My Dilemma (Opportunity?)

“Is this one your first?”

They all want to know,

All the curious admirers 

This question throw

"Yes, she is my first";

But no, she is not;

"I’ve also a boy...

But she’s all that I’ve got."

Oh what is most truthful??

My heart pleads inside

I want to explain, 

But as well want to hide.

I don’t want the blushes,

The awkward trite words

So should I just smile

And say, “yes it’s my first”?

It’s my first to be waking

Through nighttime to feed

But the second to have milk

And a baby to need.

It’s the first time to see

My child smiling at me

But oh, how I still miss

My son’s boyish glee.

She’s the first I hug daily

And kiss on the nose

But one day I did hug him, 

Kissed, and fingered his toes.

It’s the first I am cheering

At each development

But no, I’d cheered for his

Though I hadn’t seen him yet.

So what should I answer?

What’s most true to my heart?

The most truthful? least awkward?

Choosing which, is an art.

She’s the one for my arms now

The other, God has

Takes time to explain 

But I’m glad that you asked.

She’s the only one with me,

But it’s two I’ve been giv’n-

She’s the one you can see,

And my Boy - lives in Heav’n!

Written Nov 30, 2017

I am finding a way to answer that oft-asked question, a way that shows my anticipation for heaven and my love for Seth. It has opened up many good conversations with people. When you are willing to be vulnerable and aren’t awkward about it, other people know it’s OK to share their vulnerabilities as well. God is helping me turn this question that I don’t like a whole lot into an opportunity for meaningful connections with people I never would’ve connected with if it weren’t for my children. Thank You Lord.

What is a question you don't enjoy answering? Perhaps God would like to give you a way to answer that will turn it into an opportunity instead of a dreaded scenario.

Receive and Release

The benevolence of the evening sun gifts my humble living room with gold as the afternoon prepares to draw its curtains for the night. A delicate string of tissue paper garlands receive some gold for their own as they hang effortlessly, elegantly across the corner.

Eyes on the golden-lighted pompoms, I find my mind wandering to the day when I put them there. They had been strung up for a birthday party, those pompoms had been. A party to celebrate a little boy...who wasn’t there. My eyes deliberate on the baby footprints framed on the wall.

It has been exactly 18 months, and still, never a day goes by that I don’t think of my baby boy. Eighteen months since I kissed him goodbye, and yet it feels as though he still lives on in my heart. One of my friends expressed her surprise when I happened to tell her I think of Seth so continually. She had thought the loss was past, the child largely forgotten. But no...

How could I forget?

Like the sunshine sharing its glory this evening, my small child shared some of his God-given glory with me, and I received it. It became a part of me as much as he had been once a part of me. And even now, they say, some of his little body’s cells inhabit my body. I can’t explain how the bond went so deep, but we shared a lot together in those short months... Scientists tell us moms that maybe the feeling of our children being a sort of inseparable part of us isn’t that far from reality:

“In pregnancy, women are shape-shifters, their bellies waxing like the moon. After delivery, they hold another kind of magic: microchimerism, a condition in which women harbor cells that originated in their children even decades after birth...These fetal cells migrate all over a mother’s body, becoming part of the heart, the brain, and blood—and fascinating scientist and artists alike.” (Source: The Atlantic. Also see this.)

The wonder of those words hasn't left me since I first read them. Strung as I am between my birth and eternity, there are things I will always wonder over. How could cells from my baby continue to live on within me? How can my children claim such a big part in my heart? “How can someone so small hold my heart so tightly?”

The tiny life of Seth Malakai Rudolph inhabited my body, a creation only perhaps a dozen people got to see, yet I received that God-given-glory deeply. 

The delicate pompoms have now surrendered their gold into the hands of the quiet evening, and I too choose to release myself to my Creator. My questions, my ache, my wondering heart. To release my son, yet again. I am awed at the beauty of my God’s imagination. His interesting ways. His unique gifts. I delight to have had the chance to be mother to that little person. By God’s strength through grace I am free to receive and release.

