// Little One Lost//

I need to tell you about something that happened to me a couple of weeks ago.

I have a dear friend named B. I met her in high school, and even though I went off to college and she stayed home to work, we have remained good friends. Last spring I got the honor of being in her wedding party and celebrating her big day with her and her husband A. Any time I am in my hometown, she gives me a call, we meet up, drink outrageous amounts of coffee or go to Bob Evans and talk about our God, our lives, our dreams, our disappointments, and everything in between. She is truly a kindred spirit, and a sister in Christ if I’ve ever had one.

A couple weeks back, I had just moved into my apartment. I had had a hard day at work. I had managed to get so frustrated with a small child that I had yelled at him, I hadn’t eaten all day, my fridge wasn’t working at home, and I was in the midst of unpacking.I was wandering around Meijer with a strong desire to get home, looking for a set of rabbit ears and a few groceries.

I remembered that B and I had made a plan to chat that evening and realized I had missed her call. I dialed her number. And she answered. After the usual, how are you doing? how’s work? your dog? your husband? I asked my usual, “anything interesting happened lately?” I always ask this because there’s little I love more than a good story, and B tells great ones. Moreover, she usually recognizes how God is moving in a situation, and that always points me to Christ. They uplift an encourage, challenge and rebuke me. But what B was about to tell me was hard for me to hear.

“Well, I wouldn’t say interesting… But I do have something to tell you. Gert…” She stammered. I could tell whatever she was about to tell me wasn’t going to be easy for her to say, or for me to hear.

“…gert, two weeks ago, A and I lost a baby”

Now it was my turn to be short on words.”I,…I… I’m so sorry.”

I had never felt more like a child or more like an adult than in that moment, and somehow I felt both at once.My heart broke. I wanted to cry, and I began to weep, in the middle of the DVDs. I tried to take deep breaths and calm myself down.  I pretended to be browsing for a universal remote. I listened as she told me the story.

They had only known for a week that they were pregnant, but they had chosen a name: Caden.

Then, one terrible afternoon, she began to bleed, and then began tests and doctors appointments and heartbreaking news.As swiftly as they had learned of this little life, it had disappeared.

In this tiny little baby’s brief life, he was so dearly loved.

As much as knowing my dear friend is missing her child breaks my heart, I am certain it pains hers more. And yet, ever true, she knows that it’s not by some cruel act that God took that baby away. She knows that though she doesn’t understand the reason, God has a purpose in all things, even the difficult, the loss, the heartbreak of life.

If you’ve made it through this story, I’m certain B and her husband would appreciate your prayers. If you have a note of encouragement, feel free to drop it into the ask box, and I’ll forward it on to her.

// Beauty is in the Eye//

I spent New Years Eve with the kiddos, as one might have assumed, so that their parents could go and enjoy themselves. We picked out our New Years dates from amongst the giant stuffed animals, R’s was an obnoxious puppy, Gray’s an Orangutan (after his initial request for his sister’s life size ballerina was denied), and mine? A giant Lion the kids call “Aslan”. Yeah, You should be jealous.

We started the evening by watching movies, Cats and Dogs (picked by Gray) and Spirit, Tale of the Simmeron (picked by R, but probably largely encouraged by Gray). By the time we hit Spirit, we had popped popcorn and cracked open our bottle of sparkling apple cider, previously deemed “Special wine for kids!” by Gray.

The evening was fairly uneventful, the kids forced the cat to have photos taken with them, we watched our neighbors explode large fireworks in our suburban neighborhood while we sat on our princess blankets in the driveway sipping hot chocolate. We came back inside just in time to watch the ball drop and for Gray to ask, Is Lady Gaga famous? Isn’t she cold in that crazy costume? Where does she live? and, Is she spending the night in New York or driving back home tonight? 

These questions paled in comparison to his question the next day after hearing which, I had to hold myself back from laughter, “Who is more famous, Lady Gaga or the people in the play Cats? They both wear those tight suits, but the cat people have more fur, so who is better?” If dressing insanely is a mark of being famous, I’d say they’re about equal wouldn’t you?

Silliness aside, Gray wouldn’t be Gray without his questions. His deepest one of the night, and the one this title of this rant is based upon: “When I grow up, can I have brown skin?”

You see, Gray’s heart’s desire is to be what he deems “Indian”, both Country of India Indian, and Native American. He finds something so appealing in both cultures, and he’s certain that if only he had brown skin, he could have it too.

While I probably should have reassured him that he was handsome the way he was, there was something so innocent about his plea. He has no suspicion or hatred towards people of color the way many adults do. He knows only that all people are beautiful. He takes great joy in telling me about his friend Simmie, and how she is the most beautiful person in the world because she is different.

Whats more, Gray finds beauty in just about everyone. When he describes someone, he describes them as if they were truly a work of art and a sight to behold. “And her hair is soft and curly, and so long it reaches the floor!” he’ll tell me, or “so-and-so’s eyes are the color of a leaf when it’s brand new on a tree”; “Did you know God made everyone a different color so that they’d be perfectly protected from the sun wherever they live?”

