One Year

"I have felt its approach in the back of my mind, O Lord, like a burden tilting toward me across the calendar. I have felt its long approach, and now it has arrived. This is the day that marks the anniversary of my loss, and waking to it, I must drink again from the stream of sorrow that cannot be fully remedied in this life. O Christ, redeem this day." - Every Moment Holy, Volume II: Death, Grief, and Hope

Tuesday, November 29th, marked the one year anniversary of my mom's death. Like the quote above says, I have long felt it's approach. I had actually been dreading it since the leaves began to turn. Each peer out the window to see the brilliant colors of yellow and red and orange took my breath away, and not because it was beautiful (thought it was), but because I knew fall was closing in and so were the painful memories of all the events that occurred before, during, and after my mom's death last year. This date seemed like a looming mountain that I had to climb. And, honestly, all I wanted to do was hide.

But God gives more grace.

It's now December 2nd, and I have made it to the other side. The Lord carried me through largely on the prayers of others. Once I got past my birthday, which was just seven days before the dreaded day, the anxiety almost disappeared. The days seemed to get easier after that for some reason, but my awareness of last year's timetable was still very much on my mind, as revealed by the many dreams I have had of my mom and her house.

I miss my mom tremendously. I think of her all the time. I am so happy for her that she is no longer suffering and that her faith is now sight, but I miss her being a part of our lives. There are so many things I want to ask her and cannot. There are things I wish I could ask her about parenting and her childhood that I didn't think to ask before, but now never can. I miss talking to her about what the boys are doing and sending her pictures of them. I miss how she kept me connected to my extended family. I miss sharing all the little things with her that no one else would really care about, but she did. My mom took a special interest in the lives of others. She seemed to find everything I told her interesting, even if it really wasn't. I missed driving to see her this past Thanksgiving. 

Now that Christmas is around the corner, I miss talking to her about gift ideas for the boys. I used to get so frustrated by how many presents she bought them (too many), but now I wish she could just buy them even one. Gift-giving seemed to be her love language and she really enjoyed buying gifts for others. She actually had me order Christmas gifts for the boys from her while she was on the BiPap machine in the hospital last year, just a week before she died. She loved them so much and getting them something for Christmas was on her mind even in her final days. The gifts actually arrived the day she died and I was able to give them to the boys that day, which was a sweet providence. 

We have made it through a whole year of firsts. Like we do in memory of my dad, we took time on her birthday and Mother's day and this past Tuesday to remember my mom. I made a special photo book about the boys' grandparents, so we looked at that book together and talked about the memories we had of Grandma. I know the memories of my mom and her house will fade in the boys' minds as time passes (which makes me sad), so this is a way I hope to keep her memory before them. 

It's been a year and the pain is still very raw. It all still feels very recent in my mind's eye, as if it happened just weeks ago. But I know from experience that it will not always be this way. The pain will not always be so acute, but it will always mark me in some way. Someone has said that grief is our final act of love and reveals the extent to which we have loved the person who died. The tears will come and go and come again, but there is a day coming when One will finally and fully wipe them all away (Revelation 21:4). Until then, He collects them in His bottle and never lets one tear be wasted (Psalm 56:8). For what I also know is that even though grief is unpredictable and messy and this world is full of many sufferings and trials, there is a God who is ruling over it all and He has good and wise purposes that we could never fathom. And more than that, He is a God who enters into our suffering through the person of Jesus Christ. He walks with us in it and He became one of us so that He might bear our griefs and carry our sorrows (Isaiah 53:4). In fact, He was called the Man of Sorrows (Isaiah 53:3). This is what Christians celebrate around the world at this time of year. Christmas is about the God who came to us to live for us, to die for us, and to save us so that we might be able to live with Him forever. Jesus came to destroy the works of the devil (sin and death), so that death no longer has the final word. Jesus is going to right every wrong and transform every suffering into something glorious. My heartache is not for nothing. This is the hope that carries me through the hardest of days.

And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” Revelation 21:3-4

Thanksgiving 2020

The Empty Chair

Anyone who visited my mom knew the familiar sight of her sitting in her rocker recliner. As her health deteriorated over the last several years, her time in her chair increased. She became almost wheelchair bound and rarely left her recliner. She slept in it. She ate meals in it. She welcomed people into her home from it. She held her grandbabies for the first time in it.

