I first wrote this post over a year ago. I could never get up the courage to publish it at the time. But now, somehow, a year later, after I've walked through even more sorrow, I feel the time is right to let loose of these words I typed out so many months ago. May they bless someone.
On January 4, 2014, I got married.
I met my future husband on a chilly February evening last year and after an awkward, halting start, our romance took off and flew much faster than either of us had anticipated. (I will write more about that another day).
On our honeymoon, we walked on a beach in Florida and talked about our future. We both knew we wanted children. but we were not for sure when.
Then, my husband pulled me close, and there by the ocean's edge,we gave our future family to God. We had a plan somewhat in place but ultimately, whether or not our plan for our future panned out, we wanted God to be glorified.
Now, here we are, three months later. It has been the best three months of my life. It has also been the hardest.
The first two months were sweet. Not to say it was all perfection, but we glided along for the most part in our newlywed bliss, happy as could be, basking in a state of continual sunshine.
Then the weather changed.
Someone has said that into every life there falls a little rain. This month, I feel like we have encountered a waterfall.
We didn't plan on getting pregnant this early in our marriage.
We didn't plan on finding out two weeks later that the symptoms I was experiencing were probably a miscarriage.
We didn't plan on this storm.
The weatherman seemed to have got it wrong.
I was frustrated and hurt as I drove home from work the day I heard from the obgyn office the news. I wailed questions at the sky, begging God to somehow explain himself to my aching heart and mind.
"Why do you allow innocents to die without the chance to enjoy life?"
I gripped the steering wheel as I yelled, feeling a little afraid to be questioning the Almighty in this blatant, honest way.
Somehow, in the quiet when my words ran out and my throat was too hoarse to attempt another sound, God spoke to me.
"I love children. I always love them. You don't see the big picture. I do. Trust me."
It was not an audible voice. But real, perfect peace filled my heart in that moment as I rounded a literal bend in the road and entered my hometown's main streets.
God knew I needed to pour out my heart. I have had to pour it out over and over in the days since then.
But through it all, that simple thought has kept me from going back to those questions of why that drove me crazy at first:
"I love children. I always love them. You don't see the big picture. Trust me."
My sweet husband has been a rock for me, and pointed me constantly to the Rock. Together, we've wept. He has held me when I've fallen apart over and over this past week.
I never knew how torrential this storm could be.
I'm still in it. It is not over yet. My heart feels like it has been battered and bruised beyond repair. My emotions are on edge still, raw and open wounds that are still susceptible to any hint of damage.
In the meantime, songs keep filling my mind.
I always have a song running through my mind. My husband teases me about it. This week, several songs have stuck like a healing salve to the wounds of my heart.
One especially, an old song. No one really picks it out much anymore to sing as a special in church. It is relegated to children's church or vacation Bible school.But I have clung to its truths this week:
I keep going back to that beach in Florida in my mind. I feel the sand between my toes, hear the gulls crying, smell the salty ocean breeze, and hear Matt's voice praying that God would take our plans and change them if He wanted according to His will. I am comforted knowing that He is working this out for His good.
We will be ok. We will move on, but yet we will be forever changed. I look at the man I married three months ago, and I know deep in my very bones that I love Him with all my heart. And I see the love in His eyes and I know He is mine till death parts us. Death has visited our marriage already it seems, and we have had to draw from a deeper well than we've ever drawn from before. I pray this will never happen again. But if it does, I know that we will get through it hand in hand and heart to heart.
Another song keeps coming to mind too: a newer song:
I don't understand why the weather changes. But I know this: The one who walked on water is calling me to something deeper. I'm not the same as I was a month ago and that's a good thing. I want to know Jesus. That's it. I need Him. And I will praise Him in this storm.
On January 4, 2014, I got married.
I met my future husband on a chilly February evening last year and after an awkward, halting start, our romance took off and flew much faster than either of us had anticipated. (I will write more about that another day).
On our honeymoon, we walked on a beach in Florida and talked about our future. We both knew we wanted children. but we were not for sure when.
Then, my husband pulled me close, and there by the ocean's edge,we gave our future family to God. We had a plan somewhat in place but ultimately, whether or not our plan for our future panned out, we wanted God to be glorified.
Now, here we are, three months later. It has been the best three months of my life. It has also been the hardest.
The first two months were sweet. Not to say it was all perfection, but we glided along for the most part in our newlywed bliss, happy as could be, basking in a state of continual sunshine.
Then the weather changed.
Someone has said that into every life there falls a little rain. This month, I feel like we have encountered a waterfall.
We didn't plan on getting pregnant this early in our marriage.
We didn't plan on finding out two weeks later that the symptoms I was experiencing were probably a miscarriage.
We didn't plan on this storm.
The weatherman seemed to have got it wrong.
I was frustrated and hurt as I drove home from work the day I heard from the obgyn office the news. I wailed questions at the sky, begging God to somehow explain himself to my aching heart and mind.
"Why do you allow innocents to die without the chance to enjoy life?"
I gripped the steering wheel as I yelled, feeling a little afraid to be questioning the Almighty in this blatant, honest way.
Somehow, in the quiet when my words ran out and my throat was too hoarse to attempt another sound, God spoke to me.
"I love children. I always love them. You don't see the big picture. I do. Trust me."
It was not an audible voice. But real, perfect peace filled my heart in that moment as I rounded a literal bend in the road and entered my hometown's main streets.
God knew I needed to pour out my heart. I have had to pour it out over and over in the days since then.
But through it all, that simple thought has kept me from going back to those questions of why that drove me crazy at first:
"I love children. I always love them. You don't see the big picture. Trust me."
My sweet husband has been a rock for me, and pointed me constantly to the Rock. Together, we've wept. He has held me when I've fallen apart over and over this past week.
I never knew how torrential this storm could be.
I'm still in it. It is not over yet. My heart feels like it has been battered and bruised beyond repair. My emotions are on edge still, raw and open wounds that are still susceptible to any hint of damage.
In the meantime, songs keep filling my mind.
I always have a song running through my mind. My husband teases me about it. This week, several songs have stuck like a healing salve to the wounds of my heart.
One especially, an old song. No one really picks it out much anymore to sing as a special in church. It is relegated to children's church or vacation Bible school.But I have clung to its truths this week:
Jesus Loves me, this I know. For the Bible tells me so.He loves me. He loves us.
Little ones to Him belong. They are weak, but He is strong.
Yes, Jesus loves me, yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me.
The Bible tells me so.
I keep going back to that beach in Florida in my mind. I feel the sand between my toes, hear the gulls crying, smell the salty ocean breeze, and hear Matt's voice praying that God would take our plans and change them if He wanted according to His will. I am comforted knowing that He is working this out for His good.
We will be ok. We will move on, but yet we will be forever changed. I look at the man I married three months ago, and I know deep in my very bones that I love Him with all my heart. And I see the love in His eyes and I know He is mine till death parts us. Death has visited our marriage already it seems, and we have had to draw from a deeper well than we've ever drawn from before. I pray this will never happen again. But if it does, I know that we will get through it hand in hand and heart to heart.
Another song keeps coming to mind too: a newer song:
I'll praise you in this storm,
And I will lift my hands,
For you are Who you Are,
No matter where I am.
I don't understand why the weather changes. But I know this: The one who walked on water is calling me to something deeper. I'm not the same as I was a month ago and that's a good thing. I want to know Jesus. That's it. I need Him. And I will praise Him in this storm.
Comments
Post a Comment