Pregnancy Loss

God in Every Season

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Today is my kind of day. It’s quiet. The smell of coffee is drifting through the house and I’m curled up in a warm, plush blanket listening to the rain fall outside. If there was a movie playing right about now and my cat was curled up in my lap, I think I could rule this moment as nothing short of perfection. All five of my senses are happy and fully satisfied right now. I’m completely peaceful.

Another Christmas has come and gone, and for someone who loves all that is associated with the holidays, I’ve already packed away our indoor decorations until next year. While I’ve enjoyed the hustle and bustle, carols, lights, gifts, and excitement, the joy of Christmas unfortunately can’t last forever. Change has to come; it’s time for a new season.

I’ve been thinking a lot about seasons lately. It’s no secret that for our family winter came and decided to enjoy an extended stay. For many months it’s been cold and bleak, and I think I speak for everyone when I say that we all wished we could fly away to somewhere warmer or hibernate until it all passed. The one thing I’ve learned during our winter, however, is while the sun may not be as bright or felt as close, it hasn’t changed its position. It’s still there, even when we can’t feel it.

The same is true with God. There have been many moments this past year when I couldn’t feel Him or see Him, but that doesn’t mean He moved. He never changes, no matter what is changing all around me. I’ve learned that in a way I never imagined. I’ve been forced to face this season of winter head on, and to trust God when He wasn’t necessarily “visible.” But looking back over this past year, I can see His fingerprints on everything. Because He doesn’t leave us when things and people around us die and leave us bare and vulnerable.

He is God in every season.

He’s God when winter ends and spring comes. When mourning is over and new life begins to bud and bloom. When the sun’s warmth can be felt again after a time of silence and extreme cold.

He’s the God of our summers. When the temperatures rise in life, and maybe for you that’s meant being held to the fire in an intense season of testing. The pressure builds and the heat increases to the point where it almost feels sweltering and unbearable. Right when you think it can’t get any hotter, fall comes and breaks the intensity a little. Spiritually, maybe that means you’ve passed the test and can relax and breathe. God didn’t move when the pressure was on. He remained steady, giving you endurance until “fall” came.

He’s God in “autumn,” the in-between season when life is good. You’ve passed your test and you can rest before winter comes. Leaves are changing and everything is crisp, cool and beautiful. You can’t imagine life being more perfect, even though fall is preparing for winter and spring. Everything is good and maybe it’s in our fall seasons when we depend on God the least because we feel we don’t need Him as much. That doesn’t mean He changes. He remains unmoved, even we our dependency waivers a little.

What I’m saying is that God can be trusted and He remains the same in every season of our lives. Just like the sun never changes its place, neither does our God. He is faithful no matter what is going on around us.

For our family, I believe for now our winter has ended and spring is here again. Our intense season of grief is changing to a time of celebration as we anticipate our sweet Caroline through adoption. I have no idea what she will be like, but I know that if she is sent to us by God, she will be the perfect gift because He is faithful. He’s been with us in every single, changing season. He’s proving His faithfulness through every step of our adoption.

I wonder which season you would say you’re in right now. I don’t you or the details of your life, but I pray today that you’ll believe with all your heart that while everything may be stripped away and laid bare around you, God never ever moves. If death or disease have come unannounced and God feels distant or silent, He’s not. If the heat is on and you’re being tested beyond what you can bear, trust His strength. And if everything in life is good and it doesn’t feel like you “need Him,” lean into Him even more. No matter what your season, He wants to be your God in it. How I pray you’ll let him.

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens..” Ecc. 3:1

Amy

Even If

If I were to ask you right now to tell me your your greatest, most intense fear, what would you tell me?

I’m not talking about spiders, snakes, crowded places, or fear of heights. I’m talking about the fears that leave you paralyzed just thinking about them. The life-altering ones. The ones that make you instantly feel sick to your stomach. The fears that, if they came to pass, might change the life you always imagined for yourself.

I remember sitting in our ladies discipleship class one Sunday night as we listened to a teaching DVD by Beth Moore. Her words seemed to resonate with me that night, as she described her thoughts on this very thing– fear. I guess I was so intrigued by what she was saying because a large part of my life has been spent playing tug of war between faith and fear over one thing or another, mostly the life-altering fears. I’ll never forget what she said; it has stuck with me ever since. “If the thing you fear most were to happen, then what? Would you trust the Lord, even if?” (paraphrased)

At that time, I was four months pregnant with Collier and had no idea that just two months later, my greatest fear would become reality. Not only once, but a year later it would be a nightmare-turned-reality twice.

I’m not sure exactly how to word what I guess I had been thinking without saying up until that point, but it might go something like this: “Lord, I will trust you, but please don’t let anything horrible happen in my life. I know You’re strong and able, but I don’t want to go through anything hard. No losses, no tragedies, no disease. Just keep all the majorly difficult stuff away, and we’ll be good. Deal?”

Unfortunately, that’s not the way it works. God doesn’t shelter us from adversity. He doesn’t withhold hardship. He doesn’t keep all our greatest fears from happening (even though most of them probably won’t). He enters the fire with us.

