Fruit

Metal Memories

***Dear reader: PLEASE NOTE THAT TODAY'S BLOG HAS SOME GRAPHIC LANGUAGE, IT MAY PAINT SOME UNWANTED IMAGES IN YOUR HEAD, AND I DO NOT WISH ANYONE TO READ ON UNPREPARED. I AM WRITING THIS BECAUSE I THINK IT IS IMPORTANT TO BE RAW AND REAL ABOUT THE LONG TERM EFFECTS OF AN ABORTION, EVEN FOR SOMEONE WHO KNOWS THEY ARE FORGIVEN.***

Maybe it hurt so much because it was unexpected. Not a physical hurt, it went much deeper than that.

As soon as the metal touched me, my face must have shown how raw my heart felt because my Midwife immediately noticed. In an attempt to distract me she asked: "your last pap smear came back normal, didn't it?"

I smiled weakly at her "yes, it did." I felt the dizziness setting in. Stay here, don't go back there.

How could I explain that my sudden change of expression had nothing to do with what I was currently feeling? It had been four years since my other daughter's birth, and I had forgotten that a pap smear was routine for the six week check up. The metal had surprised me, and in a moment I was back to that place.




...Six years younger, flat on my back staring at the ceiling, deadness creeping into my eyes, not blinking.
The nurse holding my hand, patting me as she noticed this change taking place in me. " it's going to be over soon..." she said.

My jaw tightened. I thought "I hope it hurts. It should." ...





It amazed me how quickly I went back to that place. Stomach turned inside out.

"All done. Everything looks great, you should only have a little spotting for a couple of days." Midwife's Assistant is so kind in tone and expression. Even though she meant to be encouraging, the language is painfully similar. They are both searching my face to see if I'm okay.

I shove it all inside. I sit up and smile towards my sleeping infant resting peacefully in her swing. "She's sleeping so well. I had hoped she'd wake up so you could see her beautiful eyes. They're just like her sister's..."



Finish appointment. Drive home. Take care of girls, husband, chores, grocery shopping, Thanksgiving planning, visit with family.

Rush, rush, rush. Finally, shower time. It hits me when I am alone, vulnerable. Many times salty and fresh water have mixed. The memory is ready to crush me, to overwhelm, to take on the form of a Sinister Being that can pour lies into my soul. It is a raging storm rolling in from the horizon. Dark clouds surround me.

Memory. Memory. Remember...



REMEMBER I am not alone, He is here. My soul sings quietly at first, but ever strengthens, until my lips can not remain still and sing in joy...

"Rejoice my heart!
Rejoice my soul....
My Savior God has come to thee;

Rejoice my heart,
You've been made whole,
By a Love that will not let me go!
By a Love that will not let me go..."

Innocence

"Mama! Mama! ---Kiss me!" She runs to me with lips puckered, eyes scrunched tightly closed.

I smile, curious, and give my sweet four year old a peck on the lips. I can tell there is something behind this...

She grins triumphantly. She turns this expression towards her ten year old Aunt who has just entered the room. "See!!" She exclaims, " girls CAN kiss girls!"

And there it is. I have just stepped into the deep end of the pool.

Aunt shakes her head adamantly, begins to open her mouth in rebuttal ...

"OKAY!" I quickly insert. Deep breath. Assess damage.

To Little One: "hey babe, can you go play in your room for a minute? I want to talk to your Aunt."

Still grinning "Okay!". She scampers past her Aunt with a very pleased "See? I told ya! "



Fortunately, after talking with both girls individually, it was perfectly clear that four year old Girl had no idea what ten year old Aunt was trying to educate her about.

After settling the issue to each girls satisfaction, they went off to play again without a care in the world.

As I watch them go, my heart sinks. I long for Home. Preserving innocence in this world will not be possible for long. And oh how our hearts need to be pure!




He taps on my heart, saying He is passionate about protecting my innocence too.

"The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are good, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!" (Matt. 6:22-23)...


On that glowing screen flash images of all manner of un-godly sexual relationships promoted as normal, acceptable. Disrespect, addiction, greed, dishonesty, crass humor, and murder are all presented with drama and intrigue. And those are just the commercials.

No wonder we all see dimly. (1 Cor. 13:12)

Am I settling for "permissible" rather than "beneficial"? (1 Cor. 10:23) Why do I so passionately protect my daughter's minds, eyes, hearts... and yet am so lackadaisical about mine?

"How can a young man keep his way pure? By living according to your word." (Ps. 119:9)

What does Your word say?

"whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God. " (1 Cor. 10:31)

"Whatever is true, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things." (Phil. 4:8)

Lord, help me to glorify You!

Life Interrupted

Finally. I lay my sweet dreamer softly in her bassinet.

I crawl back in bed, still stiff from the deep sleep I was pulled out of. My back is warm against my heater Husband as I stare off the side of the bed, listening, for that oh-so-possible stirring. Just as my eyes convince me it is safe to let them rest, the familiar and every-increasing baby grunts reach my ears.

Feet to the floor, looking for house shoes to guard toes against the chill of this November morning.

Back to pacing, bouncing, thinking, praying.

I remember when my mom told me four years ago (before my first daughter was born) to be prepared because "everything you do will be constantly interrupted". The usual sleeping hours are no exception. I can see her gentle, knowing smile. The floors must have well beaten paths from where she walked with each of her nine children. Stories about the hours I kept her pacing float through my foggy mind and I smile. Yes, I love this little one like she loved me. I like sharing this love with her.

The love for your child. A part of you. A part of him. A part of Him.

The soft gray of morning is peaking around my bamboo blinds as I sway, sway, sway. Good morning, Father. This is the day that You have made, I will rejoice and be glad in it.

The stillness, the slow of the passing of minutes encourages me to commune with Him. Okay, I'm awake, and that's not going to change anytime soon. I'm too tired to be frustrated. I am willing to truly listen. He is gentle and leads me in baby steps. What can I learn about You in this situation? Faith like a child. What does that mean? You need Me. What does that look like? Like this.

I look down at her peacefully sleeping face. I know she's only sleeping so well because I'm holding her. It is a need, not simply a want, for an infant to be held. So much of her physical, emotional, and spiritual well being is wrapped around consistent contact. She knows she needs to be held.

I am a spiritual infant. Hold me, Abba. I need You so much.

One little sip of Him a day is not enough. I need to regularly eat and drink. I need to rest in His arms.

His Spirit speaks, " I love to hold you all the time..."

My throat tightens and my vision blurs. I love being with You, too.

Am I even spiritually six weeks of age? Can I focus on Him? Smile back at Him? Am I awake with Him long enough to know the One who holds me? Sometimes.

Can I speak His language yet? Can I walk with Him and attempt to emulate what I see of Him?

I want to grow.

I let Him hug me. He sways, sways, sways.

All Your waves and breakers have swept over me...

After a long while I have Fullness. I finally have Rest.

I smile at my little piece of Him as I leave her to her dreams.

Again I lay down my head on my much missed pillow. My eyes are closed but I know He is still with me. My heart whispers.... thank You. Thank You. I want my life to be more interrupted with You.

I pull up covers to shield the time telling aquarium lights. Peace.

I hear the outer door open. Now the one to our bedroom. I smile before I even hear the "Mmmmmmmama. Good mmmmmmmmmmmorning. I'm hungry! Can you fix me breakfast?"

It's the four year old. It's the alarm clock for which there is no snooze button. It's my wonderful life. Interrupted.