aiden is talking in full sentences now, so i'm trying to make Jesus a part of our regular vocabulary, and i am putting him to bed, asking him if he knows how much God loves him.
he stretches his arms out wide like a cross. "this much" he whispers. then i ask him where God lives, thinking he'll point to his heart because we've done this before. but he keeps pointing to my eyes. over and over. and i hope it's because he sees Christ, there.
one night when i was at the wild goose festival, i woke up to a baby crying, and i lay there in my tent, waiting for someone to pick that baby up but no one did, and then i unzipped the door and stood there in a sea of 1,000 coleman pop-ups, hearing this child sobbing and not knowing how to reach her. and finally someone must have picked her up. but that would be my personal hell, right there: hearing a child crying and not being able to comfort him or her.
and maybe this explains the one prayer i cannot pray. the one that surrenders my children.
i don't know if i could have been abraham on top of that mountain holding a knife to my baby's neck. no, i'm pretty sure i couldn't have been. i would have rationalized that God doesn't ask people to kill innocent children.
in the same breath i know that God asks some hard things of us, and even though he ushers the little children unto him in the new testament, he also allowed kings to murder entire cities full of babies under the age of two. not that it made him happy mind you, but he allowed it.
so i'm scared. i'm scared to say, thy will be done with my children--thy full, and complete will--because what if that means taking them from me? and i know a number of you, my dear readers, have experienced the passing of your child, and i don't know that i would survive this. i told trent once, i think i would stop breathing.
i'm sure you who've lost your children have felt this way too. but somehow, you must keep breathing. i just cannot bring my mind or my prayers to go there. i want to be the one to save that crying child in that sea of tents.
i didn't know i could love like this, i didn't know i could protect and nurture and fight for the rights of anyone like this, but this is why we took in joey and jin, and why we offered to take in another woman's baby at one point (she didn't take us up on it, which is good, because like my last post stated, i am beyond weary) but don't show me a suffering child, because i WILL take him or her home.
i ask aiden where God lives and he points to my eyes, and i wonder if it's because he knows. i see God where i want to see him, but i don't always let him into the deepest parts of me. into my heart. because then i might have to accept all of him. all of God, with his mystery and his holiness and i prefer thinking of God gathering us close like chicks, as it says in the Psalms, or knowing the number of hairs on our heads, or providing our daily bread.
not allowing his son to die on a cross, alone, for a world that despised him.
every wednesday and thursday, we gather together to celebrate redemption. here are the details:
1. link up a post (old or new) that you feel is 'broken' or 'imperfect' or somehow redemptive
2. put the 'imperfect prose' button at the bottom of your post, so others can find their way back here (see button code in right-hand column of my blog)
3. read other's prose, and encourage them!
won't you join us, here? in which we "walk each other home"? (ram dass)
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You are walking through the deep waters, my friend, but you will not be overwhelmed because He walks with you--whether you are ready to "let Him in" or not. I'm praying, sweet Emily!
ReplyDeleteAt one point, my son wanted to join the army. His doctor supported him, saying the structure and discipline might be very good things for him. When he went off to the recruiting office, I felt like I was waving goodbye as he ascended Mt. Moriah. God, in his mercy, had my son disqualified from military service, twice. But every day that I can't keep and protect him from harm, every day that I watch him struggle with his own particular challenges, I am crying out, "Thy will be done." And I am betting everything on God being good.
ReplyDeleteYour post is beautiful, Emily. I've even wakened from dreams in which something terrible was happening to my kids and wept, hoping He wouldn't ask me to walk through that.
ReplyDeleteCatherine Denton
Oh goodness, Em, this: "i see God where i want to see him, but i don't always let him into the deepest parts of me. into my heart. because then i might have to accept all of him."
ReplyDeletemy heart aches with you as I read this. I've also wondered how God surrendered his child and let him die like that. You are brave for asking the questions children ask because they are too innocent to know it's taboo. I love that about you.
I feel the same way about things sometimes--Husband and I once watched a video of a blind child in a crib--no one ever touches him. The ones who were trying to get him adopted out made the video. We cried, and said "Where is he? How much to adopt him?" I've also lost babies which I will write about soon.
