A Letter to Maggie: On Your Dedication

Sweet Maggie Maloy,

God answered so many prayers when He gave you to us, so many prayers that I didn’t even know my heart was asking for. When we learned we were pregnant with you, life looked very different. Our family looked very different, and all we knew then was complete joy and celebration, so excited that you would be joining our family.

During my pregnancy with you, heartbreak struck, and Grandma Rose went to be with Jesus in Heaven. Our family went through a devastating time, one I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to get through. I wasn’t sure I’d have anything to offer you, sweet girl, because I was so very broken inside. But then you came into our world, and God began some healing in my heart, sparking a part of my soul that I thought had died. You brought me hope. You brought our family hope, and a joy that we so desperately needed.

God knew we needed you, Maggie, and He designed all of this from the very beginning. He knew all along what would happen this year, and He planned for you to arrive at just the right time to restore our faith. God has been in control all along, our lives are ordained by Him, and we belong to our Father God, Who designs good things for us.

You are beautifully and uniquely made by The God of Heaven who loves you so very much. You will fulfill His purposes and plans in a way that only you can, and I aways want you to know deep down in your heart what a treasure you are. You are a daughter of The King, and nothing, and no one, can ever steal away your worth.

Daddy and I will do all we can to raise you up in the secure love of our Father. We will teach you how to walk with Jesus, and learn His desires for your life. We will help you and encourage you, reminding you of what a gift you are, and point you back to scripture as you navigate life. We will raise you to grow in the power of our resurrected King, and live in the freedom and grace that God so lovingly pours out on His children. We will create a safe and loving home for you, a place you can always return to, and find shelter from the world. We will love you unconditionally, and always praise God for you, and acknowledge the priceless gift that you are.

God has given you to us, but we know that you belong to God first, and we commit your little life over to Him, knowing that you are safe in His arms. The plans He has for you are good, and we can’t wait to watch you accomplish them, and go on to do great things in The Name of our Savior. We will always pray for your safety, protection, and good health, and for your feet to remain firmly planted in the Word of God.

Keep growing strong little one, this world needs you, needs the hope that you can offer, and the joy you have in your heart. Your Mommy and Daddy love you, and will always be right here by your side, cheering you on.

All our love,

Mommy & Daddy

Welcome to our World

Sweet Maggie,

Meeting you was like a sweet balm for my heart. The nurses laid you against my face, and all I could do was cry, so overcome with love for you, and completely amazed that you were finally here, finally part of our world.

There were times during my pregnancy with you, that I just didn’t know if we’d make it. I had contractions early on, when we lost your Grandma, and I got so worried. My heart was broken, and I didn’t know if my body had enough strength to carry you, but the thought of anything else completely ripped me apart. I needed you, Maggie, I needed you then, and I need you now, you are my heart’s hope.

You are God’s promise to me that life keep’s going after loss. You are my heart’s redemption, my renewal, my reason to be. God has revealed His goodness again, in bringing you to us. He’s breathed in new life, restored our joy, and increased our faith. In giving you to us, He has restored my hope: hope to keep going, to keep fighting the good fight, to keep believing in good things, and to keep trusting my Heavenly Father, even when things appear bad.

God’s still answering prayer, because you are here. You are proof. So many people prayed for us, prayed for you, prayed for your safe arrival, and now you’re here, and you’re perfect, and healthy, and ours.

Your sweetness brings me so much comfort and peace, and I am so thankful for you, and the gift that you are. You must always know what a complete treasure you are, and know how very much you are loved. You fit perfectly into our family, rounding us out, and giving us a sense of wholeness. You belong here, as if you’ve always been.

This first week with you has been a joy, and I thank God for you, and for the life He has planned for our family. He will continue to do great things, Maggie. He will continue to use you for His glory, and He will work out His good plan in your life.

Always know, that no matter what comes, our God is still good, and worthy of our praise. You are loved, and you are purposed, and you are safe in the arms of Jesus. You have only just begun this great journey of life, but knowing these things is all you will need. You are so precious to us, and to our LORD, and I can’t wait to watch you grow and see all the thing you will do.

Welcome to our world, Maggie. We’re so glad you’re here.

