from...what causes them. That was all I was trying to get out there...in my own words...for myself.

If you believe that God has a plan...that's great for you. I hope that your faith brings you the peace that seems so elusive to me. This is one thing I'm having a hard time with. So let me be self-indulgent a little bit and work through it on my own.

I would like to publicly apologize to anyone I have offended. I'm sorry.

Why are you under the impression that when people say what they say, they're implying your losses were some kind of punishment from god?

I did not say punishment...I said judgment.

"God has a plan" implies that where I was headed (with my pregnancies with Alex and Travis) was somehow NOT according to God's plan...and now I am headed in the right direction.

Somehow everything is now as it is "meant to be"...now that my babies are dead.

My babies being dead is "better" than being alive because it is according to some grand plan.

There is implied judgment there.

No?

Different shades of bitter

I just had a nice long talk with the "new" coworker in my office (I'll call her NC). She's been here over a year and I still learned something about her today that I didn't know.

NC has a three year old daughter who is absolutely precious. Perfect in every way...including her little attitude. When NC was six months pregnant, she was told that her baby had a one-vessel cord that was probably an indicator of Down's syndrome. She was advised to have an amnio and she consented. The amnio confirmed Down's syndrome. Yes, remember that bit up there where I said that she is PERFECT in every way...including her little attitude. She does NOT have Down's syndrome. She is healthy except for a small digestive system deformity that was corrected by surgery earlier this year.

Now HOW does that happen? NC says she suspects someone screwed up the test results somewhere. She says she feels bad because she is certain there is some mother out there who was expecting a healthy baby and ended up with a baby with Down's syndrome. Can you imagine?

But what fascinated me was being able to talk to her. Three months she visited a high risk doctor. Three months she lived in fear that her baby would die before birth. She listened as they prepared her for an extended NICU stay and her child's multiple health problems. She practically lived at various doctors' offices as she submitted to NST's and ultrasounds and "reassurance doppler checks." She didn't buy anything for the baby. She didn't set up a nursery. She lived her own version of "normal" as best she could, fully prepared to walk out of the hospital with empty arms. And in the end, she walked out of the hospital with a healthy baby girl.

Fully expecting her to tell me I am crazy, I asked her how it made her feel. I mean, after all, she has a happy and healthy child, right? So it shouldn't bother her to talk about pregnancy? To see pregnant women? To hear conversations about strollers and diapers? You know what? Three years later, she still is "bitter" toward happy shiny pregnancy talk (her word, not mine).

So how's that for a kick in the pants?!?! She got a healthy baby out of her ordeal and she's still less tolerant of the same things I'm less tolerant of...after three years! Her experience still provides her with a perspective that requires her to see the forest AND the trees. To be realistic...even if it means being the scary one in the room. She has an insider's view. And even though she came out on the "winning end," her attitudes and personality are still shaped by what she went through.

Now I feel...I don't know...somehow...justified. (I think I'm going to have to ask her if anybody has told her to get over it.)

She also said that her mother-in-law told her that the reason her daughter was "spared" was because of divine intervention. "God wouldn't do that to you." NC's response? "So God WOULD do that to someone else and their child? Why?"

Oh my gosh! She gets it! She doesn't have a dead baby...and she gets it! To me, she is an amazing find. A rare gem. Talking to her somehow lessened the headache I woke up with this morning after a night of dead-baby nightmares and fitful sleep. And when I told her that, she understood that too.

I guess bitter ain't so bad if you've got good company.

Valuable email

Sometimes I find value in the oddest things. I feel like I should share it so that other people might find value in it too. There ARE a lot of "bad" things people say...but there are also a lot of VERY NICE things that people say.

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Karen:

I recently stumbled across your listing on Lion Brand Yarn's web listing of charities and would very much like to help out. I have been sewing charity items for an online group (All Crafts for Charity on Yahoo groups), but would very much like to do something more local. Can you tell me how I would get involved with your group? Do you have patterns that you require be used? How do you collect items that have been made? Would I have to attend meetings or something like that? I'd really appreciate any information you can give me.

Thank you.

