Random, Rambling, Heartfelt, Sad and Hopeful

It's been a looooong, exhausting, exhilarating, up-and-down, lesson-filled, lovely two weeks since I decided to ignore the blog as life slammed into overdrive. School is over. We are not exactly slowing down anytime soon, but it's shifted and we were ALL ready! I'm at peace. I wanted to record our activities on here at least five times a day and it was exceedingly difficult to realize I was going to forget many of the smaller moments that not only held together my sanity through so much DOing, but made it really funny and sweet. Cute things the kids said, life lessons that made me smile, things they did that made me so proud and SO THANKFUL that God sees them through all the imperfections of my parenting. If I can just remind them "Jesus," they are going to do O.K. come what may.

I wondered what I might post when I finally had the time again. There are several "big events" that need to written for family memories, but then when I came to the computer this morning there was something that overtook my focus. I received it first, oddly, through channels other than the news page. I received it through a long-ago connection to the music world. Stephen Curtis Chapman's precious tiny daughter, very near my own son's age, died in a horrible accident in her own driveway.

You know those movies where the end culminates in a dramatic realization after snippets of all the seemingly unrelated stuff in life flashes one by one to reveal that each one was important to that eventual moment? Today has been like that. Years ago, I was the Promotions Director at a Christian music station. A big major part of my job was to make all of the many preparations in bringing a concert into town. Everything from securing the venue based on projected ticket sales to concocting contests weeks beforehand to drum up excitement to giving the artist a ride from the airport to his hotel. I never met S.C.C. I came in a week before his concert at the height of his career (at least according to ticket sales) and the prep work was already well underway. My manager handled the rest of the details after the girl I was replacing left, so I wouldn't be playing catch up first thing off the bat. But I do know this about him. He was one of the two kindest, most genuine artists we ever had the pleasure of working with. (The other was Gary Chapman, for those curious.) He was humble and involved and REAL. I know this just by the professionalism he used in dealing with us. He called my boss personally to make the more personal arrangements (hotel accommodations for his family, for example.) He was the ONLY artist ever to do that and it saved us so much potential for miscommunication. Also, artists would routinely submit "riders," listing their needs for the trip, including type of sound equipment compatible to their bands' instruments and dietary restrictions for catering, etc. One artist was so detailed as to require a certain brand and color of grand piano and a particular kind of chocolates and pillows in the five star hotel room. S.C.C.'s rider listed only that he had such and such type guitars that needed a special booster in order not to feed back. He tried to insist on paying his own cab fare to get to his hotel even though it was our regular practice to provide their ride. No special privileges needed. He was there to sing to Jesus and hope it blessed others to know Him in the process.

But that's not why I felt connected to him. It's not why my kids wondered why I literally shed tears when I was heard the news. It's because we have kids the same age and we serve the same God. I guess the older I get the more I am appreciating the connection that comes from the sisterhood I have with people I have never even met because their Father is mine. I can call out to MY Jesus to help them and I know He hears me and that He knows THEM and loves them as intimately as I know my own blood line.

While I was away the past two weeks, I came to find three different blogs that had to do with losing their children either at birth or at days' old. I was already contemplating the right way and time to finish my "Miracle Girl" series. But I needed to wait. I haven't re-lived all those feelings in a very long time, and yet I felt the words of these blogs so deeply, so personally, with such understanding. The details are different, but I 've been there. Except that I DON'T have the memory of an encounter with meeting my baby. I DON'T have the photos. The place of memorial to go visit. Friends who share that moment in time and remember it from their own perspective. I was jealous. I lost my focus and concentrated on what I DON'T have and forgot to watch only what I DO have. And what I'm glad these three couples also has. It's what we have in common. It's Jesus.

I share something else too with all these amazing broken people I have never met. We all have the same hope. I know what thought they will likely rest in at that time when the deep grieving gives way to peaceful acceptance. And I believe it eventually will. Eventually, but only when the time is right. There is nothing so beautiful as the thought of the complete and utter safety of an innocent child, your own innocent child, resting entirely healed and eternally unburdened in the nail-scarred arms of a Savior who would PROVE his love through his torture and death. They are happy and perfect and peacefully at play with the very Author of all that is PERFECT. It doesn't mean we here on Earth won't hurt and miss them more than can even be described, but eventually we learn to rejoice in their new circumstance more than we hurt at our new circumstances.

Because the Chapmans are parents, and because they are praying to the same God that hears me also and because I've done things that were unintentional yet can never ever be reversed as their sweet son will have to face forever from now on (he accidentally hit his sister while backing out of the driveway), that is why it hurts. Not because I know them (I don't) or they are famous. I've cried too for the the other bloggers I've read. I'm just getting really mushy like that I guess. I cry at everything anymore it seems, and yet I feel stronger than when it was me. If you have ever lost a child or if you are ever destined to, bless you. Especially when you've shared memories and known their personality. That I can't relate too or imagine.

The answer is ALWAYS to FOCUS on JESUS.

God please bless the Chapmans and everyone grieving the loss of a child, grandchild, niece, nephew, aunt, uncle, friend or sibling. Be especially with this young man who was driving and protect his mind from the turmoil and confusion, Lord. In Jesus name.