Baby Reflections

      On this day last year, we held a graveside service for our little Klarissa. I wanted to post this picture of her memorial stone.

 

         The lines coming down reminded me of light. Klarissa's name means clear light. The verse is about the Lord's understanding being infinite. (Mine isn't.)   

        I also wanted to share with you the last last page from our family scrapbook and something I was thinking about today.             

I arranged the scrapbook with a page of what I wrote about Klarissa the night we came home from the hospital with the above page, and then two pages with the notes Brian used to speak at the graveside service. The next page says, “The Snow Came . . .”

                It describes an especially hard day for me.

We had explained to Justin the whole pregnancy that Klarissa would be here “when the snow comes.” When the “snow came” on Christmas Eve, I ached and cried so much knowing there would be no baby to hold. I knew Justin (age 3) would ask about Klarissa, too. By my calculations, the baby was due on Christmas Day.

                The next day I tried so hard to enjoy my family playing in the snow. But sure enough, Justin asked about Klarissa, and -- It was just a really tough day.

                Do you see the picture of the empty manger? That’s actually a manger that we have for Hannah’s horse. It’s a real manger the kids made – not just made up to be sweet for Christmas. During my pregnancy, I’d wondered if the kids would get the idea we’d need a picture of our baby in the manger. I was thinking I probably wouldn’t let them take my newborn out in the cold and put her in the horse’s homemade feeding trough. (Even if Mary did – and I bet she was even thankful for that manger!)

                Seeing that empty manger made the day even harder for me. “Christmas is not about an empty manger!” I moaned. “Especially not this Christmas. This Christmas was supposed to come with the gift of a Christmas baby all wrapped up for me. I should  be telling the kids today that a wrapped up doll will have to do for the manger scene while I adore my little baby.”

                By the end of the day, brothers and sisters in the Lord had picked me up and God gave me grace to walk away from the bitterness. By the end of the year (as in yesterday), God gave me some new things to think about.

                Did you know the word manger in French means “to eat”?  Isn’t it fitting that the Bread of Life would be placed in a manger? Did you know he’s the one who said we must “eat his flesh” and many disciples left saying, “This is a hard saying,” and others continued to follow him even though they didn’t understand.

To say, “I’m so glad that manger wasn’t empty,” had become cliché to me. My thought was always, “But I’m so glad the tomb was!”

When Jesus came, he didn’t just die for us. He also lived for us . . . beginning in a manger . . .where sheep eat.

And when we sheep go to Him, he still feeds us.

And when HE feeds us, we live on.

So, I no longer see an empty manger.

I see a manger with a baby for us. God Himself is not barren. He has a SON. His name is Jesus, and He placed Him in a manger so that we might have nourishment and ultimately . . . life. He has given us a wonderful gift.

 “I have COME so that you may have life, and have it more abundantly.”

The Snow Came . . . but so did Jesus . . . and we can always hold on to Him.

A Tribute to Little Klarissa

We had a stillborn baby in November of 2010. The following words are the best way I know how to describe how it has affected me over the past year. Many of you will be able to relate.

“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day.

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It is a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out, and you get loose in the joints and shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

                                -From  The VelveteenRabbit

Young people often have the desire to “find themselves.” Circumstances and trials haven’t yet come their way, and they aren’t sure yet what they will do and who they will be. They’re often frustrated because they don’t feel “real” yet. They have lots of half-cooked ideas with no life experiences to go with them.

I don’t feel that way anymore.

Losing a child has really made me feel old, but not in a bad way.

Loving . .  .and losing . . .  a child you don’t even know. . .makes you more real.

Having five children to love makes you more resilient, softens your edges, and keeps you messy. J

It gives you gray hair, tearful eyes, and makes you loose all over.

It helps you see Truth as more about being real with people than being “right.”

Becoming “Real” hurts.

I still mind being hurt. I must have some more “becoming real” to do.

But it’s happening bit by bit.

Thank you for reading this. May your life be wrapped in Love.

Beloved, Let us love one another. For Love is of God, and everyone that loveth is born of God and knoweth God. But he that loveth not, knoweth not God, for God is love.