By the time last night hit I felt stretched thin and empty. Not just from grief. From not knowing how to handle the remaining challenges, from replacing a clear picture of our future with a murky fog full of sadness and unknowns.
Finding a cemetery is going to be a bit more challenging than we had expected. Most cemeteries out here are public and are limited to the occupants of the municipality. Since we never had the chance to legally adopt Kate that means, in the eyes of municipal coding, she is not part of our family. She cannot stay there. The places we had originally wanted to go are closed to us. We have to widen our search today. There are private cemeteries to contact and lots of decisions to be made.
Burying Kate is going to be expensive. I am not surprised by this. As a pastor I have walked with people through this process. We could have just left her there, but we couldn't. She wasn't our legal responsibility but she was our daughter.
Financial burdens are far from the most important issue. They are just the insult to the injury. We will still be paying off the money we borrowed to adopt Kate while we are scraping to find money to bury her. I'm tired of asking for money--we have already been blessed by so the generosity of so many people. So many people gave towards Kate's adoption, some people gave so much. We feel sorry for them too. We didn't want money to help us through our sadness, we needed help to bring home a blessing of joy.
Maybe there is a little money left that had been sent off. The sad truth is most of the fees are spent on actual services rendered BEFORE you get your daughter. There is not return policy. That's not to say that everyone hasn't been trying to work with us. It is what it is.
Last night, a dear friend from Lori's childhood set up an account to help with Lori's burial. We're not expecting or hoping for much but the gesture was immense. Thank you all for being with us during this process.
One of Lori's college classmates posted something on her facebook post. I am posting it here without his permission because it was beautiful and comforting when we needed it to be:
Thank you Lori for sharing Kate. She is more than a story. She was a girl snug in a womb, unaware of a multitude of strangers that were cheering for her life. Before her birth, she was chosen, named and set apart. People from far off places provided support and well wishes. Plans were made, rooms were decorated, and glee increased in anticipation of her arrival. She would enter this world loved and wanted. She would receive the homecoming we all long for.
Kate received her heavenly homecoming, but in a way we can't fully understand. And now I hurt with you. Home feels less like home when we are separated from loved ones. We hurt because Kate is loved. Hugs to you and your family.
So thank you to those of you who have been there for us. Just reading the comments on Lori's facebook has been incredibly meaningful.
It has, after all, been a whirlwind. A nasty destructive tornado tearing at our lives. But in the wake of the destruction there is still love: the love you have shown to us, our love for our daughter, God's love for us.
By yesterday, I was feeling pretty emptied of hope, because hope moves toward a future. I could no longer see any semblance of the future I had been excited for. Every step forward was motivated by dedication and responsibility not for sense of hope or of an expected destination.
And yet, I know that As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death HE is with me. I do not need to know where I'm going because the One who holds my hand is guiding me. I know that you cannot garner any perspective in the middle of the valley, you have to walk up and out and through to see clearly. We're walking. Our Savior is leading. That's enough.
That would be enough, but your kindness (the two of you who are probably reading this) has been like thousands of little fireflies helping to illuminate the path we are walking. Each prayer has been a tiny blessing and a tiny light.
Of course there is Lori and the two boys who are my world. That is destination enough to keep moving.
Word vomit, I suppose. Writing things out helps. Lori is a good writer. I'm a guy. My thoughts get stuck in my head. This keyboard is giving them release.
Since the news about our daughter broke, I have wanted to be moving. I wanted to do what I could for Kate, for Lori, for the boys. It was kind of a role reversal, really. Normally Lori is the one who wants to take immediate action while I want to sit back and think, carefully plotting our course. Somehow, we switched hats. In the middle of everything, it was an interesting study. Yesterday, I part of the day it felt like I was standing outside myself, watching, the way you do in a dream when you have that third person commentary over the actions your dream-self is taking.
This morning I've wanted to sit and type.
I don't know what today holds yet, but so far I haven't felt like moving. Still I have a lot to do: Find a cemetery that will let us bury Kate for a price we can handle. Really fun stuff. Love dictates I get out of bed and get started. Time to take Christ's hands and take a few steps.
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