The Father's Delight

Spring break was a milestone for me. Abby went into the closet. She had spent the past one and a half years in our room. First, Abby slept beside my side of the bed. There she watched over us, collecting dust as our lives moved on. In the wake of the morning or just before going to bed, I would often look at her and wonder, I bet she would have liked that spot if she were still here. I would then take a few moments and greet her, dust her off, and place her back in her rightful location next to me. She did well there. But the time surely would come along when Abby had to find a new place. She was still in our room. I was not ready for her to leave my side. I just had to make room for some more stuff. Her new location was propped up high next to some Willow Tree angels. I was often humored by the irony. Here, in our room, she sat amongst angels just as she is doing up in Heaven. It was a great reminder to me that she was safe. But just like everyone else, life often runs away. And it did. Abby soon became weighted down with hours and days worth of dust. Life was moving too fast, and with that, I did not have the time to keep the layers of dirt from accumulating on her. It was just how things were going to be. Eventually, spring break neared. It had been 1.5 years since the Hello and Goodbye of our sweet baby girl. We had visitors staying at our house, and out of kindness, Jo Anna did not want to “scare” them with our baby girl sleeping in the same room as them. I am not sure everyone has the desire to see human ashes. And when the time came, right before we left for the week, Jo Anna made the daring step of moving Abby to the closet. And that is where she rests today.

I walk through each day with my chin held up and a smile on my face. Inside, I still mourn the loss of my baby girl. I am not emotionally bogged down. I am still able to function normally. The truth, though, I miss my baby girl. I am sure Jo Anna does too. I think it is the reality of losing someone you love. As my wife always says, “We never stop missing our baby girl, things just change. It is just different.” She is so wise. Mourning and grieving I now know never goes away. It just changes and molds into different shapes according to how life moves on.

So, for those of you at any stage of this journey, I want to encourage you. I can’t provide promises that the pain will go away and that there will be a time that you will stop missing the one you lost. I can promise you that with God’s grace, with His amazing ability to patch you up and carry you, and with His unconditional and unending love, you will make it. I leave you with this:

Be assured that from the first day we heard of you, we haven’t stopped praying for you, asking God to give you wise minds and spirits attuned to his will, and so acquire a thorough understanding of the ways in which God works. We pray that you’ll live well for the Master, making him proud of you as you work hard in his orchard. As you learn more and more how God works, you will learn how to do your work. We pray that you’ll have the strength to stick it out over the long haul—not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength God gives. It is strength that endures the unendurable and spills over into joy, thanking the Father who makes us strong enough to take part in everything bright and beautiful that he has for us. (Colossians 1:9-12 MSG)

In God’s Love,

Lyle

No, I have not forgotten my daughter’s birthday. She would have been 1 this week. Nor have I forgotten that this week one year ago was one of the most emotional, life altering, spirit impacting weeks I have ever experienced. I had on this day one year ago cried enough tears for a lifetime, and there were still more to come. At this time last year, I was experiencing both joy and fear. I was hanging on by a thread for my daughter’s life while quickly learning that nothing was in my control. Life was slow but quickly moving. My baby girl was dying.

Today, I cannot honestly say that we are doing amazing, but I can promise you that God is continuing to carry us through life. He is continuing to impact our world and the world around us through our baby girl. I know you are probably wondering where we have been, as there has been a lull in our blogging, but this is in no way a depiction of our life. So, today you are going to get a catch up as well as some reflection. You can thank Discount Tire and that screw somewhere on that road of life that seems so small, so unimportant, but that has the ability to stop me from running and encourages be to reflect and reminisce. So, here you are; please bear with me as this will likely be ongoing, emotional, and exciting all at the same time.