Keep smilin'
Catherine

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Good afternoon Catherine,

YES! to your questions ~ smile~ - we'd love to have you help us and welcome you!!!!
Your involvement is much like that of the folks on AC4C - which I am also on. There is not limit to what we accept - nor any minimum.
All incoming finished [mostly] items are relayed, mailed, walked in to the office - which for us is my home in NE Ohio. {sometimes we are sent quilt tops and finish them here.} We have meetings we call gatherings - in a few different places non are mandatory. Volunteers for our charity are men and women, come from all around the states, and our dear friends in Canada, and one from Puerto Rico that you will recognize.
I would love it if you are close enough to attend a gathering - I'm in (small town) and we have a gathering of ladies tomorrow. If you are of a mind to come email right back and I'll toss the driving directions to you. Ladies from the Akron area, and all in between come over. We have another large group that meets in NW Ohio in Vermilion and several sprinkles of ten or more ladies that gather at homes or churches and relay to us here. I can give you more information whenever you want about these other spots.

We accept sewn items from our patterns - or charity patterns from the internet, commercial made patterns and some we have tweaked ourselves. Our mission is the premature age through ~ age 5 and the families they are living in. We support four agencies that directly deal with age 0 - 5 in clothing and blanket needs, and several hospitals - and 6 NICU's. We provide burials also. We do not supply hard equipment to families like cribs and such but one agency that we give to will accept gently worn things and any hard equipment coming along is directed to them.
Any other information you would like - you just speak right up OK?
I will tell you our charity is mission focused, and Christ centered. Not all of our members are, but we enjoy them anyway!All our deliveries run through our main office here and Christ is Glorified by what we do or we don't do it. Each facility has it's own preferences and it is my job to direct which facility gets what.
What do you like to sew? Do you quilt or make comforters? Do you prefer to make small infant items or children's? This is entirely up to you. We often get into a slump for the preemie things and go all out with toddler outfits. We've even been known to make up sheets for cribs! Quilts are our biggest need and if you are in Ohio we will be gathering in July in Bedford to crank out as many quilts together as possible!
I'm so glad you stopped by and asked me about our charity. It is a very dear to my heart project.
If you take a short tour through our big website you will see why this has become so dear. We also have a yahoo groups email which you are welcome to sign up for any time---- we're really quiet most of the time but I post to all at once through that email group.
Enjoy this beautiful day - and keep in touch!
<}}}>< Karen

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Karen:

Thank you for responding to my email. I'm sorry I couldn't get back to you in time for your gathering. Actually, I could have, I just needed time to digest and process all the information you shared before I decided what I wanted to do. Let me explain a little bit...I have one living son, Samuel, who is the light of my life. My second son, Alex, was stillborn at 35 weeks on May 11, 2005 and my third son, Travis, was stillborn at 20 weeks on May 8, 2006. As you can imagine, I have had what can best be described as a crisis of faith and am really just in need of some peace...not preaching. Also, given my recent involvement in the Pregnancy and Infant Loss community, I am staunchly pro-choice when it comes to medical termination of pregnancy. So it is a little intimidating to even consider volunteering in an organization like yours where the topics of God and Jesus just might come up a time or two. Quite honestly, I'm not sure we would be a good fit with one another. I think it might be best if I just stick with AC4C for now. I wish you all the best in your efforts.

Keep smilin'
Catherine

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Oh Catherine - my heart breaks for you. I have not suffered what you have gone through and I have no words of comfort. I can only tell you that I delivered our still born grandson of 18 weeks last year for our daughter and ....... and watching her and our son in law go through this was to say the least an experience of great sadness.
You are wise in saying we would possibly not be a good match, but I invite you to come be with us anytime in the future that you change your mind. Not all of our ladies have suffered as you have - but some, yes. They are not all "Christians", we welcome volunteers on the basis of their desire to help.
I am the one vocal of Jesus, you have that correct. I will not push this on you as it is not the right time to do that. I would not be able right not to explain the joy amidst adversity that I have had because of this relationship I have with Jesus. But I do offer you my heartfelt sympathies in your losses which must be harder than anything I can imagine.
That you are active and able to help others through AC4C is wonderful and amazing to me.
I hope the peace you need comes to you quickly. Again I am so sorry for the devastation you have been through. Please don't be offended but I will be praying this for you, to have peace. May it come quickly.
Thanks for stopping by!
<}}}>< Karen

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Luck O The Irish

I'm stuck because I always believed things happen for a reason. If I could just let that go once and for all, I know I would be much happier. But un-learning a lifetime belief system is hard...and painful. I'm going to have to either mold the facts to fit that belief system, or acknowledge that it was crap and I just didn't recognize it. I'm leaning toward acknowledging the crap (a friend calls it bullshit...and I think that's appropriate too).

