As Time Goes On

Time does not heal all wounds.  At least that is what I am finding out for myself.  We just celebrated the date that our first child would have joined our family had the heartache of loss never entered our world.  Celebrate, that may be too much of a stretch.  Instead we grieved, and ached, and mourned what is not.  We cried, we held each other, we tried to press on and not dwell in the darkness of anguish and pain.  Sometimes laying there in the misery of it all sounds more appealing then picking up and carrying, all the whilest remembering and not forgetting what has been our life.

In the midst of this chaos and brokenness, I feel lost.  I do not know how I climb out of bed every day and face what the day brings.  I do not know why death has entered our lives and robbed us of three very much wanted children.  I do not get how the thing we want so badly has been just close enough to be true and then vanishes before we can tangibly count is as ours to be had.

It is so hard to look forward and imagine that this time will be used as good.  This time feels broken, and messy, and vulnerable, and scary.  It feels impossible that this season can be overcome.  It feels impossible that what the future holds can ever out weigh the hardships and heartaches of this season.  How can my heart go on?  How can I recover from a past 8 months that have been filled with hurt, pain, loss, sadness, yet mingled with joy and hope and gratitude?

Yes, although there has been loss ... there has been so much more hope.  Three time this year we have been blessed with two little pink lines.  Three times this year I have experienced life within me.  Three times this year I have had the honor and the privilege to share with family and friends that a baby was on the way!  I have so much hope and joy reminiscing those moments.  I have faith that our story is not over.  I have to believe that the hope I have is not for naught.

God is good.  He is writing our story.  Death has never been part of His plan, but death entered this world.  I have a choice to make every day.  Do I allow the crushing weight of death to overcome me, or do I allow Him who overcame death to fulfill me and continue to minister to me and give me hope?  From this experience, I can reassure you that choosing hope has been the best choice I have ever made.

The future still remains unknown.  I still struggle to envision a time where this mess will be turned into a message.  But I have faith that God is using our story of brokenness and that redemption is His.

These losses have helped press us even further into the journey of foster care.  We are closer now than we have been before to being licensed foster parents.  And perhaps that is how God is using our story.  I do not know.  But God does.  Send us, Lord.  Let us be instruments on this journey of life and let us be Your hands and feet to the least of them. 

In the waiting

So take courage my heart 

Stay steadfast my soul 

He's in the waiting 

He's in the waiting 

Hold onto your hope 

As your triumph unfolds 

He's never failing 

He's never failing

Another weekend come and gone.  And it feels like the second worse weekend I have been through in my life.  This past Saturday we said hello and goodbye to yet another baby.  It had only been a few short days since those two pink lines appeared on the test and I sat in awe and wonder on my bathroom floor as tears of faith and joy ran down my cheeks.  I was full of praise, yet I was terrified.  I had walked this journey two times already.  I was hopeful, oh so hopeful, that this was going to be our take home baby.  Our Redemption baby.  

I had plans to celebrate with my husband.  I wrote a poem.  We had a photo shoot scheduled under the guise that we were having our one year anniversary photos taken.  But then all the hopes and dreams that had been building for a lifetime, that had suddenly become a reality three days earlier all came to an abrupt halt as I now sat on the bathroom floor watching my hopes and dreams of this child that I had prayed for vanish. 

I feel the weight of the pain, and the memories of "what ifs" infiltrate every cell of my body and I cry out begging for relief, begging for answers, begging that this is all a dream.  Can I wake up yet?  Can this not be my reality ... please?  I just want to hide.  I just want company.  I want to be everywhere and nowhere all at once. 

This journey has taken me deeper with God.  I have continued to press into Him.  Even in the hard moments, I find my strength in Him.  In the morning, when I rise, give me Jesus.  

While I wait, Jesus is here.  What I wait for, I know not.  But I know that my God turns mourning into rejoicing and ashes into beauty.  And for that, how can I not have hope?  

To be completely raw and honest, this seasons sucks.  It is frustrating, challenging, tear-jerking, and at times I hardly like being around myself because I feel so consumed with grief and heartache. 

I know I am not alone.  My heart goes out to all of those mommas and daddys who have lost babies and who walk this same journey, or one similar.  As much as I want to say that it will be ok, or that we will all hold our miracle babies, I cannot make those promises.  Yet I know who holds the days and I know that God is constantly making all things new.  For that, I am thankful. 

My heart holds so much hope.  Perhaps my eye has been on the wrong prize.  For what am I supposed to long for and hope for?  I am praying for guidance through this journey.  I am praying for a healed heart.  I am praying that God will indeed restore that which has been broken and turn it into something beautiful and amazing (Joel 2:25). 

In this seasons, I know God is near.  As I wait, I know God is here.