All my love,

Momma

God's Plan for My Life

I started writing this the day I went into labor with Maggie, not knowing I was in labor. I had it up on the computer when Andrew got home, and said: "I can't work on this right now, I'm in too much pain" having no clue that our baby would be arriving in just a few hours. I just found it on the computer again today, and thought it was still worth sharing. 

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June 25, 2016:


I haven't written in a while because the words in my heart have been jumbled, I've been feeling out of sorts and emotional. We are scheduled to welcome our baby girl into our world in just 6 short days, and that reality is surely doing a number on my heart.

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I've been so overcome with sadness the last few weeks, desperately longing for my Mom. I want to experience this with her, have her sit by my hospital bed and hold my hand, whisper reassuring words, and explain all of the medical things that I don't understand. She was the greatest nurse, and her spirit brought so much comfort and peace, and I've been aching for her, missing her comfort in such an overwhelming way. 

My Mom is gone. She's never coming back. And there are just days where I can't quite wrap my mind around that fact, can't quite bring myself to accept it. 

Day to day activities are so much easier to handle, mundane things that don't mean much. I can go about my life for a while, ignoring the pain….but bringing my child into the world? Yeah, that's a milestone where Mom should be. 

Mom should be waiting for us in recovery, she should be holding my baby girl when I wake up, tear stains on her face, telling me how beautiful Maggie is, and how I did good. She should be here for a 3rd generation photo, to pick out cute little outfits, and to hear her soft coos. Mom should be here for snuggles, bedtime songs, and bubble baths. She should be here for all of the firsts, all of the excitement, all of the joy. 

She should be here, but she's not, and there's no way to share this with her. That reality just doesn't seem fair, doesn't seem right, and doesn't feel like something I want to do. 

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Coming to terms with this is hard, and it's harder still because I'm battling with a God I've always loved, always believed in, and never questioned. 

How do I reconcile my pain, and all of this heartache, with a good God, Who doesn't do bad things? How do I keep on praying for peace and comfort, when I don't feel comforted? How do I keep living out my witness to a broken world, when I, myself, am broken? 

Let me make this one thing clear: deep down in my heart of hearts, I still know, deeply know, that God is here with me. I know He hasn't changed in the last 3.5 months since losing Mom, I know He's still good, and I still know He's working all things out for our good. 

But it doesn't feel good. 

It doesn't feel right. 

And right now, I just can't see beyond the pain. 

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Andrew told me last night: "Maybe you're just supposed to feel this pain right now. Maybe it's not so much that God's not answering your prayers for comfort at all, but rather, telling you 'No, you need to feel this.'" And knowing God the way I do, I suppose he's right. 

God wouldn't have me go through this if there wasn't a greater purpose. He wouldn't require pain that wasn't meant for my ultimate good. Right now, through my aching heart, those reasons just don't feel good enough. I'd rather have my Mom here than learn a faith lesson. I'd rather go on living my life the way it was with Mom than go through this valley of darkness and despair. But God requires more. He requires that His children give their all to follow Him. He requires sacrifice, and discomfort. And in His great love for me, He desires more for me: deeper faith, deeper understanding, deeper communion with Him, and a deeper love, completely committed to Him. 

This is the story God requires, the plan He has for my life.  I have to keep trusting Him through it, and trusting that He'll see me through. 

My Safe Place

         Psalm 91

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High

    will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

 

I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,

    my God, in whom I trust.”

Surely he will save you

    from the fowler’s snare

    and from the deadly pestilence.

 

He will cover you with his feathers,

    and under his wings you will find refuge;

    his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.

 

You will not fear the terror of night,

    nor the arrow that flies by day,

 

nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,

    nor the plague that destroys at midday.

 

A thousand may fall at your side,

    ten thousand at your right hand,

    but it will not come near you.

 

You will only observe with your eyes

    and see the punishment of the wicked.

If you say, “The Lord is my refuge,”

    and you make the Most High your dwelling,

 

no harm will overtake you,

    no disaster will come near your tent.

 

For he will command his angels concerning you

    to guard you in all your ways;

 

they will lift you up in their hands,

    so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.

 

You will tread on the lion and the cobra;

    you will trample the great lion and the serpent.

