Day 35: Anniversaries

October and November are, for me, a minefield of reminders of difficult times. For example:

• October is the month my first baby would have been born if he hadn't died in utero during pregnancy. I will never forget the pain of losing my first child.
• October is the month my first-born son spent 10 days in the NICU with a rare infant botulism infection. I will never forget the terror of seeing my 4-month-old baby helpless, paralyzed, covered with tubes and hooked to monitors. 
• November is the month my ob/gyn found a lump that turned out to be breast cancer.

In early October, I often pause and consider the upcoming anniversaries, like pressing my finger on a scar to check if it still hurts.

Here's the thing: I cannot forget, but it doesn't still hurt.

• I no longer feel acute pain from losing a child. I remember clearly the moments of learning my child had died, of waking from the D&C procedure with feelings of profound emptiness and loss, the months of crying and waiting for my body to recover. I hurt and mourn with those who suffer a miscarriage, but my scar no longer hurts when I touch it. I look forward: before me stands a joyful meeting in heaven and an eternity together -- all my children. I look backward: behind me stands a young couple facing their first major trial together -- a practice run for the full-on heart-intensiveness of parenting. I see the kind people who ministered to us. I know the healing joy of birthing my first-born the following year, the fierce mother-love of holding a precious baby-treasure, never to be taken for granted.
  God provides.
• I no longer feel terror over the botulism infection and the near loss of my first born four months after that healing birth. I remember clearly the frightening trip to the ER as our baby struggled to breathe and weakened quickly, the terror in the hospital as test after test was run to determine the correct diagnosis, the sight of my baby in a big hospital bed only eating and breathing and surviving through the workings of machines, the warnings that my child might face physical and mental challenges. But I look at my son now: Huckle is tall and strong, a 10-year-old of integrity and wit, strong-willed and intelligent. I look forward to seeing the man he will become, God willing. I look back and see the hospital staff and facilities that more than met our needs -- we never even saw a bill. Although infant botulism is rare, this hospital had seen it before and knew to test for it. Our son came through unscathed.
  God provides  
• I no longer consider myself a cancer patient. I made it through surgeries and chemotherapy and came out scarred but more aware that my body is a tent, not a permanent dwelling. I cannot find inner strength in health or self, no matter what our self-help culture suggests. I look forward to my permanent, heavenly home and my permanent, heavenly body and an eternity with the God who loves faithfully and fully. I look back and see the friends and family who ministered to me and the strength I drew from God.
  God provides.

I look back and I look forward as I press my scars and assess the damage. I don't feel damaged; I feel healed and full of joy in both directions: joy in seeing God's provisions throughout my own history -- especially my wanderings in the deserts -- and joy in knowing God will provide in my future. I know He will provide because I have learned His character through my trials.

• He is not a Precious Moments god, cute and starry-eyed and weak and whoops-you-dropped-your-ice-cream-cone-but-I-love-you-anyway.
• He is a kind and sympathetic friend who sits beside me and holds my hand and loves me. But He's much, much more. 
• God is a warrior -- huge and terrifying and awesome and fierce. He fights on my behalf, ever vigilant, ever in control. He always prevails. What joy that I am on the winning side! And so I will, as written in I Timothy 6:12, "Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called when you made your good confession in the presence of many witnesses."
• Finally, I have learned firsthand that God is a "compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness" (Psalm 86:15). What a joy to be the recipient of such goodness, to try to mimic my Father in this world and to be with Him in the next.