Dear Chris Tomlin,
I know it's highly unlikely that you'll ever actually read this, but there are some things on my mind (inspired by music you wrote), and I felt like writing a 'letter' to you might be the best way to communicate them.
I have such an appreciation for your music. There are lots of great musicians and song writers in the world, but their music doesn't always lead me to worship my Savior. Your songs do. You write songs that people not only like and enjoy - they worship with your songs. I think I remember hearing you say something at a Thirsty conference years ago - that when you were younger, someone prayed that God would make you a psalmist for our generation. I believe He has. :-)
So... why am I writing to you??
I should tell you first that a little over six months ago, my husband and I learned that our unborn daughter had a genetic disorder, and that she would probably not live long after she was born. We spent the last three months of my pregnancy grieving the 'anticipated' death of our little girl, but hoping that our doctors were wrong, that God would heal her little body, and that she would live.
Our daughter, Elliana, was born on October 5. She only lived a few short hours.
I don't understand. I mean, I know 'bad things' happen. We live in a fallen world. Sickness and death are part of the curse. But I also know God is sovereign. Why would He create my daughter with a fatal disorder? I'm angry. Confused. Numb. Wanting to throw shoes at people. And angry some more. Thinking I may just ignore God and never speak to Him again.
But I, this mom who wants to ignore God, went to Target the other day and bought your new CD, Burning Lights. Why? I have no idea. And THEN... I listened to it. I'm probably not going to explain this well - I'm still ignoring God, but I can hear the Gospel in your music. I can't hear it well on Sunday mornings at church (mostly because I just have a crummy attitude and don't want to hear it), and I can't hear it on k-love (because I don't really give a rip about 'positive and encouraging' right now). But I heard it on your CD.
This might sound completely backwards and make no sense AT ALL, but it feels easier for my heart to remain stone-cold and resistant to the Gospel. I think I know what will happen if my heart softens: repentance. Returning to my Father. But in doing that, I fear acknowledging that His ways are higher than mine. And that even though I don't understand it, His ways are better than mine. I'm not there. I can't admit that. I can't say that His plan to give me a little girl to carry for 31 weeks and 5 days and then hold for the few hours her heart was beating was 'better' than getting to enjoy a lifetime with her.
I should also tell you that music is a language for me. It speaks to me in a way that nothing else can. And I can communicate my grief and love for my daughter when I play the piano.
All that said, your songs can reach the parts of my heart that I've been guarding. And even though the wall of anger is still there, you've reminded me that He is still there. Even in my anger. I may not want Him there, I may not acknowledge that He's there... but He is. And to some degree, in a way that makes no sense even to me, that *helps* me.
I struggle to believe the truths of the Gospel, but hearing you play and sing so passionately and worshipfully made me want to play and sing. With more passion than I've ever had before. For a brief moment, I saw myself leading others in worship - others who are hurting. Not sure how, or when, or even if that will ever happen, but just knowing that the desire is there made me think that maybe I won't be stuck in this black hole of grief forever.
I read on facebook that you were going to be in Connecticut, leading grieving families in worship. Oh, how I wish I could have been there. You worship well. And that leads others, I think even people who are hurting deeply, to worship well.
Thanks.
And hey - one day, years from now, if you lead worship in Heaven, can I play the piano with you? :-)
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Sunday, January 13, 2013
The New Blog Look
Months ago, I asked my mom and sisters for some help thinking of a new name for my blog. It was titled 'The Lindegren Family', but since my blog is more of a journal about Elliana and not really about the whole family, I wanted the title to reflect that.
I got several title suggestions, especially from my sister, Ashley. I had no idea she could brainstorm like that. :-) Her suggestions for a blog title ranged in emotion from really serious (like 'Loving Elliana' and 'God's Answer: Elliana') to crack-me-up hilarious (like 'Naked in Front of a Crowd'). Thanks, Ashley, for inspiring my title and description. You know my heart well.
