Music Speaks to the darkest part of the soul

This is short, but I wanted to share these pieces with you. Natalie Grant, thank you for your words and music. You'll never know just how much these songs mean to me. They speak to who and what I am right now, the dichotomy of faith and madness. Thank you so much.
Both of these pieces truly describe my state of mind. THank you Jesus, for inspiring both of these songs.

Natalie Grant » Held Lyrics
Two months is too little
They let him go
They had no sudden healing
To think that providence
Would take a child from his mother
While she prays, is appalling
Who told us we'd be rescued
What has changed and
Why should we be saved from nightmares
Were asking why this happens to us
Who have died to live, it's unfair
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held
This hand is bitterness
We want to taste it and
Let the hatred numb our sorrows
The wise hand opens slowly
To lilies of the valley and tomorrow
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held
If hope if born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait, for one hour
Watching for our savior
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held


Natalie Grant - I Will Not Be Moved
I have been the wayward child
I have acted out
I have questioned Sovereignty
And had my share of doubt
And though sometimes my prayers feel like
They're bouncing off the sky
The hand I hold won't let me go
And is the reason why...

[Chorus:]
I will stumble
I will fall down
But I will not be moved
I will make mistakes
I will face heartache
But I will not be moved
On Christ the Solid Rock I stand
All other ground is sinking sand
I will not be moved

Bitterness has plagued my heart
Many times before
My life has been like broken glass
And I have kept the score
Of all my shattered dreams and though it seemed
That I was far too gone
My brokenness helped me to see
It's grace I'm standing on

[Chorus]

And the chaos in my life
Has been a badge I've worn
Though I have been torn
I will not be moved

Three months ago, a precious child was born!

Today is August 7, and Lydia would be three months old today. I’ve written and rewritten and deleted and erased things I’ve wanted to say for about three weeks now. I think I’ll just launch into it, and yes, I will continue the discussion of things I’m thankful for!

I’ve heard that time heals all wounds. I’ve learned throughout my life that taking this literally will set you up for heartbreak and seriously depressing thoughts. Time doesn’t heal anything – time gets away from us. There are days when I can go almost the whole day and completely occupy my time with thoughts that do not include Lydia, and I HATE that. However, my mind has to do that so I can function. No one can dwell on the tragedy in their lives 24 hours a day – they will become immobile. How do I know this, because I’ve swung from both ends of that pendulum. I’ve done immobile, and I’ve done insanely busy. I’ve sat in the recliner in my living room and cried over Lydia, and never gotten out of that recliner all day long. I’ve gotten out of bed and gone to work and to the gym and the store and cleaned house, and focused all of my energies on those things just so I didn’t have to think about what happened to Lydia. Time does not heal wounds. Time lets us waste ourselves.

See, if Lydia were here, the plan was for Whitnee to have her at home for a few weeks and I would finish out the school year. Then, we’d have about a week or two at home with Lydia together before Whitnee went back to work. Whitnee would go back to work, and I would take care of Lydia two days a week, while sending her to daycare three days each week so that we could reserve her spot for the upcoming school year. My job this summer was to take care of my daughter for most of the time my wife was at work. I was left not with my daughter, but with time. Time sucks. I had a different phrase here, another description of my time alone, but since I’m not yet as cool as Derek Webb, I’ll keep that one to myself.

The door to the nursery has been closed for a while. We’ve been in there a few times, sat in the chairs, touched her things, and held the teddy bear we bought for her and the stuffed frog she was given. We’ve cried until we can’t do it anymore, and some days it doesn’t take much to set the waterworks off again. How do we stay connected to her as the time passes? I don’t know. I don’t want to lose her in my mind’s eye. I have our pictures, and the music, and the cards, and letters, and all these things are comforting and damning all at the same time. Comfort comes from knowing I am still connected to my daughter through them all, and damning because I have to let these temporal things suffice for her. I couldn’t save her.

