Remembering

Many of you didn't get to see this slideshow we made for Anna's memorial service. I share it with some hesitation, as it is very personal. I may not leave it here on the blog for long. 

The second song used is one God gave us through a friend. I recorded it in sickness and emotional strain just a few days before the service. Looking back, I don't know how I got any sound to come out at all. 

The photos... the feelings... the memories... my voice... it's all so raw. 

I just watched it. It's hard to believe it's really our story. 

But I share because I want to continue to celebrate Anna's life. The miracles, the joys, the ways God is carrying us and changing lives. Watch if you are willing, and praise God with us for His presence with us, for His promise of hope and joy - even amidst the pain of this world. 

Thank you for your continued love & support. 

I love you, Anna Joy Peppley!!!!!!!!!!!
Forever and always...

[Video removed for privacy.]


(PLEASE respect our privacy and honor Anna's life by not saving or sharing this video or any portions of it.)

Songs used:
"Audrey's Gift" written by Michael W. Smith, from It's a Wonderful Christmas
"Little One (For Anna Joy)" written by Kathy Kerber, also titled "Safe In His Hands"
"Cathedrals" written by Mark Schultz, from Renaissance

Some photos taken by volunteer photographers from the organization Soulumination.

Even Now

Nothing like a holiday to awaken emotions. Good, bad, ugly, beautiful... they're all here in me. 

Somehow I am overflowing with thanks today. It's Thanksgiving; we're sometimes forced to   list our blessings or speak them aloud. 

Amazingly, I don't have to be forced. Oh, I have reasons to be angry and questioning. And I do express those feelings, believe me. Those are real and necessary in the healing process. 

I am full of sadness over my loss of little beauty, Anna Joy. But a genuine thankfulness has risen up in me as I reflect on all the blessings of my journey through her story. Like God prepped my heart and mind while I was sleeping last night.

This morning Matt told me to peek out our bedroom windows revealing the pink sunrise, bright over frosted rooftops. Like it was quietly asking, "Will you continue to hope?" It's a new day.

Not long after that sight, my precious beautiful son practically jumped through our bedroom doorway, announcing his welcome to the day. Enthusiasm beaming on his sleepy, but happy look.  

God has blessed me abundantly, and I feel that fullness has brimmed and spilled over. I want to share these blessings with others. I want to shout the goodness of God - YES, even now, in presence of severe pain. 

I am grateful for being drawn so close to Him that my every breath depends on His faithfulness. His grace saves me day after day.

* * *

There is no adequate way of expressing our thanks to all of you who have walked this journey with us this past year. Matt and I would like to send out two small words that carry huge meaning and sincerity for us. 

.:THANK  YOU:.

They sometimes seem trivial and familiar. Please believe them, though. They come from our hearts wrapped in authenticity and humility. 

We have often discussed how blessed we have been through the support we've received. Truly, we have been carried by God through YOU. Your prayers, your cards, your encouragement, your empathy, your hugs, your gifts...

We had these announcements printed this past spring and did our best to send out to those we could. There was no way we could have sent a tangible one to most of you... thousands of you who have cared and prayed. 

So here is one for you. Imagine it was sent to your mailbox, hand-addressed. 

There is always something for which to be thankful.

We celebrate that gift today. The gift of gratitude. The ABILITY to be thankful. 

Even this... Even now?

Days of questioning. Weeks of heartache. Months of sickness. Year of hell meeting heaven. 

Yes. Especially now.

I choose to look toward heaven. 

Random Update/Prayer Requests

November 19. She's been gone 11 months. I really, really miss her. I was just looking through photos and watching a few videos. 

She was so beautiful. 

I miss everything... her warmth, her smell, her movements, her hold on my finger... Ahhhhh... this hurts.

I wish I had more time with her on her birthday before surgery. I wish I could have kissed her cheeks more. I wish I could have cuddled her. 

  

I have been sick since the beginning of September. I think my body might be having a hard time fighting because of the stress of grieving. And... we moved toward the end of September. And... I started working one day a week. Please pray for strength and rest so I can get better. We're entering a really difficult time, and I would like to experience it as healthy as possible. Matt and Isaac have been sick, too. They seem to be mostly healthful presently; I'm hoping they stay strong. 

