This past Monday, we announced our plan for celebrating David’s 1st birthday, and we asked you to join us in remembering David’s life by giving LIFE to others. Since this is somewhat of an abstract idea, we thought it might be helpful to offer some suggestions on how you can participate.
Colossians 3:12-14 seems like a worthy guide. “Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.”
When we, as believers, “put on” this type of life, we are inviting the world around us to live a new way, an eternal way. The invitation is not to embrace a new ethic but to embrace Jesus that offers this new life (Col 3:1). So, in celebration of David’s 1st Annual LIFE Day, our goal is to “put on” this kingdom of God mindset so that we might leave an eternal impact.
Compassionate hearts - Visit with those in your community who are often overlooked (widow, elderly, sick children, single moms) and perform an act of love that shows the compassionate heart of Christ. Or make a donation to an organization that supports those who are underprivileged.
Kindness - Do something kind for someone from whom you do not expect to receive anything in return. This is especially effective when you show love to someone who is different from you (politically, ethnically, socio-economically).
Humility - We all have people in our lives that we struggle with in some way to show that we are better than or superior to in ability, intellect, etc. Go to this person and serve him or her. Lay down your competitive drive and give this person a compliment or ask him or her to teach you something.
Meekness - Provide a gentle response when an angry one could easily be justified. In the workplace or at home, when another person provokes you to anger, respond in love. When a required task is met with resistance by others, pause, breathe, and handle the situation with meekness.
Patience - Sit with someone longer than you normally would. Turn off your phone, set aside the task list, and just sit with a friend or family member without thinking of the next step.
Bearing with one another – Call or write someone who has been suffering and pray for them in the form of verbal or written communication (don’t just say you are going to pray for them). Especially remember those who suffered some sort of pain 6+ months ago because many of them have been forgotten by the majority...be the minority.
Forgiving each other - Do you know how much you have been given forgiven? Set down your pride and choose to forgive someone who has wronged you or hurt you. Let go of your anger and decide that that person does not “owe” you anymore.
If you have already thought of something that is completely different from this list, then that is great too! Or if you have some creative ideas on how to celebrate David’s birthday, we encourage you to share them with all of us by leaving a comment on this post. We look forward to celebrating with each of you as we endeavor to Leave an Impact For Eternity.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
David Nathaniel LIFE Day
March 1, 2011
First Annual David Nathaniel
LIFE (Leave an Impact for Eternity) Day
Ok, so here's the deal. Many of you have asked how you can remember David Nathaniel with us on his first birthday. Well, I am so excited to tell you exactly how you can do that! On Tuesday, March 1, our family will be remembering David by doing acts of LIFE (leaving an impact for eternity). We felt this was the perfect way for us to continue the legacy of David Nathaniel's small but powerful life.LIFE (Leave an Impact for Eternity) Day
Many of you have walked this journey with us in amazing ways, and we wanted a way to include each of YOU in David's birthday celebration. So what better way to celebrate together than to have a day of LIFE in David's honor? Here are the details on how you can participate:
1. Sometime around David's birthday (March 1st), do something to leave an impact for eternity (LIFE). It can be for a stranger, a friend, a family member, etc. You can do one thing, or several things. The more the merrier. For some ideas, click here.
2. If you want to, take a picture of your or your family's act of LIFE.
3. Come back to this blog and leave us a comment letting us know how you celebrated David's birthday with us (tell us about your act of LIFE). You can also email me with your act of LIFE (and picture, if you have it).
That's it! A few days after David's LIFE celebration, I will post a summary of all the acts of LIFE that our family did, as well as your acts of LIFE. I am so excited to celebrate David's birthday in this way with each of you!
We would love it if you would help us spread the word about our LIFE celebration day. You can copy our invitation at the top of this post and put it on your blog, or link this page to your blog, Facebook, or Twitter. Please know how much it means to us each and every time you let us know that you remember the life of our precious son, David Nathaniel.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Snow
Last month, we had a countdown to Christmas. As Christmas day approached, Benjamin asked me, "Mommy, is this the Christmas with presents or the Christmas with snow?" It might sound like a strange question to you, but it made perfect sense to him.