Saying a prayer for you, (((Em))), for the things that are oh so hard to understand, like why you aren't able to stretch to be more, to adopt those boys, be superwoman for them. Well, you know what? You already are, my dear. Love you.
Oh Emily - My heart entangles your turmoil & heartache. The questions and the circumstances of your situation. God brought me to the same scripture when giving up our son we had for 2 yrs. The baby we brought home from NICU. Hardest thing ever. Yet, he also brought me to Samuel & how at age 2 Hannah gave him into the hands of the Lord. And what a mighty man he became & how God gave Hannah even more children. Prayers as you wrestle with His will and find the seat of His serenity firmly planted in it all! Big Hug to you.
ReplyDeleteEmily,
ReplyDeleteI hear your words and I know that fierceness with which you speak and we are all incapable of grasping the reach of His love. But I believe you to be a mama with a heart so deep and wide that the whole of God--his love, his mercy AND his mystery--can't help but fall into its whirling core. Praying with you.
Oh, I'm the same way with a crying child. The presence of Mommy brings joy, just like the presence of God brings us joy. Beautiful, Emily.
ReplyDeleteOh wow. I love the love and feisty compassion in your words. I am totally with you. I think I would stop breathing... It is a hard call, this surrendering of things to God.
ReplyDeleteAs one who has lost a baby, I did feel I would stop breathing. But God breathed through me when I couldn't breathe on my own. He gives grace as needed.
ReplyDeleteI pray he never asks you for that sacrifice. But if he does, he'd give you the grace in the moment. You are so his child, Emily. I love your heart.
I must lean in close and get to know my better, my friend. I have something to learn from you. This, I've been thinking for months. Upon my return from Guatemala, so much is clearer and still so much more, not so. But I know with certainty, I won't settle anymore. There is a world hopeless and helpless without the love of Christ and I have it to give. And I love how you give.
ReplyDeleteI never could figure how Abraham struck out, to sacrifice his son, until I read Hebrews 11:17-19. Abraham had faith enough to know that God doesn't break promises, and God had promised that the success of Abraham's family would come through Isaac. Abraham knew, then, that--if he had to sacrifice Isaac--God would raise Isaac from the dead. I'm not trying to minimize Abraham's willingness, b/c who has that much faith? But God knew, also, that His Son would live again. I appreciate this post, and I am w/ you: I don't know how I would survive w/o my children.
ReplyDeleteoh brandee, this helps SO much. thank you. thank you.
DeleteOh Em. I know this feeling. I'm a reader of biographies and I often wonder, "What if I was Jim Elliot's mamma?" We often read their stories of how they were faithful to the call, gave up their lives to a martyr's death but we forget that they all had mothers. And I want my children to follow God but I want him to be safe. He is not safe -- at least not by our North American standards.
ReplyDeleteThis art of mothering, of squeezing them tight while we also hold them loosely, is one I've not yet figured out. But I'm trying.
Thank you for this.
A mom's heart is so often tested. We stand with praying words whispered out of fear or anticipation of unknowns in the quiet of the day or night. We must love and let go if we cling tightly the giving up will be much more painful. Only God can give us the strength to let go.
ReplyDeleteI can barely read this, Emily. It hits too close to home...It's been two weeks and I'm still reminding myself to breathe...
ReplyDeleteThe thing Abraham got was the fact his child was not his own. He knew he belonged to God. and that's something I have not mastered yet, but am praying I do on this side of the altar...
(and as far as I'm concerned, Aiden is a genius...cuz I see Him in you, too)
I've found, with my daughters grown now and four grand babies, that it wasn't so much a Mt. Moriah once and for all giving of them to Him, but a daily giving, a daily trusting, of them into His hands. And still, I relinquish, then relent and take them back. :)
ReplyDeleteI've thought of this, too. I went to a conference once where the common theme among the speakers was one of surrender and sacrifice and I thought "what if I have to give up my children?" and ultimately for me, i have to ask myself who i trust more to be God in my life. so often I think i know best and we all know how that works out. i cannot imagine that kind of pain. and yet, He does. such a hard wrestle.
