Post #46: Tale from the End

I realize that my titling this post as I did, it sounds rather foreboding and ominous. That wasn't my intention. The title has more to do with it being December 31 and the reflection that comes with the end of a year than it does with any other end.

As I write this, my husband is enjoying his last remnants of sleep and my son is sleeping in a chair beside me.  I was prepared for a lot when it came to having a child.  From the time I was eight my family fostered, so we always had babies in the house. I got to become pretty adept at walking children who wouldn't be calmed, being spit up on (among other things), and just discovering, by watching my parents, what it means to love children and maintain a home.  So when we found out we were pregnant, I buckled down and made all sorts of vows about the mother I would be and the choices I would make. I was ready for fussiness and sleepless nights.

I wasn't ready for having a sick baby and dealing with the constant worry and breaking of the heart that happens every time your little one lets out a cry to let you know they are hurting or uncomfortable.  I wasn't prepared to watch him be unable to sleep well because of his discomfort.  Throw into that the Christmas holiday and a change in his routine and this poor little guy has had a rough week.

But he appears to be on the mend and sleeping peacefully right now.

But that is the story of my life. I always go into things trying to prepare myself so that I won't be hurt or surprised. It's a way to keep myself guarded. And at this time every year I get myself ready and prepared for what the following year will hold. I make promises to myself about ways I will change, and I set certain expectations.

As I have mentioned before, if there is one thing God likes to remind me of, it is that He knows best. He rarely (if ever) does things in my timing and my way, but instead reminds me that he is sovereign.

So what's the point of all this?

This year I want to try something different.

For Christmas this year I asked for The Songs of Jesus by Tim and Kathy Keller (again, for anyone who knows me, big shock there... I love me some Keller).  It's a year of daily devotions that work through the book of Psalms.  I have found that lately I don't always have the same amount of time or focus to put into reading larger chunks of the Bible and then contemplating them. My brain just isn't in the place of drawing the same conclusions and connections in a shorter period of time like it used to be (I have been mulling over this post for almost a week... so it isn't a spur of a moment thing).

Now I probably should have waited to start this devotional on January 1, but I started it right away.  Which lends an interesting perspective.

On December 25, Keller makes the point that the final five psalms are all ones of praise. If you read the book of Psalms, there are times of praise and times of lament. But the book ends off with a call to praise. So today, we read Psalm 150.

Psalm 150

1 Praise the Lord.

Praise God in his sanctuary;
    praise him in his mighty heavens.
2 Praise him for his acts of power;
    praise him for his surpassing greatness.
3 Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet,
    praise him with the harp and lyre,
4 praise him with timbrel and dancing,
    praise him with the strings and pipe,
5 praise him with the clash of cymbals,
    praise him with resounding cymbals.

6 Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.

Praise the Lord.

In the reflection that is written on this psalm, the Kellers note that "The psalms are, in the end, a miniature of life. Every possible detail, if prayed to the God who is really there, is destined to end in praise" (365).

Every possible detail, if prayed to the God who is really there, is destined to end in praise.

In the time leading up to finding out we were pregnant, I worried that it wouldn't ever happen. I had a dream about how many children I wanted to have, and with each passing month I watched that dream fade away. Then, when we were pregnant, I lived in fear that something would happen to my baby. Even though I knew it was healthy for me to run and be active while pregnant, every time I ran I was scared that I was hurting my child. I counted movements and listened to the heartbeat with a doppler to make sure that baby was still strong. In the last three months I have discovered that worry doesn't stop. Now I worry when Anson is sick, when he doesn't sleep well, if he isn't eating well (though if you check out this kid's thighs I think he is getting enough food).

At around 3:30 this morning, as I sat holding my coughing child who was trying to hard to sleep but kept waking himself up, I found the fear and anxiety overwhelming. What if he wasn't getting enough fluids? We took him to the doctor yesterday and were told it really is nothing more than a cold, but the fear was still there.

As Anson coughed in my arms, I found myself praying the word "peace" over and over again, asking God to give him peace to sleep. That He would give me peace to rest.

The Kellers go on to also say that "Confession leads to the joy of forgiveness. Laments lead to a deeper resting in him for our happiness. If we could praise God perfectly, we would love him completely and then our joy would be full" (365). We are told to praise God "everywhere (verse 1) for everything (verse 2) in every way (verses 3-5)" (365).

Last year at this time my prayer was for peace and for hope. This year my prayer is that I will truly pray every detail to God, and that every prayer will end in praise. Whether I receive what I want or not, my hope is that by truly taking everything to God, I will remember that He is Emmanuel. God with us.

