Last year, I wrote this article in preparation for Easter, and I share it here now in the hope that it will be an encouragement to someone.
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 55 The women who had come with Jesus from Galilee followed Joseph and saw the tomb and how his body was laid in it. 56 Then they went home and prepared spices and perfumes. But they rested on the Sabbath in obedience to the commandment. Luke 23:55-56

No one talks about Saturday.

Plenty has been said about Good Friday, the day Jesus was crucified.  A day of anguish and accusations, darkness and defeat.  Friday was the worst, darkest day in the disciples’ lives.  All of their hopes were dashed, nailed to a cross, buried in a tomb.

And Easter Sunday – we know a lot about that.  Jesus alive!  The grave empty!  A day of joy, hope, and miracles! 

But no one talks about Saturday.

Two gospels skip it entirely, as if anxious to leave the darkness behind in exchange for the glory of Easter.  But Jesus’ followers did not have that luxury.  They had to live through Saturday, with no idea that Sunday would hold a miracle.  Luke tells us what they did.

They rested.  

That’s it.  They awoke Saturday morning, if they slept at all, possibly angry that the sun dared to rise when their world had ended.  They probably spent time together – the women making plans to anoint Jesus’ body.  The men slowly finding one another, still hiding in fear, perhaps voicing their regret for the past.  “If only I hadn’t run away…I wish I hadn’t denied him…”

But mostly, they rested.

That’s what Saturday was made of.  Rest.  Reflection.  Remembering.  Regret.  Remorse.  And the realization that Friday had changed them forever. 

Most of us have experienced a Good Friday moment, when the world as we knew it ended.  What was it for you?  Was it the end of a marriage?  A cancer diagnosis?  The loss of your job?  A phone call from your child’s school?  The death of a loved one?  Or maybe a season of financial troubles, or a season of abuse by a parent or a spouse? 

My “Good Friday” was March 9, 2009, when I realized that the baby I’d carried for 18 weeks had died.  In that moment, my world ended, and I was plunged into the darkest place emotionally that I had ever been.  I clung to God, desperate for His comfort and peace.

Then one day it was “Saturday.”  The rest of the world went on as normal.  Friends were pregnant with babies who lived.  Co-workers laughed and joked.  But I was stuck in my Saturday of remembering, of wondering if I could have changed things “if only.”  Of resenting those who wanted me back to “normal” when I was forever changed, and those who tried to tell me God was still in charge.  Of railing at God, my source of comfort, for not protecting me from hurt in the first place.  Of reflecting on Scripture, trying to understand how God’s love and power co-exist with tragedy in the lives of his children.

Saturday begins when the worst pain is behind you, but a throbbing ache has taken its place.  When the sun dares to shine, but your world is still dark.  When the abuse is in the past, but not the hurt and shame.  When you are no longer hemorrhaging, but neither are you healed.  When the rest of the world expects you to be “over it”, but you’re not. 

Where are you?  Have you experienced the darkness of Good Friday?  Do you feel stuck in your Saturday, not really sure where God is and why he withheld his hand of protection from your life?  We, too, can follow the example of Jesus’ followers. 

Rest.  Reflect.  Retreat from the frenzy of the world.  Talk with others.  Don’t be afraid to ask God the hard questions.  And do all of this with an element that the disciples didn’t have.

Hope.

They didn’t know what Sunday would hold.  They weren’t waiting for a miracle.  They were just waiting.      

But we know that Jesus rose, and just as He did on that first Easter, God longs to move us from Good Friday to Resurrection Day. 

 

When that resurrection comes, it will not erase the past.  Easter Sunday did not change the fact that the crucifixion, in all of its ugliness, had happened.  His followers would never forget that day.  And there was no “getting back to normal” either.  They didn’t return to their former lives of following an itinerant teacher and healer around Judea.  No, they went forward into their “new normal” characterized by God’s power and presence in a way they had never dreamed possible.

 

But first, you have to get through Saturday.

 

I’ve spent much longer in my Saturday than I wanted to, but I’m also learning to embrace it – the time to rest, to reflect, to remember, even to rail against my Maker.  In the process, I’ve learned to trust Him again, and every now and again I get a glimpse of the resurrection power that awaits, when I also experience God’s power and purposes and presence in a new way. 

