Good from the Bad

A few months back, my mom and I celebrated a special occasion over a delicious dinner.  If you know my mother, you fully understand the fact that she has never met a stranger!  And so, as God ordained it, we struck up a conversation with one of the restaurant managers.  One thing led to another, and this man shared his heavy heart… a burden of love due to the sudden and unexpected downturn of his dear friend’s child’s health.  At only one year old, this child had begun having inexplicable and relentless seizures. 

As I sat and listened, I thought to myself, I know that life all too well.  That fear.  The invading panic.  The feelings of powerlessness to act or fix, either as the parent or as the supportive friend.  Feeling frozen in a moment while life all around you appears to whiz past at lightening speed.  

In the moments that followed, I was able to share our story, how quickly life can transition from a fairy tale to a nightmare…. how you go from studying restaurant menus in order to select the location of your next date night to analyzing seizure medications and medical protocols, memorizing and reciting them even in your sleep.  In addition to relating to the pain, I was able to offer some hope… that our son had overcome his seizures and had even been able to escape the clutches of those numbing medications.  I also shared my blog and email, in hopes that, if this family wanted to talk to someone who has walked this path, they could reach out to us.

I walked away from that special dinner with more than a full stomach.  I came home with a full heart.  Of course, I hate that anyone, and I mean anyone, would ever have to endure the heartache of watching his or her precious loved one suffer, battle a chronic illness, or leave their arms all too soon.

Nevertheless, as the days accumulate and years pass, beauty and joy spring forth when we realize there certainly can be good that comes from the bad.  There was a time when I never could have fathomed that ANYTHING good could come from Warren’s tragic death at 19 days old or John’s ongoing struggles.  I’m sure many of you resonate with this as I know you have your own trials, broken hearts or unfulfilled dreams.  And yet to honor my sons and to know their lives were/are not in vain— that the pain wasn’t for naught, that God can still be glorified— I have desperately needed to know good can come from the bad.  That death does not have the final say.  That life does ultimately win out.

Therefore, I started a simple Word document several years ago entitled “Good from the Bad.”  A “rainy day” document, so to speak – something I could pull up when the doubts flooded and fresh tears stung.  When all the ground gained was forgotten. Something that could speak the truth that God has been working different aspects and pieces of our story together for good, that beauty does come from ashes, that the sting of death is overcome by Christ’s ultimate victory and promise to restore and redeem all. 

In this document, I simply copy and paste excerpts from encouraging emails, comments on this blog, and stories like this one from the restaurant… anything that speaks to God’s hand at work in our family not only despite of but also because of the pain.

The very pain and loss I thought would kill me have been used to encourage and to comfort others. 

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ."

-2 Corinthians 1:3-5

I hope to encourage you today to consider starting your own “Good from the Bad” document or journal.  Reflect on experiences, circumstances, or people God has brought across your path, and record the ways God has encouraged you by using your pain and dark places to minister to others.  As you get into this habit, I imagine you will begin to see more and more good come from a seemingly "bad" story. And in that, I pray we will perceive how we truly are a part of something bigger than ourselves, a part of His Kingdom that will triumph.  Your pain may be heavy, powerful even.  I’m right there with you. But, also like me, I am confident your story is more powerful.

“Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory.”

-C.S. Lewis

Waiting

Since adding a third child on earth, I have numerous posts in word documents that are half-written.  Here is one such post that I was prompted to finish after reading a dear and poignant post on the same topic this week from a church friend battling terminal cancer.  Waiting certainly comes in all forms. 

Two mamas waiting to be reunited with their sons...

And two boys waiting to be reunited with their brothers.

Waiting is a continued theme in my life… waiting on John’s full healing.  Waiting on the remaining brokenness in my heart to subside.  Waiting for my minivan to feel adequately “full.”  Waiting for the day when there aren’t so many triggers that seemingly jump out of nowhere to remind me of what I perceive I lack.  Waiting on God to convince me He really is good, that He really is faithful (because, as I’m sure you can relate, my confidence in His attributes can be sky high one day and back down in the depths the next).  Heck, I’m even waiting on my 3 year old to learn how to listen and obey while simultaneously feeling like a major failure in my disciplining attempts! 

From the big to little things, waiting is undoubtedly a relentless theme in all of our lives as we grapple with life, loss, joy, and pain in a world that is both broken but is also the powerful stage masterfully set for God’s redemptive work.

Up until recently, I stubbornly maintained the belief  (even if I knew, deep down, it was ill-founded) that, at some point, my waiting would end and I would “arrive.” Now, I know life is about the journey (let’s use all the clichés today!), but I really, really, r-e-a-l-l-y hoped certain things would just fall into place.  That prayers would be answered the way I hoped.  That I could finally exhale a deep cleansing breath of relief. 

