The Ever Evolving Cycles of Grief

You would have turned 18 on Valentine's Day, and here we are on the edge of 17 years without you.  Although the years have passed, the grief continues, evolves, and takes new shape along with us.  I used to shy away from this grief and tried to place distance between us. I am wiser now, knowing that the wave of pain is a link, and life-line to you.  We grieve much only because we have loved much and when I think of grief as a tie of love, I can't help but make space and welcome her in like a beloved friend. 

It would be your graduating year, and you would be on the precipice of adulthood. We would be picking out graduation dresses, driving around together (stopping at Starbucks for your fav bevy), picking out possible career paths, and perhaps meeting a wonderful person who makes you light up in a way that no one else does.  I grieve these moments and live in this sort of dream-like state of paused time and wonder who you would be. It brings a torrent of sorrow and reminders of all I missed out on and all I will continue to miss out on.  I am missing these pivotal moments that would gel together in order to create the adult you would become.  And it is in this turbulent space, the grief is transforming again,  morphing my heart from one that has lost a baby, then child, and now an adult.  

 Life evolves and as a parent, it shifts you from the role of pilot, to co-pilot, to passenger, and ultimately to the eager greeter awaiting for landing in the arrivals lounge with a poster saying "Welcome Home."  This is a grief that every parent experiences with time.  I don't think anyone prepared me for how much this season would stretch me, my faith, and my trust in Jesus.  Learning that our job as parents is to prepare our children to launch well, and in so, shifting the perspective from our identity as empty nesters to bird launchers (Kami Gilmour - Release My Grip).  It is our greatest transformation as parents,  and it takes grit, perseverance and a lot of prayer.  As hard as it is to let your adult children fly away, there is a different pain and grief from not being able to see that flight this side of heaven. And this is where I find myself today, reflecting on who Grace would have been and it's twisting my heart into all sorts of anguish.

I will treasure all that I remember of you as a baby, and allow myself the indulgence of imagining you as a child and now as an adult in wholeness, made perfect by our Creator. I have made it through another season and cycle of grief, and have allowed it to transform me once again, preparing me for my own final destination and flight home, one day.  

He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart...

(Ecclesiastes 3:11a)

The Long Good-Bye

Happy Mother’s Day! 

It has been said that dementia is the long goodbye, and it has me thinking about how good-byes are tied to Mother’s Day. For I think all of life is a long goodbye isn’t it? 

I’m reflecting how in some ways I’m saying goodbye to the memories of my children when they were little. I grieve those moments and I cherish them as scared gifts. It’s like those precious moments become our most treasured memories. These memories are held in a suspended space, a gift where we can transport ourselves back in time. 

Mother’s Day is a time when I reflect on my own life as a child and remember my mother in her vibrancy and in her prime. I remember her caring for me as I cared for my children. I remember her caring for her grandchildren in the most loving and tender of ways.

This middle stage of life is a tricky stage. Being in this middle stage of life, you feel the pressure of both the past and the future in which you hold with both hands. In each hand lies the spaces of Grief awaiting on either side. One hand holds the longing space of simpler days tied to the grief of knowing that you could never go back. The other hand holds the space of knowing you can’t fast-forward the grief that is yet to come. 

Looking back I see how Mother’s Day became a bittersweet day for me. It was on Mother’s Day that we started noticing Grace’s seizures. It was in the ER room that the deep Grief found me and ushered me into the start of goodbye unbeknownst to me at the time. Instead of gushing over the handmade gifts made by my preschoolers over brunch, I was listening to the buzz of an overcrowded hospital ER while focussing on every breath of my baby.

Looking forward I see future grief and loss, especially in the gradual decline of my mom. Dementia is a heart wrenching disease as it steals you of the ignorant bliss of daily living. It’s like a rock in your shoe, a constant reminder that life will never be the same. 

Learning to hold space for both deep Grief and deep joy has been the theme song of my life since that Mother’s Day in the ER. I’ve said that time doesn’t heal wounds, but we do get better at holding the balance of living fully in the present moment with pieces of our heart already in heaven. Yet, on days like today the scales tip and it’s harder to hold the two in tandem and I’ve learned to accept that. 