And I finally updated the family pic. My friend, Beth, who lost her own sweet little boy this past May, took the new family photo I posted. Beth is a professional photographer. An extraordinary photographer. She came over to our house when I was 30 weeks pregnant to take some family and maternity pictures. I'm SO thankful that she felt a sense of urgency to go ahead and do those pictures at 30 weeks. I was hospitalized at 31 weeks, and Elliana was born 5 short days later. All of the pictures I've posted (minus maybe 2 or 3 - and it's pretty obvious those are self-portraits. (-: ) - family pictures and pictures of Elliana - have been Beth's masterpieces. And the pictures of Elliana during the few hours she lived communicate everything we felt. There are probably close to 100 pictures, and they tell the story of the night she was born and the morning she died. Those pictures capture both our love and grief for our beautiful girl. Thank you, Beth.
Why has it taken me months to put up the new picture and re-title the blog? I have no idea. If I thought about it or wrote about it long enough, I'd probably figure it out. Not tonight - maybe another night.
I got several title suggestions, especially from my sister, Ashley. I had no idea she could brainstorm like that. :-) Her suggestions for a blog title ranged in emotion from really serious (like 'Loving Elliana' and 'God's Answer: Elliana') to crack-me-up hilarious (like 'Naked in Front of a Crowd'). Thanks, Ashley, for inspiring my title and description. You know my heart well.
And I finally updated the family pic. My friend, Beth, who lost her own sweet little boy this past May, took the new family photo I posted. Beth is a professional photographer. An extraordinary photographer. She came over to our house when I was 30 weeks pregnant to take some family and maternity pictures. I'm SO thankful that she felt a sense of urgency to go ahead and do those pictures at 30 weeks. I was hospitalized at 31 weeks, and Elliana was born 5 short days later. All of the pictures I've posted (minus maybe 2 or 3 - and it's pretty obvious those are self-portraits. (-: ) - family pictures and pictures of Elliana - have been Beth's masterpieces. And the pictures of Elliana during the few hours she lived communicate everything we felt. There are probably close to 100 pictures, and they tell the story of the night she was born and the morning she died. Those pictures capture both our love and grief for our beautiful girl. Thank you, Beth.
Why has it taken me months to put up the new picture and re-title the blog? I have no idea. If I thought about it or wrote about it long enough, I'd probably figure it out. Not tonight - maybe another night.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
How Many
One of the most difficult questions for me to answer right now is, 'How many children do you have?'
The other is, 'How are you?'
The answers to both are complicated.
How am I? I'm alive and breathing, taking care of my kids, fixing dinner at night, doing laundry, attempting to teach piano lessons, laughing at times, crying at times. But everything takes so much energy - getting the kids ready to go somewhere, getting myself ready to go somewhere, making a grocery list, conversation - all of it is just so draining.
And then there are times I get this urge to just be in the kitchen and create, so I bake. A lot. Things I don't even really like. Like hot cross buns. Yes. Hot cross buns. They weren't nearly as good as I hoped they'd be. I think I was hoping they'd be some incredible variation on cinnamon rolls, but they weren't nearly cinnamony or gooey enough.
I do weird things, like completely redecorate my living room walls. I'm in the process of putting up a gazillion pictures of my family, which will probably make people who walk through my front door a little uncomfortable. One corner of the room is finished - it's the first corner you see when you walk through my door. Now that I've realized the first picture people will see is the canvas close-up of my belly with all the kids' hands on it, I sort of wonder if maybe I should have thought that through a little better. I have no idea what people will think when they see it, but I really don't care. :-) I like it.
The other question... How many children do I have?
That one's even harder to answer.
Up until recently, I have stumbled through the answer, 'I have four children.' Because saying 'five' would probably bring me to tears, and the person asking about my kids has just met me. It's not likely they're prepared for a torrent of tears from a stranger.
But this past week, I answered the question differently. To my new dental hygienist, of all people. Poor woman.
The last time I went to the dentist was almost a year ago. They found a couple cavities, I set up a return appointment for mid-July, and then... Elliana. July 3 happened. I had to cancel the appointment because I knew I'd just sit in my dentist's chair and cry through the fillings.
I finally went back this week for a cleaning. I didn't want to go - partly because... well, who WANTS to go the dentist anyway? And I knew the dentist would fuss at me for not having the cavities filled. But he had no idea why I didn't keep that appointment to have the cavities filled.
Reminders of Elliana are everywhere - even at the dentist's office.
