“Be so anchored in the word of God so that if you are moved by other things (emotion, consequences [circumstances], etc…), you will only move if it is the will of God.”

Have you gone through a trial?  Maybe it’s been a series of trials.  How did you fare?  Were you struggling daily, or was there something keeping you afloat and somewhat even keeled?  When the struggles come we can all cope, but that often leads to unhealthy habits or choices we can regret.  There has to be a way to be coping, but  anchored to something, Someone, steady, strong and unshakeable.

My husband and I often write notes to or for each other.  We leave them on mirrors, glass, windows and even have a love note frame we use regularly.  Usually it’s a word of encouragement or prayer.  Often it’s some kind of “I love you,” note, or a holiday shout out.  “Happy Valentine’s Day!! I love you.”

One morning in late October or early November of last year, I woke up and went into the bathroom as usual.  Upon turning on the light, I noticed a longer note on the shower door.  (See the quote above.)  I figured that Rob had been listening to a sermon and this stood out to him.  Not an unusual thing to happen.  I mentioned to him that I saw his note and asked where it had come from.

This time, he had not been listening to a sermon, but was pondering life and this thought came to him.  He felt like it was a significant reminder and so he quickly wrote it on the shower door so that he wouldn’t forget it.  Little did I realize at that moment how God was going to use those words as a reminder to me, and to us, of His strength and power in a short time to come.  We were going to see firsthand exactly what we were anchored to.

The words ministered to my heart because I knew that in just a few months I was going to be delivering my fourth baby into the world.  Our “Baby Bear”, as we called him then, was quickly growing, but we knew that our life would be very different with this boy.  Toby had Down syndrome and a common, yet repairable, congenital heart defect.  He was going to need surgery within six months of his birth.  It seemed so appropriate that we remember God’s strength and unchanging ways when the time came as it was new parental territory for us both.

Now, Rob and I have been through A LOT!!  We went through a lot of ugly together twenty four years ago when we met, and when neither of us were walking with the Lord.  We both went through innumerable struggles and trials as we walked lives separate from one another.  God did different work in each one of us as He drew us in to Him and showed us His goodness, mercy, faithfulness and unrelenting love.  Both Rob and I have since given or hearts completely to Jesus and sought refuge in God’s word and through our prayers.

Since getting married in 2010, we have gone through new challenging territories once again.  Our trials are so different today than in times past because we have chosen to cling to, or be anchored to, God and His promises.  We have decided that they are real and true and that we want to live them out in our every day.  Up to this point, our latest testing and trials were our long journey moving to Colorado and now, awaiting our sweet baby boy.

November 20, 2017, a day that should have been like any other day in our lives, became the beginning of a storm of epic proportions that we wish we could have sailed around.  One that we will be spend our lifetime dealing with; the aftermath of the human and earthly damage as we make our way to our heavenly and eternal home someday.  There are not enough ‘shoulda’, ‘coulda’, ‘woulda’s’ that will ever make it seem right.  At least not to our human brain.  We were going to need more.

That Monday I was urgently rushed to Children’s Hospital in Aurora, CO to deliver our Baby Bear at 30-weeks gestation.  He had to be delivered by c-section because he would not have survived a typical delivery.  We were short on time and his life was now in danger.  We were told that they really didn’t expect him to live after delivery, but they would do everything they could.  They held their end of the bargain, and to everyone’s surprise, our Toby lived.

For the next seven days, we went on an unplanned emotional roller coaster as we watched him, and his medical team, fight for his little life.  We prayed, cried, laughed, imagined, hoped, dreamed and feared.  After a week of watching his tiny body take so much more than any baby should, Toby’s body was done and we watched his short life come to a quick end.  That night we kissed our sweet Benjamin Tobiah goodbye one last time, handed his 4 pound body over to his nurse and walked out of the hospital…without him.  He was gone.

Rob and I drove the long one hour journey home.  It felt like a horrible dream at the time, and as if all we had just experienced hadn’t really happened and maybe tomorrow when we woke up it would be different.  However, it was all too real, and in the morning I had all the reminders around me that our baby was in heaven and we were left here without him.