However, I gained a new perspective during a Bible study on prayer this summer. One week’s lesson was about waiting and continuing to pray when God doesn’t seem to answer us.  There was an elderly lady, the oldest in the class by far, who had earned all of our respect over the weeks not only with her wisdom but also with her teachable spirit at what one might call an advanced age.  An age in which one might assume you knew it all and no longer needed to learn from the Lord, much less from a younger lady in the church.  And yet here she was, piping up to confess to the teacher in front of the entire class that she had one situation in her life she was still waiting on… still lifting up in prayer… that she didn’t understand why the Lord had not intervened.  Wow.  At that age… still waiting.

I think this true confession depressed me at first, but eventually it gave me hope. I’m not alone.  I’m waiting and so is this sweet old lady.  And so is our church friend, Steve, and his precious family.  He shared, “Waiting is a kind of tension and is hardly ever comfortable… There is a pull between what is and what is to come.”

We will always be waiting on something or on someone in this life… the “what is to come.”  Therefore, God must have something for us as we wait.  The waiting must be significant and worthwhile in and of itself, not just for the results it may or may not bring.  After all, the Lord says we are blessed when we wait on Him and look to Him for help (Isaiah 30:18).  What’s more, while we wait, He promises to renew our strength— to never let us fall (Isaiah 40:31).

As we wait, as we pause, that’s when we enter into the Lord’s sanctuary.  That’s where He leads us beside His quiet waters to renew our soul.  And that, my friends, is where we find our deep cleansing breath, our exhale…  As we continue to wait— learning to place our dreams, our loved ones, our longings in His loving arms.  Trusting He is the strong Shepherd who remains strong enough to carry us… to carry our pain, our greatest sorrows, and our hopes.

“This final season of my life is all about waiting.  It is not a waiting that I want to hurry along. But neither is it a waiting which is without hope.  I am definitely not eager to die, nor am I eager to move into that stage of this process which includes more health challenges. But I also know that at the end of this waiting there will be peace of a sort that we cannot even imagine this side of eternity.”

-Steve Hayner (a.k.a. our dear church friend who is MUCH wiser than we.)

Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in him (and my victory comes from Him, v.1).  

He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress where I will not be shaken.

-Psalm 62:5-6

Growing Up

“As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth.  His disciples asked him, ‘Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” ‘Neither this man nor his parents sinned,’ said Jesus, ‘but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.’”

-John 9:1-3

First of all, I realize it has been awhile since my last post!!  I know you all have busy lives and have not been holding your breath, haha, but I want to apologize for the unannounced hiatus.  I guess I didn’t realize I was taking a break until the weeks and then months went by!  I really appreciate this outlet and how each one of you continue to care and support our family as we share what the Lord is teaching us and doing in John’s life on this redemptive journey.  I won’t make any promises, but I do miss you and hope to post more frequently going forward!

Today was a very exciting day in the Stone household, so exciting we had to share: John went off to kindergarten!!  He is still at his amazing school but now going for a full day for the first time ever!  Our little boy is growing up!

"Kindergarten Rocks!"

We experienced many mixed emotions heading into this day: grief, envy, joy, anticipation, hope.  Certainly, this is not what we expected kindergarten to look like for any of our children.  We did not expect a one-on-one intensive therapy setting without the traditional classroom or back-to-school supplies shopping trip.  Bottom line, we did not expect a special needs scenario.  Who would?

However, God knew what John’s future would hold the day he was born, and He is not taken by surprise by how kindergarten is unfolding.  He also knew the “experts” would be wrong when they predicted he wouldn’t live past infancy and definitely not past 5.  God knew every day would be a gift, and it is.  Not one of us is guaranteed tomorrow.  But in John’s situation this has always been evident and therefore we want to live celebrating each day, despite the earthly range of emotions we may experience.

Today as I dropped John off in the carpool line and as tears pooled in my eyes, the overwhelming emotion that trumped all others was that of extreme and utter gratitude.  Gratitude for John.  Gratitude for his amazing school and the staff there. Gratitude that we have access to it.  Simple gratitude to God…. for all these gifts and for opening my eyes to see clearly, to see in the light of His truth at least on this special morning.  I know I will continue to grieve and mourn (as we all do in a broken world that is not yet as it was intended to be) and I certainly won’t always have the proper perspective, but today I am simply grateful.

So my big 5.5 year old boy is growing up.  And so is his Mama. I recognize that John has true joy.  And as the Bible says, the joy of the Lord is our strength (Neh. 8:10).  That is where our true strength lies.  And my little boy teaches me that more than anyone else.  The world sees strength and success one way, but I want the kind of strength John displays every single day despite obstacles and despite his “special needs.”  Like the opening verse, John was born with challenges.  But the work of God is undoubtedly displayed in his life.  Thank you, Jesus, and thank you all for your continued prayers!  We are excited for all this new school year will hold!

Big Enough

I’m taking a quick break from the “Lessons from Warren” series with this brief post.  I must admit I’ve been in a bit of a spiritual rut recently… feeling dry and spent… too little time, too few hands, and not enough manna from above.  I know we all feel this way at times –and everyone says it is normal – but it still isn’t fun or where I want to hang out for long.  (For some encouraging insights on this topic, check out the recent posts on my friend Elizabeth’s blog.)  

