5

Five years.

Can you believe it's been five years and almost two months since our first post on this blog?

Can you believe it's been five years and some weeks since our first ultrasound of Junebug?

Five years ago the phone rang and it was our family practitioner. Our doctor, calling with the results of the ultrasound. Just a routine ultrasound at 20 weeks in-utero. I will always remember her concerned voice saying, "Renee, there's something wrong with the baby's heart." I will always remember leaning up against the wall in the hallway of our trailer house, mind going blank, grasping for Jesus, and holding my breath. Waiting.

Five years ago, we thought maybe Junebug might have spina bifida or a chromosome defect. If she didn't she would have a 90% chance of life.

It's interesting looking back on these blog posts. Remembering where Joel and I were five years ago. Where we were spiritually. Where we were emotionally.

We believed so strongly God would heal our baby. We claimed it, we believed it, we wouldn't allow ourselves to think that Junebug would die. Die? How dare we think such thoughts! Death is from the devil! Surely only Life belongs to God! He is the healer and doesn't it say that if you believe, anything we ask will be given to us?

I remember sitting on the couch with Joel one evening. We had just received the news of Junebug's heart and all that it would entail. We were just at the beginning of the journey of heartache. At the beginning of Emily's story. Josh and Rachel were in bed already and Joel and I were together, praying. Thinking. Processing. I remember looking down at a box on the floor and I heard a voice in my head say, "She's going to die." Thinking it was Satan trying to get at me, I immediately rebuked it and tried to think of life and faith and Jesus; anything good and far from death.
Looking back, I now know that it was our Lord Jesus speaking to me as Joel and I were praying for Junebug. He was preparing me for death. He was preparing me for His plan for our little girl.
But because of my belief that anything death related had to do with the enemy, I had rebuked my loving Savior.

I'm glad Joel and I don't think like that anymore.

Yes, Life belongs to God. But so does death. Christ holds the keys to Hades and Death. Christ conquered death on the cross. Christ didn't stay dead. He is alive. And He calls everyone to die. Die to themselves so that His life will live through them.

He is calling me to die to myself, to my ways, to my old, sinful, human nature.

And I am glad He has power over all, even over Life. Even over Death.

Saturday Morning

"Mommy, winter is a long time," Madelynn tiredly, almost painfully, informs me. Yes my dear, winter is a long time.

I wonder if Daddy seemed to sense that, too, because this Saturday was waited for in anticipation. For this Saturday was when Daddy would help make the kids a new toy. The kids had fun the week before trying to guess what the new toy would be. They knew it would be made out of wood. But all their guesses were what they were familiar with. A new toy car? A doll? It dawned on me sometime this past week, that we only know what we know. We can't think beyond what we don't know. My kids had no idea what Daddy was going to make for them, because they had never seen one before.

It was a thought that I'm still casually pondering about. Sometimes I'm a little scared to apply those kinds of thoughts to real life situations. Like, I have no idea why Emily had to die at nine days old, but God knows. Just as Daddy knew what a fun new toy this was going to be, but the kids had absolutely no clue what it was, what it was called, or what it looked like, and of course how it worked.

Well, this morning it was time. Time for them to unravel the mystery of Daddy's idea. Daddy worked on Hudson's first, and when it was done, the kids laughed with delight. What was the toy? It was a Jacob's Ladder. Here's a pic from Google Images if you don't know what I'm talking about:

The kids are having lots of fun this morning playing with this toy. They've made caterpillars, letters, and yes, even finger snappers out of it.

And as the smell of roadkill venison roast drifts through the house, and the kids settle in for a quiet time, I think, yes, Madelynn, winter is long. But look at all the fun we are having! Summer will come soon. Most years it does anyway...

Confession

If you ask me (Renee) how I am doing, I will probably tell you I am doing well. Usually that's the truth. But sometimes, it's not true.

It is hard to express myself through verbal communication. It always has been. But if you give me a means to communicate through writing, well, then that's a different case. I enjoy journaling, when I have the time and motivation. I enjoy blogging, when I have the inspiration and energy.

I also have a hard time expressing my heart in public. Perhaps I am afraid of rejection. Perhaps I'm afraid of what people think. Maybe I'm afraid I will share too much and turn people off.

Lately I've been looking over the blog posts Joel and I posted four and a half years ago. What happened four and a half years ago? Our daughter Emily was born. Our daughter Emily who lived in a gigantic hospital bed for nine days, underwent open heart surgery, and died.

I've also been thinking about how little I expressed my grief over Emily on this blog. Sure we shared some heart wrenching truths, shared some of the facts, and expressed our utmost gratefulness for the volume of support we received.

But I didn't share much of my struggle and grief, even before Emily was born.

And I'm wondering if you, reader, have been deceived in any way as to the truth of the sorrow myself and my family carries. Yes, we experience joy and happiness and the like, but there is always sorrow.

If you were not aware of the fact that we are still grieving, still feeling the effects of our beautiful daughter's life and death and this is due because I hardly ever blog about it, then please accept my sincere apology for deceiving you.

For we do grieve. We still miss her. We still long for Emily to be here on earth with us. For us to be there in heaven with her. For our family to be together.

And for those who are aware of our grief and who have not forgotten Emily: Thank you. Thank you for not forgetting. For not letting her disappear as though she had never existed. 

Thank you for remembering Emily Grace, our little Junebug.

Yellow Swallowtail

One Direction - What Makes You Beautiful (5 Piano Guys, 1 piano) - ThePi...

Five guys play the same piano:

This is entertaining and very fun to watch! Great music too!

There are Pillow heads at the end of this post

Daddy brought home boxes. Big boxes. Boxes that used to have cabinets in them. Then he made a multi room fort with windows and doors. He's amazing, that Daddy.

The door was a perfect fit for Hudson

Inside the fort: Two hallways each ending up in a separate room.
Rachel and Josh to the left and Nina on the right. She had to try it out too!

I think the kids were burying Rachel in the dress up clothes.
Do the cardboard ears look familiar??

Indian Josh. Look out.

And his partner Indian Rachel. Double look out.

I'm not sure what they are doing here...
maybe they're playing karate

Pillow heads go Arrrgghh!

Beethoven's 5 Secrets - OneRepublic (Cello/Orchestral Cover) - ThePianoGuys

Remembering the K family as they grieve the loss of two close family members.

Quinzee Love and Snowcave Fun

First the snow cave: 

Here's Rachel peeking out of the windows:

Joshua's turn:

Joshua snaps one from the inside out:

And now for the quinzee: So cozy in there with their little tealights.

A quinzhee or quinzee (pron.: /ˈkwɪnziː/) 

Definition:

a hut created out of snow, a combination of an igloo and snow cave