“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him;

    I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.

 

He will call on me, and I will answer him;

    I will be with him in trouble,

    I will deliver him and honor him.

 

With long life I will satisfy him

    and show him my salvation.”

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My heart has been very fearful and anxious, overwhelmed by the terror and heartbreak in our world. Everyday, I turn on the news, and am blasted with headline after headline describing another scene from hell. Pain and sadness is on every corner, heard from every end of the Earth, there's no where to go to be safe, no refuge to be found. 

How do I raise my children in a world like this? How do I let them out of my sight? How do I trust a school to keep them safe, a bus driver, a family friend? And even in my own presence, I'm all too aware that toddlers have a mind of their own, and swift little legs that carry them off in a blink of an eye. I have to face even my own limitations, and these thoughts swirl through my mind, and I'm left crouching in the corner, clinging to my babies, afraid of everything and everyone. 

Where can I go with this fear, where can I find safety? 

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As a Christian, and follower of Jesus Christ, I have to reconcile my fear with what God says about being afraid. Unfortunately, for a person like me, who struggles with worry, God is not very lenient. He commands His children to not be afraid, and makes it very clear that to do so, is a sin. 

But how do I just stop worrying? How can I possibly shut off my mind, calm my heart, and cease to worry? It's hard to do, and certainly takes intentional prayer and practice, and even then, fear has a way of creeping in on us. 

Thankfully, for us though, God is not just a stern Father calling out commands. He is also loving and tender, compassionate to us, and patient with us. He knows how hard it is for us to be at peace in our hearts. He knows how much we love our children, and long for their safety and well-being. God knows, because that's how He loves us, with an even fiercer love than we could ever imagine. His love for us is so great, that He never leaves our side, counts the hairs on our heads, bottles our tears, and stoops down to hear our whispers and cries for help. As our Father God, He promises to watch over us, never needing to sleep, protecting us during our days and also during our nights. He is faithful and good, but also powerful and mighty and strong. He can handle anything that comes our way, and tells us not to be afraid. 

It's easier to stop worrying, when we realize how big and strong our God is, but also understand that He is motivated by His love for us. He's not only working to protect us, but He's also working for our good, because He loves us and sees to our well-being. 

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Psalm 91 brings me so much comfort, reading all of the ways that God promises to be our protector and refuge. As I face this sad world, and all of my fears for my children, I can rest in peace knowing that God is there, tucking us under His wings, and promising to be our safe place. He will shelter us, He will protect us, and He will deliver us. We needn't fear the evil in this world, because our God has overcome, and promises to guard us in all of our ways. 

Facing the fears of tomorrow may be scary, but it's not impossible. God has promised to help us, and to be with us through every step. I'm so thankful I can call out to Him and express my concern, and know that He is listening and acting on my behalf. I can trust my children to His care, knowing His love for them is so great, and I can take courage, knowing my God is mighty and strong, and going before us in all things. 

I can find rest and refuge in my Father God, because He is my safe place. 

Beyond The Cross

"...You were never meant to carry this beyond the cross…"

- Dear Younger Me, MercyMe

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"He Himself bore our sins" in His body on the cross,

So that we might die to sins and live for righteousness;

"By His wounds you have been healed."

-1 Peter 2:24

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One of the aspects of grief that I haven't talked about yet, is the desire and overwhelming need to fix my grief, and the grief of those around me. Society doesn't know what to do with someone when they're grieving, and the natural response is to say: "Snap out of it!", or give off a general impression of impatience. For the person in grief, this adds pressure, fueling the need to "fix" the issue ourselves and get back to "normal" life. 

We live under the assumption that we have any control over it at all, and we burden ourselves with guilt: "Why am I still sad?", "Why do I still feel so withdrawn?", "Why can't I get passed the pain?"...and so the questioning goes, and our guilt piles higher. 

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I've been thinking about this problem, and the weight it brings, and trying to filter it through scripture. Jesus doesn't want me to carry this burden of needing to be fixed, or the guilt from not being fixed soon enough, Jesus wants me to let Him carry me, and let Him heal me. 

