For they shall be comforted

When someone dies, they are gone. Whatever our beliefs about the afterlife, nothing prepares us for the harsh reality that the person we knew and loved is not here on earth anymore, for the remainder of our natural lives. The finality of this is shocking and intense, at least it was for me when I experienced it.

Friends lost a loved one this week, and the familiar feelings are all haunting me again. The vacancy, the hole. The impossibility that a person can be here one day, gone the next. It is a reality altered, our world unhinged. It is a great mystery of the universe, how a life can profoundly impact others so greatly, yet be gone in the blink of an eye.

It's been over two years since Liza passed. And yes, I am still processing her death. In our society I could be blamed for wallowing, but friends, our society isn't so good at grief.

A book I'm reading featured this quote.

"Healthy are those who mourn. Only very recently have we begun to realize that to deny grief is to deny a natural human function and that such denial sometimes produces dire consequences.

"Any event, any awareness that contains a sense of loss for you can, and should, be mourned. This doesn't mean a life of incessant sadness. It means being willing to admit to an honest feeling rather than always having to laugh off the pain. It's not only permissible to admit the sadness that accompanies loss - it's the healthy option."

- Donald L. Anderson, Better than Blessed

Sometimes when I read the Sermon on the Mount, it brings feelings of anger. "Blessed are those who mourn," Jesus said. Mourning doesn't feel like a blessing. It brings about some of the most painful feelings I have ever experienced. It has been one of the darkest seasons of my life.

It seems to be an essential part of the human experience, though. It is necessary in a fallen world where things are far less than ideal. So I'm clinging to the second part of the verse, "for they shall be comforted." Whether in this life or the next, I believe there is comfort for all who mourn. And that is worth holding onto.

Compelled

About five years ago I was sitting on the deck with Luke on a sunny Sunday afternoon. We were talking about our future, our dreams and our goals. I shared with him that I felt a tug in my heart to do something to help orphans. I wasn't sure what it was, just that I felt compelled to do something in my lifetime that would have an impact on the plight of orphans in our world.

Since losing our Liza Jane, many of these dreams have come into sharper focus. The moments she lay in our arms slipping from this world into the next were a gift, because they caused our entire world view to shift. Things we once thought important no longer mattered. Other things became very high priorities.

I walked away from the hospital after she passed with a turmoil of emotions. At that moment, though, I knew two things for sure. I wanted to be a mother to more children. And, something must be done to help ease the suffering of the children of this world.

A verse of scripture has stood out to me ever since Liza's passing. "Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you." - James 1:27, NLT

Today I read an article in an adoption publication, LifeLines, that brought this journey into sharp focus for me. A pastor and adoptive father was sharing about his family's decision to adopt.

"Before adopting, I thought of adoption as something a Christian couple could do if they wanted to. The question was, 'Do we want to adopt?'

"However, through my study, I realized that God has a bigger, bolder, and more glorious view of orphans. God intends for his people to conform to his image and his heart. The more appropriate question is: What role does God call us to play in the care of orphans?"

Don't get me wrong, I don't personally believe that God is calling everyone to go out and adopt orphans. There are many other wonderful ways to support children and orphans in need.  Two of my favorites are Reece's Rainbow and Compassion. And adoptive families need support too!

I guess what I want to say is this: In the adoption matching process, I have often lost my focus. It's been an emotional whirlwind as we consider children's profiles and try to identify the ones our family can best serve. This article I read today brought my goals back into view.

There are children waiting for a forever home, children who are orphans, and we are going to adopt some of them. This may not be the end of what I will do in my lifetime to help orphans. In fact, I feel it may only be the beginning. And I feel humbled and energized to be part of something that is so close to God's heart.

Thankful for Liza Jane

The other day I told someone about our experience with Liza Jane for the first time. If you haven't read our story, you can learn more here.

Now that it has been a little two years since she passed away, my perspective on her life and the circumstances of her death is changing. I expect it will change even more in the future.

My little Liza taught me so much.
She taught me how to love without judging.
She taught me how to live every moment to the fullest. We don't know if it will be our last.
She showed me how important it is to love those close to us every minute of every day, because we don't know if that day will be their last.
She taught me the value of accepting without being critical. (Ok, maybe I'm still working on that one.)

Two years after her death, I do not regret the decision to give her a chance at life. I do not regret choosing not to have an abortion, which is what several doctors urged me to do.

There is much pain and suffering in this world, and what happened to us and our Liza is just a drop in the bucket.

Without her, though, my life would not be as rich and meaningful. I am forever greatful to her, and greatful to God for giving me such a gift. (Even though I am still a little mad at him for taking her away.)