Mom meeting Justus

Mom meeting Levi

Last year, my family and I spent a total of almost two months at my mom's house spread over three trips (only two trips were planned, which would have totaled two weeks). Most of those weeks were without my mom present because she was in the hospital. It was strange to walk into her house without her smiling face beaming at us from that chair. The chair sat empty the entire time we were there. Not one of us sat in it. Not even my boys, who are four and two, ventured into it, and no one told them not to. It was like an unspoken rule. Everyone understood that it was her chair. 

_______

When my family and I made our biannual trip to visit my mom last June, deep down I thought it might be one of our last visits. The Lord put it in my heart to ask my sister and her husband to join us during that time because my mom loved when both her girls were there at the same time and I sensed an urgency that we all be together. After our week visit, my family and I returned to New Jersey, only to take a next-day flight back to Missouri a week later because my mom was severely ill in the hospital with pancreatitis. 

She was unable to keep down food and medicine for weeks and the doctors saw no hope for recovery, so they sent her home on hospice. She wasn't even home for 24 hours before she was eating and drinking and keeping down meds and in her right mind. The Lord touched her body and, besides being weak, she seemed like herself.

During that time, many of our relatives came in from all over to see her in what we thought were her last days. They came prepared for a funeral, but instead were able to visit with her like old times. Looking back, I can see what a gift this was to my mom. She loved having people in her home. No matter when you came or how long you stayed, you were always welcomed at my mom's house. She would receive you with open arms and a smiling face, and, as much as she was able, she would go out of her way to accommodate you. 

As it became apparent that my mom was on the mend and no longer dying, we took her off hospice and arranged for her to go to a rehab facility to strengthen her very weak body. It felt as if God had given her back to us. Little did we know that it was only temporary. 

June 2021

My mom was well acquainted with suffering and had suffered many health afflictions over the years. Yet, even through all the pain and the loneliness and limitations, my mom did not turn away from God or question the lot He gave her. She did get weary of hospitals and doctor's visits and she did wonder why God kept her around, but her faith in God never wavered. Since 2015, my mom has had at least one health crisis per year that we weren't sure she would pull out of. In 2021, she had two. Her infirmities seemed to increase in intensity and complexity each year.

Now her health battles are over. My mom went to be the Lord on Monday, November 29, 2021. She contracted Covid in the rehab facility where she was staying and never recovered. It's hard to believe this was the health crisis to end them all.

__________

Now we are all reeling from this sudden loss. For me, the effects seem cumulative. It's not just losing my mom, but losing my dad and the home where I grew up. It's the realization that I no longer have parents or grandparents - people who have gone before me. It's a heavy blow.

In the midst of the grief and pain, however, there is relief and joy. My mom is no longer suffering. She is now free from her crippled body of almost 40 years. She doesn't have to face the reality of no longer being able to live by herself and she doesn't have to live in a long-term facility (something neither she nor we wanted). She doesn't have to endure isolation and loneliness - something I scarcely let myself think about before. She is healed in every way, and I no longer have to worry about her (and, oh, how much of my thoughts and prayers went towards her). 

Honestly, this has been really hard and some days I really struggle with this hard providence. I have to be careful, though, and guard my thoughts. It's easy for me to start questioning God's wisdom and character. But I know whom I have believed and I must trust Him over what I feel or what my circumstances tell me. It's hard to see how God could possibly work good out of my mom's suffering or out of all the hard things my family and I have faced last year. But, as the old hymn says, "Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, but trust Him for His grace. Behind a frowning providence, there hides a smiling Face." My vision is limited. I do not see all that the Lord is doing. One day, I will. Maybe not even in this life time, but one day, I will see that God had been up to something good all along, even in all of the pain. That's what I cling to as I grieve with hope (1 Thess. 4:13).

"Be still my soul, thy Jesus can repay from His own fullness all He takes away."

Five Years

I've been thinking about my dad a lot this year. I always think about him, but he's just been on the forefront of my mind more. This September marks the fifth anniversary of his death. Five years is a long time. So much has happened. But, yet, the memory of him seems so much closer.

I have been missing him. Mainly, I've been missing him missing out on our lives. I know he doesn't feel that way. He is in perfect health, free from sin, and in the presence of Jesus (2 Corinthians 5:8). He is at home in every sense of the word. But for us here, we miss his presence, and, from our earthly perspective, he has missed out on so much. Both me and my sister got married the year after he passed away. He wasn't there to walk us down the aisle or dance with us at the reception. I have trouble imagining what that would have been like - what he would have said, if he would have teared up - and it's something my heart will never know. This is something I realized I have never truly grieved over until this year. In the moment of wedding planning and all the changes that go with getting married, the busyness hid the reality. I actually did not even know who was going to walk me down the aisle until the week of my wedding due to things going on amongst my relatives (which was painful for several reasons). As I was looking through our wedding album earlier this year, these things hit me. I wish it could have been different. I wish my dad could have been there. But he wasn't and I have to trust God's Word that He's working in that for my good (Romans 8:28).

