What have you done with this quarantine time?

I’ll be blunt. This question has kind of driven me nuts the past few weeks. To be honest, we have done what we have always done. Worked our jobs and cared for our kids. These two things take Jason and me the full 24 hours on any given day.

We are exceedingly grateful to have our jobs right now, and the flexibility to care for our kids in the midst of it all. We are blessed.

Yet, anxiety builds inside me whenever I try to answer the questions floating out there like: “What will you do with your quarantine time?” Or “When you look back on this time, when the whole world paused, of what will you be most proud?” How about this one: “How are you especially cherishing and investing in these special times with your family?”

For our home, life has not paused.  Our world has not been a serene scene where we have hours upon hours to reflect and wonder about life, and figure out ways to serve others better and live more fully when the world starts back up.

Our days are mostly made up of what our days had been mostly made up of before all of this started - but with LESS time overall. Now, instead of working and caring for our kids - we work while simultaneously caring for our kids.

Our bedroom has become our workspace, and the question of, “should I answer my daughter’s call through the crack in the door, or should I respond to this colleague’s question on a zoom call” is a recurring struggle. The continual interruption to a train of thought is unnerving and mentally exhausting. The mom-guilt, and employee-guilt is constant.

What have we been doing?

In-between meetings, calls and emails, our life has been made up of: preparing meals, pureeing baby food, putting socks on tiny feet, tying shoes, snapping onesies, bike helmets, and stroller straps.

We created countless chalk drawings and walked on just about every square inch in a 1 mile radius from our house - multiple times. At least once a day, we pushed the 6 month old in her stroller and watched the 3 year old on her balance bike.

We filled a plastic pool with water and played in it. On other days, we filled the plastic pool with blankets and toys and played in it. We have made “parades” using all the toys in the house. We made “trains” and “trolleys” using Amazon boxes.

We colored, painted, played with play-doh, blocks and stickers. We flew a kite, squirted water guns, and had tea parties.

We picked blueberries, twice - the second time with face masks on. We made blueberry muffins, blueberry lemon bread, and blueberry cobbler. Oh yeah, and blueberry pancakes the size of our plates.

We learned the ABC’s and read books. We danced. We sang songs. We built forts and boats and castles from blankets and pillows.

We celebrated Easter, complete with an Easter hunt and ham dinner. We are planning a birthday party for our 3 year old, albeit everyone who was supposed to be here in person will hopefully get to be a small box on a computer screen instead.

We made “thankfulness paper chains” every day. We read Bible stories, learned catechism questions, and memorized scripture verses.

Minus the daily thankfulness paper chain, all of these things are things we had already been doing, things we would still be doing regardless of COVID19, and they are things we will continue to do.

What we haven’t done

So far, we have not been able to use this time to reach global pandemic level goals that we see others being able to reach. We have not been able to devote hours to meal-planning or organizing our digital photos.

Honestly, we have not even cleaned out our closets.

We have not had conversations on deeper marriage or family issues, although we may have had both lighthearted as well as heated discussions that I attribute to the stress of the pandemic. We have not take advantage of the numerous free courses, subscriptions, or audiobooks that are available right now, although I keep saving them “to do later.”

All in all, while COVID19 may change the world as we know it, we, ourselves, at least to this point, have not experienced what we would define as life-changing moments.

Most of our moments have been the same as they would have been before.

It feels like our current moments somehow don’t count now that our measurement is so much higher thanks to the high expectations of the elite COVID19 quarantine lifestyle.

The truth is, we have made memories.

We have built positive brain pathways for our child, who may not remember these days exactly, but who will remember the general atmosphere and tone of her childhood, which now includes the COVID19 era.

It does not matter if these things get labeled as “what we would have done in our pre-COVID19 life” or labeled as “official quarantine activities.”

The fact is, they happened.

When we choose the right attitude for the moments we have, we have won.

When we smile through the potty training (after we cry in the cluttered closet), and when we can spin around to Disney songs (after we’ve had an anxiety producing discipline moment), we are winning.

When we surrender our need for control to the God who always has been and is still in control, He will guide us.

When we accept we cannot live on our own, and ask Jesus to lead us, He will save us.

When we look back on our COVID19 time and share stories with our children and grandchildren, I think this is what I want to tell them:

‘Yes, it was a strange time. It was a good time. It was hard, and it was happy. It was life. It was a time, not quite just as any other time, but a time nonetheless to trust God with our circumstances and our lives. It was a time, just as any, to rely on the truth of God’s Word, find comfort in His promises, and accept that He is working out good plans for the world.

We look back now and can see pieces of how His plan unfolded, and we trust that it will continue to unfold until Jesus comes again. We are grateful for the gift of time together. We are thankful to know Jesus. We are in awe of our God who saves us.

