Hope

I’m learning a lot about myself recently.  I’m learning about my areas of sins and struggles, about what truly makes me happy and how to appreciate the gift of life we are given.  There have still been moments of extreme sadness and grief, but more and more frequently hope is pushing through the sadness, like sunbeams through a closed shutter.  Little rays that are trying to light a big dark room. 

I’ve found hope in learning to surrender.  Control is a huge issue for me—when my world starts to spin like crazy I cling for anything I can control…mostly it manifests into cleaning everything in sight. I know when I’m the most stressed is when my house will be the cleanest.  I’ve tried to control my job, my eating, my workout schedule, my husband, my social calendar and on and on.  This loss rocked my world—there was literally not one thing I could do to control the situation.  There was a lot of freedom in that realization and I’m learning how liberating it is to surrender…to take yourself out of the equation and let God work.

There’s been hope in watching Newton and seeing what a great father he will be.  We work with the three and four year olds at our church and watching him interact and develop relationships with these little ones has been so fun.  Like our new class, he started out timid the first couple of weeks.  Now, though, he knows the kids by name and they come to our class looking for “Mr. Newton” to play cars with.  I’ve started to look forward to the family in our future.  Again, I’m trying to practice surrendering to the timing of that family and the way it might happen, but I truly believe we have too much love to give not to be parents someday.

Sharing my loss and healing process has given me hope. People from  various times in my life have heard or read about what’s happened and reached out with their own stories and how they can relate to something I’ve said.  This has given me comfort that God is weaving grace and good throughout a dark time in my life.

I’m mostly hopeful around what is working in my heart.  This has opened my eyes to how much I’ve been living like this life is all about me.  It’s not.  I got that message loud and clear.  I’ve never felt as needy for Christ as I did in the months following the miscarriage. I listened to a sermon by JP (http://www.watermark.org/media/series/308/) today and he said it’s not true that God won’t give you more than you can handle…what is true is He won’t give you more than HE can handle.  I thought I was strong enough to get through this on my own and every time I think I’m in a good place, I’m humbled by some comment or experience or event that takes me back to right where I started: broken.  It feels good to be needy, to be seeking, to be in scripture and to pray in a way I haven’t done in a VERY long time. 

I know soon the shutters will be wide open and light will fill that dark room; life will settle back into a routine; I will establish “normal” again.  I pray I don’t forget this season and the lessons I’m learning along the way.

held.

This is a song that was sent to me on a CD by a woman who also experienced a miscarriage. The whole CD is wonderful and filled with songs of encouragement, but “Held”by Natalie Grant is the one that I’ve related to the most. A link to listen is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WAo2zdRbXicI love the promise this song leaves me with – the promise that no matter what Jesus is there to hold us. Life throws curveballs all the time—some take us down paths of unexpected joy, others pain or loss but no matter what Jesus is there to hold us in his arms. Hope this song may speak to others like it has me, no matter what life has thrown your way.

"Held"

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