Seven of the last eight pregnancies have not ended with a baby in our arms. They’ve ended with tears and sadness and a bitter tasting cup to drink. We have not gotten to hear those hearts beat. Not heard the cries of a newborn. A laugh, a first word–all outside of even my dreams.

It may be too early today. We may have to wait to know. Like I wait right now for them to call me in to possibly know nothing new.

I long right now to hear that patPATpatpat of the quick fetal hearttones- faster than even my old out of shape heart is on a treadmill. It is a beautiful sound- I know this because I can remember what it sounded like roughly two years ago when we sat in a room not knowing if we were going to get a baby after six consecutive miscarriages.

And there it was: Margary’s heartbeat. A sound of certain life that brought tears to our eyes. I’m not sure I’ve ever had a moment on this earth where a sound was that sweet.

And now I long once more, another child gone to be with God last October, to hear those sweet beats of a tiny tiny heart.

Yesterday, though, I realized something. While I cannot imagine a sweeter sound than those heartbeats right now, there is a sweeter sound that goes beyond my imagination that I know I will hear. And that is the voice of Jesus. It will be a sweeter sound than these earthly ears have ever heard as He welcomes me Home.

They called me in and there it is. A little sac in TC’s uterus. Inside? Our baby. And then there it was. a blinking pulse from there in the sac.

“Are there speakers?”

And she turned them on and I heard a sound that still leaves tears of joy in my eyes. That sound we’ve prayed to hear for the last two weeks. That sweet, sweet sound of a baby’s heart.

Thank You, Lord Jesus. Thank you! I praise Your name for this sweet sweet sound of a tiny heart in a tiny child. Thank you.

“Holy, holy Lord God Almighty!
“Worthy is the Lamb who was slain!
“Highest praises, honor and glory
“Be unto Your Name!”

We’ve never miscarried after hearing the heartbeat- but many women do. Please do stay in prayer for our little one.

We’ve chosen a good Calvinist pet name for this little one: baby Lucky. We hope he will be number seven in our home- arriving sometime around Thanksgiving, making that a sweet, sweet day of thanks for us.

As a deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God? My tears have been my food day and night, while they say to me all the day long, “Where is your God?” These things I remember, as I pour out my soul: how I would go with the throng and lead them in procession to the house of God with glad shouts and songs of praise, a multitude keeping festival. Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God. My soul is cast down within me; therefore I remember you from the land of Jordan and of Hermon, from Mount Mizar. Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and your waves have gone over me. By day the LORD commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life. I say to God, my rock: “Why have you forgotten me? Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?” As with a deadly wound in my bones, my adversaries taunt me, while they say to me all the day long, “Where is your God?” Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God. (Psalms 42:1-11)

Years ago a friend wrote a song based on this Psalm:

Where is my joy, when all around is sorrow?

Where is my light when night is all I see?

Why is my soul in agony despairing, where is my hope, my song of victory?

I shall again praise my God. There may be those who wonder where He is when sorry strikes like it has to my family this week. I know where He is. He is holding me together. He is keeping me from falling. And He keeps despair and death at the door. I mourn in hope because of His grace, and today I will get out of bed because I know He lives, He loves, and He sustains my soul. Lucy Anne followed those words with:

My joy is in the God of my salvation

His Word will light the shadows of my heart.

So I will hope in God who is my comfort,

Who gives a song of joy when sorrows start.

May God give all who grieve that song of joy today–and may every one of us pant for His love and grace as the dear for water.

Christ, Not Feelings « Of First Importance
If you seek the Lord Jesus Christ and find him there is no need to worry about your happiness and your joy. He is our joy and our happiness, even as He is our peace. He is life, He is everything.

This was an encouraging note from Dr. Lloyd-Jones for me today when I really needed it.

HT: David Coyer

Oh, my!

From the freshly baked bread, to the bottle of Chianti, to the freshly made (on site) pasta dishes and the meat that we had (a filet and some venison) with the pasta everything was amazing. Truly fantastic to the point where I could not stop exclaiming how good it was.

I have eaten out quite a bit in my life and worked in some mighty fine establishments, and this is by far the best meal I have had in recent memory, possibly my whole life. We sat around the table, the children, Raquel, Gabrielle, and Theresa and me waxing and enjoying and in a froth about how good this food was. The wine was perfect for the meal and we just ate and ate and were filled with joy at the artistry of the chef.

Midway through the meal it hit me, and I made an announcement to the table: Do you all realize that the food in heaven is better than this?

Better. Better in unimaginable ways.