Jo Anna and I are alive. She cried the other night in my arms. It had been exactly one year from the time that Abby had entered our lives fighting and crying surprising everyone who knew anything about us. It had been one year from the most exciting day of our lives; it had been one year from the release of 9 months of pent up emotion. And in that one year, how the tables have turned. This year, there was no baby in our arms, only in our hearts. There was no sound of crying, only in our heads. There was only silence. Our hearts were broken yet held together with the love that He promises us. Looking into each others’ eyes, although emotionally exhausted and lost from this past year, I think we were relieved to at least know that we were still there for each other, our arms were still warm and inviting, and we were still united under the one and only Savior that continues to provide us with hope and life. How could we still be so hopeful? How could we still be together? How could we still believe?

Our God is a god of continual provision. He is a provision of hope, love, and blessings. Although a door closed on us a year ago (for the moment), another had opened. We realized that although we could not have our own biological child at that time (only in our hearts and in Heaven), we could serve as a mother and a father (as loving parents) to other children in need. It had always been a dream of ours. We had always wanted to have both biological and adopted children. We still do, but after months of praying, believing, questioning, we were finally able to hear what God was telling us. Now is the time to pursue adoption. Here we are today. We have submitted the paperwork. We have been busy and really need to get our priorities straight, as we need to get our classes complete. So, please be praying for us as we pursue God’s calling for us.

Back to one year ago. October 5th. I am sure some of you remember this day, or you remember waking up tomorrow with the post of Abby Met Jesus Last Night. My heart is limited by how much I really can talk about this day. It is a bit emotional. We were quickly realizing that the life in our baby girl was fading. Her spirit was still strong though. I think we knew the time was coming; denial of course was still playing with our minds. We were still holding on to that shred of hope that she would still be here today with us. That was not God’s plans. She said “Goodbye” to us during our Christmas. She had just given me a “New Daddy” Willow Tree figurine. She knew her daddy loved her. We had given her a “King of the Daughter” ornament. We were purposely experiencing all of life’s memories as fast as we could. We had a bucket list for Abby, and she met them all. Diaper changes. Walks in the stroller. Naps and feeds. Birthday songs and hymns. Time spent with grandparents, aunts and uncles, best friends, other relatives. She had to be held 24/7. She had to know what love was. She had to go to the beach. She had a bath. She experienced the sun. She experienced crying and heartache. She wore a billion outfits or more. Mommy got to dress her up. She dressed her again. And even another time. Too many times was not a part of our vocabulary. She had photoshoot after photoshoot. She experienced fall and Christmas. She watched a Disney movie. She lived a full life; she was loved. But the truth was, during her almost 6 days of life, she was already getting to know the love of our God. We were holding her together. Abby in our arms, and us in God’s. It was amazing but so very hard. She went to meet Jesus in her mommy’s arms.

We had hopes before Abby was born and during the almost 6 days she was with us that she would impact this world. Isn’t that every parent’s hope – that their child would be a world changer? I like to believe Abby was a world changer. I think others would agree. One of her greatest impacts was the outpouring of love that she inspired. She also gave us a story, one we would not have chosen but that allows us to serve as God’s hands to others. Since Abby said goodbye, we have been able to serve other families in similar situations. Sometimes we have just provided a gift basket. Sometimes we have sat at their bedside and held their baby boy or girl. Sometimes we have just held hands. I think it is comforting for others to know that there are people who have made it through what seems to be an impassable, heart stopping moment in life. We are proof that hope still lives.

Abby’s other impact is The Abby Grace Project. It has allowed us to continue to have a resource to serve other families. Lambs, cremation bears, food, toys, and even photography. We have been able to provide each of these and more to families in need. We have received emails from families who are going to or have lost their baby. Even today, I am venturing to provide a gift basket of love (mostly toys) to a family that may have to say goodbye to their 4 year old earlier than they had wished. Tomorrow will bring another story. Throughout this all, we are also continuing to support and provide resources to the Perinatal Hospice at UTMB.

In all of my remiscing and crying, I am pressed at heart to ask each of you a question today. Throughout our blogging about our baby girl, I often asked and encouraged you to cherish every moment with your little ones. I challenged you to take the little moments, even the uneventful moments, and make them memorable. I wanted you to take on today like it was your last. I asked that today would be the day that you took on the planned family time you were putting off for tomorrow. Well, I am once again asking, after being thankful for every second of those almost 6 days Abby lived, are you living life to the fullest? Are you being a hero to your little one? Are you pouring out love without limitation to your children? They are gifts given to you by our amazing God. I pray that your children know, love, and seek out the three most important people in their lives – God, their mommy, and their daddy.