And then there's Justus. I think that is what has really been prompting me to think about my dad. I wish he was here to meet him, play with him, know him. My dad loved babies and he would have loved Justus so much - enough to even travel to visit us here in AL (and my dad was not one to travel). Now I can only show Justus pictures and videos of his grandpa and hope that that somehow makes him think fondly of him down the road.

Loss is hard. Its effects are far reaching, rippling into events unforeseen and surprising you with grief when you least expect it. The passage of time helps. It gives perspective and distance, but it doesn't lessen the loss. The grief may not be as raw as it was five years ago, but sometimes the pain can be. But, as a Christian, I can grieve with hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13). Because Christ died and rose from the dead, I know that the same will be true of my dad. Because Jesus lives, he lives too. And one day we will worship Him together.

Photo Credit: Sarah Mesa Photography

Photo Credit: Sarah Mesa Photography

In Loving Memory

Three weeks ago, my Grandma Pyles (mom's mom) passed away. Although she had been on dialysis for several years, her death was quite unexpected and sudden. Most of us are still trying to wrap our minds around it all.

My grandma constantly tried to be in mine and my sister's lives - something I took for granted and hadn't really took note of until now. She took my sister and me to church with her when we were little and to VBS during the summer. She made our birthday cakes and attended every birthday party. She came up to see us (for she lived right down the road from us) in our dresses before we headed off to prom and attended our graduations. In fact, she even drove to Louisville to attend my seminary graduation. When we moved away, she did her best to keep up with us. She read my blogs and commented on them. She followed us on Facebook. She had stuff published about us in the local newspaper (like our graduations from college and seminary).

My grandma was a hard-working woman, working up until she was no longer able to drive (2011) due to Pasture's Syndrome. She used to make her own clothes and was known, at least in my family, for her cakes. I still can't eat a store-bought cake because I was so spoiled by eating hers.

As long as I can remember, my grandma went to church. She not only attended, but she served in many capacities. Even after she was no longer able to drive, she faithfully attended (the church picked her up).

I appreciate these things about my grandma, but I regretfully never her told her that. But the Lord did allow me to talk with her on the phone briefly a few days before she passed. Justus and I were even able to FaceTime with her that day (she never got to meet him in person). I told her I loved her, was sorry I didn't get to see her over Easter, and tried to encourage her with the hope of heaven (for she professed faith in Jesus Christ). She told me she believed, and I am thankful that I can grieve with hope. My prayer is that other people on my mom's side of the family will come know and be transformed by this hope - a hope that never fades or disappoints, and which is found only in Jesus Christ.

Kristi and me with our grandma: Velma Pyles (1933-2017)

2017: Brand New Territory

This year has been a whirlwind of changes and challenges. I usually write a New Year's post and a post reflecting on my new birth in Christ (which was Saturday). Time has been limited - and so has mental clarity - and writing has taken a setback to many other things. While I have a few moments to spare (and this is my third day working on this), I thought I would combine my three annual posts (New Year's, spiritual birthday, and Easter) into one. 

So much has happened since I last had the opportunity to write. This year literally began with change as we moved to Tuscaloosa, Alabama, on January 1 for Daniel's new job. I was seven months pregnant at the time. We have had a lot of change in a very short amount of time (new job for Daniel, new church family, new city, new routines, new house, and a new baby). My introverted and routine-oriented self is still coming to grips with it all. Almost nothing is familiar, which is why I titled this post "Brand New Territory." 

As much as I did not enjoy living in the city of Pittsburgh, it was very painful to leave our church family and dear friends at Renaissance. God used the leadership there as well as the members to grow us in what it means to live by grace, to point others to grace, and to live in deep community with other believers. I miss them so much.

One of our biggest fears in leaving Renaissance was that we wouldn't be able to find a church where living in community with out believers was so central. The Lord was so very kind to connect us to Safe Have Church - Big Sandy the first week we arrived in Tuscaloosa. It wasn't long before the Lord started giving us new friends and opportunities to serve within the church. Even though the people there hardly knew us, they took it upon themselves to take care of us when we arrived and when our son was born. It will take time to develop the depths of friendships that we crave, but we are excited for what God has in store for us in and through this local body of believers. 

