Be a Blessing

"The one who blesses others is abundantly blessed: Those who help others are helped."

          Proverbs 11:25

     This post is in honor of all the people who have been backing me up for the Kibbie project!
    
     The blanket I received in the hospital, while mourning the loss of my beautiful daughter, has been a great comfort in this awful moment in my life. I think it is the physicality of the item that offers comfort when my girl is unable to be here with me in my arms. I can't hold her or touch her or carry her around.

But I can hold her blanket close and cry when I need to.
     And I can caress its corners when I'm thinking about her adorable face.
          I am able to carry it over an arm and talk to my Lia when I'm feeling alone.

     I want other moms to feel that comfort. I want them to have that tangible reminder that, yes, your daughter was here! And, yes, your son was wonderful! Even if no birth certificate was allowed (as in my case), remember that your child was a human soul, and has been since conception! They lived in our bellies and they continue to live in our hearts... I don't want any of those mommies to forget that.


     There are no words for the love I've been shown during this unbelievably difficult time in my life. It is common knowledge that my little blanket project is the one thing that calms me and keeps me focused on the future instead of the not-so-distant past.
     There have been so many people jumping on this proverbial band wagon with me. I know that there is a mommy out there, crying her eyes out, her heart breaking for the loss of her precious gift. I know that there is a mommy out there who has in her hands one of the blankets from Lia's Kibbies and is comforted (if only a little) by that piece of her child which is tangible.
    
     We may never hear a word from the families blessed by our talents. We may never know the names of those precious children that are laughing in heaven with my Lia. We may never know how those mommies are doing, if there's anything else we can do, or if they're just too heartbroken to let us know.

     But God works with wonders that never cease, and I believe that one day we will be blessed as we have been blessing others.

     Maybe we'll hear a word from a family that was given a Kibbie. Maybe we'll be able to honor the memory of Lia's new friends. Maybe we'll find out about those mommies, how they are doing, what we can help with, and to hold them through those rough days...

                    You never know!

What's In a Name?

It took us months and months to decide on my Lia's name.
We tossed ideas back and forth and shot down more than a few. Ever since that day we chose her name, people have been asking why we chose it and where it came from.

It sounds so much better the way I had written it for her memorial service, so I figured I'd just clear up the curiosity and let you read my thoughts on the matter:

"In the first book of the Christian fantasy series by Jeffery Overstreet, Auralia’s Colors, only the king in this city had color - the rest of the kingdom was in a dark and drab world. Auralia came to the world from somewhere else, no one really knew for sure how or why. She had an incredible gift to be able to draw color out of the most common of things and craft them into amazing surprises for the people around her. Those surprises gave the people of this world something to hope for and healed them of their ailments. As she grew up in this drab place, she changed the course of her world and brought color and light to all who lived there, and when her work was done, the entity that brought her to this place took her back home again, leaving the world to bask in her colors - and no one who came into contact with Auralia would ever be the same again.
As her name was chosen for the effect we had hoped she would have in our lives in the years to come, we have come to realize that in her 23 weeks in our world, she has brought more beauty and color and light to our lives than we ever imagined possible. And when her work here with us was complete, the One who allowed us this time with her took her back home again - leaving no one untouched or unchanged by her influence in our world."

I love my Lia, and I know God chose her name long before we did. It speaks volumes (at least to me) about the impact my little girl had and continues to have in my world.

Now, if only I can as good with the next kid! :)

Ecclesiastes 3:14-15

"I've also concluded that whatever God does, that's the way it's going to be, always. No addition, no subtraction. God's done it and that's it. That's so we'll quit asking questions and simply worship in holy fear.
   Whatever was, is.
   Whatever will be, is.
   That's how it always is with God."
                     -Ecclesiastes 3:14-15, the Message Bible

