Heart of Esther

"And who knows but that you have come to this position for such a time as this?" –Esther 4:14

The Burden of Grief October 11, 2012

For those of you, like me, who are burdened by the heaviness of grief…and rest for your soul is hard to find in the tears and sadness, the anger and questions not answered…

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
-Matthew 11:28-30

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Heart Of Esther? October 4, 2012

Recently, I read my “About Me” page and I laughed bitterly as I read the introduction of a mother who was brave and strong and certain. Even the name of my blog seems to mock me. Esther was strong, courageous, and she appeared at peace. She changed a nation.

Here I am feeling battered and bruised by grief. Uncertain and fearful. I feel as if I don’t matter any longer. I’m just surviving every day.  Days spent in tears, not in victory.

But then I think, maybe I can have a heart like Esther. I can bravely face each day without the child I should have in my arms. I have not shut myself off to love-instead I have embraced my children even more strongly than before. I gaze into their eyes even more deeply, longing to learn and memorize who they are.

Every day, I can find strength I don’t have and courage that isn’t there to lay aside myself and my pain to take care of those in my care and do it joyfully.  I can find more compassion and grace in everything. And maybe I can change a nation-everyday I pour into others-especially those given in my care.

So maybe having strength and courage isn’t always some big thing that everyone acknowledges. Maybe its in the small things that make up our lives. A heart that has a sense of destiny-a heart of Esther.

 

GRIEF HAS CHANGED ME October 3, 2012

I wish I could say the past year has been horrible but I’ve been able to just bounce right back. I’ve always been a fighter, I’ve always looked at the positives in life, I’ve always felt I could take anything and come out on top. I’ve always been resilient…

But not this time. I’ve felt as if this past year has been me struggling for air, trying to find who I am again (because I honestly don’t know anymore) and trying to move on past all the heartbreak and trauma but never seeming to really be able to. This year has been a year of loneliness-mostly my fault because I’ve pushed everyone away because I feel so all alone-that no one understands me. Almost all my friends who became pregnant after our loss decided in their own heads that it would be hard for me to know they were pregnant, so they just avoided me.  Don’t they understand, hearing someone is expecting doesn’t change that my baby is gone. I want my baby, not theirs! 

All I really want to do is close the blinds and snuggle deep into my bed covers.  But there is no rest for a weary, grieving mother of children.  There’s no escaping myself.  It’s hard to explain, maybe unless you’ve been there, but going through almost losing your life and losing your baby’s life, has left me with so much anxiety, at times I can hardly handle life.

I feel like I need help-but what can anyone do?  All of this is so very deep in my heart.  I keep waiting on Him to fix me.

Grief has changed me.

 

MOURNING

Those who are worn out and crushed by this mourning, let your hearts consider this:

this is the path that has existed from the time of creation and will exist forever.

Many have drunk from it and many will yet drink.

As was the first meal, so shall be the last.

May the master of comfort comfort you.

Blessed are those who comforts the mourners.

– Jewish Blessing of the Mourners

 

Not Forgotten September 29, 2012

There is a beautiful picture in the Psalms, of God collecting each of our tears in a bottle (Psalm 56:8).
mourn with those who mourn (Romans 12:15)

I know I’m not forgotten, Lord.

That you see my anguished tears in the quiet of the night.

You see my heart.

You know my anger.  My sadness.  My regret.  The emptiness I feel. 

You know how desperately I miss my little Andrew. 

How every day, I see him in my mind’s eye among us.  Or rather, the shadow of what should have been.

You record each tear (Psalm 56:8)

Bring healing, I pray.

Fill this void within me.

Help me never to forget what desperate pain feels like.  So that I may always have compassion and grace.

Remind me of my needs, so I can strive to help others in theirs.

 

 

Crying Out April 25, 2012

I know my posts have been a bit few and far between these days…

It has been difficult for me to put so much into a few words.  And there has been much that is so deep and so personal and raw, that I cannot share it, but for a couple of souls.

I was so grateful to hear from a reader-you know who you are!  🙂 You encouraged me so much and reading your post was like a glance into my own soul.

