...and it may take me a bit to steady myself to praise God...but I get there. I'm not a religious person and the longer I live life, the less I want to hear men's version of what is spiritual and holy, only because I don't want to feel the restriction of how to be close to my Creator. Someone so vast, so amazing - does not need to have rules on how to love or be loved. I curse. I like vodka AND wine. I love to shake my booty to Pink!, Snoop Dogg and Eminem. Jesus loves me the way I am. I love to worship HIM. I love to appreciate the creativity of His own creation. I love to worship God. When I am broken and have busted through my home with my whole body, eyes closed, dancing like a flame across an open prairie, envisioning all His color and glory - HE ALWAYS delivers! He brings peace, brilliance, clarity, vision. I am reminded of the stories of the Israelites, in the Old Testament, heading out to battle. What did their enemies hear, which caused them to fear and tremble? The pageantry, the instruments and the voices of those psyched out of their minds to lift up the name of their God and to watch Him orchestrate a victory.
September 20, 2010 - it's personal, it's intimate, it's the night our dead son was taken from my womb. It's still raw. There are so many things I don't understand about our loss. What do I keep reliving? I keep reliving the moments, without my husband, in an operating room. Bright lights and it seemed like 15 staff surrounding me, preparing to remove Levi Matthew from my body, polluted with infection. They were saving my life, while all I wanted to do was save my son's life. To no avail....he'd been gone for hours. I lay there, as vulnerable and exposed and out of control as anyone can imagine. I tried to crack a joke, it's what I do when I hurt the most - to cover the unbearable pain, in my soul. Unfortunately, it usually works and I get the laughs and feel "safe and undetected". Not this time. Every staff's eyes met mine. Tools were put down. At least six sets of hands were laid on my body, wherever they could reach and rested while a wave of "I'm so sorry Beth." whispered across the room. I started sobbing, like nothing I have ever felt - ever. I lifted up my eyes, exhaled and started singing, "How Great Thou Art". I could feel HIM. My Creator. My Source. My Strength. My receptacle to all that is truly real. I am not a robot. God is real and his presence and peace are for all of us to soak, drink and reside in. His arms know no bounds. "I will praise Him in this storm." The waves have long since subsided, and we are still rummaging through the rubble. The echo I hear is "There is so much more!" As my husband and I walk along the path of death and grief, God's light never fades.. He continues to bless us through the most unexpected avenues. God -I love you. You picked me long before I ever picked You! I praise you for the beauty of the pain, in this life. I praise you for giving us the gift of Levi. We are grateful and as a mama, I trust, in your care, he doesn't need to know how much I ache for him and love him. But Father, would you please tell him anyway?
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