Key~Notes

Anyone who knows me, knows I’m a Christian.  I completely rely on Jesus Christ as my Saviour, and am grateful for His loving grace.  I love Him with all my heart and to disappoint Him would devastate me.

Last month  we had a special visitor to our stake conference.  Elder Kikuchi’s testimony and spirit were an amazing blessing for the members of our stake.

It was wonderful to hear him testify of the Saviour.  He referred to Him as “my Jesus” and “your Jesus”.  I’ve never heard it stated in quite that way before, and it brought tears to my eyes.

He is MY Jesus . . . my Lord, my Friend.

He is also YOUR Jesus.  Never forget that He loves you beyond measure!

For the longest time since the failed adoption placement, I’ve felt stuck.  Stuck in grief . . . stuck in watching the world go on around me when I felt like my own would never go on . . . stuck and wanting desperately to call out to people and say “wait for me!”, but never having the courage to do so.

In early May when everything happened, I needed time alone.  Time to process what had just happened.  When the people around me reached out, I wasn’t able to reach back.  I wasn’t ready.

Since then, I’ve become ready.  Ready to have a huge cry with a girl friend over this whole situation.  But, everyone had moved on.  Everyone except me.  (Hence the “stuck” feeling.)

I think that’s why I’ve struggled so long and so hard with this.  I felt utterly and completely alone in my grieving.  There was no memorial service for the dreams that died when the “birthmother” chose to parent.  There was no “instead of a baby shower, we’ll have a pity party” party   No public acknowledgement that my loss was real.  That I had the right to my grief.  Perhaps that’s why I felt guilty for grieving so . . .

As you know, 22 September marked one year since the initial contact by the birth mother.  Later on that day, I was talking to James about how my life on the outside looks very much the same as it did a year ago (still working for L, still married to my best friend, still having a great son, etc) . . . but how that, on the INSIDE, everything was different . . . and how no one seemed to notice and/or care.

That day, I decided I needed to reach out and share my grief.  I needed to cry with someone.  But it couldn’t be just anyone.  It had to be someone I trusted completely.  Someone who understands, at least in part, what I’m going through.

And, in His infinite grace and mercy, Heavenly Father provided me that someone.  Laura has gone through her own share of difficulties, including losing her only daughter to stillbirth 7 years ago.  She’s someone I’ve known for several years . . . someone I feel incredibly blessed to call one of my dearest friends.

So, I asked her if we could talk.  I shared what was on my heart, she shared her thoughts and feelings about the loss of her precious V., and we cried together.  Tears heal.  And in those tears and healing that Laura and I shared, I was able to come unstuck.

Not only that, but I understood more fully what sisterhood is about . . . and that God had placed the 2 of us in close proximity for that very reason.  So that she could be there when I needed her, and so that in sharing her own grief, I could be there for her too.

The Bible tells us that “where two .  . . are gathered together in my name, there I am . . . “ .  I now know that statement to be true.  Laura and I were not alone that night in our shared tears, sisterhood and friendship.

God was there.   I felt His presence.