Celebrating Life

They told us he would be buried the next month. They told us at the end of each month all the babies that have passed away from the previous month, if the family so chooses, are buried at a specific cemetery all together… and that they would let us know when our son had been buried so we could have a ceremony or memorial whenever we’d like.

August 29, I’d just had blood work done and on the way home was thinking, “Ya know, it’s the end of August now and we still haven’t gotten a call about Zadok being buried yet. I should call…”–PAUSE. No matter what information you’re waiting to hear about, don’t call when you’re sitting and operating a moving vehicle. For the sake of all that is wise, don’t drive and make hard calls. PLAY–I called. I called Labor & Delivery and they directed me to Pastoral Care. Honestly, I don’t know what I was expecting them to say, but I know I wasn’t expecting them to tell me that we’d been misinformed. That he hadn’t been buried yet, and even further, that they do not routinely do monthly burials; that they wait to receive a call from the funeral home; that they do not know when he will be buried, but that M.E.N.D. does a memorial every December.

I was heartbroken. I just wanted my son buried properly. I knew it was only his body and that he was in heaven, but his body held him and that precious little body was all I had gotten to know of him. I didn’t want his memorial to be months down the road; it felt like closure was being both delayed and drawn out. I knew closure didn’t mean just moving on (definition: a sense of resolution or conclusion at the end of an artistic work). I knew Mason had experienced closure when he got to hold Z after how he traumatically saw him the first time when I’d started delivering him in the ER restroom. I was anticipating this cemetery memorial to bring closure to my heart. I was devastated. I got home, went to his room, slid down the wall with his baby blanket, and wept deeply.

Thank God for community. After picking myself up off the floor, I walked into the dining room to find this package Mason had brought in from the mail addressed to me. I opened it to find this letter and necklace (pictured to the right). Talk about impeccable timing. Things like this are the reasons why there hasn’t been a moment in this journey that I haven’t felt like God sees me. To the woman, my Moms in the Making sister, who sent me this precious gift, this was the timing of your gift… this is what was going on when it came to my house. This was the state of my heart when what you thought was late was actually right on time. Thank you. 

I texted my dear friend and by the end of telling her everything on the phone call and everything I was feeling, she offered to call the hospital back to find out more information. She offered and she followed through and gently relayed information back to me. Y’all. Hiding our stories, covering our vulnerability, attempting to protect ourselves from getting hurt in friendships by staying out of authentic relationship is not worth being alone and isolated. Lonely living was not God’s plan for His created. One of my best choices was deciding to be real and live known and be vulnerable with others for two reasons: (1) I truly believe it gives others the courage to be real too and allows them to realize they’re not the only one; and (2) I haven’t had to go through this alone… and my heart has grown because of it. I get to be there for them in their journeys as my tribe, my oaks, my elephants have been there for me in mine–one day I’ll write the blog/the chapter in my book about my oaks and elephants… I realize that’s random to many. That’s not to say I don’t have a history of hurt, cause I do. But at some point, you have to let history be history and let your heart heal. It only will continue to hurt you and leave you isolated in your thoughts and in your victimhood. I feel the only test to your healing is being faced with what was once a wound. Don’t baby healed wounds, friends; let them live healed together with others.
Clearly, this is a big deal to me… I digress. 

I eventually came to the conclusion that had they told us Zadok was going to be buried in 4 months or whatever timeframe, we would have made the same decision. Exhale. So, the next day I planned his memorial. These are the words I penned:

I want to release light for the light this seeming darkness has brought, for the light God has been in this dark season, for the joy that’s been light in this dark season. (Chinese lanterns at night)

I want to release from a place of Hope, believing Zadok will not be my last to deliver. In hopes that my next will be delivered full term. My hope in Him. (released at Hope Church)

I want to release from a place of worship knowing that deep in my heart I know He is still good, knowing that Zadok is worshiping the King of Glory, with those in my community… I want to worship together with those that have been our support, our shoulders, our rocks. (worship circle with handpicked songs)

Even Still (Mary Crace)
Here I am to Worship
Take Courage
Do It Again
Here (Kari Jobe)
Even When it Hurts
Heroes
The One Who Holds it All (Charity Herrmann)
Reckless Love
Look What You’ve Done (Charity Herrmann)

I had to shift my focus and my heart. I could still celebrate his life despite the geographical location of his body; after all, it’s his life that’s brought joy and light and strength and me closer to Father and dreams in my husband’s heart.

A couple weeks later, I asked my friends Mary and Charity if they would help in leading worship. They agreed and a week later Saturday, October 20 was decided. When we scheduled it, I wasn’t thinking that not only would it be the weekend after the Moms in the Making conference, but it would be during Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.

