Miscarriage and resurrection

It's been a while since I've posted, mostly because what I have to say seems to be a quip I can sum up in 140 characters. However, this week, this Holy Week, I have been thinking a lot about death and resurrection.
Last summer, we found out we were pregnant. It was quite a surprise, but something we felt God had really been preparing us for. Through so many different circumstances, we felt this was such a God thing, how could it not be an amazing thing. So we got excited. We got really excited.
But then we lost the baby. It hurt. It didn't make sense. We decided it would be good to express ourselves through letters to our unborn child. She was due to be born on April 19, and so on that day I re-read our letters that we wrote. It felt surreal to read them, almost other-worldly, but what spoke to me was the hope of resurrection. So today, as I sit pondering the death of my Savior, I still sit in the death of my unborn child, but also wait in the glory, beauty and majesty of resurrection. I decided I'd post it today, because it may speak to someone who feels that pain, or needs to know the hope that my God who died rose from the grave again, for me and for you, to restore what was broken and ugly into a glorious relationship.


Oh dearest Glory, I dreamed about you last night.  I could see your face, your smile, the cute pink dress with a bow. The way you looked up in order to see into my eyes.  With a slight tilt to your head, and innocence in your eyes. You looked to be about 4 years old, and I don’t know how, but I knew you were mine.  I miss you, and I never even got to meet you.  It makes me weep to think that you met our Creator already.  Selfish though it is, I would have liked to meet you first.  Your mommy and I are really struggling through this.  I think it’s unmet hopes.  I think it was because we were getting so excited about you.  We started imagining what it would be like to have you in our home, to have your brothers play with you, care and protect you.  Now, it’s impossible to go back to the way things were.  You are a part of us.  We miss you.  Mommy is especially sad.  I think she knew you in a way I can only imagine, but never quite understand.  I really want to help her, but in reality I don’t know exactly how.  I think she carries guilt in that somehow you not being with us anymore is her fault.  I’m praying that God’s Spirit will comfort her, and rid her of her guilt.  I don’t think it’s her fault, but convincing her of that is a tall task that I think only the Spirit can do.  
For me, I think I’m just sad.  I’m not mad at God or really asking “Why”.  I’ve had enough things happen in my life that I believe God has worked out.  The deaths in our family have often brought resurrection to me.  I pray that in God’s kingdom you are meeting your grandparents; my parents and mommy’s daddy.  We miss them too. How do we do this thing?  How do we press into losing you?  How do we deal with the emotions?  I’m so thankful it’s okay to be sad.  I’m so thankful I can feel God’s love.  But I want you to be here.  I want to hold you and play with you.  I want to see your mommy teach you what it means to be a woman.  I want to see you learn how to write and draw, listen to your voice as it changes from infant cries to babble, from indecipherable phrases to intelligent sentences.  What it would be like to watch you grow up.  It would be wonderful to see you grow into a woman.  But we’re not allowed to see that.  I wonder what you look like now, in the presence of His Majesty.  You’ve never experienced a mommy or daddy, but you get the true Father.  It blows my mind that you have never experienced hatred or jealousy, but only basked in the love of our King.  What beauty.  How could I want anything less than that for you?
Do you know why we named you Glory?  I think there are a bunch of reasons.  First, mommy loved a song called Glory Baby, about losing a child.  For me, it was about God being glorified through you.  Even though your presence in our lives was short, I pray that it will have a long-lasting impact in our view of our Father.  I want to learn more and more about who He is and who He would have me be.  There was a song we listened to on the way to the ultrasound called “Glory, Hallelujah” and that was what I kept praying.  “Glory Hallelujah. I’ve got nothing, and I’ve got everything I need.”
Oh Glory, daddy misses you.  I wish you could know our love.  i’ve realized that my heart is big enough to love more.  i’ve realized that i’ve been afraid of the change, but missed out on the love.  I’m sure you will have other brothers or sisters some day, and we will tell them about you, and about how you have changed us.
Can’t wait to meet you, but I know that Jesus has things for us to do and be about.  When our mission is complete, and he calls us home, I will worship alongside you and celebrate the maker of the cosmos, the savior of my soul, and the one who resurrects us into new life.  I love you and miss you.

Ps 62.5 -8 For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence,
for my hope is from him. 
He only is my rock and my salvation,
my fortress; I shall not be shaken. 
On God rests my salvation and my glory;
my mighty rock, my refuge is God. 
Trust in him at all times, O people;
pour out your heart before him;
God is a refuge for us. Selah

Poems answered

I stumbled upon a poem I had to write as an assignment for a Biblical Studies class I took a while back. My wife and I had struggled getting pregnant for 5 years and it was at a point that we had about given up. This poem was a prayer for me, for us. After turning in the poem, my professor had me come up in front of class and had the class lay hands on me and pray for my wife and I. It was a sweet moment for me. I hadn't realized how much I needed to write out what I was feeling, and share the sorrow with others. Here is the poem, dated May 2, 2005:

BITTER SPRINGS

By: Howie Smith

Father, remember us.

We face seclusion in a land of famine.

Our emotions are our isolation,

Our drought the cause of our sorrow.

