{tHe BoX}

How do I begin to tell you of the power, grace, peace, and compassion that floods my very heart and therein every limb upon the delivery of one of these boxes? I am in awe to this minute as I think back upon them, and I so I want to share it with you.

I do not always get to hand deliver these boxes. I would if I could, for every single one! But details here and there prevent from it, and the details that I can work around, or by God's grace get beyond with His help, I will diligently cooperate where needed to get past them. There has, however, been a hand full of times that I have been so blessed to walk in, see the faces that are hurting, hold their hand, pray with them, just be in the room with them. And to be able to whisper to them, "I know. I know."

The first time I was called by the hospital here, where my sweet boy, Macsen was actually delivered, I was speechless. I literally felt electric. Even now, when I here of a baby going Home, I go into this electric prayer-mode. I am immediately reminded, in a gentle way, of the heartache, as if it were all so fresh again. I am very able to identify with what they are feeling and thinking. I know usually the sex of the baby, and so I am able to pray for her or his mommy, daddy, and other family members.

On the way to the hospital, that first time, my prayer was that God would be tangible, and palatable. That He would speak through me and to them. As I arrived to the door, a simple deep breathe was taken, and then to the SWOOSH of the heavy, big hospital room door.

I have never felt what came next. (Not that feeling electric and being in this prayer-chant-mode was typical of me, by any means. :) Wow do I sound weird!) As each foot touched the ground I felt almost the nod of God Himself upon me. Like I was actually doing, finally, what His will for me, and my life was all along! It was in that instant that I began to have a new found thankfulness for where I was. It sounds wrong to say that you are thankful that your child has died, and I so don't mean that. I guess it was more, a thankfulness that HE had redeemed it! He had been good on His word.....the very word that is inscribed on my son's pewter football urn where his tiny ashes now lay:

All things work together for good for those who love Him, and are called according to His purpose.

~Romans 8:28

As I can best recall, I believe it is 10 plus boxes that have now gone out to precious people that have this journey ahead. Not a huge number, yet not a small one either. These boxes take time. They each take care, embellishing and a lot of thought goes into each and every, very unique and individual box. Just as each life missed is unique, and individual, I find it appropriate that each box be the same.It's so, kind of zany and mysterious to me, really. I have spent a great portion of my adult life, (not so much my youth because, well, I was an idiot) really stretching, growing and learning to be one that can think outside the box. And yet here I am, well into my adult life. Stormy journey, upon stormy journey, and I am finding my joy, my peace, my drive, my hope and my purpose......inside of a box.

God......I LOVE YOU!