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Fears Dissolving into Beauty

January 24, 2012

In the past six months, three of my fears have been realized. Our
first born was diagnosed with a rare genetic disorder; I moved 600
miles away from my family and closest friends; and this past week we
learned that our second pregnancy ended in miscarriage.

How to find life after death when I find myself still here, still
breathing? Our dying has been in shifting dreams and the letting go of
an old life and the loss of a life never realized. The ground of
security and stability — that facade — that all was right with the
world, is soggy and uncertain.

Grieving involves repiecing our world, one that is unknown and
familiar simultaneously, all while tears and anger and restless nights
and lacking appetites and moments of despair ebb and flow. But death
gives way to rebirth, and rebirth life, and life hope.  I see Reed and
Ben. We laugh. I unwind with some silly tv show. Friends gather
flowers and food at my table. I pray peace over what has passed. We
talk. Baking cookies fills the house, at least for a moment, with a
warmth and sweetness that is tangible. We ask what if and how come but
decide the only way is to love even when. And all of this is beating evidence that
there is still life beyond these deaths.

But this living after dying, why is it so hard? So monumental?
Sometimes so unattainable? Because it’s as hard as resurrection.
Defiant as a dead man walking out of his grave. And only in
surrendering can I rise again, live again, breathe again. Believe
again that through God, beauty is made from ashes.

Someone spun a fantastical fairy tale that persuades us that we can be
insulated from pain, loss, disappointment. If we work hard enough,
study diligently enough, pray earnestly enough, plan well enough, then
we’ve done our part to be spared death. If we’re good enough then bad
is far enough away. But to live this unreality denies the power of
life after death. And often, life, goodness, beauty can only be born
from these little deaths.

And perhaps all these little deaths point us to that final death. My
fears realized and then grieved, reconstruct anew in my mind, in my
heart, that we can live again. We can live beautifully — sometimes
more beautifully — again. And if we can live after these little
deaths, then surely, God who raised a very dead man from his grave,
will give us new life after our final death. And I’m betting that this
side of eternity I’ve only begun to glimpse the true Beauty that
will make us free at last.

And so I have hope, faith, and love.

8 Comments leave one →
  1. Katy Wright permalink
    January 25, 2012 12:00 am

    Love and miss you guys. So sorry to hear the news.

  2. Donna Boggs permalink
    January 25, 2012 12:34 am

    I am so sorry for your loss. I will be praying for you during this difficult time.

  3. Sarah permalink
    January 25, 2012 1:40 am

    crying for you.

  4. Amy Pileggi permalink
    January 25, 2012 2:29 am

    Hey! I loved this post! My Papa went to be with the Lord this past Sunday. So we too are grieving and it was great to read your post. It reminded me that on the other side of this mountain of grief God will bring about something beautiful. It’s already going to cause our strong / close family to be that much stronger. I’m so sorry for the death you too have recently experienced and will be praying for you.

  5. Russ permalink
    January 25, 2012 9:33 am

    … A moving picture of life — and death — and renewal. Praying for you guys!

  6. January 25, 2012 12:47 pm

    Beautiful words of such a painful season in which y’all have been walking. I am thankful for you and Ben striving to walk closely with God in and before the community to which he has called you. May the Lord bless you abundantly with life in Him here in Pennsylvania, we are blessed to walk with y’all during this part of your journey.

    Music is a powerful way by which I process truth, life experiences and feelings…two songs came to mind as I read your poetically raw words.

    David Crowder Band: “Our Communion”

    Love, flawless unrelenting love we can know
    Hope, sacred reverential hope starts to glow

    In the recesses of your heart where love had flown

    Sweet dreams of heaven changing our waking lives
    Breath, taken in and bringing what was dead to life

    In the recesses of your heart where love had died
    Let it rise and lead you cross a great divide

    Awake, looking for another way to get back home
    Life, resurrected, swallowed death made us whole

    In the recesses of your heart where love will grow
    Heaven give us roots and wings and lead us home


    Oh great God give us rest
    No more fear from all of this
    Oh great God give us rest
    Let your light come down on us
    Oh great God give us rest

    And a song from Gungor: “This is Not the End”

    This is not the end
    This is not the end of this
    We will open our eyes wide, wider

    This is not our last
    This is not our last breath
    We will open our mouths wide, wider

    And you know you’ll be alright
    Oh and you know you’ll be alright

    This is not the end
    This is not the end of us
    We will shine like the stars bright, brighter

  7. Lauren Kittrell permalink
    January 26, 2012 1:08 am

    Oh, Allison, I’m so sorry. We will be praying for you guys as you grieve and work towards healing. As we know, the process is long, but God is faithful every moment! Hugs from afar.

  8. Rachel permalink
    February 20, 2012 3:07 pm

    I am so sad that I didn’t see this post sooner– our hearts are heavy for your little family, but hopeful as we will lift you to the Lord together. So grateful that we… you Byxbe’s… do not mourn as those who have no hope! We will be praying. Love you guys.

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