So here is the honest truth: the last 5 and a half years have taken a toll on my faith.  Yes, at times it feels it has deepened, matured, and grown.  Certainly, it has been stretched and challenged in ways I never anticipated.  But oftentimes, I simply feel I’ve been left with a depleted faith that is left wanting.

I found myself discouraged two nights ago, so desperately wishing my faith exceeded my circumstances.  To be able to prove to the Lord that my faith is bigger than what I have faced or continue to face in my life, both the big and also the seemingly small trials.  Additionally, and perhaps selfishly, I just wanted to feel Him—to have that warm and fuzzy, Abba Father, mountaintop experience.

In that low moment, almost as a whisper, the Lord impressed upon my heart that it wasn’t the size of my faith that mattered but in Whom my faith rested.  It can be as tiny and trivial as a mustard seed.

We really cannot prove anything to Jesus, for without Him we would be nothing. He has proven it to us.  As we are reminded this Holy Weekend, Jesus paid the price.  Because of Him, the size of our faith is inconsequential. Yet, it is the object of our faith, Jesus Himself, that makes the difference.  He doesn’t change.  He remains big enough… larger than our circumstances and large enough to carry us when our feeble faith falters.

“Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, 

you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. 

Nothing will be impossible for you.”

-Matthew 17:20-21

 

John caught his first fish on our Spring Break trip last week!  

Daniel also enjoyed the lake!

 Our boys!  Gotta love a camo/monogram combo!  

Moving Forward: Lessons from Warren, Post 3

I have another post or two I would like to share under the heading, “Lessons from Warren.”  I find this lesson is best conveyed through a letter. Many of these thoughts came to us in the day or two following Warren’s death and were then shared at his funeral.  Since this time, we have considered it a privilege, albeit a difficult one due to the nature of our bond, to share these words with others who also find themselves burying a child.  I believe these thoughts can apply to any loss, and I am grateful my son taught us these truths.  (New pictures and updates at the end of this post.)

Warren's footprints I finally requested from the funeral home 5 year later.
As you can see, grief is a process!

“Blessed are those who mourn,

 for they will be comforted.”

-Matthew 5:4

Dear friend and fellow bereaved parent,

I know it breaks your heart to bury your precious son today.  And with the pieces shattered and scattered, you wonder how you will keep going and what life looks like without your child physically here.  Our hearts break with and for you.  You are on a journey no parent should have to endure. Death at any age is unnatural and does not feel right.  And when it’s a child, your beloved baby, it’s all the more devastating. 

I want to encourage you to grieve however you need to and realize you aren’t called to nor do you have to “move on,” even though well meaning people may expect or encourage this.  Death is not something we must move on from or make peace with, because it is due to the brokenness of this fallen, sinful world – something that God never intended.  Death shows there is a break in the system.  Our proper grief and love point to Jesus, the reality that things are not right as they are, and the prayer and belief that there is a mighty Savior at work redeeming all the broken places.  

In time, you will find you are stronger than before the tragedy ever struck, and you’ll be able to move forward – but you don’t have to move on.  You carry your beloved child and your special moments together on earth with you as you move forward into God’s purpose for the rest of your earthly life and as you eagerly await the joy of heaven and all made new.  This hope and this truth actually make this life richer… beauty from the ashes (Isaiah 61:3).  Indeed, "to live is Christ and to die is gain" (Phil. 1:21).  

Please know you aren’t alone, although I know it can and will continue to feel that way. I pray you will take care of yourself, doing only what you feel up to – giving yourself a lot of grace – feeling free to fall apart on the hard days and also free to smile (without feeling guilty) on the surprisingly good days.  And know that, although the hole remains, the pain’s intensity really does lessen with time… and I find the hole serves as a sweet reminder of how much I LOVE my son (I never realized this kind of God-given, all-consuming love was possible before Warren was born!) and of the HOPE we have that death and this fallen world do not have the final say.  

You were given the privilege of creating an eternal soul, something (and someone) that can never be diminished by how devastatingly brief his life on earth was. I trust God will draw close to you and surprise you with joy while you wait to join your precious baby when all is made new.  I’ll never forget him or the difference his life has made.

With love,

Mary Elizabeth and Meade

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ.”

-2 Corinthians 1:3-5

Pictures and Updates:

-We were incredibly encouraged by John's appointment with a new doctor last week, the incredibly compassionate and skilled Dr. Bruce (orthopedist). New doctors and doctor's appointments in general can be anxiety provoking, so it was such a gift and relief to find this wonderful doctor...someone who wants to partner with us for the long haul and truly cares for John!  The good news is that he doesn't think John will ever require surgery despite his slight scoliosis and kyphosis. 

-For the first time ever, John began prop-sitting last week all by himself with the help of these fancy elbow-immobilizers!  We are so excited, and he is too!

-Our little newborn is doing great!  Here are pictures our very talented friend from church took of Andrew at 9 and 17 days old (the second shoot was due to Daniel's lack of cooperation during the first one, haha):