You see, every movie that he has ever seen about Christmas has snow in it. Therefore, he thinks that Christmas means snow. I have had a very difficult time explaining to him that we live in the south, and snow is a rarity. But this Christmas, no explanation was necessary. Benjamin got his Christmas with presents AND snow. We had a white Christmas in Atlanta for the first time in over 100 years.
The snow was not just a gift for Benjamin; it was a gift for me. I have always loved watching a beautiful snowfall, but now it is especially meaningful to me. It snowed on March 2, 2010, the day that David went to heaven. On that day, I watched the snow fall peacefully outside of my hospital window as I wept, and a sweet friend of mine told me that the snowflakes reminded her of God's tears. I am convinced that my God cried countless tears for me that day.
So, this Christmas I enjoyed watching the snow as I quietly thanked God for His special gift to me. I did not, however, make it outdoors to play in the snow with my boys. I later regretted this decision and vowed to myself that the next time it snowed, I was going outside to play.
Well, that day has come! On Monday, we woke up to several inches of snow. It is the most snow that I have seen since living in Atlanta. And so far this week, I have spent over six hours playing in the snow with my boys. But who's counting???
We have gone sledding, had snowball fights, and built a snowman. We even got out the shovels and cleared the ice and snow from the steps leading to our backyard. We did all of this and more, including battling the stomach virus and Caleb's temper tantrums as we got him dressed and undressed from all of his snow gear. Whew, I am one tired momma!
And, let me tell you, I don't regret one minute of it. I hope that as my boys grow older and see snow fall from the heavens, they remember their mom playing with them in the snow. And I will remember my heavenly baby and playing in the snow with my two little miracles here with me.
You see, every movie that he has ever seen about Christmas has snow in it. Therefore, he thinks that Christmas means snow. I have had a very difficult time explaining to him that we live in the south, and snow is a rarity. But this Christmas, no explanation was necessary. Benjamin got his Christmas with presents AND snow. We had a white Christmas in Atlanta for the first time in over 100 years.
The snow was not just a gift for Benjamin; it was a gift for me. I have always loved watching a beautiful snowfall, but now it is especially meaningful to me. It snowed on March 2, 2010, the day that David went to heaven. On that day, I watched the snow fall peacefully outside of my hospital window as I wept, and a sweet friend of mine told me that the snowflakes reminded her of God's tears. I am convinced that my God cried countless tears for me that day.
So, this Christmas I enjoyed watching the snow as I quietly thanked God for His special gift to me. I did not, however, make it outdoors to play in the snow with my boys. I later regretted this decision and vowed to myself that the next time it snowed, I was going outside to play.
Well, that day has come! On Monday, we woke up to several inches of snow. It is the most snow that I have seen since living in Atlanta. And so far this week, I have spent over six hours playing in the snow with my boys. But who's counting???
We have gone sledding, had snowball fights, and built a snowman. We even got out the shovels and cleared the ice and snow from the steps leading to our backyard. We did all of this and more, including battling the stomach virus and Caleb's temper tantrums as we got him dressed and undressed from all of his snow gear. Whew, I am one tired momma!
And, let me tell you, I don't regret one minute of it. I hope that as my boys grow older and see snow fall from the heavens, they remember their mom playing with them in the snow. And I will remember my heavenly baby and playing in the snow with my two little miracles here with me.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Surrender
I apologize that it has been so long since my last post. I have wanted to reduce my thoughts to writing on numerous occasions, but every time I sit down to write, I freeze up. No words come to mind. No feelings rise up within me. I just sit and stare at the computer screen, numb and frozen.
For the past three months of my life, I have felt like a guest on God's show, Candid Camera. I keep waiting for one of the cast members to come out from behind the hidden camera and say, "You're on candid camera," but no one ever comes.
Someone shows up on my doorstep in crisis. Another person walks into my office in crisis. My phone rings and someone else is in crisis ... and on and on it goes. Sometimes it all feels like a cruel joke that I do not find the least bit humorous. Other times, I find myself laughing at the most inappropriate things. I am not sure if it is the joy of the Lord or because I am certifiably insane, but either way, I guess that laughter is good medicine.
I barely feel like I got through the first day of suffering bootcamp before God drafted me to the front lines to fight the battle with fellow sufferers. He didn't ask me if I was ready to go. I just woke up one night at midnight and found myself in the middle of a bloody battle. And three months later, I am still in the heat of battle, feeling completely exhausted and ill-equipped.