Happy Birthday Abby! And Happy “Abby Met Jesus” Day!

With the strength and love of Christ,

Abby’s Daddy

P.S. If you wish continue Abby’s impact, please donate here.

I was sleep walking this morning. Well, at least, this is what I like to call it. It is my usual thing to do between 5 and 6 AM for the past week. As you see, I am working nights. So, after a long, mundane shift, I am quite focused on one thing – to get home. And in doing this, my surroundings, the world, the people I work with, are all shut off to my mind. This was how this morning was panning out. Just another day, or so I thought…

Just about the point of walking out the double doors of the unit, a sweet lady, one I do not even know the name of, asks a simple question but one filled with emotion, ache, and joy - “Do you have children?”

I had to pause for a second. Excuse me? First off, how dare you interrupt my sleep walk! I was quite comfortable and content focusing on the one thing I do every morning – home. But now you have rudely ripped me out of my deep slumber to ask that? Really? Do you know what that means to me?

So, I responded, “Well, yes.” What else was I to say. I do, don’t I. Maybe not one I can produce in front of you, but I sure do have proof. Just look at my 60-year-old wrinkled and bald head. Or the broken pieces missing from my heart. Or the so real but so distant pictures we have plastered throughout our home and our life. So yes, I do have children. But now I am standing there, bumfuzzled, trying to piece together the answer to why she might be posing this question at dark o’clock in the morning.

So, she continues. “Well, Happy Father’s Day!”

Uuumpph. Yep, she has just awakened me again with a great blow to my abdomen. And now, well, now I have had the wind knocked out of me. How do I respond? Is this a statement I should be thankful for? Should I be excited that today is another day but a day specific to reminding me that my baby is in heaven? Hmmm… I just do not know.

I responded with a nice “Thank You” and stumbled on my way. This was followed by a long road home of course. After all, I had to do some thinking. My mind was now more on the day, who I was, how I was a father, and the aches and pain of missing my baby girl. There was no pleasure this morning in seeing the sun rise. Windows rolled down with the ocean rolling softly next to me, no peace in that. And in my subconscious, I must have been listening to the words of the music because I was soon pulled out of my trance to hear the ever so perfect words from God. He was using the gift of music. Here is a little of what I heard:

Woke up this morning/And I heard the news/I know the pain of a heartbreak/I don’t have answers/And neither do you/I know the pain of a heartbreak

This isn’t easy/This isn’t clear/And you don’t need Jesus/Til you’re here/Then confusion and the doubts you had/Up and walk away/They walk away/When a heart breaks

I heard the doctor/But what did he say/I knew I was fine about this time yesterday/I don’t need answers/I just need some peace/I just need someone who could help me get some sleep/Who could help me get some sleep

It was as if the music was coming from my heart. Confusion. Doubts. Heart breaks. All emotions spilling from my heart. It has been a hard several months. Most days are good. There are some that are bad. I am thankful that those are few and far between. But, no matter how infrequent they become and how “far” we get from the day we said Hi and the day we said Goodbye to our baby girl, it never gets easier.

So, I asked myself today, how am I making it? How do I get up each and every day? How do I spread joy and smiles to those around me? How am I happier than I have ever been, more excited about life than ever before, more determined to share life with others? I know why.

Joshua 1:9 says the following: Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

And he is. This is why, while each day is difficult, it is also full of blessing, full of life, and full of joy. I invite you to join me in celebrating OUR Father’s day. He is Lord. He is our Savior. He is Life.

