Argo and Update

Let's break the silence with my thoughts on Argo, shall we?  Ok, thanks.

Halfway through the movie Bert leaned over and commented, "Are you going to have an ulcer by the end of this?"  He knows I don't enjoy suspense.  I like story, but not the part where it makes you wait and wait and be at risk in violent situations.  Anyways.  EVEN THOUGH it is a rather suspenseful movie, I really liked it.  Admittedly, I did view it through my knee tips and destroyed at least 2 cuticles during the movie, but I did like it.

Argo shows the terrifying reality of anger and hate.  I mean those Iranian people really, really, really hated the Americans.  Any American.  No matter what they were like.  They were exploding with violent anger at the sight of them.  You could see on the hostages faces how horribly uncomfortable it is to be hated like that, and how much they were anticipating the violence from it.  Suspense for sure.  Not to mention that this is a real life situation that still takes place everyday in certain countries to varying degrees.  Hate is very uncomfortable.

I'll stop beating around the bush.  The reason I liked the movie is because it's about a rescue.  The Jesus Storybook Bible, our family favorite, is always referring to the gospel as God's great rescue mission.  Where he takes on lots of personal risk and sweeps us out of danger by taking the punishment we deserved on himself.  All motivated by his love and desire for us to be in relationship with him.  And that happens in the movie on a much smaller scale.  There is a hero who views human life as valuable, even when other people tell him to give up because the odds are very bad.  And there is great celebrating when the task is complete.  I mean EVERYONE is hugging.  And it's very meaningful, because these people were pretty much supposed to die at the hands of evil.  But they didn't.  Against all odds.  I feel like the words are falling flat, but when you are brushing up next to screaming people holding machine guns, the word wrath takes on some different tones.  And God's wrath is a just wrath, unlike what was going on there.  We actually deserve the penalty for our sins against the maker of the world.  But if we believe on Jesus and live for him, we receive life instead of death.  And Argo showed me a glimpse at both wrath and rescue.  Thanks for that, Mr. Affleck.

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In other news, you may be wondering how I'm doing.  Me too.  I find myself missing Joey pretty automatically every day.  He would be two months now.  We'd hopefully have been breastfeeding with success.  We'd be coming out of the newborn fog and enjoying life as a family of four.  Cuddling as much as humanly possible.  I miss him fiercely.  Gwen is kissing her doll (named Baby Arleigh) instead of her little brother.  It feels so wrong.  And then I think, but wait there will be another baby this summer.  Ezra.  And then I remember that he's gone too.  I am empty after a very bloody battle of losing him.  And there is no baby coming.  Months and months of puking and nausea for nothing.  July 12 with come and go without him.  He is not coming.  And I picture their faces in heaven.  I wonder who is holding them.  How does it work up there?  How does age work in heaven?  Do they start as babies being held and then grow into boys?  Do they know me?  Do they see me?  Do they know how much I ache for them every second?  I know they are content and happy in God's presence and that heaven is more wonderful for them than I can every imagine.  They are not losing out on anything.  But I am their mother.  And I wonder about them.  And heaven feels very far away from the four walls of this house in the longest winter of my life.

Then there's the fact that this year will surely bring newborns (at least 3) to some of the very closest people in my life.  It has already brought a newborn to a family member.  And after I held him, I was a crying mess for the rest of the afternoon.  And as I see my best friend's tummy swell with a baby boy's life, and the exact same timeline mine should be with Ezra, I want to crumble into a million pieces.  Every time.  I am left crying out to God.  How could he do this in my relationships at the same time as taking my babies?

So how am I doing?  Good question.  I cry a lot.  Particularly while driving, cooking dinner, or laying in bed during Gwen's nap time.  I read good books written by people who've gone before me (aka Nancy Guthrie), and they help me wrestle with God's goodness and my grief.  I hate the word "miscarriage" because why don't people just call it dead babies?  That's what it is.  Not a scientific emotionless medical word.  A mother doesn't forget babies that lived and died inside her own body.  Sorry; tangent.  I am receiving precious love and encouragement by faithful friends and members of the body of Christ.  I am so grateful for every hug, card, text, email, etc.  But I am usually not at a capacity to respond to them.  I often do my days in survival mode and struggle with the symptoms of depression.  Getting dressed is a victory.  Breakfast is a victory.  Creative playtime with Gwen is a victory.  And if I get her teeth brushed it's really a good day!  Cooking dinner etc...  Those things are happening, but they just take much more will power than they every used to.  And by the end of the day I am spent and discouraged that another one will start soon and we'll have to do it all over again.

People say that when the hard things in life come you see what you're really made of.  Well, unfortunately I see that I am really made of a lot of lack of faith.  How can God really redeem all this?  Each tear?  Each pang of longing?  How could it ever be right ever again?  Something irreparable has taken place here.  And that's where I see the need for faith.  There is no 'seeing' or 'understanding' in this for me.  It's got to be faith. It's got to be "I know whom I have believed." It has never been so clear that my faith could never work hard enough to get me to heaven.  Which leaves me very, very, very thankful for the blood of Christ. His blood is the ONLY thing that could ever be enough for me.  I have a mustard seed of faith and the righteousness of Christ.  He will never be called not enough.  He is enough to be acceptable to God.  He will keep my life.   So that's what I am.  A kept, yet wilting, daughter with a handful of faith and a lot of questions.  Filled with longing for two sons and a day when I can see my Savior face to face and no longer feel my unbelief.

I leave you with a quote from Sleepless in Seattle:

Doctor Marcia Fieldstone: What are you going to do? 
Sam Baldwin: Well, I'm gonna get out of bed every morning... breathe in and out all day long. Then, after a while I won't have to remind myself to get out of bed every morning and breathe in and out... 

Here's to hoping for the end of this painful season.  Someday, though probably not soon.