Thank you, from the bottom of our (mending) hearts

Redolent roses from M, a gorgeous gerber daisy from the H's,
and a beautiful bouquet from S. 

The other day, when I expressed how overwhelmed I felt by the incredible outpouring of love and support from friends and family, a good friend reminded me that it wasn't necessary to respond to each note, bouquet, email, or package; we simply have to rest in the knowledge that people want to care for us right now, no strings attached. That goes against everything in me; my mum trained me well to write thank you notes and make calls when packages arrive, so it's hard to just rest in the arms of our friends. Yet, I think I'm starting to learn why that's so important: because their arms are extensions of our Father's, and He invites us to "come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls" (Matthew 11:28-29). And rest is what we so desperately need.

Our "Beanster" (and "Blueberry") ornament, a gift from a beloved friend I've never met,
and the only thing we own to commemorate the tiny lives of our much-loved angels.

And so, in some small way, I hope this post serves as a small thank you--to all of you who have come alongside us to grieve in ways big and small. Beautiful, brightly colored flowers bloom all over our living room mantle, reminding us of hope and life in a time of dark sadness. Not a day goes by when I don't receive a text or an email from a member of our RCC church family, just letting us know that prayers are being lifted on our behalf without ceasing and reminding us--again and again--that we do not grieve our Beanster alone, that he is remembered and loved by so many more than just us two. Two couples from our small group arrived with meals last week, one the night before surgery and one the night of surgery. Neither couple gave us an option to refuse their offers to cook; they simply announced when they'd be coming, told us how to reheat delicious pasta e fagioli soup and a "Mexico meets Midwest" taco pie, and brought with them movies to distract us and conversation to nourish us.

B's extraordinary package.
(Her words in the card are really the most remarkable gifts of all.)

And then there are the letters, emails, and even a package that have arrived from women I've never met in person, women who share our grief because they, too, have felt it. As I've referenced many times in this blog, the women of my online support group are rocks who provide love, comfort, encouragement, and understanding. One in particular, B, has blessed Jeff and me in ways beyond our imagination; she has prayed for us throughout our journey, and she was the angel who sent us the "B" ornament and package contents pictured above. I've never met B, but that doesn't shake my certainty that God has connected us in ways that mere human contact never could.

And so this week draws to a close, and we prepare to celebrate a birth--that of our Christ--next week. Celebrating life seems paradoxical right now, yet it's the only thing that could possibly give us hope in a future unseen, so celebrate we will. And, with gratitude beyond words to each and every one of you, I'll celebrate with a smile on my face.

More incredible friends got us out of the house last night,
and B's beautiful scarf kept me warm along the way!