Gifts

Someone back home was kind enough to send me the flowers pictured in the last post.  After I quit laughing at my older girls who were gushing over how nice it was of the FedEx man to bring them to me, my pragmatic side kicked right in.  Before I even opened the box or read the card, my first thought was why anyone would waste their money on “something that was just going to die.”  And then I heard a still small voice whisper, “Enjoy the Gift.”

 

So that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do.  I can’t tell you how many times those roses have made me smile this week.  Every day they unfold a little more and I find myself captivated with how they look from this angle (or that one too).  I’ve found myself picking up my camera numerous times because I wanted to remember a bloom exactly as it was at that particular moment.

 

 

And every time I’ve found myself in one of those moments, I’ve pondered what it means to “Enjoy the Gift.”  I think it’s a lesson that directly applies to my life.  Even before we had children of our own, I had seen enough of life to realize that family planning isn’t as cut and dry as one would think.  I had friends that had unexpectedly become pregnant in a very inconvenient season of life and I had others who struggled with infertility.  I quickly realized that we don’t have as much control as we often think we do in these matters.  So I entered into the realm of parenthood with a distinct appreciation that children were a gift.  And even though it’s happened five times now, I’m always a little surprised when that little stick confirms that we are indeed pregnant.

 

Our Sweet Catelyn

Since I lost Catelyn three and half years ago, my biggest frustration has been how to remember My Gift.  Although no one has actually verbalized the sentiment, I’ve often felt like others are wondering when I’m going to get over it.  I feel like people look at me with a sympathy that conveys that my life would be better if I could just move past the pain.  When one miscarries a pregnancy, I think others only remember that agony they felt when they found out the news.  When I remember Catelyn in particular, I think of so much more.  The other innate problem with losing an unborn child is that nobody else has had the opportunity to build a relationship with that tiny person.  In some ways it has felt like I’ve lost an imaginary friend, and yet there was nothing make believe about her.  She was really here.  Amazingly enough, Catelyn’s pregnancy was my most vibrant.  She made her presence known.  I felt her move.  I laughed over her antics.  I prayed for her.  I loved her.  And I didn’t need an ultrasound to confirm when she was gone.  I knew.

 

Our Other Precious Gifts

 

Although we tend to think there is supposed to be a natural order of children burying parents in old age, none of us is guaranteed any length of days.  I truly believe the value of a life cannot be determined by marks on a calendar.  We live in a world where bad things happen.  And just as I had a decision to make about my flowers that were “just going to die,” each of us has a decision to make about how we’re going to enjoy our gifts.  All I know to do is make the most of the time I have with the ones I love most.  And despite what anyone might think, I’m going to remember the gifts I’ve lost because God gave them to me for a reason.  I still don’t know what He had in mind with this last little babe, but I know He used Catelyn to change me for the better.  He needed to work in my life and even beforehand He knew it was going to hurt.  So He gave me a gift, one that was a precious reminder that He loved me when nothing else made sense.  I try hard to seek calm when interacting with others, but I don’t want to have to hide my gift in the shadows because it might make people uncomfortable.  I want to remember her and hold tight to the many sweet memories, because I wouldn’t be the person I am today without her.

James 1:17 ~ Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above…