During the first month, I spent most of my time cleaning our new house (yep - we're home owners now!) and making it feel like home. I wanted to do a lot of the deep cleaning before our baby boy was born. I thought I had more time than I did, but he surprised us by coming two and a half weeks early. Justus Garrison* was born on Valentine's Day, weighing in at 8 pounds, 10 ounces. 

This is not only new territory for us, but uncharted territory. 

I expect this new year to keep up the theme of new territory as we settle in here and grow in parenting Justus. Even though we don't really have to teach him much in the way of verbal lessons, we can already see our lack of wisdom and strength for this awesome task.

As almost everyone had warned us, the first few weeks were rough. Add to this the fact that Justus was admitted into the hospital when he was two weeks old with omphalitis (an infection in his umbilical cord stump). He was in the hospital for a total of 9 days. It was a very difficult and dark time. It was so hard to see him poked and prodded so much. He had to receive strong doses of IV antibiotics and his IV blew 4 times. Every time they had to do a new IV, they had to stick him multiple times before they could get it to take. It was almost unbearable to watch. I struggled with understanding how this could be for Justus's good and became angry at God as the week wore on for allowing everything to be so hard and painful. He reminded me that He knew intimately what it was like to watch His Son suffer. 

Indeed, that is why we celebrate Easter. God was not only willing for His Son to suffer to save a people for Himself, but He ordained it (Isaiah 53). I confess that this truth, as marvelous as it is, only brought me a little comfort at the time. My heart was embittered towards my heavenly Father for what He was permitting to happen to Justus. I have since repented of my hardness of heart and apathetic spirit - which is why Jesus had to die, to save hard-hearted sinners like me. The cross of Christ proves the depths of God's love for me, even though I had lost sight of that at the time.

I mentioned that Saturday was my spiritual birthday - the day when Jesus Christ gave me new spiritual life (John 3). It has now been 16 years of following the Lord. As I grow in faith and in the knowledge of Him, I realize more and more how much I need His grace. He saved me by His grace and He sustains me by His grace. I bring nothing to the table, except the sin that required His death on my behalf. The Lord reminded me today as I reflected on Him saving me that it is only by His grace that I still believe in Him. It's only by His grace that I did not walk away from the Christian faith when enduring that dark week at the hospital with Justus. We never outgrow our need for the gospel. We need it to save us from our sin and bring us to God and we need it to continue believing in God until we reach Heaven, where our faith will become sight. Reflecting on these truths helps me see Easter, as well as my spiritual birthday, in a different light. These were not just events that happened in the past, but they are events that continue to impact the here and now. 

As Christians, we have much to rejoice in as we think about the Lenten season leading up to Resurrection Sunday. Our sins have been paid for. We have been redeemed. Perfect obedience has been imputed to us. We have been made right with God. We have been adopted as His sons and daughters forever. We have been given the Holy Spirit to lead and guide us. And God Himself will see to it that we endure in faith until the end. Celebrate God's grace with me this Easter season. Without it, we would be hopeless and dead in our sins. But God, being rich in mercy, made us alive together with Christ (Ephesians 2:4-5)!

Photo credit: Gary Franklin Photography (www.garyfranklinphoto.com)

*We chose the name Justus (besides the fact that we just liked the name) because we liked its meaning ("just"). Plus, I liked how it was a biblical name (though not a common one). Garrison is a play off my dad's name, Gary, and means "fortified stronghold" and "son of Gary." 

Words that Support Life

As has been the case, I am behind on blogging. I haven't written my annual New Year's post, but still hope to find time to, especially before Baby Hurst arrives.

Today is the one-year anniversary of the loss of our first baby, Judah. He was eight weeks old in the womb when we lost him. Tomorrow, I have a routine ultrasound scheduled with the new practice I am going to here in Tuscaloosa. I am 35 weeks into this pregnancy with our second son and I look forward to getting another peek at him tomorrow. I don't believe in coincidences. I believe the Lord intentionally put these two events next to each other and He is very kind to do so.

Sometimes it’s hard to know how to talk about these pregnancies and to know how to be pro-life in a non pro-life culture. What are ways that we can support the life and dignity of the unborn? Not everyone is called to lead a protest, to sit outside an abortion clinic, to volunteer at a pregnancy resource center, or even to give financially to support pro-life causes and organizations. We all have limited resources and time and must use them as God leads us. The Bible very clearly, though, articulates the worth and dignity of every human being from before they are born until the day they die. Their days are numbered by God and He alone has the right to shorten or lengthen them.