There is however, beauty of being in this middle stage of life. We understand the fleeting moments of life so we catch them, name them, and savour them. We don’t take for granted what we once did. We know the future is paved with grief, yet we also know we can still walk through the valley of the shadow of death and fear no evil. We can find joy in the pain, and despite the pain or perhaps even because of the pain we find deeper peace and acceptance in the every day balance of past and future. For me, my faith is and has been the anchor that holds me and gives me footing when I’m drowning in grief. And so, I tether myself to the rock that is higher than I, knowing that on that firm foundation I can reset and find resolve to remember the days past while also finding the strength to enjoy this present moment before the next goodbye.  

Parallel Love

Thank you Grace for teaching me the lesson on parallel love. 

As Olivia left for college and started living somewhere other than our home, a grief swept over me. This change in our family unit brought back all kinds of grief waves. Reminders of the first time we went for dinner and our table was for 4 and not 5. The first family photo of the four of us and just your picture frame. The first Christmas with only 4 stockings instead of 5. The waves hit hard as I recall these painful restructuring moments. 

Now the table is for three…and soon it will most likely be for two. This family unit is changing and although it’s changing in new and exciting ways it triggers a deep loss within this mama’s heart. 

Yet in this tug of war between past and future, I am reminded of what you taught me sweet Grace. That love defies all boundaries and space and can continue to run parallel despite the changes. You’ve taught me that no matter where I am, your love is right there with me. Even as I set a table for 4, there is always that parallel place for you. Each time we decorate the tree, it’s your ornaments that take center stage. You run parallel with me in everything I do and although our lines won’t meet again until heaven, I’m so thankful that we are still so deeply connected in this sacred parallel space. 

So as I look to the future and know these love ties between Olivia and Isaiah will twist and turn and perhaps run far, I’m thankful for the lesson you taught me sweet Grace that we will still be connected. 

I’m forever thankful for this parallel love that binds despite distance, time and space. This Christmas season reminds me of the message of hope found in a manger and that one day these parallel lines will become one. ❤️

It's Not Over, It's Just Changing...

My daughter leaves for College tomorrow, and as I helped her pack her life into a few boxes and cases, I found my heart once again in the beautifully painful dance of grief. This paradox of excitement for what's ahead for her and the longing for days gone by has been swirling around in my heart since she began her grade 12 year, or maybe as far back as her first breath.  

Each stage of my children's lives has been especially savoured, because watching my children grow is an honour that I never took lightly.  You see when you bury a child, you bury with her all of the milestones, hopes and dreams.  Each big and beautiful moment with my living children will always be tethered to loss of our youngest.  This balance of living fully in the present with a piece of my heart already in heaven is one that I have become a master to in these many years.  Yet, there are moments like today that still take my breath away.

After Grace passed away, our family of course changed.  We had to learn how to be a family of four after being a family of five.  It was of course filled with growing pains, but there were moments of love intertwined.  We learned the new rhythms of living life and with time learned to invite the grief in as part of our family.  

I feel those same pangs within me now when I think of setting the table for three, or see Olivia's vacant bedroom.  At first it felt like I was losing Olivia as well.  Grief is tricky that way, it can engulf and overpower like a giant flood, to the point that you don't know which way is up.  This feeling of disorientation brought back a lot of fear, but after over a decade of grief I have learned to welcome this flood as a friend knowing that the waves will not overtake me as long as I don't fight them.  As I leaned into the raging waters once again and let the process of grief work through me, I realized that although our family unit is changing, it is not over.  Once again my faith has been an anchor, holding me steady, helping me to gain clarity and calm within the chaos and despair.  

If you are in the thick of family change and you also feel swept away by the grief, I want you to know you are not alone. I am here to walk with you.   I am thankful for the other mamas in my life that are also in this stage of adult children.  We were created to do hard things, of this I am sure but I am equally certain that we were never made to do this hard work alone.  

So as we head into a new season, I am reminded that my brilliant, whimsical, sweet girl is ready for this new stage of life and although my grief response may whisper in fear that "it's over," my resolved spirit and my steadfast heart also knows that it's just changing and that change can be beautiful. 

  

And The Years Go By...

And The Years Go By...

And the years go by

although there were days where I saw no end to the pain

here I stand different but the same.

And the years go by

and the earth continues to spin and spin

around the sun, day out day in.

And the years go by

as the grief remains, the loss grows too.

The pain growing strong but just as true.

And the years go by

making pain my friend, a welcome tie

to the the babe, the child and now teen with the green eyes. 