ReplyDeleteI've thought about this with my own three. At times my mother has come to terms with the great possibility of losing my brother and I. My brother when he was first born and very sick, and myself when I was diagnosed with leukemia as a child. And yet there was a peace that passes all understanding, and that's just it. It is incomprehensible for a mother to lose a child and be ok. Rationally, we should stop breathing, it should crush us. But God in His infinite mercy and love can supernaturally intercede for us. Our strength doesn't come from us. We don't simply decide to be more and then be able to deal with it. We pray strength and the ability to still stand and breathe and He provides. Abraham could hold the knife to his innocent son because God had prepared him for that moment and He was obedient not because he was so strong but because he knew that God was, even to the point of bringing him back to life. The more we know God, the more we trust. Praying to know him in this way too.
ReplyDeleteAs a mom of four and grandma of two and auntie of numerous I think I would have been outside yelling - "where's the hurt baby..." -- I have never understood how a mother could just let there child lay there and cry - I know babies cry but there are different types of cries... Bless you girl...!
ReplyDeleteoh sister, how i groaned with sobs as i read this. one line to another, i wept and wept as i cradled my sleeping baby in my arms and cried. could i let her go, to Him, even knowing she'll be safe in His arms even more than in mine?
ReplyDeleteripping truth here, sister dear. it grips this new-mama heart and restores.
I love brandee’s response...we have to remember that Abraham was human and could only process God through the lens of understanding he had at the time...I have so often misinterpreted God’s voice through a wrong filter...but God is always faithful...meets us right in that interpretation....whether our thought were right or wrong...because He mets our hearts that are turned right toward God. It is always Grace with God.
ReplyDeleteSo beautiful, Emily! I can't begin to imagine the faith of Abraham or the love of the Father to be willing to sacrifice their only child. Praise God that He loves us that much. Thanks for the inspiring post & the linkup, & God bless!
ReplyDeleteI understand Em. When I began preparing for my 31 days of seeking God, I came face to face with just this. I realized all of the Father was available to me, but that I hold back fearing what it will require. I wrote it out yesterday - there is this fear for the safety of our loved ones that sometimes keeps us from surrendering completely to Him.
ReplyDeleteIt's alright, I believe. He knows and understands. He waits, because the time will come when we know there is no safer place, regardless of the circumstances, than in His hands.
I love you precious girl.
Yikes! I didn't mean to link twice...the second one is complete. Thanks!
ReplyDeleteI am so thrilled to find you here and this voice....your post is so raw, real and precious to my soul. Thanks for gloriously showing forth Christ.
Lorretta at Dancing on the Dash
You have a beautiful heart, Emily. I too cannot imagine watching any child suffer. What a comfort to know that, no matter what we may face, our compassionate and loving Heavenly Father understands our pain and walks through it with us.
ReplyDeleteEmily, I linked the wrong title. So sorry to have to link twice!
ReplyDeleteYour story here, compelling and words, convicting. Beautiful!
Emily, I am so moved by this post. Losing your child happens in ways other than death. Sometimes giving them back to the Lord in life is painful. The benefits however far outweigh the pain. I can say that with confidence from the experience of letting go of my 3 children....who are now grown. You really struck a chord with me today. I was sniffling and dabbing my eyes when my husband came in from work. I told him I had a cold....I do really, but not enough to soak the tissue I was holding. I truly love your writing. I am so glad I found you.
ReplyDeleteGod asked that of me lately. To surrender my wants. To be willing to accept His will. Whatever that may be. The moment He asked me that I thought I'd stop breathing. I nearly did. And that's this journey He's taken me on--of radical obedience to being willing for His will. Daily--and I do mean daily--He asks me to surrender my husband and my son. It's a hard choosing. To let go to Him. And I wish it wasn't. But I think that's this stretching of faith He's doing in me. I'll never perfectly be willing, and His love fills the gap.
ReplyDelete(I'd love to sit and chat with you about this, friend.)
Tough as a mom, or a dad.
ReplyDeleteFear Not E.
thank you ollie. you're always good to me.
Deleteso beautiful. so true. I can't go there with God either, as if to speak of it and my children will be taken away. Trying to trust and believe that God loves our little ones more than we do, which is a mindblowing thought... and to think He loves us that way... but so very hard to surrender.
ReplyDeleteAlways good to read your heart.
This is a tough prayer to pray. But I think somehow we all pray it deep down inside.
