Photos

                First born son
           David Jonathan Young.
          Beloved gift of God.
          How we love you
          And you are God’s gift to the world.
          The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.
           Blessed be the name of the Lord.


          Goodbye
     Never easy.
     How we miss you.
     But you have gone to a better place.
      There’s an empty place at all family celebrations.
     And I am left with albums full of photos and memories.
This is what the Lord says.  “Forget the former things, do not dwell on the past.   See – I am doing a new thing!   Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?   I am making a way in the desert and streams on the wasteland.”


      New  Mother
     You didn’t know how hard it would be.
     When you saw that first scan, felt that  first bubble of life, gazed at miniature baby clothes, you didn’t know.
    All your dreams for your child, 9 months of bonding, of loving, of anticipation.

You didn’t know you’d have to kneel at his graveside having had only had half a day to show your love to him, to touch him, to know him.   You didn’t know you’d be called on to watch him die.   You didn’t know what motherhood would demand of you.
But you have a mother’s heart and only the strength of God will get you through.



                                   First born son
                 Zachary Samuel Young
              How you love him.
            His little life was God’s gift to the world.
            The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.
            Blessed be the name of the Lord.


Goodbye
     Never easy.
     How you miss him.
     But he has gone to a better place.
      There’s an empty place in your lives
    And you are left with only  videos, photos and memories.

            New Daddy
  You didn’t expect the hard demands of fatherhood.    The hardest things you’ve ever had to do.
“I can do all things through him who gives me strength”

But you took the challenge and  turned a funeral into  a celebration because you know that your son is with the Lord and you will see him again.   You know that his life counted and that it was not all in vain and this is not the end.
“Be still my soul; thy God doth undertake                                                              to guide the future as he has the past.                                                                Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;                                                           All now mysterious shall be bright at last.”



    Balloons and paper planes.
    Symbols of life and celebration.    How dichotomous is our experience.   We can only trust the Lord of Life and Death.

Grieving what might have been

Yesterday I thought I was fine. I could do life. I don't think I cried once. I looked at Zach's picture on my dressing table and David's photo holding him on my cell phone. I thought I had come to acceptance. I vacillated between pride (wow, look how well I'm coping) and guilt (surely I can't have got over the death of my grandson in just a week).

Today I woke up with a headache. I didn't want to get out of bed. I felt like a child saying "I don't fwant to get up, I don't want to go to school, I don't want..."
Not a very mature attitude. Of course the adult response is "well you can't always get what you want."

So I dragged myself up, slowly. I forced myself to have a quiet time. My eye fell on a book in my bookcase called "For all seasons". Remembering that quote from Ephesians, "There's a time for every purpose under heaven," I thought it might give me some isights about birth and death that might help me. I looked under "a time to be born and a time to die". It turned out to be a book of poems. The one I read was about a 16 year old girl who fell pregnant. The father wasn't prepared/wasn't in a position to marry her or provide anything for his child. So she had the baby adopted. She had to give away the one person she loved most in the world. The poem had the refrain "What might have been".

I have been crying ever since. I can't even list all the "What might have been"'s with regard to Zachary or even the "What should have been"'s. I would only cry all the more. Today I am grieving the "What Might Have Been"'s.

I know there are 5 accepted stages of grief: Denial, Bargaining, Anger, Depression and Acceptance.

I've been through Denial. I was holding out for a miracle. I didn't try bargaining. It didn't occur to me. I knew God was in control and that He could perform a miracle but that He doesn't hand them out very often and my prayer was merely a request. The yes or no was up to Him.

I don't think I've done the anger. I am not very good at anger. Who is there to be angry with after all. Only God. And how can I, a mere mortal be angry at God? Disappointed yes. Betrayed yes. What about all those promises? 'Ask whatever you wish in my name and it will be done for you', etc. Lord, are you just like a politician telling the people what they want to hear and then not keeping your promises? Or did I not understand? How can I trust other promises?

Yesterday I thought I had reached the acceptance stage. Today I realize I am in the depression stage. It is hard to interact with people. I met somebody from our church on the way to gym. He asked how I was and I told him and cried all the way to the change room. After my session on the treadmill and washing my face, (It's OK to have a red face after your workout but tears are unusual), I met somebody who left our school to go and work in Port Elizabeth about a year ago. She asked how I was and I lied. Now I know why people reply by rote, "fine thank you." It's much easier emotionally. Most people are probably not fine either. They just have to put on the face.

My verse for today is from Psalm 30. "You turned my wailing into dancing and removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy." Certainly not true at the moment. perhaps in the future.

Thank You

It’s awesome how kind people can be.   It just takes a tragedy to make one realise it.   We have been inundated with messages of support, condolences, prayers from wonderful people – some of whom I know only slightly.   The Biology department gave me a bunch of flowers and a beautiful statuette of an angel sitting next to an orb holding a candle.   I will treasure it and always remember Zachary when I see it. possibly light it every year on his birthday.