And the years go by 

and although I have learned to laugh once more  

I still hold the loss behind closed doors.

And the years go by

but time stands still just the same

remembering each moment as a lifetime, our love doesn't wane.

And the years go by 

        so I choose with each breath

                to honour your life.

                    and sing your song 

                            until my own death

                                        as

                                             the 

                                                   years 

                                                            go 

                                                                   by. 

Happy 14th on the 14th our sweetest Valentine.  You are forever our greatest gift of love.

The Hope of Spring

The sun warms my tear-stained cheeks this afternoon as I sit on the porch writing and reflecting.  I am thankful for the hope of spring and that the end of winter in nigh.  The winter of grief mirrors the elements of the season itself.  The dark, cold nights draw me to those I love and I long to be close and feel the warmth of their presence as we snuggle by the fire and take in twinkling lights that Grace loved so much. 

Although, as the long nights follow one after the other, there is a despair that can creep in.  Grief is much like these moments of enduring darkness; when you feel like you cannot take another day of it.  It is here frozen in memory and in the trauma of painful moments that a heart can grow weary, despondent, and fatigued.  The winter of grief can feel like a cruel and bitter wind reminding me of the desolate feeling of isolation.  The cold wind pricks through the tender layers built around such an aching heart.  Buried deep in the ground, one can feel so alone.

Yet, if the heart can muster up enough courage to hold on one more day, minute, second, moment, the hope is that spring will come. 

Like a seed growing into a shoot, the strength to rally enough fortitude to keep pushing up towards the surface is a miracle.  I, like the bud, have endured this winter of grief twelve times now only by the grace of God.  You would think it would be easier after twelve cycles.  You would think that my heart would know the way.  Even years later, I can assure you it takes courage to remember.  To remember the beauty of her life while at the same time navigating around the trauma triggers, takes a learned skill.

Each year I watch her eulogy.  It is always a bittersweet experience, reminding me that grief is not linear and is not bound by dualities.  When I listen to the specifically chosen songs, see her smile for her Daddy, watch her play with her jungle gym, see all three of my babies together smiling, and see those beautiful eyes, I am reminded of the deep and wonderful love we shared.  I too, am always in awe as I remember the army of family, friends and church that rallied (and continue to) around us and loved her and us so well. 

It is here that the pain of remembering transforms into a friend, and the grief that was once a foe begins to thaw the frozen walls of winter, making way once again for new growth to spring forth.  It seems counterintuitive that pain becomes healing, coldness becomes warmth, and that beauty does in fact rise from the ashes of a broken heart.  It takes perseverance for the bud to bloom and although tight and dark within the bud, the expectancy of the blossom that awaits within causes enough pressure to ignite the process. 

So, as I make space and sit with the beautiful pain of memory, I hold onto the hope that winter has almost passed, and that spring will come again. 

  

You Would Be 13.

I paced the aisles yesterday clutching 2 gold-foiled balloons.  One was the number one, and the other a three.  I held these balloons and aimlessly walked aisle after aisle trying to come to grips with the fact that you would be turning 13 tomorrow. 

It feels like yesterday that we were celebrating the milestone of your first birthday.  Family, friends, and our church family gathered in honour of your special day as we dedicated you and celebrated your 1^st birthday.  I was so thankful you were with us, as we had a few touch-and-go moments prior.  I remember you in your beautiful pink dress in your lovely pram and the feeling of such love.  You were our Valentine’s baby after all…you encompassed love.

Yet, somehow 12 years have gone by and now you would be 13.  As I looked at toys and clothes I couldn’t help but wonder what you would want for your 13^th birthday if you were still here.  Would you be into flamingos or llamas?  Or would you be swept up into the world of T Swift looking up to your older sister?  Or perhaps like your older brother, you would love skating on our little homemade rink the last 2 days with him? Life for a grieving parent is full of these bittersweet wonderings.  Bitter for we will never know what might have been, but sweet in the indulgence of hopeful imagination.

My darling angel girl now teenager, you are missed.  How I wish I could catch a glimpse of you in heaven.  How I long to see the beautiful glow and sparkle in those precious green eyes.  I wish I could see how strong you have grown and hear all about the years that we have spent apart.  I wish I could hold you again and feel your heart close to mine.  I wish I could tell you how you changed me and how you inspire me everyday to get up and live this life, giving my best so that I can honour you and the One who gave you to me.