So I was pretty uncomfortable being there, and the hygienist picked up on that. She asked me if I was ok (also a difficult question to answer - because no, I'm not ok). I told her I was ok. She gently pushed a little more and asked if I just had some dental fears. I said no, it wasn't dental fears.
Then, as she was about to put that mini pirate's hook in my mouth, she started making small talk. Her first question to me: Do you have children? Me: Yes, I do. Hygienist: How many?
*big sigh*
Since she already knew I was not really ok, I decided to just go ahead and say it.
'I have five children, but one of my daughters died a few months ago.'
There. I did it. I said it.
The sweet hygienist responded really well, said she was so sorry, and asked what happened. It surprised me that I felt better about briefly telling her what happened than I would have felt about saying I have four children rather than five.
And then I apologized - I knew that by telling her, I had put her in an awkward position. I mean, how do you keep making small talk with someone like me after I drop that bomb on you?
But even though I know it made her a little uncomfortable, I'm glad I was honest with her. Because now, someone in that office knows. And for some reason, that helps me.
I even wish I'd gone a step further and asked her if she'd like to see a picture - because I have several in my purse. :-)
The other is, 'How are you?'
The answers to both are complicated.
How am I? I'm alive and breathing, taking care of my kids, fixing dinner at night, doing laundry, attempting to teach piano lessons, laughing at times, crying at times. But everything takes so much energy - getting the kids ready to go somewhere, getting myself ready to go somewhere, making a grocery list, conversation - all of it is just so draining.
And then there are times I get this urge to just be in the kitchen and create, so I bake. A lot. Things I don't even really like. Like hot cross buns. Yes. Hot cross buns. They weren't nearly as good as I hoped they'd be. I think I was hoping they'd be some incredible variation on cinnamon rolls, but they weren't nearly cinnamony or gooey enough.
I do weird things, like completely redecorate my living room walls. I'm in the process of putting up a gazillion pictures of my family, which will probably make people who walk through my front door a little uncomfortable. One corner of the room is finished - it's the first corner you see when you walk through my door. Now that I've realized the first picture people will see is the canvas close-up of my belly with all the kids' hands on it, I sort of wonder if maybe I should have thought that through a little better. I have no idea what people will think when they see it, but I really don't care. :-) I like it.
The other question... How many children do I have?
That one's even harder to answer.
Up until recently, I have stumbled through the answer, 'I have four children.' Because saying 'five' would probably bring me to tears, and the person asking about my kids has just met me. It's not likely they're prepared for a torrent of tears from a stranger.
But this past week, I answered the question differently. To my new dental hygienist, of all people. Poor woman.
The last time I went to the dentist was almost a year ago. They found a couple cavities, I set up a return appointment for mid-July, and then... Elliana. July 3 happened. I had to cancel the appointment because I knew I'd just sit in my dentist's chair and cry through the fillings.
I finally went back this week for a cleaning. I didn't want to go - partly because... well, who WANTS to go the dentist anyway? And I knew the dentist would fuss at me for not having the cavities filled. But he had no idea why I didn't keep that appointment to have the cavities filled.
Reminders of Elliana are everywhere - even at the dentist's office.
So I was pretty uncomfortable being there, and the hygienist picked up on that. She asked me if I was ok (also a difficult question to answer - because no, I'm not ok). I told her I was ok. She gently pushed a little more and asked if I just had some dental fears. I said no, it wasn't dental fears.
Then, as she was about to put that mini pirate's hook in my mouth, she started making small talk. Her first question to me: Do you have children? Me: Yes, I do. Hygienist: How many?
*big sigh*
Since she already knew I was not really ok, I decided to just go ahead and say it.
'I have five children, but one of my daughters died a few months ago.'
There. I did it. I said it.
The sweet hygienist responded really well, said she was so sorry, and asked what happened. It surprised me that I felt better about briefly telling her what happened than I would have felt about saying I have four children rather than five.
And then I apologized - I knew that by telling her, I had put her in an awkward position. I mean, how do you keep making small talk with someone like me after I drop that bomb on you?
But even though I know it made her a little uncomfortable, I'm glad I was honest with her. Because now, someone in that office knows. And for some reason, that helps me.
I even wish I'd gone a step further and asked her if she'd like to see a picture - because I have several in my purse. :-)
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