Yep...I admit it. I rested on my spiritual laurels for far too long and now the spirit(s) has bashed me over the head and said, "Get a clue." On my more stable days, I can easily let go of the "plan" and God's "reasons" to just recognize that a great number of things happen for no reason at all. There is no plan. You're just lucky or unlucky. And, as my blog friend Aurelia pointed out this week...MANY human troubles can be traced back to the poor decisions of mankind...even those things that seem so out of our control.

The struggle really gets going in my brain on my unsure days. Because my lifetime belief system is so woven into the fabric of my being that it compels me to ask, "Really? Is that what you REALLY believe? (Self-doubt is a beautiful thing.) Can you really be sure? What if you chuck the idea of a grand plan and you're wrong?"

Yes, I believe in hedging my bets. I don't want to end up in hell if there is such a place. I don't want to be separated from my boys forever...with no hope of seeing them again. I just want to do what is right. But what is right? Who do you listen to? How do you EVER find a sense of peace? Am I just going insane?

I think I got the analogy wrong. God doesn't slam the door in my face upon inviting me to dinner. After further reflection, I see that a more accurate analogy to the invitation idea is that God invites me to dinner...I go in, sit down, eat an amazing dinner beyond my wildest dreams. At the second and third invitations, however, I am served a huge giant steaming pile of crap. Maybe God didn't actually prepare the food...maybe He did. Maybe it was the fault of the caterer...maybe God directed the caterer. Maybe God was just as surprised as me...maybe not. The answer to those questions matters when I consider the ultimate question...should I accept a fourth invitation?

And there is one comment I would like to respond to...

To me, it's been amazing to see how life seems to throw situations at me that challenge me in my weakest, sorest spots. Like the situations are crafted specifically for me, and if I don't take them as an opportunity to grow, then I don't get any further along life's path.

I can not...and will not...believe in a God that would kill an innocent child (or ALLOW an innocent child to die) in order to teach ME a lesson. I have grown as a person, yes. You may garner some comfort from your belief, but I personally recoil in horror at the thought that this situation...the one where TWO innocent children died...was crafted specifically for me.

Welcome to Treggles' minister

A minister is reading my words. I am definitely going to hell now. :oP

Anyway...this comment has me confused...

So, the question shouldn't be: "what do you want me to do?", but: "What should we do in this situation?"

I can't answer that question!

How is your question (what should we do in this situation?) any different from my question (what do you want me to do)? What SHOULD we do? What do you want me to do? Same question based on the idea that there is a "right" choice and a "wrong" choice.

And where does one go for guidance in determining which is the "right" choice and a "wrong" choice? That was the whole point of my post. I pray and pray. I read and search. And there is nothing. No answer. No guidance. No insight. No peace.

I thought I made good decisions before. All I wanted was to have living children to love in this life. I wasn't breaking commandments or anything. And I was at peace that I was doing something GOOD. But given the outcome, I can't help but think that maybe someone somewhere just didn't agree with me.

God is a God of invitation to participate in his infinite love and creativity. He invites us to be co-workers with him in this baffling world.

I would love to believe this. But I can't help but think of this...
God sends out an invitation to dinner. I attend and have an amazing feast. God sends out another invitation to dinner and, remembering the previous experience, I am excited to attend. I accept the invitation, make an appearance and see the excitement through the window. Only when God opens the door, He changes his mind an slams the door in my face. I'm hurt but (for some unknown reason...it is God, after all) willing to forgive. So when God sends out another invitation to dinner, I gladly accept...only to have the door slammed in my face again. It would seem ridiculous for me to even entertain the idea of accepting another invitation, wouldn't it? How many times should a person subject themselves to that? But then, there is always that chance that He won't slam the door on my face a third time, right? What should I do in this situation? What is the "right" thing to do? What does God want me to do?

Oy! This is too much for a Wednesday morning following a Tuesday night where I had a margarita the size of my head. Too much sadness. Too many tears.

Here's the song I cranked on the car radio on my way into work this morning...