I wear a ring right now with a Greek Style cross on it, and it has her name engraved on the inside. It was my Father’s Day present, and even though she never touched it, she touched my hands, and that I will remember. Lydia’s death has driven me to the darkest point I think I’ve ever been in – I’ve been alone even in a room full of people, because I carry a burden that no one should have to carry. I’ve now been a part of a circumstance where two people have lost their lives. The first was the drunken driver that hit my brother and me when I was 16 years old. He died in the accident, and I have no actual memory of the event itself. What does that have to do with Lydia? I remember everything about her death, and it haunts me. I will one day have the strength to write my feelings about the details but today I’m not ready. I need to think about the good things that I can, not dwell on the darkness that waits for me in my mind. Jesus, I pray that You will heal my mind, and help me to dwell on You during those times when I just can’t seem to think about anything but the awfulness of Lydia’s death.

What good things can I think about? Well, how about things I can thank God for? Yes, I can thank the Lord for a lot during this time. I started earlier, and I want to keep going. I need to say thank you to the people of Mountain View Baptist Church, for being our church family in Alabama, and for holding us up in prayer. All your prayers and gifts were appreciated so much! Even across the miles your prayers were felt by us! I want to thank all our family and friends on Facebook – Thank God for Facebook! Without this utility we would never have been able to reach out and be touched by so many people. God bless you all!

I want to thank the doctors and nurses at Baylor Hospital Downtown Fort Worth, and At Cooks Children’s Hospital in Fort Worth. To Doug Pace and Dr. Grubbs – thank you for your prayers and guidance while Whitnee and I had to make some really hard decisions for her. To the most amazing nurses in the entire world, the NICU nurses at Cook’s Children’s – you are exactly where God needs you to be, and He has blessed so many families through your care of their children. We were blessed to have you taking care of Lydia. Special thanks go out to Laura, Kristina, Kim, Rhonda, and Alanna – your kindness, generosity, openness, honesty, and caring blessed us as we held our baby girl, and even when we had to be away from her. Knowing that you were taking care of her gave us comfort, because we knew the Lord had given you the calling to be with her. Kim and Alanna – I believe the two of you were with us the last two days of Lydia’s life, and Kim, I know it was you that sat with us the day she died. God bless you both. I can’t imagine a tougher job, but God gave you strength to be with us, and your strength showed us God’s love in the darkest days we’ve known. Thank you. Also, to Kristina, Rhonda, and Alanna – thank you for blessing us yet again by being with us at Lydia’s Funeral. Your prayers and support for us meant more than we could ever say. I pray that you will all continue to bless other families as their children need Godly people caring for them.

To my family at Trimble Tech High school – I could not ask for a more understanding and amazing group of people to work with! Your prayers and support for me and my family have been and still are overwhelming to us. You are truly part of my family, and I a part of yours. I will forever be a Bulldog with you all, and your support in the months to come will be invaluable to us as I come back to begin a new year. To those of my students that might ever see this – thank you for your kind words, your prayers, and the amazing support you showed me when I had to leave. I hated not being able to finish our year, but knowing you were thinking of us made me so thankful to have been your teacher.

The Lord is opening my eyes once again, to see the Son instead of the eclipse in my life (thank you Stryper for the amazing song) and He has given me a chance to once again stand up in front of my church family, and sing for Him. I will sing YOUR GRACE IS ENOUGH, and HOLY SPIRIT RAIN DOWN this week. I pray that God will give me the strength to do what He has called me to do. Maybe I need to sing for myself, to see if I still can, but more than that, I know God has called me to sing for Him, to lead people into the throne room of worship, and in my brokenness, I will pray that God give me the strength to do that. Thank you Jesus for all you’ve done in our lives. Hold on to my little girl. Let her see her daddy sing tomorrow. I hope she’s proud of me, and I pray You will use me to bring others into Your presence.

More to follow – this journey is far from over!