Isaac is such a blessing. He gets me up and going in the mornings. He makes me laugh. He cuddles with me. If I sniff, he asks if I'm crying and if I need a tissue. He asks me to sing to him every night. We talk about Anna and what happened, that she died and is in heaven. I am a little concerned about his grief. I don't know what his heart is experiencing, but I know he understands that Daddy & Mommy are sad and stressed, not always strong or patient. He's been quite sad when we leave him with someone or in a class. He has been very attached to his lovey-blankie-thing. I know these things could be just that he's 2 1/2, but I wonder about other adjustment and stress issues. I don't know how much to let go and how much to discipline. That's tough in a "normal" parenting atmosphere, but throw in 11 months of grief and loss, plus moving into a new home a month and a half ago...  I'm praying for wisdom for what he needs. 

We have decided to have a birthday party for Anna. We're not certain what it will look like yet, but we want it to be a time of remembrance, celebrating her life, sharing memories and praises, and encouraging each other. I'm both nervous and excited about it. 

We also want to do something honoring and intentional on December 19. Sometimes I feel I'm about to suffocate from the weight of the pain. But I also feel privileged to honor such a beautiful life. 

I need balance of motivation to get stuff ready, but not pressure myself to do more than I can handle. Our counselor advised us to be sure we do what WE need to do through this time. That's not easy because I don't know what I need most of the time. I want to focus on honoring my daughter, not just planning events. So I guess pray for clarity of desires, clear communication between Matt & I, and enough energy to pull it off... whatever is essential and necessary for our healing process.

Here are a few photos of Isaac & I enjoying nature in the rain a couple weeks ago.

(I truly am blessed. And so thankful. 

He won't always want to hold my hand. So I savor now...)

Sincere thanks for your continued support.

Keep Shining

A couple days ago I found some magazines that we purchased last year before we went to Seattle to await Anna Joy's arrival. It was the end of November, so there are a couple of Christmas themed ones. I just picked one up a few moments ago to look at while I ate lunch. I didn't get as far as opening the first page. This is what I noticed in the bottom corner...

That is the very day we let Anna go from this earth and freely soar to Jesus' arms. It brings tears just to see the date. And the wording hurts my heart. "Display until..." then it's on with the next season, the next publication, the next fads. 

Part of me died when Anna Joy left us that day. I miss her terribly and can hardly stand the ache in my broken heart some moments. (Like now...)

Unlike this magazine, I won't ever stop displaying my beautiful daughter and my love for her. She was and will continue to be a bright star that points others to HOPE and JOY and PURPOSE. I won't let her be replaced or put away. I won't ever "move on" from the days I shared with her here. With God's help and support of others, I will move forward bit by bit. But never away from. 

Anna Joy will be displayed forever... even if only in her mama's heart and tears. 

Still here...

There is so much happening that I don't know where to start most days, so I haven't been writing here. I write in my journals quite often, and talk to God almost constantly. But it's hard to start a new blog post most days. 

I'm still here. We are holding on, day by day... moment by moment.

October was especially difficult for me in my grief journey. I had some wrestling matches with God. Lots of questions and hurt and anger to process. And surrender... again. 

We're half way into November already, and I don't feel ready for it. We're approaching the one-year mark of Anna's birth, her 11 days with us, and letting her go. You can't plan for these things adequately; feelings are unpredictable. The weight of it is pressing in, down, around already.

Time keeps ticking even though I beg it to slow down. But it doesn't obey. So I take another  deep breath and hold on.

It's unbelievable that we're at this point. Most of my days have felt slow motion, so how have we come through nearly a whole year? On one hand, those days with Anna seem so long ago, but on the other hand, I can "be" there in a split second, like I'm living it again. The emotions, sick feeling in my stomach, exhaustion, and strange mix of hope and sorrow sweep over me. 

Please, please keep us in your prayers. We are at a fragile place. We ourselves are fragile. Our brains don't work sometimes. I am in tears at odd moments, and in a different world a lot of the time. 

I hope to write more often, even if the posts are short. We'll see...

Thank you to those who still check, care, and pray.

"I Knew I Could Trust You"

Our friend, Pastor Dave Ness, blessed us with a visit over dinner last week. He then came to our home and sang the song he wrote for our family titled, "I Knew I Could Trust You." While sitting on our couch, he played his guitar and we all cried through the summary of Anna's story placed sweetly to prose and chords. 

His involvement in our lives through this entire journey has been a blessing. He and his wife, Joy, invited us to stay in their home while we waited for Anna to be born. We ended up staying elsewhere, but saw them several times whether over dinner or at their church, or when Pastor Dave would come check on us at the hospital. Always, with prayer and words of encouragement. 

Pastor Dave & Joy know the pain of losing a baby. They lost triplets. And Dave shared that God gave him the last portion of this song just recently, on their 18th birthday. 

I Knew I Could Trust You 

For Anna Joy’s Family 

Dave Ness 

August 23, 2012 

Unexpected miracle, then unexpected trials, 

Advice to just “start over” and avoid most certain pain.