There is one way, however, that every evangelical Christian can express his or her pro-life theology and that is through our speech. How do you speak about the unborn? How about pregnancies and miscarriages? After our miscarriage, I have been thinking a lot about this. I am in my second pregnancy now and in conversations with others, both inside and outside of the Christian faith, I am inevitably asked (especially now that we live in a new city), “Is this your first?” Well, Yes and No. Yes, this baby will be my first delivery, but, no, this is my second baby. My husband and I didn’t get to meet or hold our first baby. But he did have life and he does have a name. It’s hard to know how to best answer that question. I know the meaning behind the question is “Do you have any children that are here in the flesh?” But regardless of whether a baby makes it through pregnancy or not, the baby is still a baby and the would-be parents are still parents.

I have answered the question both ways, struggling in my heart with the most appropriate reply. I want to give honor to our first baby, to his short little life, but I also don’t want to go into the details or some long explanation. As the months have gone by, however, I am becoming more convinced that choosing to acknowledge the loss of our first baby when answering questions about how many children we have or whether this is our first pregnancy says volumes about what I believe about human life and dignity. If our first baby would have been born and then passed, I don’t think I would have hesitated to say that I have two children with one being no more and that this is my second pregnancy.

We live in a hush-hush culture when it comes to miscarriage, even within the walls of the church. People, Christians and non-Christians alike, do not know what to do with women and families who have suffered through a miscarriage(s). Before my own miscarriage, I remember being in this same boat. I felt compassion, yes, but did not think deeply of the significance of a miscarriage or the impact it has on the parents. We expect the parents to grieve momentarily and then quickly move on, to “try again.” We don’t consider the loss of hopes and dreams that are quickly envisioned when that pregnancy test shows positive. We don’t think about the trauma for the mother from the miscarriage itself or even for the father who loved the baby just as much and experienced the trauma alongside his wife. For unbelievers, this is more understandable as they may or may not recognize an unborn baby as a baby. For Christians, however, could it be that we are too focused on the here and now, the things that are seen? Granted, my husband and I never met our first child. We never got to see him or feel him or hear him. We barely had the chance to announce his presence. But he was real. He was our baby. 

One of the most basic ways we as believers can challenge the culture of death is by speaking in ways that support life in our private conversations with both believers and unbelievers. It may be awkward or conversation-stopping, but should that stop us? The gospel can be awkward and conversation-stopping as well, but it gives life to those who believe it and we are commanded to testify to its truth and goodness. The gospel is life and gives life and will give life to the conversations surrounding the unborn if we are willing to lay aside our fears and stand up for what is true and beautiful and lovely.

So the question we must ask ourselves is: Do we really believe that every life matters? Do we believe that a miscarried life matters? Do we believe that unborn babies with genetic abnormalities matter? If we do, how will that translate into our speech and actions? Like I said, I am still wrestling through some of these questions (or maybe with just the boldness in speaking up in conversations).  

How will your words support life?

Life After Loss

Things change when you lose a loved one. They change in a thousand different ways.

Today marks the third year since my dad passed away. It’s hard to believe he’s been gone that long, and sometimes the pain seems just as fresh as when it first happened. People always say that the first year is the hardest, and I can see how in many ways that is true. But I actually found that year two was harder. Maybe it’s because I had false expectations of what long-term loss looked like. I expected year one to be hard and then after that for things to immediately get easier. But they didn’t. Instead, the new reality set in: my dad is gone. No more phone calls. No more laughs. No more sharing life together. Life is still going on for sure…but without him.

This past year has been easier comparatively. But, grief can be a tricky thing. The pain sneaks up on when you least expect it and seems to be absent when you most expect it. And for everyone it seems to be different. And I guess one of the things I have noticed most is how I (and others close to my dad) still feel the loss, but how others have moved on. It doesn’t affect them regularly or cause the same void in their life. There’s nothing wrong with this. We can’t all feel every loss so keenly (how overwhelming that would be!). But for those suffering from loss, for those to whom the absence is noticeable, it seems like we are at times stuck in the pain or have regressed to an earlier stage of grief. The world carries on, but we experience the loss in some way every day. Time does heal the wound, albeit not completely, and we do adjust to the new way of living that God has ordained, but the loss becomes an integral part of our story. It doesn’t define us (or at least shouldn’t), but it does further shape us and what we believe. For Christians, it should sober their view of life and drive them to dependence upon Christ. That is one of the good intentions that God has in grief: to grow our faith and make us more like Christ. And we can only do that if we lean into Him and let others into our grief. 