I love the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. It’s always been a favorite, but it has a deeper, more significant meaning to me now. These three young men were serving God faithfully, unashamed, wholeheartedly–and adversity came anyway. I love what they said; it’s such a bold declaration of faith! “We know the one we serve CAN save us, but even if He doesn’t, we still choose to serve Him.” (paraphrase)

Did God save them from hardship? NO. What happens was even better–He entered the fire with them. I get chills every time I read this. “Then King Nebuchadnezzar leaped to his feet in amazement and asked his advisers, ‘Weren’t there three men that we tied up and threw into the fire?…Look! I see FOUR men walking around, unbound and unharmed, and the fourth looks like a son of the gods.” (Daniel 3:24-25)

If that doesn’t get your heart pumping, you might want to check your pulse! Y’all, God doesn’t promise to remove your difficult circumstances or shelter you from them. He promises to walk with you in the midst of it!! He enters your pain and suffering with you. His presence goes before you, behind you, and beside you. And in the midst of your trouble, He removes the ties that bind you so that you can walk unbound and unharmed. What a great and mighty God! My eyes are full of tears right now just thinking about it.

See, if He removed all of your difficulty, it would also remove the opportunities for Him to reveal His glory to a lost and dying world. What resulted from the the fiery furnace? People saw the glory of God and were changed. Those who were enemies of God put their trust in Him. And the three in the fire? They came out without even a hint of a smell of smoke!

ONLY GOD can do that. And He’s done it for me. My greatest fear wasn’t kept from me. It happened twice, and the Lord has been with me through it all. He has walked with me through the fire, and has brought glory to Himself in the worst of circumstances! Has it been enjoyable? No! But through it all, God has put his glory on display and accomplished more than I “could have ever asked or imagined (Eph 3:20).”

So even if Lord, I will trust you. If my greatest fears continue to become reality, I will praise you in the midst of the fire, because You’ll walk with me. Use me up and pour me out for the glory of Your name. You are worth it, even if.

Beauty From Ashes

Today, for the first time in months, I opened up the nursery door and left it open a little while.

I’ve lost count of how many days I’ve walked down the hallway, passing that door, only to feel warm tears well up in my eyes and feel the same, familiar ache resurface in my heart. I’ve laid curled up on the nursery floor, weeping until my whole body became physically exhausted. Many nights, I’ve sat in the rocking chair in the dark, pouring my heart out to the Lord, asking Him to give me the strength to keep trusting Him when I don’t know how. I’ve mourned over a room that should have been filled with life, cries, and baby giggles, but instead has remained silent and empty for over a year. I’ve left the door closed, and sometimes locked, because for so many reasons it’s just been too hard.

But not today. Coming through the window there is a beam of light shining after the rain has stopped, and instead of feeling sadness, there’s something new stirring. Hope. Joy. New life beginning to form again in a once dead place.

Our adoption journey to bring a baby girl home has begun! God is once again doing a new thing in our family, and in just a matter of time this once dead place in our home will burst baby cries again. The sound of baby giggles again. New life, again. To God alone be all the glory!

When I first started this blog, I immediately new what I wanted to name it. The title “Beauty for Ashes” comes from a verse in Isaiah that I have clung to with my life since July 25, 2017–the day we lost Collier. It says:

“To comfort all who mourn and provide for those who grieve in Zion- to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair (Isaiah 61:3).”

This verse has given me hope on the hardest days. It’s comforted my heart and reminded me that God will not leave His children in despair. It’s spoken truth to my mind when the Enemy has tried to fill it with lies. It’s God’s promise to me that He will bring beauty from ashes. He will restore life to dead places. It’s what He does.

Have you ever wondered why the islands of Hawaii are so beautiful? It’s because they are surrounded by volcanoes. That sounds a little backwards, I know. When a volcano initially erupts, it destroys life. The heat from the ash and lava will kill any plants, animals or people that are in it’s deadly path. However, over time what results is the most rich, fertile soil for life to grow. Once the ash cools, some of the largest, most luscious plants can flourish, yielding some of the most beautiful landscape you’ve ever seen. The beauty of the Hawaiian islands is the result of deadly, volcanic ash. Beauty came from the ashes.

I cannot recount all the beautiful things that God has done in my life amidst all the ash. He has restored dead places of my heart. He has taught me to trust Him more fully. He has drawn me to the beauty of His character and how wonderful of a Savior He is. He has strengthened my faith and given me the power to endure the most trying year of my life. He has given me opportunities to share with others of His goodness. He has strengthened our family and shown my children He’s able to be trusted and worthy of worship. He has made me fall in love with who He is more than I ever have. When I think of all the beauty He’s grown from the ashes, I can’t help but be emotional. He is such a good, good God!!

I want you to know that God can do the same in your life. He truly does love you with an everlasting love, and He wants to restore the broken places of your life. He wants to bring beauty from the ash heap you’re sitting among, wondering what He could possibly do with your mess. Friend, if you’re sitting in the middle of ash, you’re in the perfect place for God to do something beautiful, for Him to restore life to dead places.

Today, I pray you’ll open any doors that have been too painful to unlock. I pray you’ll let the light shine in and allow Him to grow beauty from your ashes.

Amy

Bring the Rain

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Yesterday, my husband and I were looking through boxes trying to put our hands on a very important document. Unfortunately, that document is still M.I.A. right now, but in the process I came across a box of old photos. I’m not sure about you, but I love nostalgia, those walks down memory lane through pictures. Some were taken when we were dating, some from our wedding, and others from when the boys weren’t yet old enough to walk or talk. I might have gotten a little teary-eyed a time or two. What I kept thinking, however, was how much more simple life was then…

Life before the rain came.

