More than a memory

I have been mulling over in my mind a blog for a week or so, it has taken until now to put it together. It’s been a hard one. Stay with me… it’s all over the place. I can’t seem to organize my thoughts…

Here goes...

It’s been almost 4 months… that’s really hard to write. It also hurts to realize that time moves on without her. Broken, that is what I am today…

These words are borrowed from a friend… I love them. “There is much that the enemy cannot take from us. He cannot take our memories, our pure love, the way we have held each other up… he cannot.

He cannot have our hope, nor our inexplicable peace. NEVER!

How do I make it through the days… every day is new. Some days are really great ones and others are really, really hard ones. I ask Him everyday for the strength that He promised me to make it through yet another day.

Sometimes the memories from that night come back… I remember getting the phone call. I remember how all of my Baylor buddies sprang into action and prayed over me. I remember going to Daddy’s and telling him. I remember telling Marianne over and over and over again… she’s going to be OK no matter what, meaning, if she lived or even if she died. I remember feeling His presence in that ER room when He came to take her home. I remember pressing my ear to her chest so I could hear her heart beat. I remember talking to her and telling her over and over “I love you baby girl.” I also remember repeating over and over again, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me (Philippians 4:13) and For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. (Jeremiah 29:11)” I also remember telling her as I felt her slipping away “it’s Ok, go be with Jesus.” I remember the moment she died. It was 11:10 pm. I remember kissing her cute little nose, running my hands over her fingers, looking at her feet and kissing each one of her toes, so many memories from that night. Hard ones, yet so comforting too. Memories of His comfort shown to us through hospital cha


plains, a pastor we had never met, our pastor, family and so many friends. Hearing that when people in Whitewright got the news, they headed straight for church to pray. I also know that she is OK, just like He promised. She is in heaven worshipping the King of Kings. Hallelujah!!!

Have I been mad, yes… at anyone or anything no. I guess my anger has really been directed at the one who comes to steal, kill and destroy. Why did God allow it to happen? I don’t think that we will ever know, but I believe God was there. I believe He had tears in His eyes as He watched us grieve. I believe he wept and continues to weap with us. Every moment of every day, I believe He is with me even as I’ve sat in the shower and screamed and cried. Even as I’ve sat in her closet and clutched or even smelled her things. Even as I’ve cried all the way to work or home from work, knowing she will not be here when I get home. Even as I sit here knowing that today was the first time I’ve never had a child to take to school. I know that we will never understand this side of eternity but I do know that when I get to heaven I will see her sweet smile and hear her sweet voice say “momma.” When that day comes none of the why’s will matter anymore.

I know that He wants us to share this experience, if we were to retreat from everyone and everything how would that honor her? It certainly would not honor the One who gave her to us. And He knows our pain, afterall He exerienced it. God is no stranger to grief… He knows exactly what it’s like to lose a child. Just as He could have breathed life back into Rachel and gave her life, He could have allowed His one and only Son to live, but He didn’t. Talk about heartbreak… Instead He rescued us, all of us who know Him. He promised that He’s near the broken hearted and I have never felt Him more.

I have told God several times since that night, that YOU cannot ask this of me… it’s too hard… I CAN’T do this! I’ve had my share of grief and hard times, why more? Then I read Beth Moore’s Get Out of That Pit and was reminded that “if God allowed us to be thrown into a pit, we weren’t picked on; we were picked out. God entrusted this suffering to us because He has faith in us. We are going to live up to it. All the way up.”