 

If that’s where you are, too, welcome to the thoughts of another Saturday disciple, living between the bookends of Good Friday grief and Easter Sunday glory.  May you, too, find the rest you need in preparation for his resurrection power in your life. 

 

Father, my Good Friday experience wiped me out.  I’ve never hurt so badly in my life.  Now it’s “Saturday” and I feel stuck and sad and full of questions that may never be answered.  Help me, please.  Hold me through Saturday, even when I rail against you.  Use my Saturday for your glory.  And give me the perseverance and hope to wait for Sunday and to trust you to resurrect my buried dreams into something that speaks of your power and presence in my life. Amen.

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"Mommy, why did the bad guys make Jesus die on the cross?" asked my three-year-old daughter.  I glanced in my rear-view mirror on our way to preschool.  It was an out-of-the-blue question, but since we had read about the crucifixion in our Bible stories the night before, it was not completely unexpected. 

I tried to make my answer preschool-simple.  "They didn't believe that he was God's Son."

"Did the bad guys do a good thing?"

I was puzzled at her logic, then remembered talking with her about how it was God's plan for Jesus to die on the cross so our sins could be forgiven.  "Sometimes God lets something bad happens and then uses it to do something good."  No response except for a blank look.  Let me try again.  "It's like Naomi dying, honey," I started, referring to her younger sister who had died in my second trimester of pregnancy.  "We were sad about that, right?  That was a sad thing, but God used it to make some good things happen, like meeting new friends and helping other mommies who have babies in Heaven."  She still looked kind of blank.  I chuckled, ready to give up for now.  "It's kind of confusing, isn't it?"

She laughed, too, and we both fell silent, letting the sound from the radio fill the car.  It was a local Christian station, WMHK, and singer Aaron Shust was talking briefly about an experience of his young son being in the hospital, and how God gave him peace and helped him to trust Him fully, even when it made no sense.

Suddenly, my daughter piped up again.  "He's talking about the same thing as you, Mommy.  Why is he saying the same thing as you?  Does he know you?"

Wow.  Maybe she did get it after all.  "No, he doesn't know me, honey," I replied when I could, blinking back tears.  "But we both know Jesus."

And when we face the hard times, that makes all the difference.
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I'm going to bite the bullet and share some ideas about Christmas and Santa Claus.  And let me start by saying that just because we choose to do things one way does not mean we look down on anyone else and their traditions.

First - the way my parents did Christmas with us was to play the Santa game - we knew Santa was pretend, so we all "pretended" together, leaving a letter out of our Christmas wishes and leaving snacks on Christmas Eve, and my parents would sneak into our rooms late on Christmas Eve when they thought we were asleep and leave our stockings at the foot of our beds for us to find in the morning.  Christmas Day was a fun time of opening our stockings in bed, THEN waking our parents up, a big breakfast together, and finally several hours of opening presents around the Christmas tree, each person taking a turn while everyone else watched. 

I have wonderful memories from childhood Christmases.  But when our daughter was born almost 4 years ago, we had to decide how we would "do" Christmas, what kinds of traditions we would establish, what we want her to remember when she is an adult raising her own family.  This year, she is three, and much more aware of the Christmas traditions than before.  So our big decisions have been in the areas of presents and Santa Claus.

So - let's start with Santa Claus.  I have nothing against the jolly old elf.  But I can't in good conscience look in my daughter's eyes and try to convince her that he in his current fantasy mold is real.  I am the one who also reads her Bible stories about angels and miracles and God entering human history in the form of a baby, who teaches her to pray to a God she cannot see.  We have been talking for the better part of a year about the difference between real and pretend (Grandma is real; Tigger and Pooh are pretend), and we have carried that on as we've introduced her to certain fairy tales (Can bears talk?  No...) and Bible stories (Are angels real or pretend?  Real!).  So, even though I know that generations of children have believed in Santa and entered adulthood firmly rooted in their faith in Jesus, we are not going down that road.  We will tell her the story of Saint Nicholas, the historical person from whom the mythical character of Santa gradually emerged.  We will talk with her about his love for God, and how it inspired him to do secret acts of good for others.  But discussions of Santa bringing presents if she's good - those don't and won't occur in our home. 

