Missing You At Christmas - Alan Anderson

This post is dedicated to the parents, grandparents and families whose babies went to heaven before they were born.

“…O gracious and merciful Master and Lord, look down from heaven and behold the grief in my heart, the heart of a parent, as it sees its hope for life snatched away: the good and righteous life of my child through whom I had longed to praise the power, wisdom, and goodness of Your holy name” (Parent’s Prayer at the Death of a Child, Orthodox Prayer Book, new Varatic Publishing, Lake George, Fifth printing 2016, p.52).

At this time of year as I write my post for our December theme I remember parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters who said farewell to the babies who went to heaven before they were born. I always find it emotionally draining to write a post like this but I’m compelled to do it. You see, Christmas is not all joy and fun for some families.

My wife and I have six grandchildren. In addition, we have five grandchildren in heaven. I miss these five children even though I never met them. I hold them in my heart close and forever.

Over the years I have known and talked to a number of parents and grandparents who remember babies who died due to “pregnancy loss,” etc. The loss is real and memorable. It isn’t like these children are forgotten as if they were nothing. As a writer I view these brief lives as short stories, not forgotten ones. Regardless of what society may say, their lives mattered.

“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb” (Psalm 139:13). God knows these babies. Their conception did not take Him by surprise. He loved them even in the womb. There is so much I don’t know about life and death. There is so much I don’t know about God. Yet, He knows me and He knows my grandbabies in heaven. “As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the bones are formed in a mother's womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things”

(Ecclesiastes 11:5).

The website www.ontarioprenataleducation.ca/infant-loss/ notes, “Even though most pregnancies are problem-free, it is estimated that one in four pregnancies ends in loss. The risk of miscarrying in the first 20 weeks of pregnancy is between 15 percent and 20 percent. It is less common for a loss to occur later in pregnancy.” A reason I include this information in the post is to emphasize I don’t consider my five grandchildren in heaven as mere pregnancy loss statistics. Dear readers I hope they are more than that to you also.

As a Christian processing and accepting the death of five unborn grandchildren I find solace in the following part of a Parent’s Prayer at the Death of a Child. “…But as I stand before the impenetrable mysteries which You alone understand, my mind turns to the fervent prayer which Your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, offered before the holy passion, in the garden of Gethsemane, saying, Father, if it is Your will, take this cup from me! Like Him, I also bow my head before You today and cry out: Lord, let Your will be done!...” (Orthodox Prayer Book, p. 52).

It isn’t often that parents who grieve a pregnancy loss speak of their loss. This does not mean they have forgotten that the child was conceived. I know parents and grandparents who remember these children in some way. My way is to take time during the busyness of the Christmas season to remember five children I never got to meet and thank God they are with Him.

Blog: scarredjoy.wordpress.com or scarredjoy.ca

The Christmas Card by Wendy L. Macdonald

The Christmas card somehow eluded our spring-cleaning purge. My daughter handed me a gold-edged card she found tucked in with the Christmas decorations. We had recycled, sold, and given away a lot of things—including a stack of Christmas cards stashed in an old cupboard we recently sold online.

“It’s from Auntie Debbie,” she said before I had a chance to open it.

Perhaps my daughter wanted to warn me—to give me a heads up—the handwritten words inside might bring me down. I read the note, noting the blessing wished over our family for 2018.
It was the last Christmas card my dear friend would ever send me; I didn't know it at the time I received it.

Deb, a friend I’d known since the sixties, was not going to celebrate the season with the rest of us here on earth. She would worship and rejoice with Jesus in Heaven. And while her husband, children, and grandchildren opened Christmas gifts together, she would gather together with loved ones who had entered the Pearly Gates ahead of her.

My sweet friend was one of those rare people who remembered every single birthday of her friends and her friends’ children. Not a year passed by before she passed away that she didn’t send a card for each one of our special days.

I tucked the last Christmas card into the edge of my antique dresser mirror as a morning reminder for December to remember what matters most about the season. Love. Love lasts long after gifts and cards have faded from our memory. Love lifts spirits and heals wounded hearts.