I hope you knew just how loved you were when you were with us, and how that love has not diminished over the years, but has indeed grown.  You were our sweetest Valentine, and will forever be.  Happy Valentines Day and Happy 13^th Birthday Gracie, we celebrate and remember you always. 

Good Grief

When driving to work I would pass Canuck Place Abbotsford campus and I would see the sign, Good Grief on a banner.  It caused me to pause each time.  Good grief sounds like such a paradox.  How can grief be good?  Well, I know how grief can feel bad. I know the days (still so many years later), when it feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest and a vice is gripping my windpipe.  I know the days where little things feel like big things and my nerves are shot.  I know the despair, triggered by the reminders of the traumatic moments that catapult me back through time and space.  Oh, bad grief is very easy to find and if one is not careful can be hard to move out of.

Good grief on the other hand, although elusive can be found.  When you move through the pain and reach another level of acceptance and can remember all the love and precious moments, good grief is there.  When friends remember your sweet loved one, post a picture, or send a text there too you find good grief.  Good grief is your husband dropping everything to come change a tire that you should be perfectly capable of changing because he knows you needed support that day.  Good grief is when in the midst of sadness you feel that unexplainable love and comfort that comes from Jesus.  Good grief is not impossible, but it is a choice.  As I remember back to 12 years ago on Valentine's Day I can remember the beauty and not the pain of Gracie's birth.  Those were traumatic days from the uncertainty of her survival to when I fainted in the NICU due to low iron levels and forgetting to eat.  Yet, through the trauma there came hope...an unrelenting hope that we had for her life.  Her birthday reminds me of good grief.

March 3, however is not as easy to navigate.  The days leading up to her passing were laden with such anguish.  No one can prepare you for the death of such a loved one nor the painful reminders that linger for years to come. The 11th anniversary of her passing (aka her Heaven Due Date) is hard to enter because although we celebrate that she is no longer suffering and is dancing with the angels, it is a stark reminder of her absence.  We must work harder to move through the bad grief on these days. When experiencing grief, little things can feel like big things.  So please be gentle with those around you.  You may never know the magnitude of the load they bear behind a brave smile.  If you know somone who has experienced grief, reach out to them.  Check-in and remind them they are not alone. You may be the life preserver that they need to not fall back into the sea of pain and sorrow.

If you are going through grief today, know that I am here with you.  Although I don't have a secret potion that will ease your pain, I can offer you hope.  That unrelenting hope that the sun will shine in your life again. When you are in the dark days and the bad days of grief, lean into the pain.  Don't shy away from it for it will only grow in its intensity.  If you have experienced grief you know exactly what I mean.  When you avoid the pain, the grief will start to present itself phsyically.  The heart won't let you forget.  The sooner you turn and face the grief, the sooner you can confront and then release the pain.  My only caveat is that you don't stay in that deep place of pain too long.  If you stay too long, it will engulf you.  Be sure to feel the pain, cry, scream, whatever it takes to physically release the sorrow that is rising within you.  It's like you are caught up in a torrent of a wave.  You don't know up from down and you are frightened.  But once you surrender to the wave of sorrow, the waters will still and you will come up gasping for air.  It is here that you have the choice.  It is here where you must choose to live and not sink back down into the sorrow.  Live for the beauty that is still in your life now.  Live to honour the life that was lost.  Live to love and bless others. Live while you still have breath in those lungs.  Don't sink back in, but look up.  Look up to the heavens, to the mountains to where your help comes from.  Look up, for that is where your sorrowful moments can be transformed and where you learn how to ride the wave of grief.  Each time you surface, you will feel less panicky until eventually you learn to be thankful for the grief
for your sorrow links you to that beloved person.  The skill of remembering your loved one without the trauma of the loss takes time.  There are still days over a decade later that I still arise from the waters gasping.  Yet, more often than not I can withstand the torrent of sorrow and emerge feeling thankful for the good grief.

Grace Kathryn Elizabeth Evans
Feb. 14, 2008-Mar. 3, 2009

A Decade of Dance: Paradoxical Love

This bittersweet dance began on

This day of love, that has now turned into years.

A decade has come and gone

enveloped in joy, and intermingled with tears.

How can it be that we have lived

and carried on with life’s dance for a decade now?

When it seems like just yesterday I held your

small frame; fragile yet strong somehow.

And that was you my dearest baby.