Stand
Rascal Flatts

You feel like a candle in a hurricane
Just like a picture with a broken frame
Alone and helpless like you’ve lost your fight
But you’ll be alright

Life’s like a novel with the end ripped out
The edge of canyon with only one way down
Take what you’re given before it’s gone
And start holdin’ on

Cause when push comes to shove
You taste what you’re made of
You might bend ‘til you break
Cause it’s all you can take
On your knees you look up
Decide you’ve had enough
You get mad, you get strong
Wipe your hands, shake it off
Then you stand (I particularly like this part)

Every time you get up and get back in the race
One more small piece of you starts to fall into place

God's plan

A bathroom ephiphany...
I need to know if God has a plan for me, and I need to know what it is, because I can't decide where to go until I know if I'm doing the right thing. It's not all about criticism and unhappiness. It's this one simple thing. Where do I go from here? (with a tip of the hat to Anam Cara)

If the plan is that I'm not supposed to have more living kids...then I will submit to that and NOT have more kids. I won't even try. I'm not going to beat my head against a brick wall. I won't try to outsmart you because I know I can't. You're bigger than me...you're stronger than me...you are God. I get it and I submit. UNCLE!

BUT...If the plan is that I AM supposed to have more living kids...then I will not-so-gladly oblige.

Just clue me in, will ya?

I feel paralyzed because I can't figure out the message.

If the plan is that I'm not supposed to have more living kids and I go ahead and try another pregnancy...or I try adoption...will that only result in more heartache and disappointment because I was too stupid to figure it out? I mean really...two dead kids should send a message loud and clear, shouldn't it?

If the plan is that I AM supposed to have more living kids...is it by pregnancy or adoption? Again, one would think that two dead kids would clarify the message, but it doesn't. Is it your desire or is it my fear? Are they one and the same?

I still want to add to our family. (There I said it.)

So is that just my selfishness? Is that God's will? Or is it just whatever I can find at any given moment to justify where I am and any luck (good or bad) that may happen to me? Someone once said to me, "Pray about the decision you have made. If you feel peace, it is the right decision. If you feel confused and inner turmoil, it is not the right decision." And here's where I do NOT understand...I have no problem with the DECISIONS. But the outcomes...TWO dead children...yeah...big problems. If I decide to try pregnancy again, then I simply mold the outcome to my belief set. Living child=God's will. Dead child=you were too stupid to get the message the last TWO times. Right?

So where is the comfort in any of this? I WANT to do what's right. I have asked God to show me what is right. I don't demand. I ask. And there is nothing but silence. Two dead kids and a whole lotta silence. It seems unfair and cruel to say there is a plan for everyone and then let them go stumbling around in the dark, making BAD decisions in direct opposition to that "plan"...to make them guess...when they so desperately just want to do the right thing...when they just want to make the RIGHT decision...the decision you want them to make. I'm not being bold and boastful...I'm not asking for all the answers...just a little help. A clue. A point in the right direction.

Someone said I should pray about my decisions and if I feel peace then I'm making the right decision...and if I feel turmoil, I'm making the wrong decision. And here's the thing. I was at peace with ALL of my decisions to get pregnant. But I have to do is look at the smashing disasters two of the three turned out to be to know I made the wrong decision.

So I am frozen by doubt. I was so SURE. I was sure this was my calling. After all the years of doubt, I knew I wanted to have a family. And then...well...you know the rest.

I doubt that I CAN make a decision that I would be at peace with. I second-guess myself at every step. Someone said that I should try, "Thy will be done." But can that really lessen the emotional investment? How does that protect you from the crushing blow of loss when it all goes so horribly wrong? It only serves to make me feel like more of an idiot to know that I made the wrong choice YET AGAIN.

My friend Treggles posted this in a comment to another post of mine and it deserves to see the light of day...
"Every week I come across this issue pastorally. How have we sold the world a God who is a controlling monster willing the death of children? I don't believe in the God portrayed by this poor suffering woman, but clearly there are some who have portrayed this God to her as a God of love. This cannot be. Just think about any loving relationship: is it controlling or freeing? Love frees the other person to be who they are, something-other-than-love tries to control the other person to be what they want them to be. God is a God of love, not of control. The two are mutually exclusive."

So here's the question, God...what DO you want me to do? Tell me. I will listen.

(poor suffering woman...that kind of makes me giggle given my obsession with how I will be remembered.