If you would have told me when those pictures were taken that our lives would be in the place they are now, I probably wouldn’t have believed you. Maybe I would have denied it, or maybe I would have become crippled with fear, not wanting to move forward into a future with a sign flashing, “Pain Up Ahead. Proceed with Caution.”

The truth is, whether we realized it or not, we have been preparing for these storms long before they came crashing in, unannounced. We were preparing for it back when those pictures were taken. Back when life was simple and much more carefree.

There is a passage in Luke that reminds me of this, and you probably are pretty familiar with it yourselves. You might recognize it more from the children’s song. It goes like this:

“The wise man built his house upon the rock.

The wise man built his house upon the rock.

And the rain came tumbling down.

Oh, the rain came down and the floods came up.

The rain came down and the floods came up.

And the house on the rock stood firm.”

I’m not patting ourselves on the back by claiming to be wise. What I am saying is that preparation for a storm begins long before it hits. Think about it, you can’t wait until the eye of a hurricane is hovering over your house and then start boarding your windows and collecting batteries, candles, water, and all the essentials to ride out the storm. Those things are done in advance.

Spiritually, it’s how we live in advance that determines how we weather the storm. It’s those early morning times with the Lord over cups and cups of coffee, before the rat race of the day begins. It’s those times of praying, pouring out your heart to the Lord. It’s the times when your prayers seem to bounce right off the ceiling and you wonder if it even matters that you voice them. But you do it anyway. It’s taking your kids to church when you doubt that all the effort just to get there is worth it. It’s loving people who are unloveable. It’s gritting your teeth through tough days, and pushing through while all you can manage to pray is “help!” It’s remaining faithful when you want to give up. It’s telling God everyday, “I trust you.”

Serving Jesus in the daily grind and the mundane. Doing what is right when it doesn’t seem to make a difference. Staying the course when everything is going right and it doesn’t feel like you “need” God as much (LIE!). These are the preparation days for the storms. Deciding to serve the Lord NOW before the storms come.

Those pictures were the simple, day-in, day-out times. Life was good. We didn’t know the pain of losing children. We hadn’t been beaten by tough winds and heavy rain. We hadn’t yet faced all the pain that has come into our lives this past year. But I’m thankful that we’ve been building our house upon the Rock this whole time. The rains have come and beat upon our house, but it’s still standing. We’re not the same people as the ones in those pictures. We’re stronger in many ways, and our desire is to trust God more fully than we ever have, with hands and arms wide open. With unclinched fists.

There’s a reason God doesn’t show us the bumps, roadblocks, and detours up ahead. He doesn’t give us a forecast of furious storms brewing. We’re simply not strong enough to be entrusted with that knowledge. But He is, and He is calling you to a life of faithfulness now, in the calmness of your life. He’s the one who will carry you through the storm, who will strengthen you in the midst of it, and who will bring you out on the other side, stronger than you were before. Not only that, He can take the wreckage of your storm’s aftermath and paint a beautiful rainbow up against the darkest sky. He can use your storm, and He will use it to bring glory to Himself.

If God has received any glory, attention and honor through our journey so far–if even one person has been pointed to Jesus through our storms- then the pain is worth every second. That’s extremely difficult to say and hasn’t been easy to learn. But if pain is what it takes for people to know Him, then…

Jesus…..bring the rain.

Broken into Beautiful

Bro•ken|adjective|: violently separated into parts; shattered; damaged or altered; not working properly; interrupted; full of obstacles; disrupted by change.

Beau•ti•ful|adjective|: more lovely, magnificent

For those of you keeping up with this blog, you know that only 10 short months ago we buried our sweet third-born son, Collier, unexpectedly. Our family has felt broken, but God has been faithful to us in every moment since that day. As an added blessing, only three months into this first year of grieving, we discovered we were expecting again. Not that having a new baby on the way replaced Collier, but it certainly gave us a little extra joy back into our home. We named him Matthew Isaac, which means “gift of God” and “laughter,” something I was certain the Lord had given to us in the midst of this season of loss– a season I sure was hoping was coming to a close.

Then came the phone call that let us know everything was not okay this time around either. Only 14 weeks into the pregnancy, we learned that our little Isaac had Trisomy 21, Down Syndrome. Was that the worst news we could have received? No, but suddenly everything changed as we prepared for life to be different, again. If I’m honest, we were not happy at first, but those feelings quickly vanished. We felt a deep, overwhelming peace from the Lord. We knew He was with us, and we wanted the baby HE wanted us to have. We accepted that this child He had given us might be different than what we were asking for, but that was okay because we trusted Him fully. We became completely engulfed in being parents to such a special little boy, who was proving over and over to live up to his name–a gift of joy, straight from God. Nobody on earth loved him, and all his 21 chromosomes, more than us!! After all, it was just a disability, not another dead heartbeat.

Until it was. On May 1st, my 33rd birthday, life took another drastic turn. My husband and I sat in a doctor’s office as we watched an ultrasound tech desperately try to find our son’s heartbeat, but there wasn’t one. The next day, I delivered and held another lifeless 26 week old baby in my arms that only a week prior had hardly ever stopped moving. I felt all the same feelings I had with Collier sweep back over me. I wept and questioned “why again, Lord?” We both felt the sting of death as we realized how much pain burying not one, but two children, in a 9 month time span brings.

So many tears and questions. My heart was shattered. Our family has been even more broken (even though we know our children are perfectly safe and waiting for us).