Sweet and gentle yet mighty and brave.

And so the paradox of your life became my saving grace.

For if you could be both tender and strong,

I too would glean from your dance.

You taught me how to live in pain,

To take on a gentle, yet resilient stance.

I promised to sing your song,

To keep your dance alive.

But in order to do that, I had to learn

how to thrive, not merely survive.

On days that my heart was breaking,

So desperate to give into the dark,

it was your dance in me, igniting

God’s love to renew a spark.

A spark to love, a spark to hope,

A spark towards joy in desolate places.

To mirror your light, to show your strength,

to spread love to lonely and dark spaces.

For dying along with you was not an option,

And living without you had to be.

And so I devoted my life to reflect

your paradoxical dance living on through me.

The Power of the Middle.

Life has been full and oh so busy!  It saddens me to think I don't have time for blogging as much anymore.  Truth be told, I am so tired of writing for my Master's Degree that it leaves little desire for personal writing.  However, on the eve of my 40th year I can't help but feel pressed to document this moment.

There is a trepidation as I close my eyes tonight, knowing that tomorrow I will no longer be in my early years.  It feels like yesterday I was in youth group, setting up music song lists with Rachel Richmond and waiting for Andrew to arrive from college!  Or driving with Suzette, Jen, Louise and Sarah up to WPBC to visit Andrew or  rocking out in that little green Honda to countless retreats.  How does time fly by this quickly?  How is it that I will soon be the parent to a teenager next month?  It's mind boggling.

Yet, mixed in this moment is a beautiful feeling of gratitude and humble joy.  My life is so blessed.  I have known love since I was 16 and feel so grateful to be loved by Andrew for nearly a quarter of a century.  I have beautiful and loving children and a wonderful family.  I have many dear friends and although I don't see some of them everyday, they remain close to my heart.  I love my job and feel called to teaching.  I AM BLESSED.

I have heard it said that 40 is the young of the old and old of the young.  I am in the middle, and it is a familiar place for me as I am the middle child.  I know the role of the middle child is often seen as a negative, but I loved it!  I loved having both an older and younger sister, plus I had 3x the wardrobe!  In my graduate readings, one thought that impacted my studies has been the notion of rhizomatic learning (Deleuze & Guattari, 2007).  This type of learning generates from the middle, and allows for offshoots of learning to emerge from the middle.  This middle time of life offers me maturity, experience, and gratitude.  No longer am I striving to figure out who I am.  I know who I am and understand that I am a work in progress and have found peace in that.

Is aging easy?  No, can't say I love the forming wrinkles and lack of energy.  Yet, with age comes experience and the realization that life is messy, and hard.  Long gone are my pie in the sky notions seen through rose coloured glasses.  Life has dealt me much pain and sadness, and no doubt will continue to.  Yet, this awakening to be present and thankful for the here and now has only come through the painful and beautifully messy and twisted path of life.

As I fall asleep tonight, I won't be sad for the years gone by but will be thankful for the formation they have played into my ever evolving self.  I have so much to be thankful to God for, not only the mountain top parts of the journey, but also the deep darkness of the valleys and all that has been in-between!

I leave you with a quote from Austrian neurologist and Holocost Survivor, Viktor Frankl.  May I choose to use this sacred middle
space to find room for growth and embrace Christ's freedom in my life.  And I thank each and everyone of you for joining me in this journey of life.  Here's to the power of being in the middle!

Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom. 

The Sweet Spot of Your Soul.

The entry of this New Year was one for the books!  Celebrating with my sweet little family by having a movie marathon, mixed in with board games, then topped off with a magical wintery sledding adventure at midnight was perfection!  Sigh.  It was amazing.  This morning, Pastor Jim posed a question that resonated deep within me.  He asked, "Is your soul increasing or decreasing?"  As I look to this new year, this blank canvas, this fresh blanket of snow, I can't help but wonder?  Will my soul increase this year, or will it decrease?

Ultimately, I think we would all say we would hope for our souls to increase.  Yet, to grow, we must not only experience the beautiful, and magical moments.  Oh how I wish I had a pause button for moments like last night where I wished the world would just lull in the beauty of the moment.  However, often times our greatest increase comes from a challenge.  Now I think the word challenge often gets a bad rap!  In my studies this year, we learned about Vygotsky and his Zone of Proximal Development.  In order to grow in our learning, we must be challenged but in a way where it is scaffolded, and acheivable.  If learning is too easy, it doesn't motivate higher level thinking, but the opposite is also true.  If the learning proves too difficult, we tune out!  So, there is this 'sweet spot' where the learning is just hard enough to illicit those higher level problem solving skills, but we must also have the right supports in place in order to aid us in discovering the new unchartered areas of learning.  

