**Those of you who follow our blog know we keep a journal of most of our travels. This time was no different except our pain so raw and our grief so fierce that I didn’t have the energy to post anything until now. But here it is- our roadtrip after losing our Skye…**
On the road: 9:58
Traffic Jam I-405- 10:20
Judah talking to himself. Ransom reading. Wesley driving. Me heading for healing. Driving from what I am leaving behind: trauma, pain, yet embracing it, feeling it, this is how I know I am alive and on this earth, because I feel this pain.
The Pain that Reminds me I am Not Home…
I let it come. And I live thru it. And I long for my true Home.
Philippians 3:10: “That I may know Him, and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death…” .
I have had this as my life verse since the first time I read it. Never meant so much to me until now, the most traumatic summer of my life.
Loss of plans.
Loss of life.
Yet He could sympathize in every single hurt and pain. He knows the loss of a Child well. He met me where I was at. Crumpled on the floor, laboring for a baby I would not meet on this earth.
Crying so much I thought there could be no more tears. But they came.
Angry. Sad. Confused.
When my 3 year old says, “I love your baby, Mom!” and kisses my stomach, and I don’t have the heart to tell him yet.
How will I tell him?
My one year old thinks if anyone has food in their hands then it must be for him too. This was discovered as he ran up to a trucker at the rest stop who had a sandwich. He was yelling, “Snacks! Snacks!”.
Ransom: “There’s no God like Jehovah! There’s no God like Jehovah! There’s no God like Jehovah!”.
I thank God for my son, who is singing some real Truth here.
Today Judah spoke his first real sentence!
“Milk! I want milk! Please!”.
Growing up too fast I tell ya.
Day 2: Leaving Missoula Montana.
9:05- We go to the free continental breakfast. A kid’s dream- fruit loops, donuts, muffins. Not stuff we ever have in our house but its free so we let them have their fill.
We see some older women going into the elevator. They seem really irritated. Ransom is jumping up and down in the elevator saying, “This feels so weird!”, really loud. Not culturally appropriate for an elevator but he’s 3. The irritated one smiled.
Another of the irritated ladies is at the front desk. She is talking rudely to the front desk girl. I have been a front desk girl so I can relate. Not fun.
We walk by and take our stuff to our car.
Three minutes later the irritated ones all walk to their car. I realize that they are all together. I ask Ransom if he would like to tell those ladies to have a great day. Nothing can make a day better than a cute little kid. He wants to. He wants me to come with him and hold his hand.
We walk 4 cars down. They were busy loading up their things so they didn’t hear him the first time. Say, “Excuse me ladies!”- I encourage him.
He clears his throat. “EXCUSE ME, LADIES!!”. He calls out.
“Excuse me, ladies!”, he exclaims. “Have a great day!!”, he says in the cheeriest voice ever.
Smiles all around.
“Thank you, young man! You have a great day too and a wonderful trip!”, smiled irritated lady number 1.
“Thank you!!”, he says with an ear to ear grin.
Don’t know where they were headed.
Or where they were coming back from…
A funeral, a wedding, a reunion…
You never know where a stranger has been or where they are going but everyone needs Light. Today you can have the privilege of being that Light to someone- that is what my son reminded me of today.
So I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine
Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger
In the presence of my Savior
Miserable mess thru Montana
Numb thru North Dakota
I just realized I had a fun day.
Singing songs. Going to Jamestown.
Seeing the biggest buffalo in the world.
And I realize that I hadn’t cried all thru North Dakota.
Then 68 miles west of Fargo, I break down again.
I am so sad to not meet my baby.
And that our baby won’t come on road trips with us,
or sing with us,
or go see Buffalos
or see cornfields,
or ask what a wind mill is,
or want to swim in the pool with us,
or ask repeatedly for fruit snacks,
I don’t know how I can possibly cry anymore,
but I am.
My throat hurts from the constant lump.
I just want my baby to be alive.
The last day of the road trip…
The leaves are changing color already, he says.
Yeah, its pretty, I reply.
The faster they change, the sooner I am out of this worst summer of my life.
The pain is raw.
Yet He is here.
Sympathizing in my pain.
He has felt this agony.
“When you go through deep waters,
I will be with you.
When you go through rivers of difficulty,
you will not drown.
When you walk through the fire of oppression,
you will not be burned up;
the flames will not consume you.”
He has said this to me,
and I have found,
in my very worst summer,
this to be true.