BUT GOD…

He’s not about to let our story end there.

If there’s one repeated lesson I keep learning it’s that He does His most important, beautiful work in our times of utter brokenness. When we are at the end of ourselves and have nothing to bring Him but what’s left of our hearts, He shines through.

Just one week ago, He graciously showed me this truth once again, at a time when I really needed Him to speak to me. I was sitting and listening as an adult leader shared the gospel with all the kids at our Vacation Bible School. In her hands was a tiny glow stick. Nothing special, or useful—at least not until it’s broken. As she spoke, it’s like God whispered to me while I held back tears- The light from the glow stick shines most brightly and beautifully only after being broken.

I’ll be honest, I don’t really like that this is how God works sometimes. In fact, I hate it. It hurts, and many times I wish I could throw the covers over my head and hide from it all. But instead, I have to keep choosing to run toward God. As much as it hurts, in my heart I want to keep saying “Lord, if I have to go through this again, please don’t waste it. Please take this messy life and make it beautiful, so that You shine brightly through all the cracks and broken pieces.”

It’s no coincidence that God used the same process with His own Son. At Jesus’ most intense moment of suffering and brokenness, God was most pleased with Him. Only after His body was bruised, broken, and beaten for us was the beautiful work of redemption completed. The pretty part couldn’t happen without the ugly part.

Am I trying to sound super spiritual, put together and with all the answers? No, no, and NO. In fact, these days I’m anything but those things, and I don’t see how multiple losses can turn out good. It doesn’t feel good. This place of submission I’m now resting in has only come after wrestling with God for weeks. And tomorrow, I’ll have to submit to this as His will for me all over again. And again, and again, and again.

All I’m saying is that God (thankfully) happens to specialize in using broken people for His glory. He doesn’t waste pain. He won’t waste my tears, sleepless nights, intense grief. He won’t waste yours either. Thank God that each day He’s taking broken pieces and making them beautiful, again. Thank God that I can fully keep entrusting my life into hands that perfectly redeem. Thank God that our family’s story doesn’t end messy and ugly–one day it will be perfectly beautiful again.

Until that day, I’m going to keep offering myself to Him over and over and over…. and you can pray for me.

“Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” Isaiah 43:19

The God of Miracles

My tiny little miracle, Isaac.

(Above: My little Isaac, our tiniest miracle)

Have you ever prayed for a miracle?

Me too.

God is always faithful to answer those prayers, but it’s taken me some time to understand why He doesn’t always deliver like I want Him to at times. Sometimes not at ALL like I ask Him. Maybe even sometimes in ways that seem to be the polar opposite of what I ask.

Recently, I took some time and read through all four of the gospels. When I started, I really just wanted to soak up all I could about the person of Jesus. The way He lived, loved, obeyed, sacrificed…everything. Along the way, my eyes have been specifically drawn to all the miracles Jesus did and the motive behind all of them.

What was the motive? The soul.

Not the physical body.

Not to just say, “Hey, look what I can do!” (Even though He did draw attention and give glory to God.)

Every, single miracle mirrored a deeper, more substantial problem–a problem of the soul.

When Jesus gave the blind their sight, it pointed more toward eyes that are blind to the truth of the gospel. He wasn’t just concerned with vision, but the ability to see and understand The Lord for who He really is. So that they might believe.

When demons were cast out, Jesus demonstrated that He can free our souls from anything that holds us captive and enslaves us. Most importantly, sin. He wants to free the captive soul.

When the sick were healed, it was to bring glory to God and to point the lost world around Him (who were eye witnesses to these miracles) toward salvation. Not to be a downer, but every sick body ever healed still eventually died. That’s because Jesus’ end game is not the physical body, but the soul which will live forever.

Then there were the times He raised the dead to life. These are the ones that get me because this is the exact miracle I prayed for a few months ago when we begged for the miracle of a heart beat. This is the prayer that didn’t get answered like I wanted.

But God…He’s graciously shown me that He did answer that prayer. He did give our son the gift of life, just not here. His tiny life has made a global, eternal impact for the kingdom of God through this blog. Isn’t that ultimately better?

See, when Jesus raised the dead, people put their faith in Him. Their souls were raised from death to life, not just their bodies. Eventually, when those same bodies still experienced physical death, their souls still lived. That miracle is only possible because of Jesus’ work on the cross–the ultimate miracle. Allowing the soul to live eternally is a much greater gift of life than any temporary, physical resurrection on this earth. It doesn’t even compare.

Since I have studied this, I’ve thought back to some other prayers I’ve prayed before. Some miracles I’ve begged for in tears. I’ve realized they were all so short-sighted. Oh they were heart felt, and I wanted them. But the motive was all wrong. They were wanting a temporary fix to an eternal problem. They weren’t focused on the end-game, the soul.

If you ever doubt that God still does miracles, rest assured. He does them every day. Some you might be praying for may seem small and some a bigger deal, but God will always answer your prayer for them. Will the answer look a little different than what you’ve asked for? Maybe. Probably. But He will always answer with the end-game in mind–that you (or someone else) may believe in Him and your soul might be secure in Him.

Amy

Come quickly, Lord Jesus

Come quickly, Lord Jesus.

That’s a thought that has crossed my mind more than just a time or two lately.

All the school shootings. Gun law arguments. Threats that are leaving parents afraid to send their kids to school. This person has cancer. That family is going through divorce. Sin has blazed its destructive path everywhere you look.