We have hope now because we can look back and see what God did through coronavirus, and also through the death and resurrection of Jesus. 

We claim this promise in light of COVID19, and for our world in the future: ‘The faithful love of the Lord never ends, His mercies never cease. Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning. I say to myself ‘The Lord is my inheritance, therefore, I will hope in him!’ - Lamentations 3:22-24

Another article I read recently that captures some similar thoughts.

"That's sin."

As I put my 2.5 year old daughter to bed last night, I prayed, “...And thank you for Jesus who died on the cross for our sins…” - Lily then interjected her own desire to pray for something, “And the park…” -- So I added that, “Thank you, Lord, that we could go to the park…”

Then Lily interrupted the prayer with her own confession, “I had a bad attitude at the park.”

I said, “Yes, you did.”

She said, “That’s sin.”

I was impressed by her acknowledgment and said, “Yes. Yes...it is. Let’s talk to Jesus about that…”

And so we did. I modeled the prayer for her saying we were sorry for having a bad attitude, and thanked God for forgiving us, and asked for His help to have a good attitude the next time.

Earlier the same day, we were at lunch with my parents after church, and my husband had to take Lily to the car to have a talk about her “bad attitude.”  He talked to her about how it was sin.

And that night at bedtime, she was obviously still thinking about it and wanting to figure it out.

Ours kids may not understand everything about God or the world, but neither do we.

I think they understand a lot more than we realize. However, they can’t begin to understand what we don’t share, or what they don’t experience.

Teaching children truths about God requires so much repetition, and intentionality, and ultimately the grace of God. But even if it's just a conversation surrounding correction, or a prayer at bedtime, it is all of eternal value and it is the most important thing we do as parents.

Milk and Lost Things

It was a normal morning - well, at least by this stage of life’s definition of “normal.”  This stage, is that of life with a newborn, and a toddler, and daylight savings time. It is true, there is no ‘gaining’ of an hour when it comes to changing clocks and expecting children to change along with it. 

Still, it was quiet in that early morning hour, as my husband had already left for work, and the baby had just been fed, and our two and a half year old had not yet declared from her room, “the sun is up mommy!”

No, it was still dark.  The only light was from a plug-in night light, and now from the fridge as I opened the door to get the milk. I wanted to add just a little bit to my coffee - which is of course always more milk and cream than actual coffee.

The expiration date, across the top of the plastic carton, caught me off guard.

My eyes filled with water, as I all of the sudden stood there trying to remember if I was getting the milk out or putting it back. The date seemed big. It felt heavy. It didn’t seem like it should be on a milk carton, or really in existence at all, anywhere. But there it was.

Nov 17, 2019.

It was the date (or close to), that our daughter, Promise, would have been celebrating her 1st birthday.

But that special event would not be coming.  We lost baby Promise at 22 weeks gestation (July 14, 2018).  Her due date had been November 17th.

Later, the same morning, I still couldn’t keep back the tears. My two and a half year old daughter, Lily, asked why I was crying.  I hesitated and then tried to speak, “I’m crying because we lost Promise and I miss her.”  Lily’s confused look begs me to clarify what I mean when I say, “we lost Promise.”

“Well,” I start out, always wondering what is going to come out of my mouth when giving explanations to Lily. “You’re right, we didn’t lose Promise, as if we lost a toy.  She...well...she died..., and is with Jesus now.”

Lily looks at me for a long minute, as if the answer I gave her is literally tiptoeing from her ears, to her mind, to her heart.

Once it has settled, whether Lily actually understands, or simply has enough information for now, she returns to looking through her books.

There is a finality to the idea of death as I state the words out loud. But there is also a comfort in the image of Promise living her best life now with Jesus.

I’m not gonna lie, I will be a little bit glad when that gallon of milk doesn’t greet me every morning. But, as this month rolls on, and the memories and the heartache swarm around me, I am thankful.  I’m thankful for my toddler’s curiosity that demands truth and reason which move me from the reality of earthly death, and propel me forward the heavenly reality of life and hope.

Morning Stories with Lily

Normally I use the time that Lily is eating her breakfast to clean up the dishes, get her lunch ready, and a variety of other tasks that need to be done. Recently, I recalled how my mother used to use breakfast time to teach us Bible stories. This was something she did with all of us (4 kids) at the table, even though there was a 12 year span between myself and my youngest sister.

Even after I ‘graduated’ from the breakfast table Devotions, and had my own quiet time, I remember listening to her talk about God and the Bible with my brother and sisters as they ate their breakfast. And usually, the Bible learning time would extend beyond just the normal time it took to eat.

My mother may not have known it, but she was setting an example of starting the day with the most important thing – the Word of God. She did not worry about the dishes, she did not jump into other academic subjects (since she taught us at home). She started the morning with the most important task that God gave her to do as a mother: teach her children about Him.