I got flowers from the Moll family and a beautiful golden potted rose from Lesley, my best friend.   She said pink was too girlish, white was too bland, red was more romantic love so yellow was golden and therefore something precious.   It will come with us to our new house and will also remind me of Zachary.

I got phone calls from the church, the prayer chain, one of the pastors.   Thank you to everybody who has supported us by messages, SMS’s, phone calls, gifts.   You might think they were insignificant and that nothing you can say can really help us but really it is just the accumulated love and support that is getting us through.

  Going to church this morning was a challenge.   I took tissues with me.   Couldn’t sing the first song.   It’s amazing how worship brings tears to the surface.

One of the ladies from the prayer team, Denise Law, who is very close to the Lord, said she had been praying a lot for Zach when she first got the message.   When she heard that he had died she questioned the Lord.   The answer she got was Zach’s little life would make a difference for the Kingdom.   It is David’s future, not his past.   Not quite sure how to interpret that but I know the Lord knows and I trust him even when I don’t understand.

The closing hymn was God’s word for me today.

"Be Still, My Soul"
by Catharina von Schlegel, 1697-?
Translated by Jane Borthwick, 1813-1897

1. Be still, my soul; the Lord is on thy side;
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul; thy best, thy heavenly, Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

2. Be still, my soul; thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence, let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul; the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.

3. Be still, my soul, though dearest friends depart
And all is darkened in the vale of tears;
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrows and thy fears.
Be still, my soul; thy Jesus can repay
From His own fulness all He takes away.

4. Be still, my soul; the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul; when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

Hymn #651
The Lutheran Hymnal
Text: Psalm 46:10

Be Strong

“You then, my son, be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus.”   The verse I got in my quiet time today from 2 Tim 2:1.

What does it mean to be strong?   I am reminded of that section in Joshua where the Lord tells Joshua to be strong and courageous 4 times.    (Josh 1)

Does it mean don’t cry at the funeral?   Don’t cry when people are kind and loving to you?   I don’t think so.   Jesus wept and He is the strongest man I know.

I think that being strong is set in the context of battle.   You either face the enemy or you run away.   There are many ways to run away.   Some people try drugs or alcohol because they can’t face the pain.   Some immerse themselves in something else to keep so busy that they keep pushing it to the outside.   But the brave thing to do, is to face the pain, recognise it, embrace it, go through it.

Who is the enemy in this battle?   It is the father of lies and his greatest weapons are lies.   Lies like:

“see, God doesn’t love you, look what he did to you” 

or “It is all you fault.   If only…”

or even “God is punishing you because you are not good enough.”

There are many lies in his arsenal.   Being strong is being able to discern the lies and to resist them.   To stay close to Jesus and to trust Him no matter what.  To use the word of God which is the truth against the lies.

Don’t try to do it on your own.   There are people all around willing and able to help you.   Counsellors, pastors, friends, doctors, professionals, even strangers if God chooses to use them.

And whatever you do, don’t go into battle without your armour.   (Eph 6)

Being strong is also being able to resist the temptation of looking inward.   When you are in pain it is easy to shut out the rest of the world and focus only on your own pain.   There are other people out there, many of them also in pain, many of them needing you to be strong for them.

Being strong is being able to cling tenaciously to Christ, the author and finisher of our faith.   Trust Him.   Stand on His promises.

…and the peace of God which passes all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.  (Phil 4:&)

I hope that I will be able to do this, to resist the lies, to look outwards and to cling to Christ.   “I can do all things through him who strengthens me.”

Broken

This morning I picked up my porcelain doll from the chair where she sits and, with a clinking sound, the top of her head came off in 8 or 9 fragments. She had looked fine. Nobody could have carefully arranged the pieces to stay together so I must conclude she did not drop on the floor. Perhaps something fell on her head or she was hit by an idle broom or something.
I love that doll. I made her myself about 10 years ago. She is the size of a newborn baby and she's got a soft body which is very cuddleable.
I am hoping that with a bit of strong glue and a lot of patience I will be able to mend her and perhaps hide the cracks under her wig.

Aren't we all like that? We are broken. Circumstances which were beyond our control have worked together to break us in some way or other. Sometimes we can hide the cracks and we pretend we are whole but sometimes it is beyond hiding. We are surrounded by other broken people, all hiding their cracks and pretending till we think we are the only broken one.

It brings to mind a strange dream I had last night. I dreamt I had a baby boy who had fairly big ears. He also had the capacity to open his ears and one could see the earhole opening wider. His father didn't like his big ears and flicked him painfully around each ear and told him to stop opening his ears. Such a look of pain crossed that baby's face that it still brings tears to the back of my eyes. Then slowly and painfully he started retracting his ears into his head until there were no signs of an ear at all. I knew that he would never hear again for the rest of his life and he was only 6 months old. That was a broken baby.

They say that we are all the characters in our dreams. What does that say about me? Broken I know about but deaf?