Be Still My Soul

We arrived at church on Sunday (a couple of sundays ago now), dropped the older boys off at sunday school, and then headed into the service. Which, I might add, had not started yet.  Pretty good for our first trip to church with Archer along.  We sat down, and I flipped through the bulletin as usual.  I noticed right away that the celebration choir was singing a couple of my favorites, and then I turned further and saw one of the later hymns... "Children of the Heavenly Father".  I am sure I had heard it before, but because it was one that we had at Amelia's funeral, it will always evoke strong emotions and memories for me.  I don't think it was something that P would notice, but I didn't point it out.  He may notice that my shoes don't match my outfit very well, or that the wall hanging is a little too high or low, but a specific hymn, not so much. However, as we sang the second hymn, I stopped singing, my mouth couldn't form the words, and I didn't have the air to push them out.  I didn't expect it... Maybe I had never paid attention to the words before - I mean really paid attention. Soaking up the words and their meaning.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Be still, my soul; the Lord is on thy side;

Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;

Leave to thy God to order and provide;

In every change He faithful will remain.

Be still, my soul; thy best, thy heavenly, Friend
================================================


Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end. 
 
--------------------------- and then these words-----------------------
 
Be still, my soul, though dearest friends (my daughter) depart

And all is darkened in the vale of tears;

Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,

Who comes to soothe thy sorrows and thy fears.
================================================

As much as I hate the pit in my stomach from grieving, and the missing that is so painful at times, I must say that God was tender. He was tender and close.  His love for me evident, despite the hurt I was experiencing.  I don't think I realized it at the time.  I was probably still confused and mad about everything.  I am a little passive aggressive though, even with God (pathetic, I know).  You know - when you say, "no, I'm not mad at you", and then you are quiet and sulky despite 'not being mad'. I prayed to Him, I sobbed and hung my head, I pouted my lips and asked why, but I still said, "no, God, I'm not mad at you."  I didn't understand why us, or why her, and even though I will never know why --- at least I'm not mad anymore.  I will still look at other people and wonder why us and not some other family... but then I will also think of how close He was to me during that time, and I will crave that forever.  I am thankful that He was close to me.  I will know His heart in a way I couldn't have before. I will know His love in a way I was incapable of before. Just as the hymn says, "I better know His love, His heart," AND I DO.  He did, "soothe thy sorrows and thy fears" too. 
It is not my job to understand how He chooses to- as the hymn says, "order and provide" and it is okay that it is a mystery to me, because He is a mystery.  A loving and just God who orders the heavens and earth and knows when a sparrow falls, and yes, is still a mystery.  He is a big, HUGE, almighty God, and He chose to come close to me... as close as my own skin.  I miss my daughter, I always will, but later in the service when I sang "Children of the Heavenly Father" I didn't cry.  I didn't cry for her, or for us who live without her on this earth.  This time it was "Be Still My Soul" that brought the lump in my throat. Because those words were my experience exactly. He was all of those things to me.  He was so very real to me during a time when I wanted to look the other way, when I wanted to ignore Him.  However, it is impossible to ignore your own skin.  It's there, all the time, and you live in it.  I get to live everyday with His spirit in me, but those days when the outside world was foggy and my head and heart were wounded from grief, the Father was close, so very close to me.  I miss only two things about those early days. One - everything about Amelia was more fresh in my mind, and two - God's tenderness and closeness.
And during a time of turmoil and restlessness in my heart, He stilled my soul, as only He can. 

Two babies: one in our hearts, one in our arms...

When I started looking through pictures of Archer, and seeing him welcomed by his brothers and dad, it was such a blessing to see their joy.  Joy that was anticipated a year ago with Amelia, and stopped short when she arrived. I have these two pictures that are similar, and yet so very different.  How we talked about her arrival for weeks and months prior, telling the boys how things would change once she arrived. Not just "the boys" anymore...

Nothing prepares you to try and explain birth, a new sibling - now in heaven, and the realities of death to an almost three and almost four year old.  It is impossible to hide your emotions, nor should you try, I guess...  I remember the tears rolling down my sweet husband's face when he showed Amelia to O-dog.  I'm not sure my heart hurt more than at that moment.  How different it was this time around.  We will never forget, but we can't let that overshadow enjoying every minute with our youngest.

This time around it was such a joy to share Archer with them.  They asked questions and just stared at him. They told strangers about him, whether or not they wanted to know or not.  A man in the elevator gets the full scoop on their new brother. "His name is BABY" says O-dog.  "And his middle name is BABE" adds Ev-babe.  My mother telling me how they just beamed as they told the man about their new brother, who was named "Baby Babe" at that time, apparently. In some ways I feel that the addition of this new sibling, alive and well might be a healing balm for their hearts.  I know that O-dog certainly doesn't hold back from telling Archer how much he loves him.  They both hug and kiss him, and practically smother him with their bodies attention.  He is almost 6 weeks old, and he is still getting oodles of love. 

As for me... There are times when the grief seems to hit me like a ton of bricks.  One minute I am beaming at my new son, and then wham-O.  I never seem to know when it is coming, and I guess that is just the way it always will be.  The other day I was checking for a stinky surprise in Archer's diaper, and I was blown away by the fact that I didn't ever change Amelia's diaper.  I know she had one on. A tiny little pampers swaddler, with a yellow stripe down the butt.  I took it off and put it back on once.  Did she have the same one on the whole time?  Was it the same diaper she wore under the dress she was buried in?  Why didn't I check?  Why would you?  I don't know... There are just things that I never thought about before, but now that I have a newborn in my arms, I think about them.  I forgot about all of the squeaky sounds, the sharpness of their little nails, and how their legs don't seem to unfold even when you pick them up.  It is healing for me to hold our sweet little Archer, to dream about the days ahead with our three sons.  And yet, while he is in this newborn stage, I also can't help but think of our daughter, forever a newborn in our memories.  Forever the child who is very much a part of a family, yet is present only in our hearts. 

I miss you, baby girl.  You have a little brother, now... you are a BIG sister...

I know you know.