Pop Me A Quiz, Please

As a girl, I was enthralled by the word "pop", as well as any of its derivatives. Popsicles? How I loved to slurp the cold, sweetness of a homemade juice popsicle on a hot day. Or pretty much any kind of a day. Popcorn? If we didn't make it once a week I missed its crunchy saltiness enough to make it for a snack whenever my mom would allow. Even if it wasn't 6pm on Sunday. Lollipops?! The fact that grownups didn't seem to enjoy them never bothered me a lick! (Pun intended) Lollipops appeared on my drawings and childish journal entries as little icons of happiness. Favorite flower? The very name, "poppy" sounded jolly and the orange petals whose colors popped so flamboyantly ranked up there in my favorites to be sure. "Popping in" on a friend always sounded like such a mesmerizing thing to do. And yes, there was even a darling old Little Tot book at my Great Grandpa's that captured my heart from the start. The title was "Soda Pop"!

So perhaps it was my childhood delight in everything "pop"-ish that caused the words "Pop Quiz" to dance off the page and into my imagination in the book for mommies that I was reading today. Unlike the kind of pop that deflates a balloon, this sort of "pop" put helium in mine!

I really did need a boost as I sat not completely unlike a zombie (or a grouch) in bed in a tangle of sheets, spit up drying on my arms and my darling infant finally half asleep beside me. As I turned to find my place in the book, "Pop Quiz, hot shot" caught my eye. Intrigued, I read on:

A. My difficulties are literally Thanksgiving burdens. 

They spring from bounty and abundance and point to blessing in every respect.

B. My difficulties require difficult, costly sacrifices

C. I have a choice to make. I can fight with bitterness against these sacrifices,

or I can surrender to them.

Folks, that little "pop quiz" had the amazing ability to change my perspective on everything. I found myself agreeing with the mommy-author that my answer is "D"; all of the above. And if that's true, in reality all is well, and will be well. The difficulties we face are not too big. They are evidences of great, grand blessings! Kind of like the mountain of little white newborn-sized diaper packages containing baby messes beside the bed which are a sign of many good meals slurped down by my infant, a sign of the gift of what is becoming successful breastfeeding. A sign of a tummy that got filled; of a happy, growing little baby. The wakeful nights are a symbol of my dream come true, a little baby of my own to take care of. My lack of clothes that fit, along with the tummy flab to match, are a reminder of the beauty of a little life my body harbored as God did a new work of creation. The doctor bill is a reminder that none of my husband's scary looking moles are dangerous and needing to be removed.  The inconvenience of taking care of a case of thrush means that there actually is a solution. The heap of dirty dishes crusting in the sink is a reminder that we have had plenty to eat!

Since "D" is true, the difficulties I feel twining around me are an opportunity to surrender and let go of "me" to become free! They're a chance to embrace what's hard with a smile of gratefulness, which catalyzes a wonderfully intriguing metamorphosis. The things I choose to embrace and welcome become transformed into wings, giving this "caterpillar" a chance to FLY.....

So, next time my attitude is turning as disgusting as warm soda without its "pop",  Pass Me A Pop Quiz Please. (I'm 100% sure my husband will be cheering you on!) ;)

This was written several weeks ago by now. I'm still doing the Pop Quizzes and finding delight in popping free of my "chrysalis" to fly!

Missing Out

We see brave soldiers fighting,

The Devil’s ranks to rout

They’re conquering in Christ’s Kingdom:

Do we sit…missing out?

We play along the sidelines

Sometimes the war to scout

We clap and cheer the soldiers here,

But…are we missing out?!

“Come, join the Ranks!” they call us,

With tears and heart devout.

But while they keep on fighting,

They know we’re missing out!

Oh, what will keep us back, friends?

Is it a fear, a doubt?

Oh, yield to God, no need to wait;

Say, “Hey! I’m missing out!”

Forget the things that matter less;

Let go, and do without

It’s better far to’ve followed Christ

Than find that you’ve missed out!

An easy life, ‘twill never be:

That’s not what war’s about!

But put your might into the fight:

You won’t be missing out.

Yes, missing out—on fleeting fun;

But once we’ve fought, we’ll shout:

“We’ve got the victory: Hurrah!

And we’re NOT MISSING OUT!”

When heav’n becomes our dwelling place

GONE will be every doubt.

We’ll stand in joy with our rewards:

May none be Missing Out!

Written four years ago on October 1st, 2013