Thursday, March 6, 2014


It's been 240 days.... two HUNDRED and fourty days. That seems like a long time when you think about it. A lot of things can happen and change in 240 days. But then again, a lot of things don't.

240 days ago we lost our twins at 9 weeks (you can read my post about it here ). 5,760 hours ago my heart stopped beating for a second as time stood still. 345,600 minutes ago everything changed. And 20,736,000 seconds have passed but sometimes it seems like it's only been 1.

Some days I feel like I am drowning, suffocating. Some days my throat is so tight with grief that I can barely breathe. 

I hate it. I hate the pain, the sorrow and the loss. I hate the way that I felt when it was "official" that they were gone.

I know that they are with Jesus. I know that they are happy and perfect and whole. I know that they know me and that they aren't missing me or sad. I know they are in a better place. But that doesn't change grief.

Grief doesn't care what we know. It doesn't go easy on us when we are broken. It doesn't take days off or cut us some slack. 20 million seconds and I still feel the same way I did.

I have moments where I'm not drowning in sorrow. I have moments of laughter and joy. I have moments where things seem "normal". But what really is normal? Normal would mean that all of our children would be here. Normal would mean we lived in a bigger place and drove a minivan with our 5 kids inside it. So things won't ever be normal for us.... not til heaven. Our reality is a broken one.

Reality for me makes me cry when I see babies. Reality shows that I will always have an empty spot in my arms, that our family will never be together until that glorious day when Jesus calls us all home, that I won't get to watch three of my children grow up, that I will miss out on all their milestones and "firsts" because Jesus was there for them instead. Reality is harsh and cold and hurtful. 

But reality doesn't get the final say. I can't choose my circumstances, and as much as I wish I had those sweet little boys here with me, I know that they are safe and happy with Jesus.

I know I will still have days of crippling grief, it comes in waves. The waves are getting a little further apart, but they are still coming. Grief is like an ocean; but at the same time I have always found comfort in the ocean. I cannot stand by or be near an ocean without an incredible sense of God's love and presence. So for that, I am thankful that as an ocean is how grief comes to me, because that is also how God comes to me. Ten Shekel Shirt sings a song where the lyrics say, "there's something about the ocean that makes me rise up and praise You." It is impossible for me to be lost in a sea of grief when that same sea causes me to praise the One who is always good.

So I am once again reminded, that even in my reality of life, God is always there. Even in the grief, He never leaves.

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