Bridge over troubled water

I drove the six hours to Bismarck, North Dakota this week.  The landscape was lush and unseasonably green, the summer that we never thought would come is stretching into fall. But an occasional yellow leaf reminds me- the seasons turn,  winter always comes, life goes on.

We want life to look like this.

Wide, well marked with easy curves. Yes, there is a horizon but it stretches comfortably in the distance.

Instead the journey of life dips and disappears and our stomach lurches with the rough ride.  We hit potholes that threaten our comfort and suspension. The curves come fast and we can find outselves smashed at the side of the road. Alone.

This week, the spirit of my much prayed for and eagerly anticipated sixth grandchild, Teresa Irene, returned to the full presence of her Heavenly Father.  I love the image of her holding hands with her grandfather who loved babies but has yet to meet any of his grandchildren.  For us left on earth, we still deal with the reality of her lifeless body delivered by a grieving mother into the hands of a distraught father.  The hospital has been wonderful, the community outpour of prayers and help has be comforting...

but this grandmother just wants to breathe life into that tiny, perfect body and into this sad and broken family.

Her life on this earth was short and distant and not in our hands.



This tiny bridge is not easily accessible. It's not on a wide path. I'm not even sure of its purpose.  But it caught my eye, it spoke to my soul's longing for beauty, it is there.  A tiny bridge to nowhere must have a function I don't know. Someone carefully constructed posts and railing and added sturdy metal roofing. They placed it in this quiet spot and they know why.

Ducks paddle on this calm water and find food for their ducklings.  Life  happens here in the quiet, off the busy road.

Teresa is our bridge- inaccesible to our hands but forever perfect and complete in our hearts. Her brief life reminds us of the brevity of our days and heaven awaiting us- she is our bridge to eternity.  But I don't want to leave this little, fragile structure out here in the elements; winter is coming. The ducks will fly and she'll be alone.  But this  earth is all merely a shell, a structure with a function I don't fully realize.  Teresa has shed her fragile  body and is rejoicing in timeless heaven where we are already together. I am left to remember her rosebud lips, to hug the sad children and parents, to pray for comfort and... to anticipate life on earth as it continues on, waiting for the renewal of an inevitable spring.

Waiting for Noelle. It's all fine.

Well, pretty baby girl. Bebe is waiting for you today.  It's been a bit nerve-wracking. Jesus is teaching me to trust Him with all of my precious loved ones- even ones I don't know yet.

When your mama told me you were coming, I was just a little, well, freaked out.  You won't read this until you are old enough to know me so you'll already know that I can freak out pretty easy. Or maybe by the time you are old enough to read this, I will be so full of Jesus that I'll be cool, calm and collected. All the time.

By now you know that your mama didn't do so well when your brother was born. It was a mess. And Bebe was a BIG mess.  I LOVE my baby girl- that would be your mama and I LOVE your brother and I LOVE your daddy.  I didn't want anything bad to happen to any one of them.  And it could have been so much worse....  and that's what I remembered when I heard you were on the way.

So you are part of God's gift to me. The gift of embracing my fear. Of choosing to lean in close and figure out what fear means. Of sitting quietly and thinking back to when I was a little girl and bad stuff happened to me. Wow- sounds scary but it wasn't.  This has been a wonderful year. A year of learning how much God loves me. How much He wants to heal me way down deep. Of how much he protected me when I didn't know He was there.


So today your mom and dad took pillows and diapers and little, tiny pink clothes and a brand new car seat and headed off to the hospital for another surgery.  And I got to stay here and trust Jesus all over again.  It helped that I had Josiah to distract me.   He had his breakfast waffle and we watched his baby DVD. Hope you like them- he definitely knows which ones HE likes.





Then we put on our bike helmets and went for an explore on my bike. Bebe needed some exercise- a bit of nervous energy crackled in the house today.  We found a park where I took a bunch of blurry photos of your brother, mostly the back of his head, because he won't stand still.

And he climbed UP a slide that had a puddle of water on it and got all wet. 



And then he swung out and fell off a platform in the big kid's playground equipment.  And got shredded wood junk up his runny nose and all over his wet clothes.  It was time to go home. And change his outfit- again.




He finished up his waffle, ate some toast with peanut butter, had half a banana and some yogurt.  Then he proceeded to run around like a crazy boy and laugh and throw stuffed animals.  Obviously he knows something is up. YOU are coming!  And his world will never be the same.

Mine won't either.  I love my kids but I'm crazy about Josiah and Mariam and now YOU.  My heart is tender toward you little peanuts in a whole new way. I was too busy with life when I was the young mama with my own babies- now I can just sit on the kitchen floor with an eighteen month old toddler clad just in his diaper and eat yogurt together and be fine.  Really fine- happy and content fine.  Excited to meet another little person who will call me Bebe fine. Grateful in my heart fine.

PS- and I'm not even afraid. Because my world won't be the same either.

PPS- Uh... let's not tell Mom about the fall. He's fine.

PPSS- I think I'll have a little peanut butter and Nutella while I wait. That's fine, too.

Just hanging out.
Waiting for Noelle!