I have wondered many times if this is what the rest of my life will look like, fighting one battle after another, dealing with constant pain and loss. I find myself in a foreign land filled with landmines and surprise attacks. This land is not safe, and I don't know how to get back home.
But maybe the point is that I never really was at home. I was always an alien living in a foreign land. I just couldn't really see it before, and now it is my daily reality. God has once again brought me to a place where I must make a choice – surrender to Him and fight the battle, or fight His plan. Although the choice seems obvious, it is not easy.
My surrender to Christ means that He calls all of the shots, and I obey. He gives the marching orders, and I say, "I am the Lord's servant. Be it done to me according to your word" (Luke 1:38). This is a scary proposition when dealing with the King of Kings.
Surrender calls for an acceptance that “he will complete what he appoints for me, and many such things are on his mind” (Job 23:14). It is the “many such things” that terrify me as I have not been given any say about what comes my way. But, then again, this is the very definition of surrender – to give up rights to myself and to yield to the power and plan of Christ.
For the past three months of my life, I have felt like a guest on God's show, Candid Camera. I keep waiting for one of the cast members to come out from behind the hidden camera and say, "You're on candid camera," but no one ever comes.
Someone shows up on my doorstep in crisis. Another person walks into my office in crisis. My phone rings and someone else is in crisis ... and on and on it goes. Sometimes it all feels like a cruel joke that I do not find the least bit humorous. Other times, I find myself laughing at the most inappropriate things. I am not sure if it is the joy of the Lord or because I am certifiably insane, but either way, I guess that laughter is good medicine.
I barely feel like I got through the first day of suffering bootcamp before God drafted me to the front lines to fight the battle with fellow sufferers. He didn't ask me if I was ready to go. I just woke up one night at midnight and found myself in the middle of a bloody battle. And three months later, I am still in the heat of battle, feeling completely exhausted and ill-equipped.
I have wondered many times if this is what the rest of my life will look like, fighting one battle after another, dealing with constant pain and loss. I find myself in a foreign land filled with landmines and surprise attacks. This land is not safe, and I don't know how to get back home.
But maybe the point is that I never really was at home. I was always an alien living in a foreign land. I just couldn't really see it before, and now it is my daily reality. God has once again brought me to a place where I must make a choice – surrender to Him and fight the battle, or fight His plan. Although the choice seems obvious, it is not easy.
My surrender to Christ means that He calls all of the shots, and I obey. He gives the marching orders, and I say, "I am the Lord's servant. Be it done to me according to your word" (Luke 1:38). This is a scary proposition when dealing with the King of Kings.
Surrender calls for an acceptance that “he will complete what he appoints for me, and many such things are on his mind” (Job 23:14). It is the “many such things” that terrify me as I have not been given any say about what comes my way. But, then again, this is the very definition of surrender – to give up rights to myself and to yield to the power and plan of Christ.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
A Year Ago Today
A year ago today ...
I walked into the doctor's office for my 20-week ultrasound to find out if we were having a boy or a girl, and several hours later I walked out in a daze. What should have been a 30-minute ultrasound turned into a three-hour ordeal, so Tom left with the boys to get some lunch. When the radiologist finally came into the room, I knew that something was terribly wrong. He murmured something about short limbs and a small ribcage, and my head began to spin.
I walked to the car and told Tom that something was wrong. We were in shock. The radiologist had told me that he just needed to check on some things, but I knew better. I came home and did exactly what I was not supposed to do. I googled the only things that I knew, which included short limbs and a small ribcage, and one small word turned my world upside down: FATAL.
I sat in front of my computer and cried. I could not believe what I was reading. It felt like a dream, no a nightmare. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe he was healthy. Maybe I would wake up tomorrow and everything would be fine. Or maybe not.
Maybe God was up to something. Maybe He was setting us up for a miracle. I remember a friend of mine telling me that she was praying Isaiah 53:5 for our entire family, "But he was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his stripes we are healed." This struck me as odd. I understood why she would pray for David's healing, but why would she feel led to ask God to heal the rest of us? We were fine. Or maybe not.
