Mixed November

I have always loved November. It is my favorite month of the year. Unfortunately, my fond memories of November's past have been marred with the bitter realities of life this side of Heaven. This year Thanksgiving Day will not only be a day to reflect the pilgrimage of long ago and the blessings we share as individuals and as a nation. It will not only be the celebration of my father's birth 61 years ago. It will also be the two year anniversary of the loss of our daughter, Faith. She had an eternal home-going before we ever celebrated her earthly home-coming.

Many people try to comfort loss by wrapping things up in a pretty little bow. No words will ever make me feel better about our loss. It doen't make me feel better that we lost her earlier than later. I kinda despise all those, "At least..." statements. Instead, I wonder if she would have had Michael's beautiful black hair. I wonder if she, too, would have inherited the nose I unfortunately passed on to the twins. I wonder if her eyes would reflect the love that we have for her. I wonder if she would be insisting on bringing her dolly in the car. I never got to hold her. I never got to smell that sweet baby scent. I never got to go to the pink section of a clothing store. I never got to see her first smile, first step, first words... The only thing that brings me comfort is knowing that God loves this baby more than I do.

It's hard to avoid the lovely comments of strangers and well-meaning friends. The list goes something like this, "All boys!", "Oh, my! Maybe you should try again for a girl!", "I guess you don't know how to make girls!", "I bet you're happy that you don't have to worry about paying for a wedding!", "Too bad those boys don't have a sister!", "I bet you were dissappointed when you found out the child you were adopting was another boy." I've heard it all. There are days I feel like responding, "Too bad our baby girl died. Thank you for bringing up the pain of her loss!" or "Are you always this insensitive?" Instead, I smile sweetly and know that these naive souls mean no harm. They have never experienced this type of loss or they wouldn't have commented in the first place.

To be honest...the pain is not so great anymore. Time truly does bring healing. There is sadness, but no longer pain. I can look at my story and see God's hand in it. All I have to do is look into the beautiful brown eyes of my little Brady and I wouldn't change a thing. For Faith is with Jesus. She never had to know life this side of Heaven. She is in the presence of the Almighty. No tears. No pain. No questions. Pure joy. One day, I will experience that alongside her!

And Brady...he's God's precious and amazing gift to me. I LOVE that it is Brady that God chose before time to be our son. I love that we have a third boy. I love the interests and curiosity of boys. I love sports and cars and trucks and bugs and outdoors and all the fun stuff that goes with raising boys. I love that I am raising boys to become "men!" What a privilege!

But, please don't assume that because of my great love for my three boys and the joy that radiates from my face when I'm around them...that it means that I don't wish my precious Faith got to experience these brothers and that they got to experience her. Every November I'll wish that she, too, was gathered around our table!