Beyond that, I want to propose that it's even wrong to assume that we can control our grief, because we are not capable of bringing healing to anything, only God can do that. I think we begin to cross over into God's territory when we try to do things ourselves, instead of relying on Jesus to bring about our healing. 

MercyMe is one of my favorite contemporary Christian artists, their music is emotionally honest, relevant, and inspiring, and I love how their songs tell real stories. Their latest song was written from the context of growing up in an abusive home, overcoming that past, and allowing God's redeeming love to transform. In one of the last lines of the song, the lead singer says: "You were never meant to carry this beyond the cross", and it really struck me... 

The cross of Jesus was necessary so that all of our burdens and sins could be healed. Everything comes together at the cross, God's great design to reconcile His people to Himself. Our burdens and sins needed a place to be washed clean, a place to be forgiven, a place to be purchased. Jesus went willingly to pay that debt for us, and He also went so that we would no longer have to carry the pain of life on our own. He became our Savior God, our Messiah, our redeemer, because there was no way for us to save ourselves. 

…I was never meant to carry my burden of grief beyond the cross…

Jesus paid the ultimate sacrifice, giving us His very life, so that we don't have to live under the burden of sin, sadness, regret, shame, unworthiness, unholiness, depression, or grief. His design was perfect, completing our redemption, and nothing is needed beyond the cross. We are healed by His wounds, healed completely, once and for all. 

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In light of this understanding, and applying it to my grief, I'm able to see that I really have no control at all, and no need to pressure myself, or those around me, into a place of "healing" that society will accept. 

God's design for His people was for us to leave everything at the cross, and let Him heal us. It was never part of His plan for us to lay our burdens down, and then take them back up and try to fix them ourselves. The cross of Jesus is final and complete, and we were never meant to carry our burden beyond calvary. 

The cross of Jesus is all we need to heal every sin and every scar, every broken heart and every sadness. God's plan for mankind was made perfect there at the cross, and we are free to lay our pains down there, with the promise that He will heal us, and that His healing will be complete. 

Thy Will be Done

"Our Father, which art in heaven,

Hallowed be Thy Name.

Thy Kingdom come. 

Thy will be done on earth, 

As it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our trespasses,

As we forgive them that trespass against us. 

And lead us not into temptation, 

But deliver us from evil. 

For Thine is the kingdom, 

The power, 

And the glory forever. 

Amen."

-Matthew 6:9-13

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As a child, I was taught this passage, The LORD's Prayer. I wasn't aware at that young age how difficult living out this prayer would be. And until Mom died, I never had a problem with it. The words rolled off my tongue and heart, easy to accept and easy to say. My untested heart never imagined the commitment these words brought, or how difficult they would one day become. 

But Mom's death brought on a new sort of trial that I've never experienced, and never expected: I questioned God's will. 

I questioned God. 

I got mad. 

I got upset. 

I demanded answers from The Almighty God of Heaven. 

The fourth line of this prayer became impossible for me to pray. "Thy will be done" became such a painful phrase, ripping my heart out. How could my Mom's death be part of God's good plan…and if it was, how was I supposed to accept that, and bend my knee to God and declare "Thy will be done!"? How could my aguish line up with my good God, and the good plan He has for this world? 

Saying the words "Thy will be done" means that I'm willing to accept whatever God gives, and now knowing how much pain life can actually bring, I don't want to say those words, because I don't want to accept the painful parts. I don't want to live a life without my Mom, I don't want to live my life in pain, missing her, and watching the grief of my family. 

I've struggled for weeks with this contradiction, but yesterday I heard a song on the radio that caught me off guard, and I began to cry. I knew I had rebelled long enough, and knew God was calling me back to Himself. 

With tears rolling down my cheeks, I knew in my heart that I had to surrender. I knew what God required, and as much as it hurt to surrender my will, I knew it was His that I ultimately sought. God's love for me drew me back in, and let me know that I could surrender to Him, because His love for me is that great. 

As a follower of Jesus Christ, I declare that He is LORD…LORD over my life, LORD over my death, and LORD over my world. I have to bend my knee to Him, and accept all that He declares "good" in my life. He is in control, and I have to let Him be in control, even when it hurts me. 

