The Dirt

Good evening to you, my friends.  I have thought about you often the past few days-at gymnastics, at the doctor's office, and in the dark of the night. Thinking and praying for all of you has brought me so much comfort. It truly is my joy to pray for all of you, and you remind me how blessed I am. When moments and days are hard, you have all lifted me. I receive emails and comments on the blog at just the right time. When I can't seem to catch my breath or see the beauty of the moment, I receive an email or a note. Oh how great our God is! Thank you, thank you dear friends!

I went to the doctor for my almost 2 week check-up yesterday. Usually I prepare myself for doctor days to be hard. I missed this one. I somehow thought this one would be easier. Oh how wrong I was!  This was the first time I visited my OB since Faith was born. The first time I was at the office without her kicking and squirming inside of me. The first time I had seen the nurses that walked this journey with us and the first time to show our pictures since the night of Faith's celebration. We talked about Faith's delivery and ways to prepare for the future. I left the office in tears-reminded of how I just don't fit anymore. I don't fit in the OB office with the pregnant mommies and little babies (all girls, mind you!). I don't fit in with the mommies at gymnastics, at the grocery store, at the craft store, or at birthday parties. How do you fit when you just buried your daughter? How do you answer strangers when they ask you how many kids you have? How do you pretend to be ok when every cell in your body is aching to hold your baby girl? It just doesn't work and I wonder if it ever will. Days like this remind me that I am human and real while the notes from you remind me that God provides perfectly. So, again, I thank you for filling my day with reminders of what Faith gave us. The Lord blessed us far more than the grief we feel.

Today I went to the cemetery. Mom had offered all week to go with me and I kept saying, "Not yet, the dirt is too fresh." You see, dirt has been important to me my whole life. My grandfather, Perr, was a cotton farmer. We spent summers and Christmases on the farm and I loved every minute. In the summers my cousins and I sprayed the weeds on the farm. Well, my cousins mostly. I am the youngest of all my cousins by at least 7 years, so I didn't spend the long hours on the rig like they did. They had the hard days in the hot sun while I was able to go in the air conditioning to bake pinch cake. They all give me a hard time about it now. Even though I didn't spend the hours my cousins did on the tractor, I remember the smell of dirt and the grit in my teeth on a hot day. I also remember the fun we had playing in the mud. Perr would find a great muddy patch and all of us cousins would roll around in it and have mud fights. We would then pile in the back of his pick up to ride back to the house. When we got there, my grandmother would hose everyone off outside with the coldest water you can imagine. She would hose off everyone outside, except for me. Because I was the youngest, I had the privilege of taking a bath inside the warm house with the warm water. How my cousins speak to me now, I have no idea. They truly did have it rough while I found play time in the dirt. I had so much fun in the dirt as a child, and now it holds such a dear place in my heart as an adult.

I remember the short season after my grandfather harvested the cotton before he planted again. I remember looking out the front porch to see the never ending flatness of the brown dirt. Later I realized this was his peaceful time of year. It wasn't yet time to plan for the next season. He could no longer do anything to affect the outcome of the harvested crop-no more plowing, no more praying for a larger crop. The dirt finished, the crop harvested. He rested peacefully between harvest and planting seasons. How vividly I remember the smell of the freshly harvested and plowed dirt!

Today I went and saw the dirt. My mother-in-law and father-in-law came up today to visit. I had no intention of going to the cemetery when I woke up this morning, but somehow this afternoon I couldn't get there fast enough. People have told me that I would know when I was ready-I didn't realize it would be like a force pushing me out the door. Shawn was studying and Nonna and PawPaw were playing outside with Jackson. It was time to face reality and face it alone. I listened to the music we played for her service as I drove to the cemetery. Somehow I saw the road through the tears and remembered how to get there.

When I drove up, I gasped. There was no tent, no chairs, no family, no casket. There were only headstones. I panicked looking for her...I couldn't see the cross we left for her or the pile of dirt. I drove a little further in the driveway and finally found the tiny mound. It looked so small. I got out of the truck and walked to her spot. The flowers were dead. We buried her a week ago yesterday and the flowers have died. When we left her, she had a gorgeous bouquet of flowers on her dirt. Now they were all dead. Why did that surprise me? It broke my heart-I wasn't taking care of her.

Before I moved her dead flowers, I wanted to fill my jar. I wanted a jar full of her dirt-the dirt that is so important to me. Faith's grandmothers filled a small jar of dirt during her service last week, but I needed more. I needed more of her dirt. Silly, I know. I opened the jar and began talking to Faith. I reminded her of how excited we were when we found out we were pregnant. I reminded her of how much I loved her-even when I couldn't eat after 2:00 in the afternoon and I spent hours on the bathroom floor. I told her about camping and swimming and how she loved cheesecake, not chocolate! I told her about how sad we were the day we found out she would not be ours to bring home. I reminded her of how we all prayed the day she was born and how I told her it was ok to go to Jesus. I wept as I shared all I could with her. With each moment of her story, I put another handful of dirt in my jar. I now have a jar full of my girl's dirt and her story. The jar is beautifully layered with each chapter of her life.

After filling my jar, I removed the dead flowers from her grave. The dirt was wet...it was fresh. Oh how fresh my hurt was today! I desperately wanted to climb in the ground with her-to hold her one more time. I ran my fingers over the fresh dirt-the dirt that had not seen the sun since we buried Faith. I then read scriptures over her. Of course, Psalm 139:13-18 first. I then read some other Psalms and scripture to her. I then looked at Exodus 3:5-holy ground. The hymn "We Are Standing On Holy Ground" came to mind. I sang over my daughter today. I read scripture and I sang over her.

I was reminded how scripture says the Lord sings over us and thinks about us. Psalm 139 says His thoughts about us outnumber the grains of sand. More than the grains of dirt in Faith's grave and more than the sand on the beach in Galveston. His word says He thinks of us more than ALL the grains of sand. My Jesus, our Lord, thinks about you and me more than we can count! He was with me today at the cemetery when I thought I couldn't breath. He wrapped His arms around me and gave me strength to sing (well, squawk) over our daughter. He was in the wind and the flowers. He gave me a yellow butterfly-similar to the one I saw at Faith's funeral. He was there with the cows, horses, and grasshoppers.  HE was THERE! I wasn't alone. I thought I drove to Faith's cemetery alone, but I wasn't. My Lord, whose thoughts about me outnumber the grains of sand, was with me and has been with me each step of this journey. I will continue to breath and one day I will fit again...I just have to keep my focus on Him and the promise that I will hold our baby girl again. Until that day, I must rest knowing He is holding and rocking our Faith and that His thoughts about her outnumber the grains of sand. He has known her all along and I take refuge in that knowledge. He chose us knowing that we could do this-we could live this out for His greater purpose.

My prayer for all of you tonight is that you can take refuge knowing that God is here. We may not know how or why or what, but we know that He is here. I pray you know His love for you-that you can close your eyes and imagine the grains of sand at your favorite beach. He loves you and thinks about you more than you can imagine! I am taking refuge under His wings tonight and I pray you will also. He loves us that much!

In His love,
LaTisha