I think this same principle can be applied here.  In order for our soul to expand, and for us as humans to grow spiritually, we must endure life's challenges.  Challenge yourself to find ways to support your spirit's growth.  Perhaps, start with redeeming a certain time that you already have.  For instance, on the way to work I recite the Fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22-23). For the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.  Then when I pass a certain stop-light I start praying that I would be filled with God's peace and joy for myself and for the classroom.  That I would be at peace and be calm and full of joy to a world that is vibrating with stress and depression.  I speak peace over my classroom and joy into the space.  It has made a huge difference in my stress levels this year.  I feel as though my soul is increasing because of the scaffolded time of meditating on scripture.  

I hope you find your 'sweet spot' of learning and that when challenges come this year, that you will be ready to take it on knowing that with the proper supports, and reliance on Christ, you will come through it stronger, wiser and increased!  After-all, you can do all things through Christ who gives you strength!  (Phil. 4:13)

Westwinds Ladies Brunch Fundraiser for Canuck Place

I was honoured to be ask to share our story of Grace to a wonderful room full of beautiful women!  I was blessed by the generosity to raise money for Canuck Place, an organization that is so near and dear to our hearts!  

I am someone who likes order and I find comfort in rules and boundaries.  I am organized and orderly and tend to be what one would consider a Type A personality.  I am a planner.  I love lists, and so my plans for my life were greatly thwarted the day I found out we were unexpectedly expecting.  I was already feeling overwhelmed at the surprise of having 3 babies three years and under, but then the devastating news of our little surprise baby’s health left me so shocked and deeply confused.  She was diagnosed at 18 weeks gestation with severe hydrocephalus which is water on the brain….the diagnosis ranged from imminent death to moderate learning disabilities!  We were told that 90% of people who receive such a diagnosis, will terminate.  I remember fighting through the tears and shaking my head in disbelief, so desperately longing to wake up from every mother’s worst nightmare.

Our journey was filled with great highs; like capturing her first smile on camera and watching her track with her eyes, and bringing her hand to her mouth and play with her little toys.  But it was also filled with deep lows, lonely moments in hospital hallways, frightening seizure episodes and 911 calls, and finally the hardest and most deeply painful moment of my life, burying my baby.

I started the journey with such faith that she would be completely healed.  After-all, Andrew and I were in ministry and we knew that God had the power to heal, and so we set off in such faith that if we did all we could, then surely God would do the rest. 

Well, as it happened, healing on this side of heaven was NOT God’s plan.  I remember feeling so confused and so hurt.  How could her healing on this side of heaven not be His plan?  I checked my heart for bitterness, sin, unresolved unforgiveness, I searched my heart and prayed continually and fasted, & held prayer meetings.  I gave up all technology and every free moment I had I would read my bible with such a thirst like it was water for my parched soul – yet still, His answer was not the one we were hoping and praying for. 

I’ll never forget reading in Hebrews 11 where the author writes about the heroes of our faith!  Hebrews 11:13 ³ All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. 

He then lists all of the atrocities that came to these heroes of our faith.  They were stoned, mocked, they were imprisoned, mistreated, afflicted, and the list goes on!  I was in shock!  I couldn’t believe that these heroes of the faith, were commended for their faith but were not given what was promised them…for God had something better.

39 ³⁹ These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised, ⁴⁰ since God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect.

Whooo….that’s a tough pill to swallow.  It was so hard to come to the reality that His plan for Grace was not my plan.  It was a tug of war for a few months I can assure you. 

An example of this tug of war with God was one day I was at a department store looking for that 'perfect dress' for Grace’s upcoming Dedication celebration.  It didn't take long to find a beautiful pink dress.  It was frilly, flowy, and perfect.  As I held it and rubbed my fingers along the delicate fabric, I thought, how would it feel on her?  Would she be comfortable in it?  I imagined just how beautiful she would look in it.  The soft pink color of the fabric would match her sweet and rosy complexion. 