My friendship with Deb had been more deliciously satisfying than a plateful of freshly baked gingerbread cookies. She always greeted me with a smile as warm and as wide as the arms she flung around me. We always laughed a lot and hid little from each other. She praised my honesty and openness by rewarding me with her own from-the-heart confessions, hopes, and prayers.

I would miss her. I already do. But tears are less now as I focus on being thankful for her friendship here and for our forever friendship in Heaven. Emmanuel has gifted us with this hope. He is with me now and has promised to bring all believers together to be with Him in Paradise.

Although Debbie was generous about sending out cards and gifts for Christmas. She practised what it’s really about: Spending time with each other rather than just spending money on each other. Deb’s last Christmas card focused on the gift of time spent together. And it reminded us to:

 “O come, let us adore Him.”

We may think we don’t have a lot to give God. But what He treasures most from us is time spent loving and enjoying Him and time spent loving and enjoying our family, friends, and neighbours as ourselves. Like Mary, the mother of Jesus, may we ponder the Good News of the Christmas Child. May we ponder God’s love for us.

That’s the best Christmas card we could ever send to Jesus.

I'm nosey-to-know if you have a keepsake Christmas card you love to display during December.

Merry Christmas ~ Wendy Mac

What if--Writing Through a Glass Dimly by Jocelyn Faire

All the what if's in the world, wishing on stars—it won't change a thing ... determination, perseverance and a twist of fate changed my life and writing.

Writing through a glass dimly ... like a fog ...

“If you want something done, ask a busy person to do it.” That used to be the way I lived my life, my most prolific sewing happened with three small children attached to my body like extra limbs. Busyness, the accepted hallmark of Christian faith—the way many of us lived and still do, life filled with those appointed good works .... and then a twist of fate ... For me it was drastic and tragic ... the accident that took two children, the nest emptied, so torn apart by grief that barely a few twigs remained of that once-happy and full family nest.

And now, I am in that place where I have the time.

And the sense of urgency has decreased.

Now the need to write, is to make sense of this world, to give Hope a voice. I ache to express the beauty, the pain, and the God behind both. Being has become more important than doing.

Having the time or money to write, is not my issue—the issue is having the resilience to carry on, to respond to be creative and willing in all aspects of life, including writing.

When I read the question for this month, I didn't know quite how to approach it.

Perhaps that right time to do the things we keep on a bucket list, is once we get to heaven, when we are not seeing through the glass dimly. And then what? What will I have to write about? The tears will be gone, I will not be needing to overcome these great obstacles ... what will John Grisham write about? Ian Rankin ... who needs murder mysteries? Or those self-help books ... or, perhaps I should write now, because in Heaven I won't need to express the twisting doubts?

This summer I lost a very dear friend, a heart issue at age 57... and the bereft family said in the initial email ... she went to her eternal rest.

One thing I know about my friend, she wouldn't want to be in eternal rest. I don't think that's what Heaven's about. I used to wonder about eternity ... if it was going to be forever anyways, I saw no rush to get there, but once I had two term deposits up there, my outlook changed. Randy Alcorn's book, Heaven paints a phenomenal picture of experience and beauty, an exciting future he believes will greet us upon arrival. And he is convinced that we get to continue on in our creativity, and work in the eternal future. (This is not a theology piece on heaven.) So will I be writing up there? Or should I finish my stories here below? And 1 Corinthians comes to mind, If I speak (write) with the tongue of men and angels, but have not love, I'm a noisy gong, a clanging cymbal.

While kayaking last week, heavy with thoughts of my friend's life, praying about the upcoming funeral, I saw the most exquisite flowers, unlike any I had ever seen before, what made them so unique? They were underwater. I have seen enough seaweed and lily pads, where the blossoms rest on top of the water, to know this was exceptional, ... I kayaked over the clear blue green mountain lake waters again, to be sure my eyes had not deceived ... yes there, through the water glass dimly, were tiny yellow and white flowers a few feet below the surface ... the water dimmed their colours, but they truly were blooming where planted.

I think I can continue to write from under the water as long as I keep my kayak aimed at the Son!

Jocelyn writes about Hope in the Hard Places on her blog.