About a month ago, the Holy Spirit of God reminded me of my friend and her prayer from Isaiah. It happened as I was telling a very wise woman about my painful journey with David. I sat there with tears streaming down my face, and I told her of my heartache and confusion about how God had called me out of my comfort zone to ask Him for a miracle, only to answer my prayers with a resounding, "no."
I will never forget when she looked me straight in the eye and said, "Rachael, what God is doing in your life is a miracle, if I have ever seen one. You asked Him for a miracle, and you got one. It is not the answer for which you were hoping, but it is a miracle indeed."
People have said similar things to me in the past like, "The miracle is that David is healed in heaven," and "the miracle is that you got to spend seven hours with David." These types of responses always stirred up anger in my heart as I thought to myself, "You are just making lame excuses for God. He does not need you to defend His inaction. He could have healed David, and the fact is that He chose not to do it."
But this time it was different. At that very moment, the Holy Spirit of God spoke to my heart, and I knew that what she was saying was true. Part of God's plan for my losing David was my healing, for "He has torn [me], but He will heal [me]; He has wounded [me], but He will bandage [me]" (Hosea 6:1). In that moment, I began to see that God had broken me to pieces so that He could bring me healing.
And His healing continues to unfold in my life. He is delivering me from my preconceived notions of who He is. He is delivering me from my prior definition of an abundant life. He is delivering me from my fear in order that I might live in true freedom.
And so here I am today, exactly one year later, and although this is not at all where I hoped that I would be, I know that it is exactly where God wants me to be. His plans for healing are immeasurably more than I could ever ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within me (Ephesians 3:20).
I walked into the doctor's office for my 20-week ultrasound to find out if we were having a boy or a girl, and several hours later I walked out in a daze. What should have been a 30-minute ultrasound turned into a three-hour ordeal, so Tom left with the boys to get some lunch. When the radiologist finally came into the room, I knew that something was terribly wrong. He murmured something about short limbs and a small ribcage, and my head began to spin.
I walked to the car and told Tom that something was wrong. We were in shock. The radiologist had told me that he just needed to check on some things, but I knew better. I came home and did exactly what I was not supposed to do. I googled the only things that I knew, which included short limbs and a small ribcage, and one small word turned my world upside down: FATAL.
I sat in front of my computer and cried. I could not believe what I was reading. It felt like a dream, no a nightmare. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe he was healthy. Maybe I would wake up tomorrow and everything would be fine. Or maybe not.
Maybe God was up to something. Maybe He was setting us up for a miracle. I remember a friend of mine telling me that she was praying Isaiah 53:5 for our entire family, "But he was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his stripes we are healed." This struck me as odd. I understood why she would pray for David's healing, but why would she feel led to ask God to heal the rest of us? We were fine. Or maybe not.
About a month ago, the Holy Spirit of God reminded me of my friend and her prayer from Isaiah. It happened as I was telling a very wise woman about my painful journey with David. I sat there with tears streaming down my face, and I told her of my heartache and confusion about how God had called me out of my comfort zone to ask Him for a miracle, only to answer my prayers with a resounding, "no."
I will never forget when she looked me straight in the eye and said, "Rachael, what God is doing in your life is a miracle, if I have ever seen one. You asked Him for a miracle, and you got one. It is not the answer for which you were hoping, but it is a miracle indeed."
People have said similar things to me in the past like, "The miracle is that David is healed in heaven," and "the miracle is that you got to spend seven hours with David." These types of responses always stirred up anger in my heart as I thought to myself, "You are just making lame excuses for God. He does not need you to defend His inaction. He could have healed David, and the fact is that He chose not to do it."
But this time it was different. At that very moment, the Holy Spirit of God spoke to my heart, and I knew that what she was saying was true. Part of God's plan for my losing David was my healing, for "He has torn [me], but He will heal [me]; He has wounded [me], but He will bandage [me]" (Hosea 6:1). In that moment, I began to see that God had broken me to pieces so that He could bring me healing.
And His healing continues to unfold in my life. He is delivering me from my preconceived notions of who He is. He is delivering me from my prior definition of an abundant life. He is delivering me from my fear in order that I might live in true freedom.
And so here I am today, exactly one year later, and although this is not at all where I hoped that I would be, I know that it is exactly where God wants me to be. His plans for healing are immeasurably more than I could ever ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within me (Ephesians 3:20).