With much blessing, much cheer, and much love,

Lyle

I have deviated from the world of studying for a short moment, and here is where I have found myself. Right on our blog. I know why. I have been finding myself with the want…the need to blog lately. In my moments of silence, of sitting still, I am flooded with thoughts, emotions, and stories, and all I want to do is share them with you. So, that is why I am here. Blogging. Life has been hectic, as always. I am sure you know that. Between my 60-80 hour work week and Jo Anna’s 1.5 jobs (yes, Jo Anna has 1.5 jobs), we have surpassed America’s norm of crazy and have reached insane. We are the insane couple, but we are a couple with intention. You might imagine us two workaholics must really like to work if working is what we only do. The truth – we hate working. To work means to do an activity with the understanding that it will be returned with money. Yes, we do that, but this is not the reason that we work. We work because we love what we are doing. Jo Anna touches hundreds if not thousands of kids lives by sitting in a tiny office at a computer. She provides a “home” filled with love to children who would find themselves at home alone. She provides meaning, encouragement, and enrichment to the future of America. She is changing lives.

I, well, I get to provide love through medicine. I get to provide healing through medicine but, more importantly. through the touch of God. And what I had thought was going to be a career focused on medicine, diagnosis, treatment, healing, I have now found that it will be a career of love. Let me tell you a story. I am known as the “peppy” one at work. I am also known as the morning person. I provide humour and smiles to my colleagues and to the families that I treat. But none of this comes naturally. In fact, the gift of touch, expressing love though words and silence, and providing smiles and laughter does not come natural to me. It is out of my comfort zone. Nonetheless, I wake up each day overwhelmed with a feeling of joy and the energy, courage, and determination to impact each and every life I come in contact with. In order to do this, I must carry around one thing…the love of our Father. This is the secret to my madness. It has nothing to do with me and everything to do with Him. He is my provider. He is my healer. He is my equipper. And with this, I cannot help but do just what I do day in and day out. And this is NOT work. This is life; this is living.

So, here is my question for you – is your job work or is it life? Are you touching the lives of others and sharing God’s love? Would you call your job normal or insane? Oh, the potential, just think!

With God’s Love,

Lyle

I was really hoping I would get to do an egg hunt legitimately this year. Every year I wake up Easter morning with the heart of a kid. I guess it was just instilled in me. Easter morning equals candy, an Easter bunny that I have yet to see, a wonderful visit to church, and family time together that involves fighting for the most eggs. Well, I grew out of most of this years ago, but I do not hesitate each year to beg for the grown ups to let me egg hunt with the other kids. I guess they are trying to tell me that I am a grown up now. Well, this year was supposed to be different. A cute Easter dress for Abby. You know Jo Anna would have had her all decked out in pink and other pastel colors for Easter. She would be fixed up with a lamb basket that someone somehow found in a store somewhere. And I, the proud daddy, would be using Abby to finally get my way back into the egg hunt game. I would be the prize egg finder (although, I am sure my own money would be in that prize egg).

As I was going through this dream of mine today, I realized that dream was not reality. You will find this to be a common theme throughout the year. With each holiday or major event, there will always be that reminder that Abby is not here. Likewise, I will always dream of what it could have been versus what it really is. So, after I realized my dream was not reality, I soon began to think about what Easter was truly about. Masked behind the egg hunts, cute outfits, family events, and chaos of the day, there is a meaning of Easter. Hope. Yes, today, we are reminded of the hope Jesus gave us. It is the hope that we are always loved. It is the hope that we will always have a home. It is the hope that amongst all the grief, the sadness, the distress, and often the impossible, there is still light and a reason to continue fighting. It is the hope that despite our imperfections we are still loved.

So, what does this hope mean to me this year? People often ask Jo Anna and I how we are doing. The truth, we are doing well. This is hard for some people to understand. How can we go about each day with a smile on our faces? How can I in my profession hold and love on other babies that are exactly the same age that Abby would be? How can we both still dream of a future with children? We owe this entirely to our faith and the Father God we serve. He has provided unconditional love to us. He has provided His son for us. Through this, He has provided us with eternity and something to ALWAYS look forward to. He has provided us with hope.

