Friday, May 3, 2013

18 Days of Grace: Love

If you have ever tried to call me after school hours, 9 times out of 10, you will most likely receive my lovely voice mail message.  Since my phone is always on silent while I am teaching, it never registers that I need to change the setting until I need to make a call. That is when I will finally realize that someone has attempted to get a hold of me.

That is exactly what happened yesterday. I came home from work and began making dinner because Paul and I were going to head to the gym, run some errands, and spend time remembering our sweetie pie together.  I never bring my phone with me when I work out because I don't want it to get taken when I place it in our "day locker."  I took my phone out of my backpack and was going to place it on the charger while we were gone.  As I plugged it into the charger I saw that I had a missed call from my aunt.  I quickly dialed my voice mail and listened to her message.  In an instant my stomach dropped.  She was hysterically crying and explained that she was in the ER at the hospital I delivered Grace.  I erased the message and called my dad to see if he heard what had happened.  He understood that while she was getting the mail, her next door neighbor's Lab pushed her down and may have broken her hip. 

Paul was working on a bid in his office, so I yelled up to him and told him what had happened.  I said that I was going to go to the hospital so she had someone with her before my dad and mom arrived.  As I turned onto the road that led to the hospital, it dawned on me that I had not stepped foot into it since I had Grace.  Thankfully, my postpartum visit was rescheduled to a different location so I didn't have to go back or to the OB/GYN office where she was diagnosed. It was also the first time coming back to the emergency room after my miscarriage.  I had such a heavy heart pulling into the parking lot and I fought back he urge not to turn around and go home.  With tears pouring down my face, I closed my eyes and prayed.  This wasn't about me.  It was about being there for my aunt.  Someone who has always been like a second mom to me.  Someone who was badly injured and needed support and love.  Someone who doesn't have any living children (she's a baby loss mama too) or a husband that can be by her side.  

I entered the sliding doors of the ER, received my visitors badge, and was told my aunt was in room 17.  I walked through the secured door and as I lifted my head, my eyes met the nurses station and room 4.  The room I was told that I had a "spontaneous abortion" and that I was no longer pregnant...my baby was gone.  I remember being so tired from the amount of pain I was in that I didn't even let out a single tear.  I felt numb to what I had just endured.  I was just so thankful that Paul and my dad where their by my side.  It was such a scary thing to experience.  Seeing that room again brought me back to my first broken heart and all the lost hopes and dreams we had for our child and for our family.  

When I walked into her room, all of her belongings sat on a chair, but she wasn't present.  I assumed that she had been taken to get x-rays of her hip to see if it was in fact broken. So, I sat there, in the empty room, while fighting back the temptation to listen to the voice in my head that told me to run. To run from the remembrance of carrying out a box of my daughter's keepsakes, instead of carrying out my daughter and buckling her up into her car seat.  To run from the pain of handing her dead body over to a complete stranger knowing that I'd never, ever see here again here on earth.  I was letting the devil win.  He was crushing my spirit and bringing me down in every way possible. 

I turned on my phone and clicked my Bible app to read James 1: 2-18 to remind myself that the testing of my faith produces perseverance. I need to hold onto His promise that she is whole, healed, and complete in His glorious presence.  Every good gift is from above and the verse brought light to the fact that I needed to be rejoicing over the fact He entrusted us with her, our good gift.  I praised Him for the price, his son, Jesus Christ paid so Grace, you, and I could spend an eternity in heaven, and for redeeming a lousy sinner like me.  I am so thankful He gives us rest when we feel like we have nothing left.  When we are frail and torn, He is always there, never forsaking us. 

Within moments of crying out to Him, my aunt was wheeled into the room, shouting uncontrollably from being in such severe pain.  I'm not sure how God wired us to be the way we are, but my motherly instinct kicked into overdrive.  I wanted to do everything in my power to ease her from pain, to encourage her, but most importantly, to pray for her.  My parents arrived within twenty minutes and helped to calm her worries about taking care of her disabled husband and what will happen to her in the next couple of days.  It was such a blessing to have them there to show her that she was loved.    

I don't give any credit to myself for making it the hospital that day.  I'm too weak of a person and I let my emotions get the best of me.  I made it to the hospital yesterday because I've learned that this life doesn't just revolve around me and the hurt that has come from my pain.  It goes much, much deeper than that.  Through these trials, I've gained a deeper understanding of what it means to love...to try to love like Christ would have, even in great pain and heartache. I picture Him being beaten, scarred,crowned with thorns, and nailed into the cross for you and me.  What a true picture of love.  I want to live like that.  I want to show the world the love He gave for me.  I want my actions, my words, and my thoughts to always radiate Christ's love.  

Even though our plans didn't turn out as expected,  I am thankful for the opportunity to be there for my aunt...to demonstrate my love for her and to show her I care deeply for her. Isn't that what Christ would do for us? Grace's life was certainly remembered as I relived my entire birthing experience with her.  She is certainly a loved little girl. 



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