Instead of starting over, you decided just to love her; 

Instead of giving up, you gave our Anna Joy a name. 

And you asked for prayer 

And the game was on. 

I knew I could trust you. 

I knew I could trust you. 

Faith in me runs deep with you; you knew that I could do it... 

I don’t do odds, just miracles; precisely what you need! 

No matter what the outcome, you knew I’d help you through it, 

Your call for prayer went worldwide and sent thousands to their knees 

For an unborn child 

they’ve never seen. 

I knew I could trust you. 

I knew I could trust you. 

The only chance this baby has takes everything you’ve got, 

And even then the odds are ten percent; 

She doesn’t need one miracle, but several in a row— 

The world is watching carefully 

To see where your prayers go.... 

Your faith has been rewarded! Your little girl is born. 

She’s beautiful! She made it through the night. 

A week has passed; you stare into amazing little eyes 

So this is what your answered prayer looks like! 

The only chance this baby has takes everything you’ve got 

And even now the odds are ten percent; 

She doesn’t need one miracle, but several in a row— 

The world is watching carefully 

To see where your prayers go.... 

Silent teardrops falling on a perfect little face, 

Anointing fading hope from aching eyes. 

The miracles have run out and it’s time to say goodbye; 

A million faith-filled prayers have now become a million "why’s"?

Will you love a baby you will only hold for minutes? 

In only precious hours will she know a lifetime’s love? 

Will you carry hope for her when there’s no more hope in it, 

Then sing her to the angels up above? 

I knew I could trust you. 

I knew I could trust you. 

Will you keep your faith in me when dreams are crushed and shattered, 

When there’s no understanding, only pain and pain and pain? 

Will you keep on holding on to faith and one another?.... 

I knew I could trust you. 

I knew I could trust you. 

“Why, God, why?” (I get that a lot) 

But you’re in the world which now is caught 

Between the perfect worlds that I have made: 

The Garden, where there was no pain, 

And heaven, where my Son will reign; 

You’re still in the world that’s drowning in its sin. 

So take my hand; I’ll lead you through, 

When you can’t walk, I’ll carry you 

Until the day when you’re with her again. 

I know you feel you’ve loved and lost, 

You took the risk and now the cost... 

The sword in your soul, 

The grief you bear, 

You wonder if I even care, 

And if I do, Then, why? 

Then, why? Then, why? 

It takes faith to believe that I can do it; 

It takes more faith to trust me when I don’t. 

Your faith will be rewarded, child, and so will all the others, 

Who kept that faith and keep their joy in hope.

Someday when you’re here with me 

And pain’s a forgotten memory, 

You’ll understand the things you can’t know now– 

Like how it is a God who cares 

Could leave His children standing there 

With empty arms, and not be weak or cruel. 

The answers will come in heaven; 

Healing will come in time; 

But the peace I give is for you, right now. 

Receive it, and know you are mine. 

The answers will come in heaven; 

Wounds become scars, in time 

But the comfort I give is for you, right now. 

Receive it, and know you are mine. 

I want you to know how this story ends. 

I want you to know how this all turns out: 

There’s a place beside my throne– 

You call it “heaven;” I call it “home”– 

When all your earthly chores are done, 

You’ll join me here, to stay. 

And, waiting here, 

Is your child of prayer. 

She’ll launch herself into your arms and never let you go! 

Your road of grief will end at last in joy around my throne, 

You’ll hold your precious Anna Joy forever and a day! 

Meanwhile, 

In the tunnel of grief... 

I’m here. 

I’m right here. 

And I love you. 

I’m proud of you. 

I’m holding you... both. 

And I’ll never let go. 

Never let go, 

I’ll never let go. 

One more thing I want you to know, 

Even though it may not seem it’s true: 

When you’re able again, 

You can trust me, too. 

I knew I could trust you; 

You can trust me, too. 

Every Day Surrender

Hi, friends... close, far, and unknown...

August 2012

We are doing pretty well. There are some positive things happening in our life, and although it isn't without challenges, we feel blessed and excited. 

My last post told about our loss of another pregnancy just 6 months after we said goodbye to Anna Joy. It took me to a darker and emptier place in my grief. I am doing much better now. I still have many questions, but am learning that I don't have to find the answers. That is hard to let go of, but I have realized that it's best to focus my energy on getting through the day instead of trying to figure things out. 

A new season is coming. And I don't mean Fall, although I love this time of year. I sense a changing of seasons in our new life without Anna is just up ahead. We are still very sad, still cry many tears, still study her photos, still imagine what it might have been like to have her here with us... always. But God is stirring up some blessings, and I'm starting to taste them. We can feel His presence, and He continues to carry us through this new territory. 