In fact, it's only been in the last week or so that we've talked about presents at all, and mostly in the context of getting presents for other people.  We've talked with her about how getting presents for others shows them love, and when we love others and are kind to them, we are serving Jesus as well.  And that what Jesus wants most of all from us is for us to love him and obey him.  We will give her presents, but we are trying hard to keep it low-key.  I've heard others who limit Christmas presents to three (like the three gifts Jesus received from the Magi), and we know others who encourage grandparents to give "experiences" rather than gifts to their grandchildren.  We like those ideas, we just weren't organized enough this year to implement them!

One departure from my childhood - we will be opening family gifts on Christmas Eve, after the Christmas Eve service.  Christmas Day will be reserved for worship (especially with Christmas being on a Sunday this year), carols, time with family, and celebrating Jesus' birthday - which we have been counting down to all month with a special daily Advent Wreath we got at this site.

So that is us and how we are "doing Christmas" this year.  We just want the point of this special day to remain fully on Jesus, especially in the heart of our daughter as she forms her own understanding of the world and what is important.  When she is an adult, I want her to look back and say, "When I was a child, Christmas was filled with joy and anticipation as we celebrated the first coming of Jesus, with sacred traditions, songs, and acts of generosity."  We are still figuring out what that will "look like" in years to come. 

If you have ideas, please share them as a comment below!!



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I hear that on the Earth below
This is a special season
With lights and songs and gifts and such,
And Jesus is the reason!

The rest of this poem can be found on the Naomi's Circle website (www.naomiscircle.weebly.com). 
Written in memory of my children in heaven -- Naomi Faith, Kyria Hope, and Jordan Gabriel.
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Remembering... 10/15/2011
 
The best laid plans...I haven't blogged here for over a month, but not for want of things to say!  Life has gotten busy, other commitments caught up with me...you know the spiel.

BUT I'm back now (for anyone actually following me, LOL) and today, on Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, I'm remembering....
  • Remembering my first loss, Naomi Faith, at 18.5 weeks, who probably would have been fine if not for the infection that threatened my own life.  She opened the door to the world of PAIL for me, and introduced me to a community that, ironically, has blessed my life in more ways than I thought possible.  She was the inspiration for our Naomi's Circle ministry.
  • Remembering our second loss, Kyria Hope, at eight weeks.  She showed me that the faith lessons I learned after losing Naomi were firmly grounded, and although I mourned for her just as deeply, God held me through the flood and the fire.  She was the inspiration for our Kyria's Kloset ministry of encouraging churches to come alongside crisis pregnancy centers in very practical ways.
  • Remembering our third (and hopefully final) loss, Jordan Gabriel.  Lost at just four weeks, only days after a positive pregnancy test, he taught me anew that life is life is life.  Mommy loves you, sweetie.
  • Remembering the miracle of life that DD is.  Losing her siblings so early has taught me to cherish every laugh, every smile, every hug and kiss, even every tantrum and time-out.
  • Remembering the promises of God, that he sustains us in our trials, that our children in heaven are not forgotten, that we will be reunited someday, that eternity and heaven are more real than anything here on earthy.
  • Remembering other friends and family members who have also sustained such losses, knowing that many of them have had more excruciating experiences than mine, yet have borne them with faith and grace that have inspired me and given me hope along the way.
I'm remembering all this today and more...and the remembering fills me with bittersweet hope for the future, seeing God's faithfulness through it all.  If you are remembering today, too, take comfort in knowing that you are not alone.
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My daughter is now three-and-a-half, and while her twos were “terrific” rather than “terrible”, ever since she turned three, she has exerted her independence in new, and sometimes frustrating, ways.  Gone is the baby who went where I took her without complaint, who snuggled in close whenever I needed a hug, and who wore whatever cute outfit I dressed her in.  In her place is an opinionated little girl who dawdles when it’s time to leave, insists on wearing her favorite outfit instead of mine, and who locks her bedroom door so she can have “privacy.” 