Stop

I wrote a post. Filled with anger and profanity. And then I took a breath.

Here is the gist of it...

Stop.
Stop telling me how God is the answer.
Stop telling me how God loves me.
Just stop.

A friend in loss summarized the feeling succinctly in a comment a while back. "the idea of a god who could have spared my son but chose not to is so horrible that i'd rather believe there's no god than one so hateful"

I take no comfort in the idea of some great "plan." None. Our children are DEAD. We were cheated out of a million little memories that probably mean nothing to you unless you know you are missing them. We were cheated out of the dream of what our family could be...now...and forever. We were given a taste...and then had the dream unceremoniously ripped from our grasp. I have no words to describe for you the unbearable cruelty of that. And I think, given the propensity to say things like, "Despair is despair," that you, and people like you, will NEVER understand. So I am not going to waste my breath.

So with that in mind...
Please stop.
If it means not commenting here, then please, do not comment here.

I liken your comments to kicking a dog when he is down. I liken them to my husband's annoying habit of trying to fix my problems in two seconds flat.

I don't need answers.
I don't need solutions.
I need to work through my grief on my own terms and in my own time.

And I don't need to deal with your judgments about how I "should" be doing things. I know I'm disappointing people. If there is a God, I'm sure I'm disappointing Him. But this is MY journey to take and I do NOT need you to swoop in and tell me how easy it is.

Just give yourself over to God? Just? As if it is so simple? Which God should I give myself over to? The one who loves me so much that He would do this to my family? Really? I'm sorry if I'm having a little trouble with that one. No...I'm not sorry. I AM having trouble...and I WON'T apologize for it.

Do not minimize...do not attempt to solve...

Just stop.

Eyes on the prize

Much of what inspires me to write is found in my interactions with other people. I am amazed at the complexity of every individual person that I know. I sometimes wonder about the people I will never meet...the person I brush past in the courthouse, the cashier at the grocery store, the person driving the other way on a snowy road...what are their lives like? are they happy? I like to know what makes people tick.

For the last two years now, I have been literally inundated with a variety of opinions on religion...God...the meaning of life. While there have been many topics that I have analyzed over and over in my mind (and on this blog), there has been one that I have neglected. Heaven. I have taken for granted that there is a heaven because everyone seems to reinforce the idea without question. Whether it is hope for something better or faith that it is there because a book tells them, almost everyone I know has shared the same fundamental belief that heaven exists. I have never questioned this. Until I was faced with sentiment recently voiced by a few friends (online and 'in real life') that did not sit well with me.

The basic premise of the statement was something along the lines of being excited to see what heaven is like.

I didn't comment then and I let it sit in my brain. And then today, for some reason, I was struck with the explanation for my discomfort. Heaven isn't a finish line. This isn't a race. This isn't a set of steps you have to get through in order to get to the better place. This isn't a throwaway. This is life. This is a gift. And to blow it off as though it is insignificant 'in the grand scheme/plan,' seems somehow...I don't know...disrespectful...and wrong.

If God exists, and all of this was given as a gift, then surely there has to be something valuable in the journey. We are supposed to enjoy our families. We are supposed to love and laugh and cry. We are supposed to eat, drink, and be merry. We are supposed to stop and take a look around and just BE.

Would you accept a gift from a friend or a family member with a comment on its value or its useful life? I don't think I would. I would accept the gift, enjoy it for the time I had it, and not make value judgments at all. But I do this all the time with my emotions as I pass through this life. Why?

It's not that people intend to do this. I think we do it quite unconciously. I think we are desperate to make some sense of THIS...this life...so we have to minimize its importance in order to make it hurt less. Surely, there has got to be something better. Surely, all of this can't be for nothing. There has to be a prize at the end. And in the process of trying to achieve that prize, we are missing out on the prize of life.

It's not totally about the end. It's also about what you fit between the beginning and the end. So whenever I hear someone tell me to focus on the ultimate "prize," I am sad for them...because they are missing so much. They have it all figured out...how to cross the finish line. In their eagerness to get there they rush past all the scenery along the way. Yes, some of that scenery is scary and ugly and horrifying. But there's much more of it that is beautiful and breathtaking and lovely. I think I would rather cross the finish line last, having fully participated in the journey.

I'd like to go to heaven. And I may even be excited to see what it's like. But I'm more excited to see where my life takes me next. Heaven can wait.