I can get through more days with less stress. I have been able to take care of our home with more motivation instead of being overwhelmed. I look forward to meeting with people and accomplishing tasks. This is such a blessing! After a year of complete sadness and helplessness, it is so refreshing to be able to function like a (more) normal person. Please don't think this means we don't need your prayers and your help. We need both desperately. We are still very tired and never know when our emotions will erupt. 

It's a new life. We've never done this before. And a lot of you haven't been friends to someone in this life before. Please don't be afraid of us. Please talk to us, ask how we're doing, and talk about Anna. The more time that passes, the farther we get from her. Hearing others talk about her or ask how we're doing makes it real and grounds us again.  Life goes on, but we're often stuck and end up watching the rest of  you continue, wondering if we'll ever feel the way we used to. I've heard and read it gets easier, and we're just barely starting to see that happen. But I'm also a little afraid of finding "normal" again, because it means I've let her go. And I'm not quite ready to do that. 

Here is a blog post by a friend of mine who lost her baby girl just a month and a half before we did. She describes it so well. This is where I'm at...

This Juxtaposed Life....

By Laura Finnegan, August 29, 2012 (finneganlife.blogspot.com)

Ours is a juxtaposed life. And it's hard to live.

So sad about so very much loss. But on the other hand, blessed with so much.

Three boys, that in my estimation, hang the moon, a husband I've had the privilege
to grow up alongside, and a love for all of them deeper than any ocean. Such blessing.

But right there, right there next to all of that "goodness," is indescribable sadness and
sorrow. The grief of losing our baby girl, our only girl, our sweet daughter Brynna.
What undefinable heartbreak.

How do I live this juxtaposed life? Fitting two unlikely halves together in a feeble attempt 
to make my heart whole. It doesn't really make sense. This situation is nonsensical.

On any given day, it may be the sadness that has the wheel. Taking us for a ride on the 
bumpy, dark, unforgiving, unrelenting road called grief. The next day, we may have a respite
and be able to focus our attention on our living children, our sweet boys, Colton, Aidan and
Jackson.

And we have no choice, no say in the matter. The days, the hours, the minutes, they are what 
they are. We cannot dictate or dissuade the sadness, it just comes. We also cannot stop our 
hearts from yearning for happiness and growing with love. So mixed up is our life.

So we just keep on, continuing to rise each morning attempting to make our way through each
uncertain day. Some nights we fall into bed and lay our weary heads down in prayer that
"tomorrow will be kinder". Other nights we go to sleep with just a sliver of reassurance because 
that day has proven "more doable" than the one before.

At times it's enough to make a person crazy, this juxtaposed life.

I hate not having her.  I love having them.  I am heartbroken.  My heart is healing. 
I am sad.  I have moments of happiness.  I feel weak.  I am becoming stronger.  
I cannot stand.  I am standing.  I can't do this.  I am doing this.

This is a crazy life.

So, here we are. On we go. 

I get nervous about the long winter coming (lots of dark skies, clouds, and rain here in western Washington), but I know now that I'm not alone. God is always with me, and I have many friends around that I need to let into my life. I'm taking another step into another day (and a new season), not knowing anything except God is faithful and He'll carry me through. 

We keep learning to trust. It's not a one-time lesson. Trust is an every day surrender. Trusting God with the unknowns, and trusting our broken hearts with friends... It's scary. I don't want to hurt anymore. Yet, like I've written about before, there is no blessing without risk first. There must be a question asked, a heart offered, a love given, a life surrendered. 

I have to cling to Christ. I must make intentional effort to connect with His Spirit through the Word, worship music, devotional readings, or journaling. I have nothing without Him. If I trust Him to carry me, there is hope. 

We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.
Hebrews 6:19a

You are my refuge and my shield; your word is my source of hope.
Psalm 119:114

I love the Lord, for he heard my voice;
    he heard my cry for mercy.
 Because he turned his ear to me,
    I will call on him as long as I live.

 The cords of death entangled me,
    the anguish of the grave came over me;
    I was overcome by distress and sorrow.
 Then I called on the name of the Lord:
    “Lord, save me!”

 The Lord is gracious and righteous;
    our God is full of compassion.
 The Lord protects the unwary;
    when I was brought low, he saved me.

 Return to your rest, my soul,
    for the Lord has been good to you.

 For you, Lord, have delivered me from death,
    my eyes from tears,
    my feet from stumbling,
 that I may walk before the Lord
    in the land of the living.

Psalm 116:1-9