As I walked away, I noticed the same dress in white.  It was out of place on a different rack, most likely placed there by someone with a change of heart.  Perhaps a white dress for a baby would prove to be daunting as it would no doubt become blemished within minutes on a toddler.  I felt a familiar prompting in my spirit.  I kept walking.  I felt it again.  I turned around.  I slowly walked back and stared at it.  I stood face to face with the pureness of it.  The unblemished and perfectly white material drew me towards it.  I wanted to turn around and leave.  I did not want to hear what I was feeling God was saying to my heart.  I heard, and perhaps more accurately, felt the words, "you need to buy this for her."  

I stood there knowing full well this dress was not to replace the party pink one.  No, the solemness deep in my heart knew what I needed to buy it for.  I stood there, at odds with myself for quite sometime.  How do you buy a dress that you know you will have to bury your child in?  How do you follow in obedience to a call that you don't want to hear, and that you desperately don't want to accept?  

There was another woman, who too, was given a task too heavy to bear.  A woman who had plans set out for her life, until God came to her and changed it all.  Sweet young Mary, engaged to be married, no doubt had plans set.  And this change of plan, this Higher calling, came with great risk.  For not being married and pregnant could have resulted in her stoning.  I can only imagine how frightened she must have been and can only imagine all of the questions she must have had. 

To think that such a young girl would be called to such a huge and overwhelming task is unfathomable to me. Yet, I love how God's ways are so often opposite to what our ways would be. To think that God would choose a girl - not a queen, nor a king, not someone of high ranking or wealth, but a simple young girl from the long family line of a mere shepherd boy turned warrior king. Mary, from the house of David, was called to put all reason aside and just trust in sheer obedience. 

Mary had a lot of reasons to disobey, and flat out refuse the call on her life. She had to endure the initial shock of the angel, then had to try to wrap her head around the mysterious and frightening idea that she would be with child which I am sure led to the panic of what others would say about her, her family, and her betrothed. I am sure she feared her for her life. How do you explain to the one you are giving your life to such inexplicable news? I can't even begin to imagine the look of pain and betrayal in the eyes of Joseph (who we know loved her enough to want to divorce her in quiet - before he knew the truth from the angel himself). Ugh - talk about a stressful situation!

Yet here we see Mary in the middle of an unfathomable encounter choosing to obey. After asking the obvious question of "how can this be...since I am a virgin?" she receives another ambiguous piece to the mysterious puzzle. Even after this strangely wonderful, yet frightening encounter we hear her beautiful trusting faith simply respond with

Luke 1:38 ³⁸ “I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May your word to me be fulfilled.”

Obedience…a beautiful, surrender of her will. 

During my pregnancy with Grace I had many people praying.  One prayer warrior in our church at the time, told me that she felt like I was like Mary – favored of God.  Favored?   I remember thinking, I don’t feel favoured, I feel scared, unsure, confused, worried…definitely not favored. 

Our journey with Grace was full of the unknown. Trusting the Hand of an unseen God is not easy. Yet I knew His voice, for He had guided me all my life through ups and downs, highs and lows. He was my Shepherd, and although I did not know the path and although it often was a path I did not want to tread, I still trusted His rod and His staff.

Obedience for me didn't always come easy - and perhaps it was a struggle for Mary too? There were times I fought, and fought hard against what I knew was His will for Grace. He, in His love for me, allowed me the fight - but, as Andrew told me - God is big enough to handle our anger, questions and disappointments.

When Lois told me I was favoured.  I smiled and thanked her and secretly scoffed in my heart.  Favored?  Favored to what?  Favoured to be hurt?  Favoured to watch her baby suffer?  If this was favour, I surely didn’t want it!

The greek for the word highly favoured, word kecharitomene.  Which means completely, perfectly, enduringly endowed with grace." (Blass and DeBrunner, Greek Grammar of the New Testament).

When I read that, tears welled up in my eyes, because the night before the confirmation of our baby’s diagnosis, well before this strong and loving woman shared with me that I was favoured, we cried out to God in prayer, fasting, and singing.  My husband and I sat crying on the floor, singing Amazing Grace and I turned to him and said, if it’s a girl, can we call her Grace?

We loved the name Grace, because it meant unmerited favour.   I knew she was my unexpected blessing, and we were completely, perfectly enduringly endowed with GRACE!  She was my delight.  She was a gift to me, to us.  I can clearly see that I was favoured in the sense that Christ made me perfectly, and completely able to endure the beautiful and immense gift that was Grace.

