The Lost Children

How many children do you have?
Two, we answer, thinking three,
or three, thinking four;
they are always with us…
…they disappear on beaches,
they shine at night in the stars.

  --from “The Lost Children,” by Barbara Crooker

Driving to the hospital, I remember the radio was playing Sinead O’Connor singing “Nothing Compares 2U.” In the waiting room, on TV, Erma Bombeck was talking about the stillbirth she had, years before. I tried to shake a feeling of foreboding, as I was called in for a routine ultrasound. I had lost a baby between Rose and Patrick, in the first trimester, but this time everything had seemed fine. Felt great, no cramps or bleeding.

But everything was not fine. Moments after the technician looked at the screen, she turned it off, and abruptly told me to get dressed. She then left the room, and for the next several minutes I was utterly alone, horrible thoughts racing through my mind. What had she seen? What was wrong with my baby?

Finally, she returned, and said my doctor was on the phone for me. And that was when I was told that there was no heartbeat. It was the saddest drive home to my other kids. And as I gathered them all into my arms and held them, I thanked God for them, even as I ached for the little one I would never get to hold.

That was 25 years ago. One year later, we would rejoice at the birth of Julie, full term and healthy. But in the meantime, I needed some spiritual comforting. I talked with Mike Carlson, our pastor, about developing a memorial service for all the lost children, and inviting parents of all ages who had lost a child. On December 9, 1993, we held the service in our chapel. There were readings, and roses for each mother, and tears. Even the older moms whose miscarriage or stillbirth had taken place 50 years previously—a part of them was still grieving too. Because back then, these huge losses were barely acknowledged. They happened; people needed to just move on.

But we are part of a club no one ever, ever wanted to join.

My writer friend Robin took her pain after the stillbirth of her daughter, and created something beautiful: a book called Journaling Away Mommy’s Grief. This book has blessed many hurting people over the years, and is a lovely testament to a mother’s love for her baby in Heaven.

Do I say I have five children, thinking seven? Only now and again. I am lucky beyond measure to have amazing kids that are alive and well. But I will always wonder: what would they have been like, these foreshortened little lives? I love them still, and they are a part of me that will never die.

If you pray, please say a prayer for those who have lost children. Pray that they will feel God’s arms around them, and around those precious babies too.

Confessions of a (Small) Groupie

Lambs serving at Ronald McDonald House!

Trying not to get a complex here, but it does seem like I’m around for “closing time” at a lot of small groups. At church, I have witnessed the end of Shepherd Circle, Koinonia, Mixed Nuts, and Lamb Circle. In every case, the gatherings had stuck around well past their heyday, with no one willing to step up and lead, but no one willing to end things either. I’ve noticed that this is a Lutheran tendency, and while it speaks positively to their persistence (or maybe just the force of their habits), my Christ’s buddies have a hard time saying “enough.” Indeed, many moons after its demise, I hear older folks wax nostalgic for the Luther League (the 1960’s era youth organization most of them had belonged to), and they wonder aloud why the youth of today don’t just bring it back. I picture our modern teens, overextended and overtired, juggling school obligations, sports and, often, jobs, and how they would probably react to one more activity (hint: not with glee).

Women’s circles have much to recommend them: a shared focus on service, often Bible studies or other discussion topics. But, beginning with Shepherd Circle (the young moms who, in the late 1980s, didn’t work outside the home and could meet in the morning), circles just haven’t panned out long-term for the Baby Boomers. Some Shepherd grads later began Lamb Circle, and for years we met monthly, at night. Topic leader rotated, as did goody bringer, so it wasn’t really a burden. But at a certain point, we realized that we already saw lots of each other in other settings, and that two new small groups (Wonderful Wednesday and Pub Theology, both still thriving) filled the discussion bill for most of us.

Koinonia (Greek for ‘fellowship’) was one of those mystifying words on the church calendar (“Koinonia 7:00 PM” ??) when I was a new member. I eventually learned that it was a limited small group (12 people), led by Pastor Carlson, that met twice a month in people’s homes. No one else could join until someone left, so we waited for our invite. We really loved Koinonia; eventually the pastor moved on, and it folded.

Mixed Nuts was purely social, and we credit it for helping us make many friends when we first joined the church. Over time, the monthly, themed get-togethers (Mardi Gras! Murder Mystery Night!) dwindled, until these particular nuts stopped mixing. An attempt was made to revive it recently, but it never made it past the first social.

So what’s the answer? No more small groups? Au contraire! In this world of superficial contacts, where we have hundreds of Facebook “friends” but a short supply of real ones, small groups are very important. What I think we need to do is acknowledge the ebb and flow of them, though, and the finite life span of any one group. Luther League may have had its day—but the day will dawn on new opportunities to be together. Promise.

Wonderful Wednesday-still going strong!