Hand in hand we trod,

Longing to be carried by the God of hope.

The pain is a monthly affair

Each month more agonizing than the previous

The promise of a river of life

Halted by bitter springs

The bleeding stops our hearts

And the hope is replaced by doubt

The joy of our friends is our inner mourning

We wear black to their celebration.

Not alone in our sorrow

Many have experienced our pain

Others do not even have our longing

Yet they are blessed

What are we to do?

Do we try and fail, only to be disappointed?

Do we stop and take one who is unwanted by others?

The questions are as overwhelming as the disappointment

I know you have not forgotten

You continue to honor us

Your hand is upon us daily

We are your children Abba.

The amazing thing? we got pregnant the next month. with twins.

9/11 thoughts

8 years ago today I was just getting ready for work when I received a call to turn on the television. When I turned it on, I saw a smoking building and a plane fly into a second building. It was surreal, but I remember gasping and wondering what in the world was going on.

Many people can remember where they were and the emotions it evoked. Some were angry, some were grieved. I was sort of numb. It didn’t really affect me personally. I was 3000 miles away. Eventually, I discovered there were second and third hand people that were on a plane or in the building, but still then, it didn’t affect me internally.

The thing that affected me the most was the way people joined together after the event. There was a downplay of socio-economic differences and an upsurge in American pride. Everyone could rally around fallen firefighters and police officers. Everyone could rally around lives unjustly taken. The differences just didn’t matter anymore. I was excited to see people together. Different people celebrating lives and heroes. It was awesome.

Now, I am not a particularly patriotic guy. You won’t find a flag shirt in my closet or a bumper sticker on my car. And even during the 9/11 emotion, I didn’t get caught up in the “Go Team” patriotism. Maybe it comes from my Canadian roots, or from my tendency not to root for the favorite. I don’t know. What I did learn from 9/11, however, is that I wish the church could have the same flavor as the post-9/11 America did. Let’s drop our differences and rally around the kingdom. Let’s change our perspective from me to the body. Let’s open our eyes and see our neighbors. Forget the trivial things and remember sacrifice and resurrection. Let’s celebrate that the kingdom is here and is arriving more every day. If it requires me to wear a ridiculously tacky shirt, I will.

a life of inches

I’m still having a hard time today. We had a real close call yesterday. While walking to the car after picking the boys up from school, Nate surprisingly let go of my hand and darted out into the street. I shouted, heard the squeal of brakes, and watched as a minivan bumped Nate to the ground. Noah screamed, I ran, picked up Nate and just held him close, afraid to open my eyes and see what was wrong. I realized quickly that he was crying, but it was a cry of fear, not of pain. I brought him to his brother who was equally scared. The driver of the minivan came over to make sure things were okay, and after I checked over Nate pretty good, we just sat and tried to calm down. Needless to say, we all needed some time to calm down. Remarkably, Nate didn’t even have a scratch on him.

This has caused me great theological reflection. Why is it that Nate was spared when I know of people that have lost children just as dramatically? Is there some kind of specialness or favor that belongs to him? Is it random chance that we had an observant driver?

What am I to learn through this? Is it just enough to be thankful and completely humbled that my son is unharmed? What would my reaction have been if things had turned out differently? What I do know is the sorrow of my imagination and the worship of my God is a strange stew. I can tearfully imagine losing Nate. Yet at the same time, who am I to grasp control over his life? Is my God worthy of worship regardless of the outcome?

Ps 147.1 Praise the LORD!

For it is good to sing praises to our God;

for it is pleasant, and a song of praise is fitting.

2 The LORD builds up Jerusalem;

he gathers the outcasts of Israel.

3 He heals the brokenhearted

and binds up their wounds.

4 He determines the number of the stars;

he gives to all of them their names.

5 Great is our Lord, and abundant in power;

his understanding is beyond measure.

6 The LORD lifts up the humble;

he casts the wicked to the ground.

Ps 147.7 Sing to the LORD with thanksgiving;

make melody to our God on the lyre!

8 He covers the heavens with clouds;

he prepares rain for the earth;

he makes grass grow on the hills.

9 He gives to the beasts their food,

and to the young ravens that cry.

10 His delight is not in the strength of the horse,

nor his pleasure in the legs of a man,

11 but the LORD takes pleasure in those who fear him,

in those who hope in his steadfast love.

does twitter enhance community

Thanks to Shane Hipps, I have found myself a little more critical of technology and its supposed uses for community. Just read this article from Time, and I'm curious on your thoughts...

problem of evil

Like most, I have struggled with the problem of evil, and why bad things happen. I listened to a podcast of This American Life last week (entitled This I Used to Believe), and they addressed the question in a personal way with no resolution. It saddened me, but I found that it's a difficult issue to resolve. Today, I read a post from Stuff Christians Like (a snarky take at Christian culture). I found this post really interesting. I thought the question the author posed to be introspective and theologically worshipful.

From the mouth of God: "Do I have the right to crack the vessel if breaking it is the fastest way to share with the world what I have poured into it?"

Have a read and leave a comment!

it's friday, but sunday's coming!