And on a much more personal scale, I’ve had some pretty difficult days the last month or two. Tough ones. The pain of losing a child is unlike any other that I have experienced, and I’m convinced it will not be matched by anything I may have yet to experience in my lifetime. The reality of the loss is always there, and there isn’t a day that goes by when he’s not thought about.

I’ve come to refer to Collier quite often as my missing piece, because well, that’s exactly what it feels like. It’s like putting a puzzle together only to get almost completely finished and realize you’re missing one piece. The whole picture is there, but without the last piece it’s just not the same.

Yes, the Lord has been completely faithful and nothing but good to me. He has carried me and strengthened me in ways that can only be credited to Him. He is piecing my heart back together bit by bit every day and restoring joy within me. Without Him, I would be a total mess. I am grateful for every single thing He has done in me. But, I am still painfully aware that our family is incomplete and will be that way until everything is made new and right when Christ returns.

So why, Lord, are we still here? Why does He linger? Why, with all of the pain and suffering everywhere, has He not yet fulfilled His promise to return?

Because of what His Word says:

“The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.” (1 Peter 3:9)

This verse is the answer. He lingers because He’s being patient with you. He doesn’t want to be a part of your life. He wants to be your life. And so He waits for you to make that change and surrender all of you, not part of you.

He waits for your family member. The one who you’ve prayed for over and over and over and over. The one who seems to drift farther away instead of closer to God. He waits because He wants that one who is dear to you to experience real life. He waits because He hears your prayers for them, and He is being patient to answer them.

He waits for your coworker. The one who works beside you everyday and whom you know has zero interest in anything “religious.” After all, churches are full of hypocrites, right? So why would she want anything to do with that? He waits for her to come to true repentance, and He waits for you to tell her how to have it instead of keeping quiet out of fear of rejection.

He waits for the one who is searching every wrong place for purpose. He knows he’s searching, and Who he’s really searching for. And so He waits.

He waits for all the ones who have been hurt by life’s circumstances. It’s those very circumstances that He knows will lead straight to the cross if they’ll follow Him there.

He waits for the trouble-maker kids. He waits for those who are “too far gone.” He waits for criminals, murderers, politicians, atheists, adulterers, liars, and school shooters. He waits for all those who have been written off by society. Because He loves them and Has a plan for them, too.

He waits for everyone who has not yet come to repentance, and everyone means every one (even though there are those who never will).

When I stop and remind myself to think this way, it makes the waiting a little more bearable, the painful days easier to persevere, and my perspective to be more eternity-focused. It helps me live differently.

There’s work still to do. God is still drawing hearts to Him. He’s still transforming us more into His likeness through our trials and suffering. And there are so very many people who still need the good news of the gospel. I love the way Kathie Lee Gifford expressed the urgency to share after the passing of Billy Graham. “If you had the cure for cancer, wouldn’t you tell everyone you know? There is a malignancy of the soul, and we have the cure. His name is Jesus.” (paraphrased)

So, come quickly Lord Jesus, but keep lingering, too. And help me not to grow weary, but to keep living with eternity in mind.

Amy

Better, not bitter

(FYI: This is the one and only tattoo I have ever wanted or will get. But I don’t regret it!)

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve taken the time to sit down and write. I’ve had so many thoughts swirling around in my mind, but it’s been hard to sort them out to make sense of them all. Not to mention, this time of year is full of things to keep someone busy. Fun things, some of my most favorite things, that leave little room for sitting down quietly with my thoughts.

And, in case you’ve been wondering, the day has finally come. Tomorrow, November 5th, was supposed to be our due date. There’s a lot of things I could say in reference to this long-awaited day, but I’ll keep it simple. It’s bittersweet. Bitter, because it’s a reminder of what could have been. Sweet, because of what has been gained through loss.

It’s got me thinking back to the events of the past several months. I can still remember exactly how I felt that day, how kind people were, and different comments people said in effort to bring us comfort. Prayers that were offered, meals that were cooked, hugs that were given, and one question that people have continued asking that has blown us away every single time.

How have you been able to face this with such faith? You two are amazing!

No, we are not. But I want to give you our honest, heart-felt response to this question and statement. From the very moment we received our gut-wrenching news, my husband and I had a choice to make. We could get bitter or better. We could shake our fists at God in anger, demanding that He give us an explanation, or we could accept our circumstances and allow Him to turn a mess into a message. We chose the latter, and He has been doing exactly that. Not because we are “amazing people” but because Christ in us is our hope and our joy.

If you read Hebrews 11, you get to take a walk through what modern church people refer to as the “Hall of Faith.” I’ve been doing some reading through this list of spiritual heroes and have come to a few conclusions. Mainly, they weren’t heroes at all. They were ordinary people who allowed God to be their strength and use their weaknesses for His purpose and fame.

There’s Abraham and Sarah. A couple who faced years upon years of infertility, which was a badge of scorn in those days. They trusted God. He gave them a son, and made Abraham the father of many nations. They chose better over bitter.

Then you have Joseph. Sold by his own flesh and blood as a result of jealousy, he became favored by Potiphar and put in charge over much. When his family (who had sold him) needed food during famine, they had to come to come him, swallow their pride, and ask for help. Here’s what he said: “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives (Gen. 50:20).” He chose better over bitter.