God created us for community not just for fellowship and to share our joys, but to also share our sorrows and struggles. The local church should be the safest and best place to do this. We are called to rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep (Romans 12:15). We are to encourage the fainthearted (1 Thessalonians 5:14) and comfort others with the same comfort that Christ gives us (2 Corinthians 1:3-7). If the one who died is a believer, we are to remind each other of their and our future hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13-15). And, most of all, we should be encouraging one another and building one another up in the truth and knowledge of the Lord (1 Thessalonians 5:11; Ephesians 4:15-16). But we can only live out these commands within our church families if we are open and honest and vulnerable with one another. We have to let others into our lives and be intentional in entering the lives of others. This is not easy to do, especially in our individualistic, self-reliant, put-on-a-good-face society. But this is what Jesus calls us to, and the local church is where I believe you will find true healing from loss and people to walk alongside of you during the bouts of reoccurring grief. This is where I believe God chooses to meet us in unexpected ways as He reveals Himself to us through His people. Can you find healing from grief outside of the local church? Yes. But I believe it will be a longer, more lonely road, and a definitely less grace-centered and gospel-centered healing process. I am thankful that the Lord has pretty much forced me to share my grief with my brothers and sisters in Christ. He has used them to confront my doubts and unbelief in God's goodness and to encourage me when I am hurting and discouraged. They may not feel the loss regularly like I do (or may not have even been there to experience the loss in the first place), but they are more than willing to patiently enter the pain with me and comfort me through it. Life after loss may look different for everyone, but the true source of Hope and Comfort is universal. His name is Jesus Christ and He often channels His hope and comfort through His people in the local church context.

Pushing Past the Seen

Things that are seen. These are the things that command our attention, that fight for our joy. And once again, I found myself fixated on what is tangible. I am in my second pregnancy. The first one ended in a miscarriage 8 weeks in. When I came to the seventh and eighth weeks in this pregnancy, I fought hard to trust the Lord and not give into anxiety. Yet, I was looking to the things I can see or feel to determine how well this pregnancy was going. Was I nauseous? Did I have food aversions? Yes. Good; the pregnancy must be going well. But I experienced spotting for over a week. What did that mean? Was that a sign of a miscarriage? If only my first appointment would come and I could hear the heartbeat...if there is a heartbeat…

Then the Lord brought me to this timely verse one morning:

¹⁶ So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. ¹⁷ For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, ¹⁸ as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

I am well acquainted with this verse, but I needed a fresh reminder. I had been focusing on the visible; trusting in what I can sense or see or feel, instead of trusting in the promises of God. I was trusting in feeling nauseous and food aversions and the absence spotting to reassure myself that everything was okay. But the Word of God is more true that the tangible things around me, and He holds out beautiful promises of future grace to those who trust in Him – promises that never fail.

Yet, even though God brought this lack of trust to my attention, I continued to struggle. I knew I needed to focus on the unseen things, but visible things were what continued to consume my attention and fuel my fears. I needed specific unseen things to focus on. I needed specific promises besides the broader truths that God was sovereign and was working for my good.

Once again, God in His grace met me in my struggles and unbelief. That weekend the sermon at church was from Psalm 139. I studied it beforehand to prepare for the sermon and God used that psalm to remind me of His constant care and presence. He has been with this child from the beginning – before I even knew this little life existed – and He was the One fashioning him or her together. More than that, God has a plan for this child, regardless of how this pregnancy ends. Just like He has numbered and planned my days, He has numbered and planned the days of this little one, no matter how many or few. Furthermore, God promises not to withhold good from His children (Psalm 84:11). Therefore, if the birth and life of this child is good for my husband and me, God will not withhold him or her from us. The same was true with our first pregnancy. Even though we went through a valley of darkness and pain in miscarriage, we watched God work in our marriage and through our lives to strengthen relationships, minister to those suffering in similar circumstances, and draw us closer to Christ. It was good for us to be afflicted in that way (Psalm 119:71), so that we may grow in faith and love and the knowledge of Christ. 