As I wrote yesterday I have been longing for heaven quite a bit of late, and so I’m going to vent those desires as some short writings about heaven here on the blog. One thing about heaven that I don’t think most of us believe on most days is that it’s better. And by better I mean better than anything here. All of the good stuff (90% Cacao chocolate, Single Barrel aged Bourbon, homemade cookies, finely aged cheese, whole wheat crust pizza, homemade tomato soup . . . ad infinitum) is better there.

And by better I mean on a scale that we can’t even imagine. So much better that we couldn’t handle it without crying in joy it’s so good. And on top of that—we’ll enjoy it with Jesus. And above all else that’s what makes heaven so special. We’re with Jesus. And He will give freely all of these things that we have here—only better—forever.

Every week I taste, briefly, heavenly food as we come to the Lord’s Table. And it is so only a taste. But a taste nonetheless.

And later? More, better, and with Jesus. When we’re Home and praising Him forever.

This past year has been a rough one for me. I’ve been getting stretched on all sides in a bunch of different ways. As I was listening to an old Michael W. Smith album two things struck me. The first was that the album seemed to fit together as a thematic unit in a way that some albums do, but many don’t. The second was that where the songs seemed to be coming from were describing how I’ve been and felt in recent days.

The series, of which this is the first installment, is based on Michael W. Smith’s album, Live the Life.

The first song is called Missing Person.

Missing Person

Another question in me
One for the powers that be
Its got me thrown and so
I put on my poker face
And try to figure it out
This undeniable doubt
A common occurrence
Feeling so out of place

Guarded and cynical now
Cant help but wondering how
My heart evolved into a
Rock beating inside of me
So I reel, such a stoic ordeal
Where’s that feeling that I don’t feel?

A while back I wrote a post about wearing masks.  Sometimes we also call this wearing a poker face.  When we don’t fit in someplace, or feel like we don’t fit in someplace (which is more likely the case) we cover up who we are and how we feel. 


And so we become guarded and cynical.  Our hearts become beating rocks instead of flesh filled with joy.

Smith continues:

Chorus:

There was a boy who had the faith to move a mountain
And like a child he would believe without a reason
Without a trace he disappeared into the void and
Ive been searching for that missing person

I was a boy who had bigger faith than I feel sometimes now. 

Faith that God would move any mountain in my way if I was walking with Him.  And that boy, with that vibrant, joyful, feeling filled faith was gone.  Where was he?

Under a lavender moon
So many thoughts consume me
Who dimmed that glowing light
That once burned so bright in me
Is this a radical phase
A problematical age
That keeps me running
From all that I used to be

Is there a way to return
Is there a way to unlearn
That carnal knowledge
Thats chipping away at my soul
Ive been gone too long
Will I ever find my way home?

Chorus:

There was a boy who had the faith to move a mountain
And like a child he would believe without a reason
Without a trace he disappeared into the void and
Ive been searching for that missing person
He used to want to try to walk the straight and narrow
He had a fire and he could feel it in the marrow
Its been a long time and I haven’t seen him lately but
Ive been searching for that missing person

Life being hectic, I finally started examining some things, and with a friend’s help I realized that I had overspent my time. My money was doing fine, but I overspent my time.

So I picked up a new book.

It’s called A Minute of Margin by Richard Swenson, MD. It’s short reflections about making room around your life so that you have breathing room–much like margins on a printed page.

A recent reading, #8, was on financial margin, and I found it encouraging to read in the context of my daily life.

He writes:

In giving, you are ushered into a world where cynicism and hatred have been banished. You are considering others before yourself. You are choosing heaven as the place to put your treasure. You are doing what God asked you to do, and what He did Himself. In giving, you are pleasing Him.

A few years ago I had a conversation with a friend that convicted me about giving. I had been generous from time to time in the past but rarely did I consciously think about how I could give to others in an organized way. His thoughts about others were an encouragement to me that caused our family to think differently about giving. Since then we have steadily increased the giving we do to others and ministries over and above our tithe. And in that I have found what Swenson wrote to be true,

a kind of joy that begins with the thought of giving, with the declaration of freedom in your soul that, indeed, [we] belong to God. And the joy culminates in the act of giving, often a secret except in the spotlight of heaven.

I don’t write this to call attention to the giving I have done (indeed it is God working through my friend who ought to get credit for any good I could do) but to let you know that giving can and does truly bring joy to the giver as well as those who receive. Consider your budget and see if you have margin. Find that margin and then find joy in giving it away. Find the joy in sacrificing what you have for the sake of others and see God bless you time and time again in the sacrifice and His returning of the blessing where “it is more blessed to give than receive.” After all, the One Who said that never lies.

UPDATE: I changed my template and the sidebar now has that link again.