Now what...

I'm not looking for a magic happy pill that will take away the pain. I'm just dreaming of the day when I won't suddenly, and without compulsion, burst into tears. 

As we approach the one-month anniversary of Zoe's death, I find myself equally frazzled and drained...with no distraction ever up to the task of occupying this frightening foreign land of grief. There is peril around every corner and enemy combatants lurking nearby. 

I've tried to get out of the house for lunch a few times, and mostly tried to avoid the dreaded, "How are you doing?" question. 

I was able to return to church a couple weeks ago...but sobbed through every song like, "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death...Lord, You never let go of me."  

I've started working out again...even spontaneously did a 5k/13 obstacle Mud Run...I know, I know...cry for help. Trust me...I did...no one answered. And yes, for all you smart alecks, I did injure my good ankle...happy? I learned that I could actually do this race thing without Olympic training...and that God will use a big ol' pothole to teach you some humility when you're trying to beat someone to the finish line. But would you believe that even as I was vaulting (I use that term loosely...very...loosely) over these obstacles in a single bound (just go with it...), all I could think about was how much Zoe would've loved to watch her momma do this crazy race...screaming and pointing...pointing and screaming...just to be sure everyone was seeing this old lady make a fool out of herself. So much for the distractions.

It most often looks like 1 step forward...3 steps back. Leading up to days like tomorrow when we will spend the day together as a family...doing things like parades, talent shows, kids' games, cookouts, and fireworks...it feels more like 10 steps back. 

Returning her adorable 4th of July romper to the store? There's no distraction for that. 

Leaving the cookie batter unmade? There's just no pretending. 

Yet more to the point, and weighing heaviest on my heart these last couple days, is the stories I continue to hear of other children...children that have gone unloved, unprotected, mistreated, and flat-out ignored. 

I saw on the news last week that a toddler was killed from heat stroke. A drunk father went inside his house and passed out, as his son died alone in a vehicle, strapped in his car seat.

I read an article that there is a hospital, in the province the twins came from, that is SELLING abandoned babies. The problem is...there's no way to tell if the babies were indeed abandoned...or simply taken for profit. It's all about the "business" of children. 

As I left Walmart on one of my umpteenth visits last week...already in tears, mind you...an elderly man started ranting on and on to me in the parking lot about Steamboat Days in Burlington and promptly jumped to, "...and I don't believe what they're saying...I think that mom did kill her baby! I really think so...they're gonna find evidence...she KILLED her!" All I could do was shake my head in stunned silence.

My only response beyond prayer has secretly been, "Send them here! I will care for them!!! I'm a...(say it with me now...you know what I'm going to say...) I'm a HOT MESS...but I will be their mommy! It's just not fair! It's just not right! They just need a home...they just need a family...and they're being tossed around like Raggedy Ann and Andy!" 

It feels like salt to the wound...these stories and more. When did children become our possessions rather than our treasures?!? How does a party on a Saturday night trump the life of an innocent child? Gotta say...I'm at a complete loss. What some people wouldn't give for what others toss away so carelessly! 

Stories like these have always been dreadful to hear, but I can honestly tell you, there is no such dread as to hear these stories after your own child for whom you so desperately fought to give life is torn away. No such dread. In a way that I can not adequately express, it feels like a personal offense. How dare they? 

But if I'm being fully transparent, I would admit that until Zoe was taken from us, I never fully understood the pain of those families I've offered condolences to...I've never had to cling to hope so desperately while singing at all those funerals...I've never truly grasped the value of life...not like I do now. Guess I should say...how dare I? 

How many times did I say, "I'm so sorry for your loss"...and then go about my merry way? Far too many, I can assure you...because what I usually missed was the bigger implication into which I'm beginning to sink my teeth. Not only are we grieving the loss of our sweet angel now, we are grieving her absence in every future holiday, in every school field trip, in every concert, in every graduation, in every relationship, in her wedding, in our grandchildren...that will never be. 

We are grieving a lifetime with Zoe. 

I believe that's why you never fully "get over" such a loss. There's no distraction, there's no cure, there's no replacement...there's just emptiness that can only be adequately filled with complete hope in, and love for, a Savior who's got a death grip on me...He really doesn't let go...through the calm and through the storm, in every high and every low. Guess what else? He's got big enough shoulders for all of us to lean on. He never tires of our tears. He never says it's time to move on. He gets it...more than anyone else on earth could even pretend to know how you feel...He gets it. He full-on WEPT over the death of his friend, Lazarus...even though He already KNEW He was about to say the word, and he'd be alive again! Just let that sink in a minute! He wept...sobbed bitterly...then wiped his tears, said the word, and Lazarus was alive. He knows how much this aches inside my heart right now.

I'm so grateful for a Comforter who truly understands the sting and bitterness of death yet gives me the example of continued faith and endurance in the plan of the Father. That's how I answered that dreaded question this week to a friend...I'm completely and utterly trusting in the goodness and faithfulness of God yet still feel cheated and rocked to my very core that Zoe is gone. Balancing those two...while heavily leaning toward the first...that's how I'm doing.

SO...now what? Where does that leave me...this continued heartache and newfound appreciation for life and the blessings it brings?  Well, I'd still take them all in...that, I know for sure. No one will ever replace Zoe, but each of these children have a name and a need...maybe God will choose to send them our way. I pray my heart will continue to be broken...and my arms continue to be open...for those who have no one to love them. For some reason, I'm sensing that He's not done growing this chaotic crew, but if His plan is not a matter of quantity, I'm confident that He desires to improve our quality of life...both in the Carr's and in every life we touch. I'm praying for the humility to be pliable in the hands of the One who truly does love all the children of the world.