Missing Maddox.

Our nephew Maddox would have been five yesterday. 

Although it seems impossible to separate the grief of missing him from the celebration of his birth and his place in our family, each year we can't help but remember that joyous day when our first baby entered the family. He was so, so sweet. It used to be one of my biggest fears that I'd forget what he looked like but now, five years later, I realize that I will never forget looking into his brand new little face and thinking he was absolutely perfect.

He was only with us for a brief time, but we'll never forget him. Our hearts and prayers will forever be with Daddy Luke and Mama Amy as they live without their firstborn. He'll always be our first babe and we'll always love him. 

We took Sydni, Moses, Kolt, and Millie to the cemetery to celebrate Maddox' birthday. Sydni and Moses were certain that Maddox would like balloons in Heaven, because they like balloons on their birthdays. :) I wish that his birthdays weren't sad. I wish that for even one day I could set aside the fact that there is a void in our family and just get to celebrate him with a happy heart. After all, he's in Heaven! But listening to his younger siblings and cousins sing with joyful hearts, smiling faces, and sweet voices "Happy Birthday Maddox!" around his grave only made me miss him more.

Being 35/36 weeks pregnant over the anniversary of Maddox' being born and passing away has given me a new perspective, a deeper sense of the reality of potentially losing a child, and an absolute gratitude for the assurance of eternal life. Alan Jackson's rendition of "Blessed Assurance" has been playing in my head on repeat ever since leaving the cemetery yesterday.

 Little ones, missed.

Still Lost Sometimes

As much as I prefer painting Meganville to be a place where solely happiness is felt, paint doesn't cost a dime, projects never fail, and all is well, there also must be truth. If you visit my blog with the intention of reading fun, lighthearted updates, today's post isn't for you. Go ahead and skip it, it won't hurt my feelings. In fact, I'll never even know. ;)

A couple of years ago I stumbled upon the blog, It's Almost Naptime. I began following because of the adoption emphasis. Never had I so identified with another adoptive mama until today, as I tearfully read her truthful description of life-in-waiting and the ugly that it entails.
As a believer, the process of adopting is so completely intertwined in one's spiritual life. I'm sharing Missy's post because, unlike her, I haven't been able to communicate the spiritual struggle that goes hand-in-hand with the trials of the process. I had chosen to spare you until today, when reading her post ripped the scab off last month's wound and left me confused, sad, and pained all over again. Since our adoption fell through this blog has often served as my voice. Sometimes I find myself realizing things as I type them, and not a moment before. Now is one of those times. Why pretend that the journey is done or "closed" when it has left such a lasting effect throughout our life? Here's the honest truth. I wish I were stronger. I wish I could proclaim from a mountaintop that my faith is unshakable. But that would be a lie. I see God when I watch BamBam moving inside my tummy. Surprisingly, my faith is even strengthened when I notice my body growing and changing because that to me is evidence that God has blessed me. It's proof that this baby is still 'happening.' On the other hand, when I think about our adoption, I can't decipher His plan, no matter how hard I try.

It is such a comfort to know that other Christians struggle with the conflicting knowledge of the head and the emotions and questions of the heart. Like Missy, the writer of It's Almost Naptime, I know that my God is sovereign yet there are days that my sinful heart overpowers the wealth that is my Christian upbringing and what should be a stable and strong relationship with my God. I hate that my sin has the nasty power to make me doubt. I hate that in my weakness I allow life's circumstances to interfere with all that God has given me.

God has blessed me immensely. He has placed a lot of happy in my life. Despite all the good I still find myself lost, but I know to whom I belong. He has promised to renew me. He has promised that I will soar on wings like eagles. (Isaiah 40:31) I am a work in a progress, and not always a pretty one, but I serve an awesome God. His grace is sufficient. His strength is made perfect, perfect(!) in my weakness. (2 Corinthians 12:9) I can't think of a better reason to get out of bed in the morning with a smile on my face and with energy for a new day.