Friday, September 24, 2010
A Home for Baby
As I was turning to leave, his teacher stopped me and said that she wanted to show me something. Yesterday, she had asked the children to use their imaginations to draw a picture of something that served as a home for something else. She encouraged them to be creative (i.e. a pantry is a house for food; a cow is a house for milk).
When she showed me Benjamin's picture, my eyes filled with tears. His picture was titled, "A mommy is a house for a baby." He had drawn a picture of a pregnant mommy. She was standing beneath a dark-blue sky filled with clouds. The sun was hidden behind the clouds, but there was a single beam of light piercing through the clouds, shining down on the mommy.
It was the most beautiful drawing that I have ever seen. I was simply amazed, not because of his artistic talent, but because of his incredible insight. It reminded me of a story that a friend told me a few days ago.
She told me how she felt led to drive to the top of a mountain early one morning when she was wrestling with God, but she couldn't understand why because the air was thick with fog. As she was driving up the mountain, she asked, "Why God? Why would you have me drive all this way when I can't see a thing?" When she got to the top, she got out of her car, sat down, and said, "Ok, I'm here. Now what?"
At that very moment, the sky opened, and she saw the sun shining through the clouds. And she knew - God was there. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the sun disappeared behind the clouds again. But as she looked up into the sky, she knew that the sun was still there, even though she couldn't see it.
In that moment, it was as if God said, "I am still here. You just can't see me."
And so many times, this is how the story goes. In my darkest moments, it sometimes feels as if God has disappeared altogether because I cannot see Him, and I most certainly cannot understand His plan. But truly, my God has not left me. I may not be able to see Him, but I am confident that He is still here, and His plan is still on course.
And some days, like today, I get to see a ray of light shining down upon me, and I am reminded that He has not forgotten me. My body was David's home for nine short months, but now heaven is his home, and one day we will be home together.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Trusting Today
Eight months ago, God called me to have faith to believe that nothing is impossible with Him.
And I believed.
Seven months ago, God called me to put my faith into action by going before the elders of our church to pray for David’s healing in accordance with James 5.
And I went.
Six months ago, my precious David was born into this world to live for seven sweet hours after which God took him from my arms.
And I questioned.
Why did God call me to believe Him and ask Him for the impossible when He already knew that the answer to my prayers would be “no”? How can I ever really trust Him again?
I am still questioning.
This morning, the 6-month anniversary of my sweet David’s birth, I crawled out of bed to begin another day … without David. I began praying one of the only prayers that I know how to pray these days, which is The Lord’s Prayer. I figured that it must be a good one since Jesus is the author.
When I got to the part of the prayer that says, “Give us this day our daily bread,” I started to make a mental checklist of all of the things that I thought I needed to get through the day. And then it hit me like a ton of bricks – trust was on the list.
Trusting in God is part of my daily bread.
I may not be able to say that I trust God with the rest of my life right now because I have no idea what He has in store, and I'm not sure if I'm going to like it. But, I think that I can trust Him just for today.
And maybe my trust in Him today is all that He requires.
And I believed.
Seven months ago, God called me to put my faith into action by going before the elders of our church to pray for David’s healing in accordance with James 5.
And I went.
Six months ago, my precious David was born into this world to live for seven sweet hours after which God took him from my arms.
And I questioned.
Why did God call me to believe Him and ask Him for the impossible when He already knew that the answer to my prayers would be “no”? How can I ever really trust Him again?
I am still questioning.
This morning, the 6-month anniversary of my sweet David’s birth, I crawled out of bed to begin another day … without David. I began praying one of the only prayers that I know how to pray these days, which is The Lord’s Prayer. I figured that it must be a good one since Jesus is the author.
When I got to the part of the prayer that says, “Give us this day our daily bread,” I started to make a mental checklist of all of the things that I thought I needed to get through the day. And then it hit me like a ton of bricks – trust was on the list.
Trusting in God is part of my daily bread.
I may not be able to say that I trust God with the rest of my life right now because I have no idea what He has in store, and I'm not sure if I'm going to like it. But, I think that I can trust Him just for today.
And maybe my trust in Him today is all that He requires.
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