Read the rest of this on the Parenting After Infertility and Loss Blog.
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Rainbows 08/26/2011
 
She was supposed to be our Rainbow Baby.

A year before I’d never heard the term. But since the second-trimester death of our daughter Naomi, I’d heard it a lot. A rainbow baby was the one that followed a loss. The one who was the promise of joy after the storm of loss and grief. The reminder that the ravages of that storm do not destroy hope and dreams.

So when I had a positive pregnancy test six months after we lost Naomi, I thought that’s what this baby was. Our little rainbow. The one who would not exist if Naomi had survived. I struggled with how to rejoice in her life when it came only because of the loss of her older sister, but at the same time my spirit soared to experience life in my womb again.

Read the rest of this article on "Held", the Hannah's Prayer blog
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Working together 08/03/2011
 
It's Wednesday, and I fell off the CHAOS bandwagon for a good little while there, but I am back on.  I've begun reading "31 Days to Clean: Having a Martha House the Mary Way" (which, by the way, is on sale this week through (in)courage.  And I've begun making a schedule to clean my house in zones, and following (as best I can) the Fly-Lady way of doing things.  (My goal today is to conquer one "hot spot" where junk tends to collect - but there are so many to choose from!).

Today, I was making DD's bed and telling her that I needed her to help put away her clothes, and she said, "I don't know how."  She is three, so that is a real possibility.  So we sat down and made some signs for her dresser so she knows which drawer has shirts, which one has shorts, which ones have pants, etc.  Then we practiced - and she loved it!  She doesn't know this word, but I think it empowered her to know what she is supposed to do when Mommy says to put away her clothes.  And it inspired me to include my daughter in the process of getting on top of things in our home - instead of working around her, we can work together! 
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I just heard about a great article, website, and giveaway I want to share about.  The article is "Four Things to Pray for Your Kids" by Tricia Goyer (tying our prayers to the children's song "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes"), it is published on the website, "The Better Mom", and the giveaway is for different books and materials related to parenting and training our children in the way of the Lord.   Check it out!
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Flip Flops 06/20/2011
 
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My daughter has been coveting something in her three-year-old heart for nearly two months now.

Flip flops.

Friends of our came to visit at Easter time with their two sons just a little older than her, and they had flip flops.  SO cool to her little girl eyes.  Ever since, she's been asking about them, trying to understand what made flip flops different from other shoes, examining my shoe rack to see if I had any.  When we were setting up for VBS at church on Saturday, she met a teen-ager with flip flops and got to try hers on.  She told us they were on sale at Old Navy, 2 for $5.

You guessed it.  We stopped at Old Navy on the way home and bought her not one, but THREE, pairs of flip flops.  And she is over the moon.  She has worn her flip flops everywhere she could since then, and even chose to nap on the floor to keep them on, since she doesn't wear shoes in bed.

We almost didn't stop for them.  After all, she doesn't "need" flip flops.  They're not "good" for her, like well-supported sneakers.  But seeing her eyes light up at the thought of these longed-for big-girl shoes did me in.

I love to see my daughter smile.

And it makes me think of God, who loves his children more than I love my little girl.  Who delights in giving "good gifts to those who ask him" (Matt. 7:12).  Sometimes I hesitate to ask for things that I consider "silly" - the unnecessary, the extravagant.  Things that aren't very "spiritual."  Even things like more children.  Another baby.  I don’t “need” one; I should be satisfied with the child I have.  I can analyze my desires to death before I utter a word in prayer.   Sometimes I do it to make sure that my prayers are pleasing to God, but also in self-defense, to avoid unnecessary disappointment - after all, if I don't ask, he can't say no.

But I think what pleases God is also the asking.  No, he doesn't want us to be selfish or have a "gimme" attitude.  But heartfelt prayers please him.  The looking of a child to her father to provide, trusting that if fulfilling that desire is not good, then that's okay. 

But then, sometimes, God gives us those “frivolous” desires because he can.  And because he wants to bless us and he "richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment” (1 Tim. 6:17).

And, I think, because he loves us, and He loves to see his children smile.
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