So I am still waiting for my first appointment* and I still have the thought of miscarriage hovering in the back of my mind, but I have a renewed confidence in God’s wise care and plans. His abundant grace is available each day and His mercies are new every morning. They never run dry. And nothing catches Him by surprise. He knows how our first doctor’s appointment will go. He knows how this pregnancy will end. And I can lean into Him and trust what He has in store. Because He is not only working for mine and my husband’s good, but He is working for the good of this baby and of His church and for the glory of His name. I cannot control what is going on inside of me, but I can trust the One who is in control. He is working in the unseen places and in unseen ways, and what cannot be seen now will one day reveal His omnipotent wisdom and goodness and glory to all.

*This post has been in the works for several weeks. Daniel and I had our first appointment last Tuesday. And the Lord in His kindness met us in our doubts and fears and allowed us to hear the heartbeat. :) We are thankful for such a gift!

Our Second Year :: In Pictures

One year anniversary trip :: Niagra Falls and Toronto

Impromptu trip to MO :: Mom in hospital :: October 2015

Halloween 2015 :: Let the pumpkin-carving tradition continue!

Duquesne Graduate Symposium :: November 2015

Daniel's Birthday at Noodlehead :: a surprise party was waiting for him at home :)

Thanksgiving in TN :: Skeet shooting

Christmas in MO :: the five of us all together for the first time since our weddings!

First Pregnancy :: Miscarriage :: January 2016 :(

I finally took a photography course :: new lens!

Completed our second puzzle together :: this one took longer than the first

New Board Game of Choice :: Monopoly

Daniel's parents came to visit :: March 2016

We became members of Renaissance :: April 2016

Trip to Belgium and Paris :: May 2016

My mom came to visit :: May 2016

Moe's! :: one of our go-to date night places

Summer in Pittsburgh :: so pretty!

Second Pregnancy :: June 2016 :: Due March 2017

OH-MO-TN-KY Trip :: July 2016

Second Year Anniversary :: Local Eats and Jason Bourne Movie

Here's to another year!

A Few More Thoughts

I promise I won’t continue to write about this, but there are so many things that God is up to regarding my last post that I wanted to share a few more things.

Last Sunday at church was Baby Dedication. Perfect timing, right? I say that sarcastically, but it was. It’s no coincidence that I miscarried exactly a week before there would be a church service where parents would dedicate their new babies to the Lord. Unlike some churches and denominations, my church (and I) believe that babies shouldn’t be baptized. We believe that baptism is for those who are old enough to make a conscious decision to follow Christ. No one is born a Christian. We are all born as rebels against God and we must respond to the call to turn to God through Christ in order to be saved. So, instead, my church does baby dedications as a way for families to commit to teaching their children about Jesus and as a way for the church to commit to partnering with and helping families in that high calling.

Even though we didn’t have a little one to dedicate in front of the church, I felt the Lord calling me to do so in my heart. The first question that my pastor asked these new parents was, “Will you entrust your children to the Lord?” When he asked that question, I felt the Lord asking me, “Will you? Will you entrust your little one to me?” Yes. Even though we don’t understand why God took away our child, we choose to entrust him to His care. In fact, what better hands could he be in that God’s? He knew each of the days of our baby's short life before he was even conceived.

My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
    intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
    the days that were formed for me,
    when as yet there was none of them. Psalm 139:15-16

 Later that day, one of our dear friends came by our house to give us flowers and a frame with the baby's name. And that is something else I wanted to share: the way that our brothers and sisters in Christ have mourned with us and supported us through this sorrowful time. As hard as it is to be so open and vulnerable with people about your pain, it is even harder to suffer in silence. I know this from experience. We have seen God work through our Renaissance church family and other Christians we know to comfort us and love us. Our missional community group (a.k.a. small group) has prayed with us, cried with us, sent us cards and text messages, and would do more if we would let them. It has been a beautiful thing to watch Romans 12:15 prove true in the life of the body of Christ: “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” Our brothers and sisters in Christ rejoiced with us when we shared we were pregnant (the few we told) and mourned with us when we shared our loss. God has used them to bring us much comfort and encouragement, and has also used them to help us remember God’s goodness, sovereignty, and grace.

And God has not only used used this loss to give us the opportunity to be vulnerable with others (which is so hard for me), but He has also used it to help others be vulnerable with us. Several women have shared with me about their miscarriages. Losses they probably wouldn't have shared without learning about my loss. So relationships are going deeper and there has been sweetness in our sorrow. Only God can do that. He brings beauty out of the ashes (Isaiah 61:1-3).

