I never really understood the depth of God's strength, and love for me until recently. I went to my doctor's appointment full of joy, anticipating my baby's thunderous heartbeat on the screen. As I lay there, the doctor became silent as my womb filled the monitor. She frowned as she moved the screen out of my sight before confirming my worst fears, my baby was gone. No heartbeat could be seen, no movement, no life. My worst fears were confirmed. God knew how hard it was for us to conceive and how badly we dreamed of another child. I kept thinking maybe it was mistake, this can't be real, and still feel like I cannot wake up from this nightmare.
During the dark hours of the day, all I could do was grieve for my baby and what could have been. I questioned God. I longed to hear His voice, to feel His healing touch, to be pulled in close to His presence. As I lay there grieving I heard Him tell me it's in the brokenness that He brings healing, His hands are there to mend my heart.
He whispered it's in the times that we are hurting or fallen from grace that He is there--under the weight of our pain, bringing peace in some tangible way. Yet at the same time, I'm angry. Angry that this is happening. He knows my heart and how much I wanted this child. I wanted so badly to stand in His presence, to rail my fists against His chest and question why. I was so tired of pretending that I understood His will and what was best for me. I wanted to shed the walls surrounding my emotions and be real, only to question if He would still be there for me in the midst of my pride, anger, and ugliness. I'm was tired of pretending it was alright and pretending that I would be fine.
The sharp knife of a short life cuts deep as it breaks our hearts; and we grieve the dreams and future we had already planned--but He is there in the heartache, in the midst of the storm, comforting us, never forsaking us.