Now what?  What is next after that?  What do you do?  Where do you go?  Is there a certain number of days that you are allowed to cry before it’s too many?  And all that baby stuff?  There it sits…looking at you and longing to be used.

I went to get dressed and ready for the day and there it was.  That note was still there just as it had been before, but I had not really seen it since coming home from the hospital the night before.

“Be so anchored in the word of God so that if you are moved by other things (emotion, consequences [circumstances], etc…), you will only move if it is the will of God.”

I felt the rage of the storm.  Even in the numbness of my emotions, I felt the waves crashing all around me.  It was rocking me, pushing me, pulling at my being.  Was I holding on to anything?  Was I going to sink?  Did I care?

To cope.  (A verb)

1. To struggle or deal, especially on fairly even terms or with some degree of success.
2. To face and deal with responsibilities, problems, or difficulties, especially successfully or in a calm or adequate manner.

I don’t drink alcohol, but I know that people do, especially in times like these.  I don’t do drugs, but I can certainly understand why people would numb their pain in that way.  I do not think about suicide, but I can see why, without Christ, without hope, without being anchored in my faith in Him, I can see why someone would long to just be gone. To not have to deal as they long to be with their loved one.  The thoughts come in telling of a way to have our earthly pains ended as you search for relief in the quickest and most complete earthly sense.  If the hurting could just stop or not be felt for now, in the moment, then maybe I can get through another day.

I often find great comfort in music.  There are songs I like for quiet time and studying. There are those for exercise and mental focus.  Some are for dancing and being silly, while others are background in my typical day when I cook, clean, or spend time with my daughter at home.

On this day I found myself drawn to listen to music.  I wasn’t quite in an emotional place where I could just grab my Bible and search for soothing words or comforting answers.  I could already feel the blaring truths in the back of my mind of God having a plan, that He works all things together for good, and that I would see my sweet baby again one day in heaven.  I know all of that.  It was in God’s word and although I didn’t find comfort in them in that particular moment, I still knew the words were there and they would wait for me.  On that day, what I was able to do was turn on some music, let it play and see what would come on.  Even in times of sadness and great anguish I am drawn to music.  My soul sings and my heart worships inside my chest as the notes play and the voices ring out.

I don’t really remember what I listened to, but I know it was there.  Many of the songs shouted of the the promises of God and of His never-ending presence despite our circumstances.  The voices sang of trusting Him in times of doubt and knowing that He is with me in my storm.  I know that I made a decision that day that the prayers I prayed before Toby was born were still going to be the prayers that I prayed now that he was gone.  As a family we had prayed for joy.  For our home to be filled with the joy of the Lord.  We have prayed for God’s peace to be upon us and to be used for God’s glory.  I did not want to be moved, at least, not away from God.

Many weeks have already passed since we lost our son.  Some days are better than others. Some days I can be the me I know and others I cannot.  We are still wading through it all as we settle into a new normal.  There are days where I can think and talk about Toby and our time with him with great joy and all with smiles and fond memories.  Others days I can be caught off guard as I am reminded of him.  My eyes may fill with tears, my breath feels like it has been taken from me and I cannot speak even a word.

I clean and organize. I put things away and straighten up. There are some things of Toby’s that I can clear out and put away, and there are other things that may just be sitting in my room forever.  What I have noticed as time continues to tick away is that I am not getting lost.  I am not wavering in my beliefs and I have not been lost at sea.  I am securely anchored to Jesus.  He does not allow me to drown in my emotions even when my emotions run so very deep.  It is ok to feel.

What is your anchor?  What holds you in place when everything around you is shaking?  What is your form of coping?  What do you do during the crisis, and after when the pain is still so deep that you can’t see past it.  You have to look to something.  As a human, there must be something to cling to.  Even as time and days wear on, there is always something that we look upon.  May you be stirred to look upon Jesus and entrust your heart to His and I have done.

Even if I feel as though I am merely coping, because I am anchored to the One who is the lover of my soul, I am not drifting.  I am not getting lost and I am not wavering.  I am coping, but anchored to Jesus.

Benjamin Tobiah Crenshaw ~ November 20, 2017 – November 27, 2017.