I spent a lot of time in prayer over the course of my pregnancy with Samantha. I had to – I was so terrified! After losing Jonah (more on that in a future post), I didn’t know how to trust that this pregnancy wouldn’t end the same way.
One of the stories I returned to again and again was the story of Hannah…
I can’t tell you how many names we discussed before ultimately naming our daughter Samantha. We didn’t even settle on her name until the day she was born. I’ve forgotten most of them. I know Courtney was in the mix, but I kept thinking of the Kardashians…
Samantha was premature, and the rule of thumb we were taught was to wait until she reached her due date to take her out. That meant that Lent, for me, was spent at home. She was born at the beginning of Lent, six weeks early. So her time of isolation was pretty much for the duration of the Lenten season.
One of the more significant memories I have of my time in the hospital (before Samantha was born) is how much I hated the food. This is not meant to knock all hospital food. It’s just the particular hospital where I lived…
I think as long as I struggle with finding words to say during this season, one that is marked by painful anniversaries and sweet memories that also hurt, I will keep turning to the Lenten hymns.
The day after Samantha was born, I woke up anxious to hold her. I wanted to really meet her, not just glance at her face or feel her kick, but hold her and talk to her.
Unfortunately, I had to wait.
Today would have been Samantha’s 8th birthday. How is that possible? I cannot fathom having an 8-year-old.
So here’s what I remember from that day eight years ago…
I have a deep, abiding love of Lenten hymns. The poetry is so beautiful, and I could sit and ponder the language all day (apologies to all non-English majors out there). I mean, look at the fourth verse. Where else do you see a word like sepulchral?
Last night we had Ash Wednesday worship. I didn’t grow up with the tradition of ashes being placed on foreheads – perhaps it’s a little too much for Nebraska farmers. But once I went to college, I’ve been anointed by soot just about every year.
Today is Ash Wednesday. Unlike many of the other posts related to this day, I’m not getting into a discussion about sin, Lent, fasting, or ashes. This post isn’t particularly holy. It’s about my daughter (isn’t it always?).