A Super Bowl jingle is my theme song

I didn't really understand the premise of the ad for Coca Cola. But the simple song (about 20 seconds in) sticks with me.

"You're gonna be remembered for the things that you say and do...You give a little love and it all comes back to you..."

I suppose I'm healing, because I'm starting to see things about myself in a more objective way. I'm generally feeling less raw (though I do still have those days). And I'm finally starting to feel like I can do something for someone else again. Most importantly, I'm less desperate to find God in all of this. I do not have time or energy to try to make sense of repetitive mantras that provide no answers but tell me what I need to believe to save my soul.

My dogs are happy to see me when I get home at night...and I'm willing to bet they have never contemplated the meaning of life. They live and they love and they are happy...not because they have found any sort of inner enlightenment...they just ARE. Maybe it is time to adopt a similar philosophy. All of this searching for meaning is only making me miserable. I don't need meaning...I can create meaning...if I choose to.

I'm going to be 35 on Thursday. I remember when I was so afraid of that number. 35 meant so many things, particularly as it related to childbearing and being a mother. My perspective has certainly shifted. 35 is just another year. There is no meaning in it...and I'm ok with that.

I have taken a good hard look at who I am. I admit to being afraid of the bitterness I felt welling up in my soul. But there is less fear in that now because I have been reassured that my actions prove that I am not bitter...even when I didn't feel it, the kindness and softness was still there in my heart. Good to know.

I want to be remembered for the things I say and do. If I were to die today...I would want people to remember me as good and kind and loving...not bitter and angry and twisted.

Monday morning humor

My friend and coworker sent this to me...

Woman sees a picture of Jesus in kitchen cabinet

SAYBROOK TOWNSHIP - - A Erickson Drive woman planned to remodel her kitchen, but she suddenly changed her mind when an apparent image of Jesus appeared in her lower cabinet door.

To read the rest of the story, go to StarBeacon.com

The sender says:
I bet you're sure glad this didn't happen to you before the remodeling! (I can hear you now- "quick Steve! Hand me the #@%$ paint brush!")

Having public shrines can be such a big responsibility.

Bible ah-ha moments

I can't remember who originally posted about How to Handle Grief; Tracks of a Fellow Struggler (it was Brooke over at www.reflectionsinthemirror.blogspot.com...thanks Brooke!). But I ordered a copy immediately and read through it quickly. There were two instances of "ah-ha" for me, involving two stories in the Bible that have been reiterated for me as the basis for blind faith in God and "His plan."

First, the regarding story of Abraham, Claypool writes,
Though intellectually he realizes that the worst could very well happen, he does not try to run away but sets his face steadfastly for Moriah. Yet emotionally there is a hope within him that something will intervene even at the last moment to reverse the process. Abraham gives expression to this residual hope there at the foot of the mountain when little Isaac asks about the lamb for the sacrifice, and I know exactly how he felt. (Abraham answered, "God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt offering, my son.")...

This fascinates me. Because I've studied this passage many many times and never noticed it before. But there is a distinct LACK of emotional insight into Abraham during this very important episode. I always wondered...how could Abraham do such a thing? But I see it now...he did it because he felt he HAD to. Nowhere does it say he was happy about it.

Claypool continues...
It is at this point that Abraham's experience and my own break off in different directions. He got to go down the mountain with his child by his side, and, oh, how his heart must have burst with joy at having come through so much so well. But my situation is different. Here I am, left alone on that mountain, with my child and not a ram there on the altar, and the question is: how on earth do I get down and move back to the normalcy of life? I cannot learn from Abraham, lucky man that he is. I am left to grope through the darkness by myself, and ask: "Where do I go from here? Is there a road out, and if so, which one?"

Exactly! Never mind that when this story is thrown at me it typically is done so in a way that implies that my children are dead because I did not have enough faith...but the confusion for me comes in the form of the same question this author (who was a minister) had...How do I learn a lesson of faith from someone who was spare the agony of losing their child?

And even more perplexing...why does God command Abraham kill and then later dictate the Ten Commandments to include, "Thou shalt not kill?"

Then I read the portion of Claypool's book that addresses the story of Job...
Not until Job got to that level-to having it out with the Ultimate One Himself-did healing begin to flow for him. Stage five, the climactic stage, came when Job, the one who was made, stood face to face with the One who did the making.