Wrapping my mind around planning a memorial for my child I anticipated on and dreamed about raising was amongst the most difficult steps in moving forward. Honestly, aside from setting a date, making it oh so real, and asking my friends to join us, I hadn’t made any further plans until I returned from the conference and had this moment of “Okay, Charis, you have to plan something! You’ve invited people. You’ve set a date. You have nothing else planned. Have you even secured the venue?!” The answer to that last question is no. I hadn’t. I thought I had, but I hadn’t communicated clearly. So when I double checked on the venue on Monday, I found out the room it was going to be in had been taken after I hadn’t clarified the need. Get angry and break down? Or Accept it, take responsibility, and decide on a new location? I went with the latter, as the venue scheduler checked on other available rooms in the church. After a few hours, she got back to me and reported that there were no other rooms available with an instrument. Get angry and cancel? Or Accept it and decide on a new location? I’d asked if a friend borrowed a keyboard, would there be a room available. Yes, a classroom. That wasn’t what I wanted… a classroom. It felt forced. I was so bent on it being at church… my church… Hope Church… “I want to release from a place of hope”.

The next day, I decided we were going to just do it at our house in our living room. By the end of the day, it had dawned on me. It wasn’t just our house. This is our home. This is the place we conceived our son. This is the place I’d recorded me surprising my husband with the news. This is the place we announced his existence to our family and friends out of town. This is the place we’d prayed for him as I carried him. This is the place I’d gone into labor sooner than I’d never imagined. This is the place we returned brokenhearted and empty-armed without him. This is the place I’ve grieved him most. This is the place we did grief therapy. This is the place Father had intervened in my heart most. This is the place where we’ve chosen faith over fear. This is the place we’ve chosen joy to be our strength. This is the place we’ve chosen to trust Him still. This is the place we’ve chosen to hope in Him and not doubt who He is. This, our home, is the place where hope is greatest. This house, made with stone and walls of lath and plaster, is filled with hope and all that we’ve prayed into it: the presence of God; that people would feel His peace and love and joy when they enter; that they would feel something different; that life changing moments would happen in conversations in our living room; that His Spirit would dwell here. This was the most perfect place to celebrate the life of our son and honor God. This was where it was supposed to be all along.

So, on Saturday, October 20, 2018, we honored God and celebrated our son’s life right in our living room. And oh what a beautiful night it was. Mason opened the evening and I saw this love for his boy and hope in Jesus like I hadn’t seen before… I’m the talker of the two of us. I’m the emoter. Of the two of us, I put it all out there for everyone to see. But when he talked… and his eyes welled up with tears as he spoke to our friends, my love for him deepened again.

And then Charity started playing our piano, Bertha, and Mary started singing… and before I knew it, we were all worshiping in our living room. “Before I spoke a word, You were singing over me. You have been so, so good to me. Before I took a breath, You breathed Your life in me. You have been so, so kind to me. Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God. Oh, it chases me down, fights ’til I’m found, leaves the ninety-nine. I couldn’t earn it, and I don’t deserve it, still, You give Yourself away. Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God, yeah” (Reckless Love)

Faith was stirring in our home. “Walking around these walls. I thought by now they’d fall. But You have never failed me yet. Waiting for change to come. Knowing the battle’s won. For You have never failed me yet. Your promise still stands. Great is Your faithfulness, faithfulness. I’m still in Your hands. This is my confidence, You’ve never failed me yet.” (Do It Again)

Declarations were made out loud and to our souls. Our souls were reminded of who God is despite whatever we’re each going through. “Even still, I know You’re my Healer. Even still, I will wait on You. While I wait, I will keep believing. While I wait, Your promise I hold on to. I will pray what I know to the core of my being. I’ll proclaim what I’ve seen, till I see my own healing. While I wait, You are good. Even still, You are good. While I wait, You are good. Even still, You are good. Oh, I know, I know it’s coming. Though I don’t know how or when. But I trust in Your perfect timing. You are faithful to the end. Oh, I know, I know it’s coming. Answered prayers are on their way. Every word I’ve received, I’m declaring victory in Jesus’ name.” (Even Still)

And then we ended, worshiping in hope of the beauty and restoration to come. Sometimes the best time to proclaim His promises over our lives is in the middle of waiting for those promises to be fulfilled. Sometimes you have to thank Him for what’s to come. Sometimes you have to remember all the things He’s already done, all the little blessings that add up, all the miracles while you’re waiting for specific miracles and blessings. “Love said it’s enough, come find a place of trust. Lean on Me and learn to live again. Mercy saw my heart and said it’s time to start a brand new life that waits beyond this prayer. Oh, look, look what You’ve done. Oh, Love, the battle You’ve won for me. This is my story, this is my song. I will remember all that You’ve done. This is my story, this is my song. I will remember all that You’ve done.” (Look What You’ve Done)