Sitting here, in the midst of my grief, I have no idea what God's plan is, or what He's working out. I have no idea what He is doing. But there's freedom in letting God work, and there's peace in letting God be in control. Because of His love, I know I'll be OK, whatever comes. 

In spite of the agony, I know that God's ways are higher, and His plans better, and in the midst of this season of pain and questions, I've had to recommit my life to Christ, and tell Him that yes, I do still trust You; yes, I do still love You, and yes…even when it hurts…Thy will be done.

I Need Only to be Still

"The LORD will fight for you;

you need only to be still."

-Exodus 14:14

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One of the hardest parts of grief that no one talks about, is the actual act of sitting in your grief. Day in and day out, there is a soul sadness that I carry around, an ache that I can't remove. I am forced to sit with the grief, hold it everywhere I go, and manage my life around it. Grief is a jealous house guest, it demands your constant attention, your every emotion, and your every thought. It's not silent, it's not unassuming, it's not kind. Grief is all-consuming, exhausting, and the greatest burden I've ever known. Sitting here in the agony of it is what's hard, because nothing in life seems possible, the sadness is just so great. 

I've tried everything to ease the pain: praying, writing, reading, sharing, crying…but I've learned that those things are all just temporary helps, nothing can fully remove the throb in my heart. 

In talking about this with my husband this week, he said to me: "I think it's time for you to just be quiet now...", there's just nothing left to say, no more prayers to pray, no more words that can describe my hurt. This battle will not be won by my actions, and all I can do now is be still…

But being still is so hard for me. Sitting here, quiet in my pain, is so so hard for me. 

I'm a writer, I express myself openly, I like to fix things, I like to analyze things and control them. I don't like to be quiet, and I don't like to be still. 

But I know my husband is right, I've come to the place in my grief journey where all I can do now is sit, wait, and be quiet. I have to learn to give the journey over to God, understanding that it's all in His hands now, there's nothing else I can do. 

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I've known this verse in Exodus a long time. It's been one of my key verses for years, often giving me strength as I face a new chapter, a certain fear, or obstacle. I've always found comfort and courage knowing that my God goes before me in all things, paving my way, fighting off my enemies, and defending my cause. I've moved ahead in life so many times with this verse tucked away in my heart, and I see now that I need to pull it back out, and apply it to my grief journey as well. 



"The LORD will fight for [me], [I] need only to be still."



Grief is a spiritual battle, and I've known that from day one. In the immediate days following my Mom's death, I truly know without a doubt that my Dad was under satan's attack. His face was not the same, his voice, his words, his actions. He became a man I didn't recognize, and it went far beyond the heartbreak and shock of losing Mom. My Dad was in a spiritual battle for his very life, it was dark, it was scary, and it was real. Our home felt cold, unfamiliar, and dark. 

I knew then that we needed to pray harder than we ever had before. I knew I needed help, and called on the deacon's of our church to hold prayer meetings. I posted publicly online, calling for prayer warriors to surround us with prayer. I knew I couldn't fight the battle alone, I needed my friends, and I needed God's help. 

Mercifully, God carried us through those first dark days, and held off the immediate threat. But the battle didn't end there, satan still loves to attack us when we're down, when we're hurting, when we're questioning, when we're searching. satan would love to have a field day  prowling around my family, but we rebuke him, we tell him to leave, and we ask God to fight for us. 

And that's where I find myself now: attempting to live my normal life, under the massive weight of grief, with the devil prowling around me. I'm out of weapons and arrows, words and prayers, and all I can do now is sit and be quiet, and wait for God to bring victory in this battle. There's nothing I can do, but remind my heart that God goes before me, fighting for me, and requires nothing of me, but obedience. 



Be still. 
You need only to be still. 



So here I sit, trying to let God's peace fall over me. My face lifted to Heaven, my heart open, I breathe deep. 



Be still. 



I have to let God fight this war, I have to hand Him my pain, and wait for Him to deliver me. He knows how my heart aches, He knows how hard this sitting and waiting is for me. He knows I'd rather pick up my stick and fight for myself, but He's calling me to be still. To trust Him, to believe Him when He says He's in control. 


The LORD will fight for me, but I have to let Him.