Stumbling Towards Perfect

In passing, someone said something to me about grieving for a child you lost has to be so hard . I get what they were stumbling to say (trust me, even though I'm going through it, I never have the right words and always end up sounding so, well, off). But the truth is, grieving for a child you lost is the easiest thing in the world. I took no special training. No special classes. Shoot, even when I was about to give birth there were Lamaze classes. But there were no your child is going to die unexpectedly so we'd like you to learn how to breath through the grief pains tutorials. No, grieving the death of someone you love comes very, very easy. It's the grieving while attempting to appear normal that is very, very hard. There is a spot in the back of my neck at the base of my skull  that has been in a constant, thick knot for over a year and a half. It's a tumor of grief. But I'll just pass it off as I must've slept wrong . There are days I would rath

It's a conversation no parent really looks forward to having. It can be awkward and uncomfortable and, as parents, we worry if we're giving too much information, or not enough, or if it's not being understood quite right. But as parents we're charged with the duty of seeing our young children through puberty and into adulthood. And so, we are required to talk about the things that might make us feel uncomfortable.     This week while I was in Haiti, I was given the task of teaching Human Health and Development to girls aged 12 and up. I prayed in earnest that what we would be discussing would be understood in such a way that these young women would come to understand how unbelievably beautiful and perfect and wonderful they have been made. I prayed that I was honoring their mothers while I acted as a stand-in. I prayed I would get it right .   We talked about pregnancies and HIV and AIDS. I answered questions that made me want to laugh out loud the informa

At this point in my life I realize that the things that stick (words, images, experiences, conversations) stick because God wants them to stick. That is, He'll be using those same words, images, experiences and conversations to grow me, teach me, and, more than likely, humble me, exactly when I need it. Usually, I begin writing with a vague understanding of what the lesson is about and figure it out in more detail as the words get typed on the page. But this? This I don't know why  this stuck. I just know it did. And I know I need to tell you about it. I was in Haiti last week, at the same orphanage we were at in March. There was a point in the middle of the week when I found myself sitting at a small table with one of the older boys from the orphanage, a translator, and the American Missionary, Amber. We had talked for a half hour or so and at the end of the conversation, Amber stood up and retrieved a beautifully decorated cupcake to give to the boy. (Cupcakes were on ha

Today, I went to a bookstore to buy my sponsor son a Bible since I'll be seeing him in a week. One week. It makes me scared, kind of. Like I don't want to ride in a car, or eat anything chokeworthy, or go out in public amidst the germs. I don't want to risk anything getting in the way of seeing him. Last time I went to Haiti I poured over the packing list making sure I had everything I needed or was recommended for travel. After being there I realize anything I bring with me is way too much. It's all very ridiculous to show up in a country so unbelievably poor with a $58 self purifying water bottle. Last time, I was worried about whether or not I would have enough gluten free food to exist on for an entire week. That thought alone makes me feel the most ashamed. Walking up and down grocery store aisles, making trips to Trader Joe's and Sendik's to make the best (read: most delicious) choices. I would need three meals per day, I had figured, plus snacks, and