If only we adults could find a way to recapture what so many of us had when we were 6; the ability to find loveliness in everything, to find beauty in everyone, and most importantly: to find worth in every person.

Because truly, we are all children of God. We are all lovingly crafted and created in his image. Black, Brown, White,  Plaid or one of those absurd names the L’Oreal foundation manufactures come up with; like Classic Ivory, Buff Beige, Soft Sable or Cocoa. He loves us no matter what language we speak, where we buy our clothes, how we cut our hair, or whether we succeed on our New Years diet or not. He loves the homeless, the wealthy, the widows, the orphans, the happy, the sad, the depressed, the suicidal, the weak, the strong, the big, the little, the famous, the not-so famous, EVERYONE.

Though we are all sinners, we are loved by the Creator of the Universe so much that he died to forgive us, to provide us an escape from a certain, eternal, death in hell. He knows us, delights in us, and wants us to know him. How cool is that?

// Gray’s Questions//

Last night, as I was putting G to bed he began his favorite tradition. It seems that after he has read his book, said his prayers, and thanked God for having Santa send his elf George to visit him, his mind comes alive with late night questions.

G is definitely a dreamer and a thinker. He likes to make up stories about living in a tree house, and he’s always asking questions, much to the chagrin of his parents and the amusement of myself.

His late-night questions are the best though. Perhaps it’s because he is getting sleepy, that his mind suddenly needs answers to the deeper things of life. Since my last post about him, he has asked me about what God looks like, how big God’s clothes are and if he has a giant washing machine in heaven.

He’s asked about where heaven was and how far away it is, how long it would take to get there. He’s asked if God made dinosaurs, and snow, and Christmas lights. He’s asked how God decides when people are supposed to die. What the biggest whale God made was, and if Dinosaurs were bigger than houses. I’m sure he’s asked a plethora of other questions I’ve forgotten.

I do my best to answer his questions, as Biblically and truthfully as I can. On the many questions he stumps me with, I tell him he’ll be able to ask God when he’s in heaven, because God knows everything. This idea of having God’s attention to listen and answer his questions  is as thrilling to G. And I must admit, it’s thrilling to me too. I have a whole lot of things I can’t wait to learn about.

Last night his question wasn’t necessarily deep, but it was sweet, and quite funny. Our conversation started with:

G: Do you have a boyfriend?

Now, G knows I don’t have a man in my life. He’s asked me this question many times before, and he’s always met with my standard, flat, “No, not right now”. When his mother is in the room, she always tells him I haven’t met my special someone yet, and that  I shouldn’t settle for just anyone. She tells him I have to find a good man and not an evil one, and that it takes time. (I think she’s talking to me more than she is to him, trying to console me, thinking I may be feeling hopelessly lonely at my ripe old age of 21. Some days she’s not too far off.)

Last night, Grayson had me alone, and, knowing his mother would not interject, he decided to press his luck and pepper me further…

G: Why not?

Ah, he had finally done it, I thought to myself. He had asked the question that haunts me from time to time. He had asked me why something I would like very much to one day happen, something I see happening to friends around me hasn’t happened to me.

I know that In G’s eyes, I’m  someone he loves, who’s biggest fault is that sometimes I’m stuck at work too late to play with him. I’m Someone who reads him bedtime stories, builds Lego cars, and “passes-forward” the tv during the commercials in Kung-Fu Panda. He doesn’t see my many imperfections, my sins, or my struggles.

I answered him with my standard response, my “I don’t know, I guess I’m not supposed to have a boyfriend yet”. It was vague and it wasn’t enough for him. He needed to know why, and he needed to know now the reason his beloved big sister didn’t have someone special.

G: But you’re almost ready to get married! You need to find one!

His urgency, impatience and persistence amuses me now, though it did not last night. If only finding a husband was as simple as shopping for a car. I could go down to the husband dealership and look them over, pick one I liked with all of the features and personality I liked, and take him home with me.

His urgent statement also amused me because we had been challenged to thank God for the hard things in life the previous Sunday in Church, and I had been making an effort to thank God for my singleness.

The night before, as I was changing my second flat tire in two weeks, I thanked God for my season of singleness, because having no husband or boyfriend to call has forced me to learn to change a tire, and I can now do it in 20 minutes.  A few days before that, on my drive home from Thanksgiving I had a tearful chat with God about my singleness, knowing it was necessary and good for me.

G and I said goodnight after he asked me how old people had to be to get married, and I told him everyone got married at different ages. I went downstairs and ate my dinner not thinking about his question any further until now, as I sit and write it all out. 

God does not waste his time doing things that are not needed, instead he works all things together for his glory. The hard things of my life right now, my meager finances, my singleness, my slowly dying car, are all working together for a greater purpose. A purpose that would not be quite as glorious in the end without the tears.

And so,I thank God for those things, I know he’s not some big bully in the sky, but a tender loving God, doing what is truly the best for me, even when I can not see it.