Take Rahab. She was a prostitute and had every opportunity to become bitter after years of being used and abused by men who did not love her. Yet God used her to help His people. She’s included in the lineage of Jesus. (Joshua 2)

In Judges, we find one of my favorites, Gideon. I love his story. I loved teaching it to kids last year at VBS and seeing their faces light up with wonder at what God can do. Long story short, the angel of the Lord appeared to him while he was hiding and called him a mighty warrior. He basically says, I think you’ve got the wrong guy! I guess I love him because he voiced his doubts and questions; it makes me feel better about my own! He had endured, along with his people, years of being oppressed by the Midianite people, a big group of barbaric bullies. He was a little bitter, but he trusted the Lord, and God used him to defeat the entire Midianite people with only 300 men. Thank God He chose not to be bitter anymore! What a powerful testimony his life had a part in! (Judges 6-7)

I could go on and on with other examples from the Bible. But I know a few people personally that I’ve seen make this same choice.

There’s the man we met this week during lunch. He owns a local restaurant and had to leave his country in 1996 because he wasn’t free be a Christian there. He left everything to follow Jesus. Instead of pouting about what he lost, he uses his business now as a ministry. Before we left that day, he placed his hands on my son’s head and prayed that he would grow up to love Jesus, too. Better over bitter.

I think of some of my closest friends. One has taken a life of low self-worth and turned it into a life of reaching out to teenagers just like her. Her house is literally a safe haven for so many kids from broken homes. She is a mother to many who aren’t biologically hers, all because she chose to allow the painful places of her life to minister to others.

I think of another friend who has just taken in a stepson who has a laundry list of physical disabilities. His condition requires constant attention, endless energy, and never-ending unconditional love. And she gives it freely instead of grumbling that her life is just too hard. She could get bitter that she has “no life” (and I’m sure she gets frustrated and exhausted) but she keeps pouring love out on that sweet boy anyway. Better over bitter.

I think of another friend who went through years of wanting another baby and finally had one. She didn’t get bitter, and that child is the biggest ray of sunshine you’ll ever meet. Her smile will brighten anyone’s day.

All these people are just like you and me, the ones from the Bible and my friends. Each one of us faced, at some point, with difficult and overwhelming circumstances that have had every reason to make us turn bitter. Yours may not be the loss of a child like mine is, and I pray it never ever will be. But it might be infertility. Or a child who, after all your effort, decides to go astray and the waiting for him/her to return to God is about to kill you. Maybe it’s illness, or loss of a life-long dream. Maybe it’s loneliness or living with a husband who’s first love is not God and second love is not you.

It could be any number of things, but I can tell you this: it’s not a matter of if you will face something, it’s when. At some point, if you haven’t already, you’ll be faced with the choice to get bitter or better. We all have this same choice everyday. Will you allow life circumstances to cause hardness to build in your heart or let God take what little, messed up offering you have and reshape it into something beautiful? He wants to– I promise.

I pray that the testimony of my life and yours can be the same words as Joseph: what was intended for harm, God used for good and used it to save many.

Amy

And if not, He is still good

If there is one thing God has given my five year old son, it is a sincere love of music. As an infant, I could put him in the baby swing, press the music button, and he would be perfectly content. Fast forward a few months, and Baby Einstein classical music was the key to an almost instantly happy baby. Since age two, I have listened to him sing and “play guitar” at the top of his lungs almost every single day. His music of choice? Worship music. On any given day, I can find him in his room strumming away and belting out lyrics to the many songs he’s learned from home, the radio, or church. It’s pure, heartfelt praise. The passion he has for music and worship at such a tender, young age makes me a proud mama. But there have been moments I think God has used it to teach me something.

One of those moments happened during the days leading up to Collier’s delivery. That week, on top of overwhelming sadness from his loss, there were so many difficult decisions we were forced to make. Discussing the specifics of his delivery, burial and memorial service were nothing more than brutal reminders of how life had changed so quickly. Add in a roller coaster of hormones and emotions (a roller coaster that I’m still riding), and I was a mess. I remember thinking so many times how unfair it felt to be planning a funeral for my baby, while others I knew were having fun celebrating their pregnancies with baby showers and maternity pictures. Why, I thought, did God choose to take away our child, but allow everyone else to keep theirs? It seemed as though everywhere I looked, there were more painful reminders that Collier was really gone, and unless God performed a miracle, the circumstance would not change.

That Wednesday afternoon I had just gotten off the phone with my doctor, finalizing details of the delivery, and I was feeling overcome with grief. I tried to pray, but the only prayers I managed to muster were crying out to God “please help us” or “Your will be done.” I’ve learned that asking God’s will to be done in the midst of heartache can be so very,veryhard to pray. What if God’s will is different than what I want to happen? What if He chooses to allow us to walk the road that is more painful? What if He hears my prayer for a miracle, but His answer is still no?And if He chooses to say no, does that mean He is still good? Why would a good God allow something so hurtful to happen to those who have tried to serve Him faithfully our whole lives? It’s not that I believed we were more or less deserving of anyone else. But I have been taught of God’s goodness my whole life, and how He rewards those who seek Him (Hebrews 11). Nothing about this felt good.