And I know she got this model from her own mother, my Grandmother Watts. My mommy tells about coming into the kitchen and seeing her mother in her big red chair with her cup of coffee and her Bible. Her mother prioritized her time reading God’s Word, and she passed that on to her children. The image and the action of my Grandmother was etched in my mother’s heart, and now it’s an example for me too.

 

I’m hoping to begin a little journey with my own daughter, Lily. A journey of reading God’s Word (or a form of a Bible story) at the breakfast table. Lily is 22 months old, so, it may be short and basic. But hopefully foundational.

And, as most things in the littlest years, they aren’t as much for the child as they are for the parent J So I’m hoping to re-ignite my own desire for God’s Word through teaching it to Lily!

I am hoping to record this journey through “Facebook LIVE” videos. I am doing this primarily because I love photos/video and documenting all the moments that make up our lives. The reason to do it via FB Live is primarily to eliminate the time and stress it takes to edit it, or make it "perfect" before archiving it or posting it.  I have never done a LIVE video like this before, so I’m a little nervous. Anything can happen with a toddler!

I'm also doing it via FB Live in case it might be of any encouragement to other parents out there looking for some way to incorporate Bible reading into their toddler's life! Of course, let's see how cooperative Lily is before we decide if it is successful or not!

To get the FB live jitters out, last week, I recorded the first few days just to see what it might look like :)  I'll post those pre-recorded videos starting tomorrow and the next few days.  Eventually, I’ll do a LIVE one, and see how that goes J

One other note: I am not committing to do this every day. I am not committing to always do it at the same time every day, though Lily usually wakes up between 7:00-8:00am J I am also not committing to finish the book. Those are all goals I’d love to put out there, but this is a test and I don't know how it will go. I am trusting the Lord to lead us, and take it where He wants it. For Lily’s and my benefit and for His glory.

Thanks for journeying with me, and with Lily, as we study the Bible together!

The text we will use is: The Big Picture Story Bible by David Helm.

A prayer for today

Today could have been the day. It could have been the day we would have been anticipating for 9 months. It could have been filled with expectation, and perhaps a scheduled c-section, or an induction, or the famous castor oil procedure to bring on labor "naturally." It wouldn't have matter how she arrived, we would have been over-the-moon about our new little baby girl.

And yet, we lost that hope back in July as we were told there was no longer a heartbeat in our baby, who had been growing for nearly 22 weeks, inside of me. As we went through those excruciating next days of flying from Delaware back home to Florida and of me giving birth to our baby girl, we clung to the only thing we knew was secure - the promises of God.

And so, we named our little girl, Promise.

Today, Lord, remind me of your Promises. You gave me my little Promise so that whenever I thought of her, I would be reminded of your promises to me.

She could have been here with us this month. We could have been able to see and hold her and love her.

And yet, she is being held and loved - by you now, in a deeper way that she ever would know on earth.

We could have perhaps had the joy and gift of another daughter. We could have perhaps been able to watch her grow, and laugh, and smile. Even this Christmas, we could have had two little girls to marvel over!

But instead you had better plans for Promise, and for us. Promise has never had to walk through the pain of this world - she has only ever known your presence - what a joy for her!

And we too have known your presence in a way we never could have known without you allowing us this experience.

Of course, I wish there was another way for us to gain this blessing, but this is the path you have given us.

Remind me today, that you are in control, that you have given me the life I have, that you are above ALL things, and you have decided this is a GOOD place for me.

Remind me that I can trust you - you are God after all. The boundary lines have fallen in pleasant places.

Help me to see that this is indeed a beautiful land. Help me remember that this remarkable harvest you have brought me to is only possible through the work of nurturing and cultivating. Remind me that life results only because of the death required in pruning and harvesting.

Only from the work of living a perfect life and the death of Your only son came the life that I can have in you.

And in a much smaller way, only from work of laboring Promise into the world, and only from her death can come whatever will come, for Your glory.

Today might have been the day when medical professionals would tell us to expect Promise's arrival, but it is so much more than that.

It is YOUR day. Your day to be glorified in all things.

Thank you that every day is your day, no matter what comes.

Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup,
you make my lot secure.

6 

The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

    surely I have a delightful inheritance

~ Psalm 16:5-6

Video from the Funeral and burial of our daughter, Promise
This video also contains pictures from our time with Promise at the hospital.

I'm okay

It has been ONE month since we said hello and goodbye to Promise.

The world has gone on, and...so have we, strangely.

What else can we do?

I shared last night with Jason about how sometimes the emotions of missing Promise and all that was lost, are overwhelming.