ReplyDeleteMy children are following in their fathers footsteps. I cannot mention God to them in any way...otherwise there will be fighting in our home.
We have to surrender our chilfen to God,knowing that somehow and someway He will find them, as he found us.
oh elaine. aching with you. praying for them. love you, e.
DeleteOh sister, this reminds me of Psalm 32:8 - of Him guiding us with His eye. You are looking where He is looking. Praise God for your tender heart and for Jesus in your eyes.
ReplyDeleteSo many times in India, desperate mothers have put their babies in my husband's arms and made flying motions...heart wrenching love. Bless you as you bless the children in your care.
I think this is one of my greatest fears actually. I love the way you express your heart, the way you love people purely, and the way you speak honestly here. It give courage.
ReplyDeleteso achingly beautiful.
ReplyDeletei love him seeing God (love, forgiveness, acceptance, comfort, peace) in your eyes... makes me smile.
this is really encouraging. thanks for sharing. :)
ReplyDeleteWell this is, hands down, one of the most powerful things I've ever read. You've nailed it. That is the hardest prayer and I struggle with it, too. For me, his will - his entire will - is part of the holy fear of God. I don't understand it all, and that wondrous mystery can be both beautiful and scary.
ReplyDeleteOh my heart Emily. You wrote it here. Our heartstrings are tied. I feel angry at times when I read about God testing Abraham in this way. I want to stand up and yell, "Please, he is only a child! Don't do this to them!"
ReplyDeleteSo. I know. I know. Love you Emily, your heart so beautiful and transparent here. Always is. xoxo
ps-I love Brandee's comment up there. Great wisdom to add to the discussion.
You're a kindred spirit. I give God my all, but hesitant when it comes to my children. I don't think I would survive if they were taken. I want to surrender because I know His plans for their life are good and I don't want to live in fear of the 'what-if's', but still, I hear ya.
ReplyDeleteWe share the same heart, the same wish, Emily. It's why we foster parent, why we want so hard to adopt all the children, at least a few to bring in here and show them love. I have not lost a child either, but we have had foster children taken that weren't supposed to go, that were supposed to stay forever. It was hard. Your words have woken me up this morning and my heart is bleeding for these children again. All of them. Blessed by your words, like usual.
ReplyDeleteit must be hard being a foster parent
ReplyDeleteI love that the little one pointed to your eyes where he saw Jesus. The eyes are the window to the soul and they show/express love, kindness, compassion and so on. I think the little one saw Jesus love shinning out of your eyes for him. God Bless.
ReplyDeleteOh,this is so hard. Yes, my mama heart has felt this paralyzing fear. Even now, I can't bear it. This is why we have each other, no? To try on these hard prayers...to pray for one another.
ReplyDeleteI just stumbled upon your post and boy, am I glad I did! That was so engaging. I'm not a mother, but I can't wait till I am. At the same time, you make a very good point...it's hard to think about what His will entails, especially for our children. Prayers & blessings :)
ReplyDeletethank you so much chelsea! i'm so glad to have 'met' you! peace on your day, e.
DeleteLove this post. It strikes deep, close to my heart. In my first pregnancy, I felt like God wanted me to pray this prayer exactly -- to say "thy will be done, with her." I refused. How could I say that I was okay with whatever He would allow for her?
ReplyDeleteAnd then she died. Not praying that didn't keep her alive...perhaps it just kept me from receiving part of whatever God had me in that experience.
I'm not saying that you "should" pray that prayer, or that He punished me for not praying it. Not at all. I just wonder...what would have come into being if I had prayed it? Certainly He's still brought surprising blessings out of the ashes of her death...maybe even more would have been born in me when she died.
Thanks for writing this. I imagine more of us wrestle with this prayer than we care to admit. <3
oh wow beth. oh, how i want to hug you. i ache and i wrestle with you and i sob, and i somehow still believe... love you.
DeleteI've never known a fiercer love
ReplyDeletethan motherlove
and it comforts me deep
and gives me wings
to know that God is full up of it,
this motherlove
that you express
and live out so well.
I love the mama bear in God.
It's what gives me courage
to draw near to the "Father"
so hard to trust.
Surrender for a mother
is maybe the bravest thing
I know.
-Jennifer