Somewhere around this time of praying and questioning, I heard noise coming from our living room. It was the familiar sound of my little boy belting out again with his guitar. Here’s the song he had chosen to sing that day:

You’re a good, good Father

It’s who You are, It’s who You are, It’s who You are

And I’m loved by You

It’s who I am, It’s who I am, It’s who I am

You are perfect in all of your ways

Perfect in all of your ways

You are perfect in all of your ways to us

My precious boy will never know how grateful I am for him singing that song. At that moment, in his little mind, all he was doing was singing something he heard at church. But God knew what I needed and used the faith of a child to remind me of His character. Looking back, I truly believe that day was when I began to let go and trust Him. I began trusting that He would carry us through whatever was ahead. I began trusting that He had the power to perform a miracle if He wanted. And if not, He was still good.

Because, He is.

He is good because He sent His only Son to pay the penalty for my sin–a costly gift that I did nothing to earn, nor did I deserve (Ephesians 2:8-9).

He is good because He has given me a wonderful, faithful, loving husband. One who over the past 9 years has been my very best friend, my source of laughter, and the one who has held my hand through everything life has thrown our way.

He is good because he has allowed me to carry three children—a privilege many never get to experience at all, and one that I treasure.

He is good because he gave us Collier, even if for just a little while. I heard his heartbeat. I felt him move, and I got the joy of carrying him his whole life.

He is good because He never changes. He’s the same, yesterday, today and forever (Hebrews 13:8).

He is good because He doesn’t make mistakes. His ways are perfect, even if I can’t see it (Isaiah 55:8-9).

He is good because nothing catches Him by surprise. He is all-knowing. He sees the beginning and the end all at once, and every detail in between (Psalms 139; Isaiah 46:9-10; Luke 12:7).

He is good because He hears my prayers and He answers them, even when the answers are not the ones I wanted. His answers are always best (Matthew 7:9-11).

He is good because His Word says He is, and I choose to believe truth (John 17:17). The truth that He is working all things together for my good (Romans 8:28-39).

We chose for the song “Good, Good Father” to be sung at Collier’s memorial service. I can’t help but think how perfectly fitting it was. It soothes the ache in my heart to be reminded over and over that His ways are perfect. God knew exactly how long Collier would live, and his brief life had purpose. It mattered. It will always matter.

I’m not sure if you have ever doubted the goodness of God like me. Maybe you look around at all the evil in the world and wonder where is God? Maybe life has crumbled right before your eyes and you don’t see an ounce of goodness anywhere. Maybe you’ve prayed for a miracle that never came. I don’t know what your circumstances feel like, but I do know how badly it hurts to lose someone I cared for deeply. I want to tell you from experience, He is still good. He truly is a good, good Father.

Jesus, God’s only son, experienced intense grief to the point of sweating drops of blood. He asked, “O My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will (Matt. 26:39).” God heard that prayer. He could have chosen a different way, but He didn’t. He chose to allow suffering because it ultimately led to good. Our good. As our Father, He works all things together for His glory and our bestinterest. All because of His great love for us. He hears our prayers. He sees our tears. He understands our problems. He knows our pain. And we can trust Him with it all—because He is faithful and He is still good.

-Amy

Collier’s Story

“But God loves broken-hearted people. He doesn’t avoid them….God doesn’t ignore your tears or tell you that if you really had faith you wouldn’t cry. He wipes them away.” -Nancy Guthrie

One month. That’s how long it’s been since the day life left me feeling completely broken-hearted. This is Collier’s story….

About a year ago my husband and I felt the Lord leading us to expand our family once again. God has already given us two energetic little boys who have added so much joy and life to our family. After their 5^th and 3^rd birthdays, we realized how much we missed having a baby around the house and started praying about having another child. Just a few short months later, I happily walked out of our bathroom with a positive pregnancy test! Three tests to be exact (nothing wrong with being extra sure). All the emotions that I felt with my previous pregnancies immediately set in- excitement, being overwhelmed, a little fear, and a lot of gratitude. Life was good.

We kept our secret for a while, wanting the assurance of the first ultrasound before we shared our news. And we got it…a good strong heartbeat and a healthy baby! In April, we spilled the beans and in May we found out the gender…another boy! Now, I won’t lie to you. Part of me was hoping for a little girl. Not because I don’t love my boys, but because I thought we desperately needed another female in our house! Someone who shared my love of all things pink, polka dot, and girly. Someone who I could one day have a relationship with like I do with my own mom. And, while I’m being honest, someone who could ring the toilet! But all of my plans and what I thought I wanted were quickly replaced with excitement over our new baby boy. I realized that God obviously wanted us to have all boys, and while the thought made me feel totally unqualified, I gladly accepted the challenge!

We had already chosen his name, Collier Grant Davis. We started planning, decorating his nursery, and dreaming of what he would be like. Would he look like his brothers? Would he have hair? Would he be a happy baby or would he have the dreaded colic? What would his personality be like? What would he grow up to be? All of the things you can’t help but think about when a new baby is on the way. All of our family was excited. Everything was going well and I felt great! The best I have felt out of all three pregnancies, with the exception of a little morning sickness at the beginning. Our anatomy ultrasound in June showed that he was right on track and he was healthy. Everything was still good.

On July 25^th I was 6 months pregnant and went to the doctor for a routine check-up. It was going to be one of those appointments where they check your blood pressure, the heartbeat, basically tell you you’re still pregnant and send you home. Uneventful. That’s the mindset I had going in that day. I figured within an hour I could be out and on my way to TJ Maxx or Hobby Lobby, like I usually did after appointments. About halfway through my time with the nurse, I noticed she was having a hard time picking up the heartbeat. She gave me no reason to be worried, but sent me to ultrasound just to be sure. I still wasn’t concerned because the same thing happened with Alex (my 3 year old) once. He kept moving and they couldn’t get a clear reading. I assumed it was a similar situation.