 

Are You Coming Home? - Shirley S. Tye

When my father passed away October 11, 1994, I pleaded with God to give me a sign or somehow assure me that my father had gone to heaven. I thought he had but communication became difficult with my parents when I moved miles away and didn’t use my mother-tongue (Finnish) often. I could not express myself well enough to have a deep conversation with them and my father was a man of few words. I wasn’t sure of his relationship with Jesus.

God saw the anguish of my heart and answered me in a dream.

Shortly after the funeral, I had a dream. I walked into a large beautiful building much like the seniors’ home my father had lived in. I stopped to ask a young man who was washing the floor where my father was and he said, “Oh, he’s probably having lunch on the patio.”

I hurried down the long hallway to the cafeteria. Although it was lunch time, there were very few people. I walked out to the patio. Large flowering plants cascaded from baskets hung on the sparkling white granite walls. The patio was made of white marble and there were several white wrought iron bistro tables each with four matching chairs set far enough apart to allow for private conversation. Delicate crystal bud vases sat on the tables with pink and red roses. Surprisingly there wasn’t anyone on the patio.

Then I heard talking and laughing coming from the balcony to me right. There were people up there enjoying their lunch. I saw my father sitting at a table by the edge of the balcony. An elderly lady sat across from him. I’m not sure who she was, although in the dream I had a feeling of recognition.

My father called down to me in Finnish; “Are you coming home?”

I answered in Finnish; “Yes.”

He asked a second time in Finnish; “Are you coming home?”

Again I replied in Finnish; “Yes.”

A third time he asked in Finnish; “Are you coming home?”

The third time I answered in Finnish; “Yes, I’m coming home?”

Then I awoke. My immediate thought was that my question had been answered. But now at times I wonder if that dream actually answered my question yet I was comforted by it. I’m able to carry on without worry on the path the Lord has set before me. God comforted my soul – that’s what I really needed. Thank you, Father.

A Glimpse of Heaven -- Donna Fawcett

We're pleased to have Donna Fawcett as our Guest Blogger today on InScribe Writers Online. 



One of the greatest challenges was also one of my greatest joys.   Seven years ago my mother passed away and my faith was tested.

God allowed me to glimpse my mother in Heaven while I was in a dream. I truly believe that was a gift he had given me out of his great love for me. I held that dream close and shared it only with my husband for a few years. I just couldn't speak about it. How can one describe what we don't have here on earth?

Then God convicted me which led me to write about the experience. It was published in A Second Cup of Hot Apple Cider and has touched many hearts.

It changed me in two ways: I no longer fear death. I know what is coming and it's absolutely incredible. And I no longer care if people think I'm a crazy fanatic who thinks she saw heaven. I know what I know and God allowed it to build my faith in him.


© Donna Fawcett

www.donnafawcett.com
www.dukeandbeewrite.com

Who Let the Dogs Out? - Bryan Norford

I suspect that after the riot arrests in Vancouver this week, the cries of police brutality will again ring out from those hooligans that trashed much of downtown. While most of us seek some control over our worst instincts, it seems some delight in releasing their destructive inner urges.

Already, some are decrying the use of personal photos and videos for police investigation, although pictures of police rough treatment are probably a public’s right to know. Apparently, pleas for personal privacy laws are there to protect perpetrators caught in the act, just as thieves are protected from violence by owners protecting their property.

General thuggery and mayhem is not only the right of vandals who seek to indulge in it, but they also have a right to be protected by whatever law or expedient moral virtue they can dredge up. Criminals know better how to use the system than law-abiding citizens

Despite the vows of the authorities to catch the varmints, experience suggests it is doubtful any justice of a simple “punishment that fits the crime” variety will be meted out. The violent behaviour that dogs the world is usually subject to proximate justice if any at all.

If there is any proof of the total depravity of the human soul it is the useless attempts to exterminate it. Whatever period you wish to set for human existence, it will never be long enough to change the human heart. Only Jesus Christ can do that, and even that is an ongoing project for most of us.

Thank God there is a place of separation from all that is wrong with this world in the next.

Crossing the Border - Ramona

“What papers do you have to show us that we should let you back into Canada?”

I was so surprised at the question, I could only stare at the Customs and Immigration officer.