Do you have this hope? Did you remember Jesus this Easter? Were you busy chasing Easter eggs and your wired-on-chocolate children that you forgot to remember the entire reason as to why there even is an Easter? I am praying that each and every one of you did remember to celebrate the true reason for Easter. I am praying that those that have not been introduced to the true meaning of Easter discovered it. I am praying that those of you that still do not know the meaning will one day find HOPE in our SAVIOR!

With God’s Love,

Lyle

I simply laugh at the thought that today I have been married for three years. I am a little bit curious as to what happened to the last three years. I truly do not know. If I recall correctly, the day before yesterday, I said “I do” to the most wonderful and beautiful bride ever (you know that is true). Yesterday, Abby came into our lives, and in my mind, that same day, she went to heaven. And now today, well, somehow I have been married for three years. Of course, if I think about it hard enough, it sometimes feels like 30. I guess that is how God makes marriage so interesting. Yes, that is it. He takes time away when you say “I Do” and replaces it with a forever strong and persevering love. He then places you in a little cart that is noted in papers and around the world as “The Ride of Life.” Finally, with the strength of His little pinky finger, He sets you off on a roller coaster that at the end, with your last breath, clinging onto Him for dear life, you say, “That WAS the ride of my life.”

I guess with all my metaphors and what else that I spilled above I am trying to say that in love, time is lost. In love, the struggles and tribulations that are placed before us are so trivial. In love, the memories and high points of life are amplified. Love, in all, is just so wonderful, and I cannot imagine life any other way.

In my post today, after being quiet for so long, I want to bring up a subject that I pray some of you might find hope and renewed strength in. Abby would have been (and I like to say will be) 6 months old on Friday, March 30. In the last three years, Jo and I have been through quite a bit. We have lost family members and some more family members. We have been jobless. We have been carless. We have been facing reality and God with the question, “What now? What am I supposed to do?” School has been a struggle and a breeze at times. There have been days and sometimes weeks where Jo Anna and I have not seen each other. We have faced struggles with our health and struggles with our family’s health. Amongst all this, we have chosen two things: To anchor our love in the foundation of Christ and to fight everyday for our love.

I guess I felt the need to tell you all and hopefully more that love is not a cookie shaped heart with sprinkles on top. It wasn’t made to be like that. Instead, it was made to make life better. It was made to make life less lonely. It was given, God has intrusted us with it, because without love, life is nothing. And today and in the past three years, I too often have heard the statement, “But life was just too difficult.” or “We just do not love each other anymore.” My response – you are choosing the easy way out. You are denying God’s gift to you (meaning you two in marriage). You are giving up on something so great that I most certainly guarantee you will finish life saying, “I regretfully gave up.”

So, to you that are still holding on to your vows, for you that are honoring the “I Do” of your wedding day, I want to challenge you to fight today, tomorrow, and always for your marriage. It is and will always be worth it!

Finally, I want to say thank you to my wife. She has honored our love each and every day for the past three years. She has fought day in and day out for our love. At times, our marriage was not the pretty, icing-on-the-cake marriage that we had dreamed of, but I can say today with honesty and sincerity that every moment has been worth it. Today, you are more beautiful, more radiant, and more filled with the Spirit of God than I could have ever dreamed of. Thank you for choosing me three years ago. Thank you for choosing me every day for the past 1095 days. Thank you for loving the imperfect me. You are God’s gift to me, and I get to wake up each day with a smile on my face just as if I am a 5-year-old kid opening up a birthday gift from God. You are the love of my life.