May God's peace rest on you, and in whatever you are going through, whether it is a time of rejoicing, a time of lament, or something in between, may God give you the ability to bring it to Him. And may He remind you that He is in control. And may that lead you to praise Him.

Happy New Year!

Post #45: Tale from the Waiting

I love Advent.  It's one of those times that just grows in meaning to me with every year. And the last post I did was over a year ago in the advent of Advent. I talked about waiting and how that seemed to be a message God was always working with me on. I was always being told to wait and to trust.

The last post I wrote was over a year ago. This wasn't because I had nothing to write about. It's because the pain and hurt and longing I was experiencing left me in a place where I just wasn't willing to share it publicly. I wasn't able to be that vulnerable

You see, a year ago we were in the midst of trying to get pregnant (about 7-8 months into it), as well as dealing with the fact that my Mom's yearly cancer check-up came back with high cancer markers. I was waiting for answers about Mom's health and we were waiting for a child.

Two years ago one of my closest friends gave me a book for Christmas.  It was by Ann Voskamp and was called The Greatest Gift.  So last year I started reading through it during Advent.

Advent is a time of waiting. Waiting for our Saviour. Waiting for hope. For peace. For perfect love.
At no time have I felt that waiting as deeply as I did last year. As I read through the book it resonated with my personal wait. As I waited for hope. For peace.

Very few people know the depth of what I felt at that time. That very few days went by where I didn't cry. That there were times when I could barely hold it together until my students left class. That my heart felt so fragile and my pain so real.

I wish I could adequately portray for you the depth of emotion I felt. As Christmas approached we were so sure this was going to be the month. That I could go out west for Christmas and that even in the midst of uncertainty with Mom's health, God would give us this beacon of hope and light.  Instead we found out just before Christmas that that wasn't the case. Instead I remember sitting at the back of my darkened class as my students watched Home Alone and I cried.

I didn't doubt that God was still good. He had spent years teaching me that just because I don't get what I want, or what my heart desires at the point, doesn't mean He isn't good. That sometimes His goodness is shown BECAUSE I don't get those things. Because the process of waiting makes me more like Him.

I knew all of this. I knew that God was still faithful. That He loved me.

But that didn't change the fact that last year, during Advent, was the worst pain I had felt. Everyday it seemed like my heart broke a little bit more as we waited for answers. Waited for our hope.

God was still faithful. He spoke to me and to my Mom in the midst of our uncertainty. He reminded us both that just because we hurt and just because we were scared, it didn't mean He wasn't with us. It didn't mean he was going abandon us.

January came and with it brought a clean bill of health for my Mom, but still no baby. But it also brought peace. My heart hurt and I still longed and wondered, but God gave me His peace. And in February we found out we were pregnant.

On September 23rd, 2017, at 8:36pm, we welcomed our son, Anson Daniel Gerry Visser, into the world, almost four weeks early. The first of his week was a bit scary for us, as our baby boy had to stay in the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) because of breathing issues, sugar levels, and jaundice.  All were pretty normal things for a baby born early to deal with, but it was still scary. Every time I walked into the NICU to feed and hold my boy, I felt my heart break just a little bit more. I shed more tears that week in the hospital than I think I did during the previous season of Advent.

But our boy came home, and Anson is one healthy, happy little guy who is discovering what it means to smile.

Today we sat down for the first day of Advent. One of the gifts we were given after Anson was born was The Wonder of the Greatest Gift by Ann Voskamp. Each day comes with a devotional for the day and an ornament to hang on a tree. Today, as a family, we read day one. The Scripture came from Isaiah 11:1: "Out of the stump of David's family will grow a shoot--yes, a new Branch bearing fruit from the old root."

We read about the family of David that was big like a tree, but because of different troubles, the tree had crashed to the ground and was more like a stump. We read how a miracle came, not as something big, but as a small leaf growing from the stump. A miracle came as a tiny baby.

We read that sometimes miracles don't start big. Sometimes they start small. But that miracle is God bringing something good out of something that seems dead.  Last year my miracle came in the form of God's peace.

This year, as we celebrated the first day of Advent, as we read about this miracle, this hope, I looked at Anson. He's my Advent baby. The child we had to wait for. I remember the pain and sorrow of waiting.  I remember God taking me on a journey of resting in His peace and trusting Him. Of having to put into practice my belief that God's good for me isn't always me getting what I want when I want it.

I think with each year Advent makes a bit more sense to me. This year I understand a bit better what it means to wait for your hope. I think of Israel waiting and wondering about the coming of their Saviour. About how when Jesus came, as a baby, it wasn't at all what they were expecting. It wasn't what they wanted.

But it was the miracle they needed.