Asa's Celebration Service Speech

First, I want to say thank you.  Thank you for being here.  Thank you for sharing your time with us.  Thank you for bringing your families.  We are honored that you would sacrifice part of your day to come and be with us.  It truly means more than we could ever express. 

I am in awe and deeply humbled by the love, support, and encouragement of our wonderful community.  There are so many people that we want to thank.  The magnitude of your outpouring is immeasurable.  I believe God gives us all a purpose and special gifts to fulfill that purpose while we are traveling on this earth.  I want you to know that your words, deeds, meals, gifts, support, encouragement, prayers….none of it goes unnoticed. We feel it all in big ways.  And we are humbled.  This is just a glimpse of what heaven looks like.  A bit of Kingdom on Earth.  Thank you for loving us. Thank you for using your gifts.

This tragedy is the ugly, broken, painful part of life.  I want to encourage us to all be praying for one another.  This pain—we are all experiencing it.  I ask that you would please lift up, not just our family, our children…but our closest friends who have been intimately walking and carrying us through this.  Pray that they would be comforted.  I also want to ask us to lift up the first responders, emt’s, paramedics, and the hospital staff.  These people see more tragedy than we can imagine and God gave them the special gift of compassion.  If you are a member of public service community, first responder, emt, paramedic, hospital staff, etc, would you please stand (even if you weren’t directly involved in our tragedy).  Can we take a moment to minister to these people?  Thank you from the deepest places of our hearts for your dedication, your passion, your compassion.  Bless you for your burden.  Thank you

I’d like to share a bit of our Asa story.  We wanted Asa.  We prayed for Asa.  We desired Asa.  So bad, that Paul joked he would have to give me an allowance for pregnancy tests.  But pretty much from the first (of ten) positive tests, he was a challenge.  He was my most uncomfortable pregnancy and we waited 42 weeks for him….42 weeks is a LOOOONG time to wait for a baby! And when he got here,  being my 4^th child, I assumed myself a seasoned mom.  This was going to be a walk in the park, a piece of cake.   But I was so wrong.  His first 6 months, he held us hostage!  He hated the car seat.  No one went anywhere alone with Asa.  We went in teams.  Trips were as short as possible.  We learned the he loved the songs: The Ants Go Marching and 10,000 Reasons….We all sang them together…and sang them so much, we even sang them in our sleep.  And he sang them before his 1^st birthday.  We joked, but not really, that it took us ALL to raise Asa.  I was told by the wise women, the sages, that he would one day be our joy.  And I remember looking at them thinking, “Lady, I might not survive today!”  But they were right.  He did.  He became all of our joy.  You sitting here—is a testament to that.  He was brilliant, charismatic, alive, tenacious.  But he was also kind, loving, and gentle.  He challenged us to become better parents, better individuals—more patient, more generous, more gracious. 

Though my heart breaks, my world is shattered, the picture I once saw of my life in 5, 10 years, what the life of my children would look like, is broken…I am still thankful.  And I still praise him.  I can stand here today and tell you that as I look back, I can see that God was preparing us, me, for this moment for a very long time. 

 

God in his infinite wisdom and glory, gave us the tools and time to be with Asa.  Right before I found out I was pregnant, Paul timidly approached me about staying home.  I say timidly because he knew how hard it would be for me.  Frankly, I looked straight at him after he said it, looked blankly at him, turned and walked away.  It wasn’t until weeks later that the spirit softened me enough for us to start that dialogue.  I gave my notice at work and the very next day, found out we were pregnant.  I left work to come home, and we were going to live off of ¼ of our income.  On paper, it was impossible…but we trusted that God would provide.  And, he did.  In his infinite wisdom and glory, God slay my pride and independence, and gave me over two years as a stay at home mom for the first time, with Asa. 

 Paul and I can look back at our parenting of Asa and say we have no regrets.  There is no room to say, I wish I would have sang one more song, or played more,  or taken more videos, or more pictures, or lost my patience less. Asa was born into our arms in peace, slept in our arms every night, woke up in our arms every morning…we truly have the joy of not saying, “But, I wish…..we would have…” And I praise God for that.

I have the honor of calling 4 women friends, and those women are unique, because not only have they  said goodbye to a baby, they’ve said goodbye to their sons.  They know this pain.  They have walked this road.  And I am blessed they call me friend.  Just last week, before tragedy hit our family, I was with one of these strong-mama friends.  Wishing them off for a trip out of town.  As she was hustling about to get on the road with all her babies, she handed me a book.  It was a book that she has ministered to me from through her own grief journey of losing a son.  I would often ask her the name of it and tell myself to grab a copy—but of course—never had.  But last week, just days before my own grief began, she handed it to me with a hug and kiss.  I breathed it in deep and my cup overfilled. 

So you see, though he may slain us to bind us up again, I will praise him.  I will thank Him that he did not allow us to come to this place of pain and brokenness alone.  That he went before us and he left love notes for us to find our way. 

We will never understand, this side of eternity, the why of all this, but one day, when our eyes look upon the lord, the lamb that was slain, that is seated at the right hand of God, all our tears will be worth it and we will be singing, it is well with my soul. 

Asa's Slideshow

Grief...where some days are hard and others are harder

Today is a hard day.

Really they are all so hard.  Just some days are harder than others.  But on the easier days, there is a slight reprieve from the pain.  The hard days feel like a constrictor is wrapped around you as tight as can be. When an easy day comes--the gripping is still there, but it has loosened up enough to get a few deeps breaths in.

But, after a day or two of reprieve, of the easi(er)--you almost feel guilty for the breaths and the hard is welcomed--the pain, the gripping..the heavy...the tears.

This morning, on my run, I felt the lies gripping me.  The evil one, hurling at me, "It's your fault.  You should have known better.  What were you thinking?  What kind of mother are you?"

At first, I wore it, I put on the heavy, I bore it willingly.  "Yes, yes, how could I have...Yes, yes, I should have...Yes, if only..."

Then, I began to pray that God would cover me in His truth.  That I would be cloaked and hidden in His Word.

God reminded me that His plan for Asa's life was created long before we ever met him. His plan is for an eternal glory.

"Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them" - Psalm 139:16

And, I will cling to this verse...

"Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, THINK ABOUT THESE THINGS." - Phil 4:8