Finally, I can only give credit to Jesus for how we have been responding to this affliction. I am afraid that a few months ago I wouldn’t have responded in faith. Instead, I would have headed in a downward spiral of self-pity and doubt. But God has a way of preparing us for the trials and afflictions He brings our way. He gives us the strength and faith to trust Him and praise Him in the midst of suffering and loss. He helps us to look at the unseen when all we can see is the pain around us. Because even though He causes grief, He will show compassion and shine His face on us again.

You who have made me see many troubles and calamities
    will revive me again;
from the depths of the earth
    you will bring me up again.
You will increase my greatness
    and comfort me again. Psalm 71:20-21

Another Loss

“I shall go to him, but he will not return to me.” 2 Samuel 12:23

This is a deeply personal post. I am sharing because, even though I wouldn’t choose these circumstances, this is how the Lord has chosen to work in my life. I try to be honest that living the Christian life, that following Jesus, is not about a life of ease and comfort. Suffering and affliction come to believers and unbelievers alike, in many shapes and forms, and yet with different purposes. In the life of the one who believes in Jesus Christ, suffering and affliction is a tool that God uses to draw His people closer to Himself (Hos. 6:1-3; Heb. 4:15-16), to increase their trust in Him (2 Cor. 1:9), to teach them (Psalm 119:67, 71), to discipline them (Heb. 12:7-11), to allow them to share in Christ’s sufferings (Phil. 3:8-11; 2 Tim. 1:8), and to allow them to identify with and comfort others (2 Cor. 1:2-7) – to name a few. It is not for punishment. Christ took every ounce of punishment for those who place their trust in Him. And it is not arbitrary or meaningless (2 Cor. 4:16-18). The life and death of Jesus gives meaning to even the most minute and mundane things. God always seems to be a million things at once in our lives, so whatever circumstances we may find ourselves in, they are not pointless.

These are the things that God is reminding me as my husband and I face a painful loss. Death visited us again in January. This time in a way that is harder to understand and express. About a month ago, Daniel and I found out we were pregnant. We were excited (and scared), but so thankful for such a quick answer to prayer. And, suddenly, before we could even begin to wrap our minds around this little gift of life, it was over. At 8 weeks (a week ago today), I miscarried. The talk of painting one of the bedrooms for a nursery, guessing if it would be a boy or girl, and already beginning to care for this tiny addition to our family was all over in an instant.

But God is faithful and He is near. He is not a God who is far away and is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses and sufferings. The Bible says He is close to the broken-hearted (Psalm 34:18). In fact, He entered into and identified with our sufferings by sending His Son, Jesus. Jesus was called a Man of Sorrows (Isaiah 53:3). He was tempted in every way were are, yet He did not sin (Hebrews 4:15). He knows intimately what we are going through and He has been very near to us, pursuing us through His Word and through His people and surrounding us with His presence.

In fact, God began pursuing my heart and preparing me for this loss in the days leading up to the miscarriage (and the days following). Through songs and Bible reading and the radio and the devotional I am reading, He has been calling me to do one thing: Praise (the one thing that doesn’t come naturally in times like these. No matter what would happen with the baby (because by the time last weekend came, we knew there was something wrong), God was asking me to trust Him and to commit to praise Him. He was asking me to adopt the words of Job as my own. Job lost all his possession, his ten children, his heath, and his status in the blink of an eye. And yet this is how he responded:

Then Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head and fell on the ground and worshiped. And he said, “Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” Job 1:20-21

God asked me to do the same. As I was listening to the Shane and Shane song below, God was essentially ask me, “Will you praise me no matter what? Are you willing to worship me even when I take away?” My heart, although trembling, cried out a firm Yes. I choose to trust You, Lord. I choose to remember that Your ways are higher and thoughts are greater, and that You will not withhold from me anything that is good for me.”

I am currently studying through the Psalms, and even there God was beckoning me to praise Him:

“Praise the Lord! Praise the name of the Lord, give praise, O servants of the Lord…Praise the Lord, for the Lord is good; sing to His name, for it is pleasant.” Psalm 135:1, 3
“Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good, His steadfast love endures forever.” Psalm 136:1

So, with God’s help and strength, that is what Daniel and I have been trying to do. We don’t pretend to understand why we had a miscarriage. We don’t pretend that this isn’t hard or painful, because it is very much so. We don’t pretend we haven’t been tempted to self-pity or bitterness or envy because we have (or, at least, I have). But we do choose to take God at His Word and trust that He is working in such dark circumstances and that He is in control of life and death and that He will work in and through this for our good. And I have no doubt that God will use this loss to make the love and message of Jesus shine brightly in our lives. I have already seen signs of Him doing so.