   As crazy as this ride always seems to be, I never thought I'd be writing a blog in memory of anyone. Not that I haven't experienced loss and heartache before - I just was never so deeply broken that I felt I couldn't survive without this outlet. Losing my Lia was (and continues to be) the hardest thing I have ever had to endure. And endure is the correct word. Some definitions I've found are "to carry on through, despite hardships; undergo" and "to continue in existence; last".
   I would love to be able to tell you that I have been drawn into the comforting presence of God as I endure this horrifying roller coaster ride called my life. But if I am being honest with you - and myself - I cannot. I am finding it difficult to even crack open my Bible and read His Word. Not that I am losing my faith or that I don't believe that He is in control of absolutely everything, I think I'm just afraid of what I may find there.
   The Bible has always had a way of shining light on difficult times, but not always is it that soft glow of the night light in the hall. For me, it is usually a spotlight from a search helicopter blinding me to all that is surrounding and forces me to stop dead in my tracks. I don't like that feeling of uncontrollable circumstances, and I think sometimes I'd rather stay tucked away in my little cave where the light can't find me. But I know that spotlight is my only source of salvation - so despite the uncomfortable feelings and loss of my control-freakishness, I will step out into the light and be saved.
   In one of my seemingly rare moments in that light, I stumbled across this verse in Ecclesiastes that hit me like a ton of bricks in the aftermath of Lia's death. You must remember that the author of this book is writing about all the "fluff" in life and its meaningless attributes - sometimes he didn't seem like the most positive fella. But the guy had a point to make. I can see that we must worship God in everything, because He is the Maker of this life and has a reason for every moment we're here - whether we want it to happen or not.
   This verse spoke to me simply because of its point-blank slap in the face: "...whatever God does, that's the way it's going to be, always." We puny humans like to fancy ourselves the masters of our universes, and somehow we think that we can influence the progression of our world. I caught myself doing just that in the hospital after Lia was born. I kept thinking that maybe I should have relaxed more, or taken more vitamins or had more doctor's appointments to prevent what eventually happened. I thought that I must have done something wrong to cause such a horrible end to a beautiful thing. Did I offend God somehow? Should I have prayed more and read more and worshipped more? I wanted something to hold onto, someone to blame - even if that someone was me. That way I could prevent that from happening next time, or exact punishment on myself and feel I was dishing out justice for my precious girl.
   But the truth is, there is no one to blame. Not me, not God, not anyone. Sure, I believe that God is the one Who took her home, but blame is the wrong word. Trust should be in its place. I trust that God took her home - for what reason, I may never know. But at this point the reason doesn't matter. We just need to "quit asking questions and simply worship in holy fear."
   So in the darkness of whatever you are going through, remember that little insight. You are to worship Him in all circumstances, in good days and bad. Don't ever forget that you are the one lost and alone on that tiny island in your damp cave - and that there is a helicopter waiting to bathe you in the light. Don't be afraid to release your control and stop dead in your tracks in that light and believe in the One that is the Master of all.
   "God's done it and that's it."

The truth about "kibbies"





Blankets. They were always so comforting when we were kids.

They kept you warm no matter where you were and gave you comfort when the storms rattled your windows in the dark. They seemed to become force fields to keep the monsters from getting you in the middle of the night. They lived through picnics, wrestling matches, spills and tears and forty-seven trips through the washing machine. They made great nets for catching little brothers and capes for rescuing kittens stuck in trees. They even served as makeshift sleeping bags when “camping” on the trampoline in the summertime. They turned you into mummies and burritos and “bugs in a rug” - and once in a while they would cover you while you slept.

I’d forgotten until recently how much a simple household accessory had meant. And I’d be willing to bet that when you read the previous paragraph, you had your own childhood memories running through your mind. I’ll admit that I, too, only had my younger years in mind when writing it out. Blankets and comfort and fun all wrapped up together are mostly referenced to kids and their fierce imaginations.

But in the past two months, I have realized that my adult side had been comforted by a blanket not to different from those of our pasts. A little crocheted afghan in white and pink and purple and green was given as a gift in probably the hardest time of my life.

In losing my daughter this past November, I have found crevices in my heart I never knew existed. I have found a style of hurt I had never experienced before and cried more tears than I ever imagined possible. But in the midst of all that pain, my little Lia’s life was remembered through one tiny blanket that a stranger had made and donated to the hospital.

She was so small, my Lia. Unbelievably tiny limbs curled up within the folds of this magnificent gift, her face with her mommy’s nose peeking out at the top of the little bundle. I held her for what felt like an eternity, sobbing and sniffling and saying so many sorry’s that I knew weren’t necessary. Kyle held his daughter and his unspoken love for her filled the room and moved my heart.

That memory is the only one I truly have of my daughter. The only image of her that stays in my mind is all thirteen ounces of her snuggled in that blanket like she was ready to nap after all the hard work it took being born. And on my hardest days, I have her “kibbie” to snuggle with and remember her face and thank God for the 23 weeks I was given with her.

In light of the healing brought by my daughter’s only earthly possession, it is a great joy to use this project to donate small blankets for hurting families who have lost a baby. I want other moms to be blessed by that simple gift, just as I was. So many people have been jumping on board with me on this fantastic journey - so much love and talent is being shared with others who need it deeply.

So next time you curl up under your own “kibbie” (because I know you have one, whether you’ll admit it or not), remember my Lia and the lives she has touched without breathing a single breath on this earth. Pray for those who are struggling through this season in their lives - and pray for me as I struggle through mine. Pray that all of us in this situation may find comfort in the Lord’s promise that “every tear shall be wiped away”.

And Lia… save me a seat around His throne, would you?