Pain in the offering

I was considering writing a post a few days ago, an update of sorts. Immediately following Maddie's death I described my status to a friend as 'crying at random'. The type of burden the whole situation left me with was too strong to carry on my own. When I woke up in them middle of the night, over and over those first few nights, I just laid there, quietly reflecting, privately grieving the death of a two year old little girl that I loved so much. It was me and God during those moments, silently communicating, me starting to gain glimpses of understanding.
Each morning I asked Him to fill me, and I listened to Psalm 118.
'This is the day that the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it.'

On Tuesday I faced the day, unsure I would be able to hold it together. My heart was so heavy. Our last stop of the day was the hospitality center, a building which houses patients who require follow up care or simply somewhere to sleep while they come back and forth from the ship. I was checking on a little baby we said we could help bring to the hospital. Of course I seized the opportunity to hold baby Anicette while I was there. When I first met her I nicknamed her chicken little. She was so tiny, always throwing up formula all over us, and giving her distant mama a run for her money.
But that was then.
Now, when I ask if Anicette has "puked", her smiling mama replies; "no puke". (Yes, I taught an African mama the word puke. I also taught her the song 'Tomorrow' from Annie)
While extending her English vocabulary to include "fat belly and fat bum are good", a band of chocolate colored boys ran to me excitedly. They held a treasure in their hands, a plastic replica of Alex the Lion from the movie Madagascar. Although it probably came from a happy meal in some far off land months ago, the battery which allows Alex to speak still had some life in it. All you had to do was hit him gently and he would say one of three phrases.
I'm Alex, the only Alex
You got it!
Lets go Wild!
As a result of the battery dying you also had to have your ear right next to the toy in order to hear these wildly funny (if you're a little kid in Africa) remarks. The boys took these factors into account and deducted that if you hit the toy against your ear, you can hear what Alex is saying.
And of course, they thought it was imperative that I join in the fun.
I leaned over, still holding Anicette (now that she is big enough she will go for surgery Nov. 2nd), and started mimicking what Alex was saying every time his plastic mane was whacked against my ear. The boys roared with laughter and joined in shouting the phrases as loud as they could . It only hurt when the toy didn't respond to the gentle hitting, causing my assailant to make the subsequent blows to my ear just a little harder.

Joy started creeping in. With my right arm cradling Anicette on my hip, I found my left hand holding her fat belly as I leaned forward. I glanced at her and my eyes were instantly set on her wide smile, her tiny pink tongue visible through the large gap in her lip.
God was there. He was right there at that very moment.
Actually, He knew that moment was in store for me well before I knew I would even need it.
On my way out, Anicette's mama started singing a song very familiar to me. I sang it as a child, and they sing it here often, in English, then also in French. She was singing in English, and I knew, in that instant, God was smiling at us.
"This is the day
this is the day
That the Lord has made
that the Lord has made
We will rejoice
we will rejoice
And be glad in it
and be glad in it."

On Thursday morning I didn't have much to offer God. I didn't have words, couldn't put down thoughts on paper, so I decided to listen to worship and just sit. The sun was warm and I marveled at how it comes up every day. There isn't a day when it doesn't rise.

'Blessed be your name
When the suns shining down on me
When the world's all as it should be
Blessed be your name
Blessed be your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be your name.'
-Matt Redman

God is faithful, there are a million ways to come to that same conclusion. Yes it hurts, yes its hard, but this is life. Life is about changing, about loving with abandon. That life, that kind of love, it comes with a cost, its painful at times. But the alternative, well, no thank you.

'You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be your name.'

Oh, and here are some pictures of Maddie to go with her story. The first two are my favorite (Her mom is so excited because for the first and only time, we got Maddie to smile at us)



















As I mentioned though, Maddie was not always a fan of this yovo, which of course made me love her even more. She was such a character at only two. This is a picture taken on our way to the hospital, after I asked her to smile.


\