Every time I see a "big sister" or "little sister" shirt, I feel something I didn't used to feel. Every time I see two girls playing together, I think about Lily and Promise. Every time I think about all the TIME that was lost (in the trying to conceive, in the pregnancy itself), I feel like a big chunk of my life was just omitted, with nothing to show for it.  I get frustrated sometimes, but mostly just grieve all over again.

But honestly, most of the time, I'm okay.

I told Jason that I actually feel guilty that I am not more sad, or stuck in a room somewhere overcome by tears.

As I went on, upset by the fact that I was not more upset, finally Jason said to me, "Do you remember when we went to the ultrasound (when we found out there was no heartbeat)?"

I said, "Yes."  I then followed up with: "That was the worst moment..." I hesitated, and then confidently said, "Yeah, that was the worst moment of my life...That was worse than the labor. I would rather go through the whole night of awkward labor again than relive hearing that 10 second life-haulting message from the doctor."

He said, "Do you remember what you did then?"

Yes.  Jason and I both remember: My whole body crumpled, responding in complete collapse at the worst grief I could have imagined.

He said, "We have grieved. We will still grieve....but, like King David said when he lost his son, " Why should I fast when [the child] is dead? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him one day, but he cannot return to me.” (2 Samuel 12:23).  We are sad, we do miss Promise...but God is giving us strength to continue in life, to move forward. It doesn't mean that somehow we haven't or aren't grieving enough."

God is providing the strength we need to remember Promise, but also to not be overcome by the reality of her death.

This is a gift - and I want to embrace it, rather than look for ways that it might not be right.

Maybe I am naive when it comes to grieving this kind of a loss, and maybe there are harder days to come - well, actually I know that there are.  But, for now, He has sprinkled our lives with joy -- mostly through watching Lily learn and grow!

Jason reminded too that in the past, I have often allowed my joy to be squashed by feeling guilty about something that I shouldn't feel guilty about.

So, while I fully anticipate more moments of tears and longing, I am going to try to let myself be okay when I do feel joyful, or when I laugh, as these are certainly good gifts from the Lord.

Speaking of which, here is a moment of joy for which I am indeed thankful.

Any Siblings?

Today (August 6th), emotions hit me from a new angle.

At Lily's eye doctor appointment (for a slightly clogged tear duct), the nurse asked me a variety of questions about Lily's life.

She asked things like, "Are there any dogs in the home?" "Does anyone smoke in the house?" etc.

Then she asked this one, " Does Lily have any siblings?"

I hesitated for what felt like a loooong time.

My thoughts immediately wanted to respond, "Well...she did.... I mean, she does... I mean...I just held Lily's little sister a few weeks ago, but... she's not here anymore.....I mean, basically...I just had a miscarriage..."

But, I swallowed my thoughts, and managed to remember that this was simply a black and white questionnaire. I realized the question really meant to ask: "Does Lily currently have any living siblings, or if she did - did any of them have eye/vision issues..."

So I simply said, "No."

And then ALMOST fell apart. But I didn't.

Between trying to appease Lily's hungry grunts by looking in the diaper bag for snacks, and trying to pay attention to the nurse's next questions, my emotions were blocked in a healthy way, in that moment. Thankfully, I could put them on hold to focus on the task at hand.

But now I can reflect a bit more on the morning.

In spite of this painful question, the morning at the hospital was wonderful. Once again, in the midst of the real, gut wrenching painful truth, there is hope.

There is life. There is beauty.

Actually, there was this tree in the reception area. Somewhat awkwardly placed, and also somewhat gaudy, but also pretty at the same time. I imagine it's lights look even more attractive when it's dark outside.

But, what meant a lot to me was the sign next to it.




If you can't quite see the words, the sign basically says that in Japan, the cherry blossom tree is a reminder of fragility and beauty of life - and that these trees bloom only for a short time each year in April. They serve as a reminder of how precious and precarious life can be - and that the Japanese people are reminded by these trees to remember those who have been lost.

The last sentence surprised me: "This tree stands in honor of families and friends of Nemours Children's Hospital coping with a loss this holiday season."

Maybe I'm missing something.  Or maybe "the first day of school," has recently been labeled a holiday? Or maybe they forgot to take the tree down from Easter? What "holiday season" occurs in August?

Or maybe...just maybe, this tree is meant to be here for me, for today, for Promise.

Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices;
    my body also will rest secure,
because you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead,
    nor will you let your faithful one see decay.
You make known to me the path of life;
    you will fill me with joy in your presence,
    with eternal pleasures at your right hand. (Psalm 16:9-11)

In addition to this good gift given to me by the Lord, Lily and I had a joyful time adventuring to her appointment together.

We especially enjoyed the massive windows outside of the Ophthalmology department from which we could look out and see the world below.

A new angle, a new view, a dose of emotions, remembrance for Promise, and a thankful heart for my little Lily.