He gave me the grace to buy that white dress that day.  I tried to walk away, rationalizing that we could still have more time with her.  I knew she was declining, but tried to justify that we could still go another year or more, but again, the prompting pounded gently, but heavily at the same time.  My heart raced.  I knew it was my Shepherd's voice.  So I reached out, and with shaking hands gently lifted it off the rack.  I raced to the counter, and without eye contact bought the dresses and ran to the van.  I got to the van and I wept.  Deep, heavy sobs.  I tried to compose myself a few times, but couldn't.  It was getting late and I needed to get home.  

I sat in the driveway for awhile.  Crying out to God.  "But God, she is as white and pure as this beautiful dress.  How can you ask me to do such a thing?  I can't give her up.  I can't.  I fought so hard for her every day.  Please God.  Can't you understand what I am feeling?  She is so little, so innocent, she has done nothing wrong.  She has shown us love, truth and grace.  I want to trust you but please, please don't make me do this!" 

As I continued to cry out, again I felt His will, His voice gently saying "But child, I do understand.  My son was blameless, my son was pure.  He did nothing to deserve the penalty awaiting Him.  He showed love, and embodied truth and grace.  Yet, I gave Him up for you, for the world...for Grace.  She will never have to experience true separation from me.  She will never be out of my hand because of what MY pure and innocent son accomplished. He experienced true death, and separation from Me, so that our sweet little Gracie would never have to.  I do understand, and promise to be your portion."

One month later, my sweet baby wore that dress.  She was as white as snow, fautless and blameless, like a little lamb.  She passed from this world into the next without a moment of separation.  She was lifted from my arms into the strong and loving arms of her Shepherd. You see, she too knew His voice, and awoke to the loving nail scarred hands, stretching out for her.  Like a little lamb, leaping into the Shepherd's embrace, she was lead home.  She never experienced true death.  Yes, she was separated from me, but thank you Jesus, she was never separated from her Shepherd. 

Our sweet journey of Grace came to completion March 3, 2009.  Grace Kathryn Elizabeth Evans passed away at Canuck Place Children’s hospice on Mar 3, 2009 at the tender age of 12 and half months.  She passed away a year exactly to her original due date. We affectionately call it her heaven due date, as that was the day she entered into fullness.  I am so very thankful to CP and how they rallied around us and helped us in our most painful moments.  They were there to support us as a family and after the chaos of the hospital and separation of our family, Canuck was a safe place to land.  It was a haven, where we could all go through the experience of loss and grief together, as one, under one roof.  Words will never fully be able to express our love and appreciation for Canuck Place.  Thank you Jenna and family for all that you have done to raise awareness and money to support this beautiful organization. 

The journey of Grace was one of deep love, and deep grief.  God molded me into a new creation, and the pain of the break hurts, and it still hurts ardently.  But I can honestly say that there is a beauty that came from the break, a beauty in me that was only brought forth because of the loss of my sweet baby and that all she taught me, and my family.

So as you enter this Christmas season, I am mindful that there are some of you who are in the midst of an inexplicable, painful place. Although it has been a few years without Grace, the painful reminders of life without her remain. Perhaps there are some of you in this fervent place of grief this year. There may also be some of you living in the unknown of whether this Christmas will be the last one with a loved one. While some may be picking up the pieces of broken dreams and relationships. Will you like Mary, in the midst of chaos and profound confusion, choose to obey even if it doesn't make sense? Will you accept the call on your life and trust that He can make beauty from ashes as He did with mine?

No matter where you are in the scheme of life this year- whether you are singing all the jolly Christmas songs with gusto because life is beautifully wonderful, or if you find yourself crying out and longing to just feel at peace again, I encourage you to come to the rough wooden cradle of Jesus, just the same, and worship Him.

For in Him true peace, joy and fulfillment can be found. In Him, the eternal hope of true healing and wholeness is available to all who call on His name.

Obedience is not always the natural choice. It is often uncomfortable and even painful. Obedience for me is constantly and willingly releasing the pain and moving forward even though at times, I so desperately want to hold on to the pain. It is trusting even when I don't have the blueprint of life ahead of me.

This Christmas may our response be as Mary's, in obedience may we have the strength and courage to say “I am the Lord’s servant, may your word to me be fulfilled.”