It wasn’t. Moments later I found myself in a puddle of tears, listening to the words that no mother ever wants to hear. I’m so sorry. There is no heartbeat. One month later and I still can’t find words to describe how incredibly painful it feels to hear those words. There isn’t language strong enough. The pain that grips your heart when you hear that your baby has died without warning just hurts, almost unbearably. Almost as if your heart has physically broken in two. Questions immediately started flooding my mind. Was it my fault? Did I do something wrong? Was this reality or a nightmare? Are you sure there’s no heartbeat? Can you check again? How am I going to explain this to my kids, who have prayed for their brother every day for 6 months? Is God punishing me? Why did I not have any warning? Why…just why?

My doctor and the nurses said and did so many things that day (that week) to try and help make things better. I’ll really never be able to thank them enough. But nothing helped. I was in shock, pain, and at the same time I felt completely numb. I knew what the next few days held for us, and I didn’t want to accept it. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. While we should have been planning his arrival, we were now planning his delivery and burial. Not a joyful delivery where we would be bringing him home – stillbirth. Every time that word crossed my mind I felt like I would throw up, and the tears would start all over again. Sometimes they still do.

That day we did the only thing we knew to do. Pray. Even though we didn’t know how to pray or what to pray. We called and texted those closest to us asking them to pray. We went to Facebook and asked everyone to start praying for us. Thank God for other believers. In times when you don’t know how to pray for yourself, it’s comforting to have others who come alongside you and carry the burden for you in prayer. Hundreds and hundreds of people starting praying that day– people that we do not even know. I don’t usually like posting stuff like this on Facebook, but that day I was thankful that it helped spread the word so quickly. Knowing how many people were praying for us is the only thing that carried us through those next few days. And a very specific prayer was answered.

Peace. God gave us incredible, indescribable peace. Apart from Him, it does not even make sense to have peace in a situation where you feel like your heart is broken and your world has been flipped upside down. That week, all I could do was cry- weep– and beg God to please let this be a mistake or a nightmare I could wake up from. Several times I went into his nursery and sat alone crying, until it physically hurt and wore me out. Knowing that I would never wake up to him crying in the middle of the night. I would never get to feed him or rock him to sleep. Never change his diaper. Never dress him in all the clothes that were waiting for him to wear–the same ones his brothers wore. Never sing to him like I did his brothers. Never watch his first steps or hear his first words. Never read him a story. Never would I even hold him alive. But even after mourning over all those things, there was still peace that no matter what was happening, He was there. God kept the promise He made in His Word to give us “a peace that passes all understanding that will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus (Phil 4:7).” Even though at that time He felt very far away, I knew that He was actually carrying us every single, painful step.

As much as I didn’t want it to, July 28, 2017 still came–the day that Collier was born. Without a doubt, it was the hardest day of our lives. Physically speaking, it was the most difficult thing I have ever done. Again, there just are no words. There is something very painfully eerie about giving birth to your child and there is no sound. No heartbeat being monitored during labor. No cry. No life. Experiencing birth and death at the very same time. Holding my son for the first and last time here on this earth, knowing that he’s not even there. Trying to study every feature of his physical body while I held him, hoping not to forget a single thing. Saying goodbye before I ever even had the chance to say hello. Tears flow and pain fills my heart every single time I think about it.

But God….He gave us His peace that day too. Yes, it was unbelievably hard. It hurt terribly. It still hurts me terribly every day, as I’m sure it will for a while. But God was there. His presence was felt in our room that day, not just by us but by others who stopped by to pray with us. He helped us have faith, which He made evident to others as well. Even our doctor and nurses noticed a difference in us, which can only be explained by God working through us at our lowest low. I can promise you at that time, faith was the last thing we felt we had.

In addition to His overwhelming peace, God also gave us the strength we desperately needed and a likely explanation for his death (umbilical cord). But even more than that, He kept reminding us of the joyful promise that Collier is now very much alive. As much as I wanted so badly for him to move or open his eyes that day, not for a second would I want him to exchange the life he has now for what he would have here. As his mother, I can’t do that. I know that in heaven, with Jesus Christ himself, Collier is experiencing life more fully than he ever would have here. While I may never understand why God took him the way He did, as early as He did, I am thankful that my son has never experienced anything other than being in the presence of the One who made him and “ordained all of his days, before one of them came to be.” (Ps. 139:16)

Naturally as a mother, I want the absolute best for my children. I want to nurture them and care for them. I want health, joy, purpose, safety, and love for them. I want them, as they grow, to know God and make Him known with their lives. I want them to be a living testimony for what God has done and is doing on the inside of them. God wants all of those things for them too, so much more than me. And He can accomplish that even after a person is gone. That’s my purpose for starting this blog. I want to allow God to take Collier’s story, and all of the things He’s teaching me along this journey through grief, to bring hope and healing to others. To allow Collier’s life to be a living testimony here, even though he physically isn’t. To give God a chance to bring beauty out of these ashes. That’s what His Word promises to do. “To comfort all who mourn, and provide those who grieve…a crown of beauty for ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.” Isaiah 66:3

For now, I’m taking it one day at a time. Some days, it’s been more like an hour at the time. But I have hope….the hope that I will hold Collier again one day, and he will be very much alive!

~Amy