To me, this is a VERY important point. Yeah, God tells Job not to question...AFTER he has already questioned. There was a voice...there was an answer...telling Job that somebody was in charge...somebody was responsible. I can not learn from Job in this regard because all there is is SILENCE. There is no voice...no answer...no God reassuring me that it's all under control.

I know those who will tell me to take it on faith that what God spoke to Abraham and Job is what God would speak to me today...if... If what? Why doesn't He speak to me? Why am I left to interpret text that is thousands of years old when I so desperately just want some sign that He is there...listening, at the very least? Why is God so distinctly NOT present in my agony, when He was so distinctly present during Abraham's or Job's?

These are points I will have to revisit. For now it is enough to know that I am not alone in my confusion over the lessons I'm supposed to learn from these stories.

So how are you doing now, really?

Does it get any easier, or do you just get better at hiding it?

My friend, M, asked me these very simple questions in an email the other day and I have no idea how to answer her. In fact, I have no idea what to write here either.

Giving away the baby stuff was the best thing. I KNOW that. But it has set off a downward spiral like I haven't felt in a long time. I've been crying (that cry that you would not recognize unless you have cried it yourself).

Another friend wrote, "It's just not being in the place where the pain is omnipresent." And that was true for a day. But now...now it is all I think about and all I feel.

I have started making sick jokes at the office to lighten the mood...and there is at least one person who seems more comfortable with that way of addressing my sadness. For example, yesterday at lunch while discussing husbands and their strange/annoying habits, one lady said, "I think women just like to compare and see who has it worse." I raised my hand, waved, and said, "I think I've got that category sewn up." There were a couple stone faces, a couple quiet nervous laughs, and one real outward laugh. That one...the outward laugh...has bothered me since.

Because it's not really funny AT ALL.

Yesterday after work I went home, did some chores, and sat in the darkness of my barn while I waited for the farrier. I just sat there in the darkness, listening to the girls munch on hay and silently willing the dogs to stop barking so I could feel the pain without distraction. I think that is one of the hard parts of life moving on and dragging me with it. The world rushes by, filled with so much, in such a hurry to get to a better place. Don't be sad. Be happy. Feel better. Get over it. I know I'm supposed to be "getting better." I know I should learn to keep up with the pace.

But there are times when I just want to scream, "Wait ONE MINUTE world! I've got TWO DEAD BABIES! Just SLOW DOWN for ONE MINUTE!" The horror of it all just stops me dead in my tracks and I lose my breath and become dizzy with all the activity around me.

I know I can't get the rest of the world to slow down. So there is an odd sort of comfort in removing myself from the process of "healing" for just a few minutes and just letting the pain wash over me...deliberately slowing myself down so it all catches up to me and I can just FEEL it all without having to apologize or without having to be embarassed.

In those moments, I have to wonder how I am doing now, really. Am I just hiding what I feel?

I know I feel an enormous amount of guilt that I can't just let "it" go. That I can't "move on." What is wrong with me that I don't find true comfort in those places everyone thinks I should? I have failed in so many ways. I have disappointed so many people. I should be able to take their words and just feel better. I should have faith in God. I should take comfort in what I have. I should...I should...I should... And yet I just don't.

And it feels like nobody cares. It feels like people sit in judgment and think how I would "feel better" if I would just listen to them...if I would think like they think or feel like they feel. And once they are done making decisions about how my life "should" be, they stop thinking of me altogether unless it is in a laugh at my expense. Nobody will ever really see me...The me that cries (that cry) in the darkness of the cold barn.

So yeah...I guess I'm just better at hiding it. And it makes me feel so very alone.

Finding faith...and other things

On my quest to understand (my) faith, I often run across articles and/or books that make me shake my head...yes, yes, yes.

Here is one of them.

My favorite passage...
Can he intervene in a crowded shopping lot, but not in Darfur? Will he get me a space right next to handicapped parking, but not cure my father's cancer? Who wants to believe in such a God?

And then there is politics.

If the term "Christian America" derives merely from demographics then we are also a female nation and a nation of brunettes.

Sounds good to me. :o)

How much do you really know about the beliefs of the Founding Fathers?

I am loving Beliefnet.com for it's wide variety of viewpoints and explanations.

And can I just say that I love Barack Obama?

(yes, I should be working)