With God’s Love,

Lyle

Four weeks ago I officially started my residency. I am a physician now, and although much anxiety was involved with my first day, today I can honestly say, “I am okay.” You see, my mind was racing with thoughts as I walked into my first patient encounter where I would be expected to make a decision. In fact, I think they were racing so fast that my body could not keep up with them…I was shaking I was so anxious. What if I did not have the answer? What if I did not know how to make this child better? What if I was not prepared or fit to do what I was doing? About half way through that patient encounter, something dawned on me though. I was not perfect. In fact, it was unreasonable to think that I would have all the knowledge needed for EVERY patient encounter. I was just starting. And to be perfect, was an unreasonable expectation I had set for myself. I would fail. I walked out of that room sweating I think. The parents probably thought I was the one that should be the patient…sweating, flushed, shaking…I can just see it now. They were thinking, “He must be sick.” No, I was not sick; well, I was sick with unrealistic expectations. Once I walked out of that room and took a deep breath, I finally said to myself, “It’s okay.” I am learning. Each day is a learning experience. Each encounter is a learning experience. The sounds and smells, the smiles and cries, the responses you get…one must take it all in. That is part of being a great physician, and more important, it is part of being the best you can be.

So, there I sat, outside that room, feeling much better. I knew the diagnosis, and when I walked out, they had a smile on their face. The child was happy. The parents were satisfied. And I had learned.

What I learned that first day was to stop thinking and worrying. I must stop trying to be perfect and stressing over the fact that I may not know the answer before ever walking into a patient’s room. I must stop, listen, breath, and learn to allow myself to see and hear everything. I must learn to allow my senses to work. This would allow me to become a great physician, and outside of being a physician, this would allow me to live life to my fullest.

What I now know today is that for four months now, I had been living life just as I had during my first patient encounter. My mind has been racing. I have been worried. I have been trying to be perfect. There was no stopping, listening, or allowing my senses to work. I was scared of hurting. Throughout our house, we have signs, stories, and pictures of Abby. We have gifts from friends and family that serve as memories. We have so much Abby in our house, but I was scared to look, touch, or even feel. I was scared of hurting. But over the last few days, really since I started my residency, I have had a renewed outlook on life. And in our quiet new home, I have found myself sitting in silence. No computer. No phone. Nothing. Watching pictures of her scroll across our digital frame, reading signs that spell out her name or that have Bible verses that describe who she was and how Christ lived within her. I have wandered into her replanted nursery (we put away a few things and kept out some others during our move) and touched, smelled, and felt her again. I have once again allowed myself to feel her here and to feel her absence. I have been missing my baby girl yet running so far from her memories that I have forgotten to remember her.

What I am realizing now is that this has not only affected my ability to live, but it has also impacted Jo Anna. She still cries almost every day. Her love for our baby girl still boils up from within her heart and spills out from her eyes. She misses her so much. She wishes daily she could hold her. She is hanging on for dear life to the memories – her smell, her touch, the feeling of her life. And throughout all her grieving and her sorrow, I have been an imperfect husband. She has needed me to feel. She has needed me to share my thoughts, my feelings, my emotions, and all I have done is run. I have run so far away fearing hurt that I have hurt my own wife. And that today, with the grace and glory of our Father, with His love for us, and with His strength, I am saying no to running and saying yes to life.

Maybe four months ago it was hard to think about how my baby girl could impact our marriage. I was fearing that the pain, the hurt, and emptiness would slowly wedge apart our bond and draw us far from each other. The truth, it was not the loss that would separate us; it would be the fear and the emotional running that would bring us to exhaustion. And luckily, the love from Him above that forged our marriage held us together during these last four months. Today, I am choosing to feel and to live. Today, I am choosing to be there for my wife. Today, I am choosing to stop running and to hold her hand, walking side by side, once again.

And just like Abby and her loss has impacted our marriage, making it stronger, growing us closer together, she has also impacted who I am as a physician. To go back to where I started, sitting outside that room, I was choosing to allow myself to once again feel. I was choosing to stop moving, to stop thinking, and to start listening. I must stop worrying about the not knowing; I must stop allowing fear to control me and to hide who I am. The one thing I did have control over was the patient’s experience. I must stop dwelling on whether I know the answer to their question or have a diagnosis. Instead, I must offer them a smile, a listening ear, and the love and care any patient deserves. The one thing I can guarantee is a smile and satisfaction as that parent and child walks out the door, just as long as I stop running worrying about being imperfect…stop running from fear itself… and embrace each opportunity I have to love and care for my patient just as I am choosing to do at home with my wife.

In God’s Love,

Lyle