Earlier that day, I’d struggled to feel whatever I was feeling. We’d jumped right to work, getting the house ready… there was no easing into the day. I eventually broke in my car while running errands, getting pictures printed and such. I missed my son; I just wanted to hold him again, yet I know there’s no safer, better place than him to be than in the arms of Jesus. I got back to our house to continue the preparing. And then the presence of God was so thick in our living room that night; I wept from the weight. His peace was so evident; His love so tangible. I wiped my tears, gathered myself, and closed us in prayer. Mason and I shared our hearts. Shared what this journey has been. Shared how God has surrounded us with love and community. Had a dear friend share the heartfelt sentiment she’d shared with us that deeply touched our hearts the day we returned home from the hospital. Shared how Father has redeemed my Mondays (probably another blog post or chapter to come…). Shared how the enemy may have stolen my pregnancy, but he didn’t steal my son cause, well, Zadok’s in Heaven.

And then… we invited everyone to release Chinese lanterns/wishing lanterns/light with us. And encouraged everyone to release light into the darkness, whatever that darkness is representing, whether that be lies, fears, unbelief, doubt, whatever it is. To release with us light–our believing for miracles, the promises of God over our lives, the truth of His Word. Such a joyful moment, as we attempted to light the fuel blocks and some got burn spots and some didn’t lift off and all the things that made us laugh as we all stood in the middle of our street in our neighborhood. And then we went inside for cookies and coffee/tea/hot chocolate.

It’s hard to explain, but on this journey we’ve been on since July 2 to today, holding my little boy and releasing him in worship have been two of the most beautiful moments. The only explanation I can give is the beauty of life and the Creator of life itself. If there is one thing I’ve realized, it’s this: We may have “lost” our son, but this has been about much more than us, if it’s been about us at all. I have this quote by Joyce Meyer on a magnet on my refrigerator that says, “Patience is not the ability to wait, but how you act while you’re waiting.” While we’ve been in this season of waiting and loss, we’ve found how true this quote is. No matter what we go through, we have to make a choice. While we’ve been in waiting, we’ve had to make a choice. After we lost Zadok, we had to make a choice. Will we keep saying “Yes” to whatever Father asks of us–Trust in Him with all our hearts and lean not on our own understanding, but in all our ways acknowledge Him and He will direct our path (Proverbs 3:5-6); continue believing He knows the plans He has for us, plans to prosper us and not harm us, plans to give us hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11); believe that after we suffer a little while, He will restore us and make us strong, firm, and steadfast (1 Peter 5:10); will we continue to not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of our minds? OR Will we allow anger to turn into bitterness and blame God for what we’ve experienced?

Friends, this road we walk, the road you walk, every day we are faced with choices. Every turn you’re given the opportunity to choose one way or another… to choose “Yes” to God or “No”. To choose life or death. To choose to believe truth or believe lies. We have to choose how we’re going to wait for whatever it is we’re waiting for, be it a child, an open door to opportunity, healing, a long awaited dream, a miracle, etc. We have to choose whether we’re going to try to force a door or window open OR if we’re going to worship in the hallway while we wait. I had to choose if we were going to get stuck in mourning the loss of Zadok or if we were going to celebrate his life for the short time he was physically with us and the impact of his life that’s gone further than we know.

There was this moment after our celebration of Zadok’s life when one of my dearest friends hugged me and told me I made him proud. I’ve never told her this, but that was a prayer of mine. I want my son to be proud of the way we’ve grieved and the way we’ve celebrated him. Furthermore, I want my future daughters and sons to be proud of the way I’ve waited for them. If I were to be able to record my life and show them one day, I want them to be proud of their momma. I don’t want them to have to learn from how I didn’t wait well. I want to wait well and then experience the joy of my miracle babies and promises fulfilled without guilt for temper-tantrums and bad attitudes towards God. I want to live worthy of replication, worthy of Jesus being proud of how I’ve displayed Him through my life. I want this adventure I’m living to sing of His goodness and grace and love and joy in every season of life, in every wilderness, in every pain, in every joy, on every mountain top.

So, that’s my goal, friends; that’s the legacy I want to live and leave. I’ll adventure on with that before me, saying “Yes” relentlessly, with God as my guide, my husband by my side, and our children in my heart. How will you choose to adventure on?