For twenty years I’d been traveling back and forth from Calgary to the States to visit family, and never once had anyone asked me that question. My United States passport had always allowed me to cross borders before. Now things were changing, she explained, and I should become a Canadian citizen.

In 1985 when I moved to Calgary, dual citizenship was not allowed by the U.S. Apparently, though, this was no longer the case. Never one to take someone else’s word for it, I wrote a letter to the U.S. Consulate in Calgary. He assured me that as long as I had no intention of disloyalty, I would retain my American citizenship if I became Canadian.

The scriptures mention spiritual citizens: all who trust in the payment for our sins by the innocent son of God have a heavenly citizenship. It is a good exercise for me to think about issues of nationality from both political and spiritual perspectives:

• The personalized letter from the U.S. Consulate mentioned loyalty. Whose laws do I obey, and of what kingdom am I a servant? I can be governed by my family’s and friends’ moral philosophies or the teachings of the “experts”. But I do well to daily remind myself of the timeless, reliable principles of my spiritual country as found in the Bible, which include daily personalized communication with the king.

• More than a year before the citizenship exam I was given a study booklet, but it sat unopened until a month before the test. My Bible is a study guide for living my life, and I would be better off to learn from it consistently, rather than only reach for it during a crisis.

• Part of the application process for citizenship involves having a guarantor who has known me for many years, who will testify that what I wrote was true and my photo is actually me. I wonder, when I am standing before him, if God will ask the people I know to vouch for me, and guarantee that I am the kind of person I claimed to be, and that I lived the faith I wrote about.

• What “passport” will I present to enter my spiritual country? Teaching Sunday school, leading Bible studies and serving food to the homeless will not be enough, and I’ll be asked about my birth. I’ll explain that I was physically born in Colorado, but fifteen years later, I was spiritually born at a Campus Life meeting as I prayed a prayer of faith in Jesus, and by that I was adopted into God’s family.

In January 2008, I became a Canadian citizen (and just got my passport a week ago!). So maybe I can say that I am not just a dual-citizen, but a triple-citizen!

Posted by Ramona Heikel

Happilywriting.com

Saying Goodbye by Ruth L. Snyder

"Goodbye" is a word I have come to dislike. As a child I heard the word often - goodbye to my grandparents and other relatives as my family left for Africa, goodbye to a home I had come to love as my family moved on to new mission assignments, goodbye to my parents when I attended school 500 miles away. In the past several weeks I have had to say goodbye to two very special ladies.

Louise moved to our community several years ago. When she and her husband arrived, she only knew a handful of people. They moved to our small rural community from the Vancouver area. Louise could have mourned what she left behind. Instead, she started building relationships and slowly became a welcomed addition to our community. Louise was comfortable interacting with children, teens, singles, young moms, couples, and the elderly. She seemed to have a sixth sense that honed in on those who needed a word of encouragement, a hug, or prayer.When you had a conversation with Louise, you always felt special. A few weeks ago Louise laid down for a nap, and woke up in Heaven.

I met Jan about 16 years ago when she and her family moved into a local community so her husband could pastor the local church. Our lives intersected occasionally, but I didn't really get to know her until Jan offered to do crafts with my daughter while I taught her children how to play the piano. I began to look forward to our weekly time together and came to appreciate Jan's sense of humor, her creativity, and her godliness. Several years later, during one of our weekly lessons, Jan shared that she had gone for a biopsy and was waiting for results. She was fairly certain she had breast cancer. Jan was right. She endured surgery, chemo, and radiation, while maintaining a wonderfully positive outlook, and eventually life returned to a new normal. Until a few months ago. The cancer returned with a vengeance and escorted her into the presence of Jesus.

I Corinthians 15:55-58 states that God takes away the sting of death through Jesus Christ. I Thessalonians 4:13-18 reminds me that I grieve differently than those who have no hope. The passage goes on to explain that one day I will again see "those who have fallen asleep in Jesus."  So, although I grieve right now, I have hope. This goodbye is only temporary - it's more like a "See you later!" 

Check out Ruth's blog on educational matters at www.trusteesnyder.blogspot.com