Yes, life has been a battleground lately.   I’m at that place of true forgiveness…and yet, the evil one still brings those feelings up now and again.  There are days I feel like I’m back at square one.  There are days that I feel like more than a conqueror.   Days when I am resting in His perfect peace and nothing will ripple the calm of my soul…  

Lately, there have been many days of brokenness.  Simply crying out to Him.  There have been health issues, surgeries, and obstacles that keep getting in the way of my body healing from both losses.  It feels like the storm hasn’t ended.  I have felt like the disciples on the boat, in the middle of this terrific storm…wondering why Jesus is sleeping???   My anguish echoes David in Psalms “Attend to my cry; give ear to my prayer which is not from deceitful lips.” 

And then I realize He wants me in that place.  To understand, for His Glory, that I am desperate and helpless without Him.  There are so many walls, so many layers.  He is renewing me.  It is a time of amazing growth.  Just as I have come up for air and feel like I’ve learned and been renewed (new wine cannot be poured into old wine skins), He seems to find it perfect to teach me more-and back under I go.  A time for peeling away the old-like an onion whose outer layers need pulled away.  I have been growing and learning and deepening my relationship with Him.  

It’s been a heart-wrenching time and yet, this time has held such sweetness in it as well… 

I know why I am at this place.  I am to be in a place where I know it is only God who delivers.  I know the Lord hears my cry “Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify Me.” (Psalm 50:15)

Throughout the Word, I see time after time that there was a period when individuals or nations cried out in desperation.  Psalms is full of David’s pleas-asking the Lord if He will not turn His back on him, if He will hear his cry.  

And I feel peace because I see that time and again, the Lord did respond.  He did deliver.  He did heal.  He answered.  He restored.   

“In my distress, I called upon the Lord, and cried out to my God; He heard my voice from His temple and my cry came before Him, even to His ears.”  (Psalm 18:6)
“The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and His ears are open to their cry.” Psalm 34:15
“I cried to the Lord with my voice and He heard me from His holy hill…O Lord my God, I cried out to You and You healed me.” Psalms 3:4, 30:2
So here I will remain-crying out to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than we can ask or think.

“I waited patiently for the Lord; and He inclined to me, and heard my cry.”

Psalm 40:1

 

recovering February 1, 2012

Last week, we found out our little “peanut” (as we affectionately named it) had no heartbeat.  

Another devastating blow.  To be given fresh hope and healing only to have it so quickly stolen again.

I was still terribly sick everyday, even after our sweet baby had no heartbeat.  Talk about extra depressing.  To be throwing up all day everyday for no reason whatsoever.  Yesterday, I had surgery.  

Today, I am recovering.  

This has been such a horrible year.   Sigh.  Part of me feels like I can’t go on.  Another part of me wills me to look ahead to healing and to see what God has in store for us.  I will focus on good things.  Playing and enjoying my children.  Restoring my health.  Loving on my husband.  This past year has revolved so much around me, it will be refreshing to focus on my family and friends instead.  

Something good has to come out of this.  

It’s strange, on one hand I have never felt so alone.  It feels as if no one can possibly understand this pain.  The kind of pain that hurts so much, you physically can’t breathe.  Your heart literally skips beats.  To feel completely rejected by God.  To feel isolated from family.

And yet, I have felt more loved on this past year than ever before.  Close friends became closer.  My husband and I went through awful things and drew together instead of apart.  I saw the best in him and he took such good care of me.  

I treasure my relationships.  

Especially those who have been there for me to cry with, or just vent.  

And the ones who have loved on my children and watched them when I was recovering.  

The many, many meals that were so sacrificially brought.  

Those who came to be by my side when I needed them.  

Those who pulled me in as part of their family.  

The ones who just let me be…me.  In grief.  In pain.  Without judgement.

We haven’t even made it to our sweet Andrew’s due date, and we’ve already lost two babies.

I will recover.  Both physically and emotionally.  

But the grief will never end.  The tears will still flow.  My heart and arms will ache with emptiness.  And I will never be the same. 

 

 
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