Grieving and Thanking
July 25, 2017
Today I am 32 weeks pregnant. There are so many emotions bundled up with this milestone. There is nothing too special about being 32 weeks along, but for me, this number is awakening to me both praises and fears. It is exciting because I am a mere 6 weeks away from being considered full-term and this little one is continuing to kick and wiggle and grow despite the dire list of complications we’ve been given. I’m simultaneously afraid because a bigger baby means a harder birth with an extremely different and difficult outcome than most mothers ever have to consider, plan for, or worry about.
Today though, I’m going to steer my thinking away from my fears and onto things for which I have praise and thankfulness. So many of those praises revolve around you, my friends and family, and also many complete strangers who are no longer strangers, but dear friends who’ve opened their hearts to my husband and I during this time.
I’ve been learning a lot about grief and pain and suffering during this time in my life. It is not easy and it is not fun, but what I’ve been learning has been setting me free. So before I get to the many many “thank yous” that I am eager to dole out, I want to express what Christ has been doing in my heart over the last 4 months of this pregnancy.
The hard thing about grief is that there isn’t really anything you can do but walk — or stumble and crawl — through it. There’s no setting it aside for another day, like I like to do with my piles of laundry or ever-growing grocery list. It simply refuses to be ignored and often rears its ugly head in the most inconvenient places at the most inopportune times. You might actually be feeling alright for once. You might have actually showered and put make-up on, visited the Saturday market and purchased pretty flowers, only to be approached from the owner of the local baby store you’ve been purposefully avoiding like the plague, who saw you walk by and is wondering why you haven’t been by the shop for so long. Before you know it, Grief has woken up and you are crying on the sidewalk, hiding behind your bouquet of these-were-supposed-to-make-me-feel-better market flowers, and then are unable to leave the house for the rest of the day.
No, grief does not like to be ignored and so I am learning to walk with my grief, look it in the eye and invite it into my home…because somehow, behind Grief’s tear-stained face, messy hair and hollow cheekbones, I see an honest friend who promises that if I don’t ignore her, she will turn us both into something marvelously beautiful.
Something that is helping me make friends with my grief is called, Walking with God through Pain and Suffering, by Timothy Keller. It is one of the most validating books I have ever read, written from of a place of absolute assurance of the goodness of God despite the pain we face on this earth. In it we are reminded of the story of Elijah who was an incredible Prophet and servant of God. His entire life was spent sharing about God and His kingdom and yet he was constantly faced with opposition, death threats, and actual attempts on his life.
He was often homeless and hungry and, at one point, he says to God, “I give up. This is too hard. I’d rather die than walk this road you’ve called me to. Please let me die.” Upon reading this, many Christians may be feeling something like, “Wow. He’s really lost faith. He needs to trust the Lord and ask Him for help. Why is he just giving up?” People who react this way might also be expecting God to show up, rebuke Elijah and tell him to toughen up, repent and trust him but that is not what God does.
Elijah, laying in the middle of the wilderness, pleading for death does not receive a rebuke or a harsh word from the Lord. Instead, we are told he is visited by an angel of the Lord. The angel touches him and cooks him a meal. He doesn’t even speak to Elijah, correct or offer advice, except to tell him to eat because “the journey is too much for you.” Elijah is visited twice by this angel and both times is fed so that he can finish the journey.
This story has had a profound impact on me because through it I’ve realized that a) even God’s most steadfast servants have been grieved to the point of despair, and b) that this despair was not met with retribution but with compassion from God. In this story, God recognizes that we are not only spiritual beings, but physical as well. God sees that someone in deep pain does not need a harsh word, an empty platitude, or a sermon, but rather an embrace and good food. He met Elijah’s physical and emotional needs first through food and touch before He instructs Elijah later on.
There is absolutely a time and place for more words, for advice, and maybe even correction in a grieving person’s life. But God first and foremost sees that when we are truly despondent and bruised, that we need compassion, human touch and good meals. (Also, maybe a day of binge-watching Netflix?) I am blown away by this. I am so so comforted by the fact that my tears and worries are not too big or too much for God. And because, through Scripture, I am given reassurance that sorrow and deep pain are allowed, I feel safe to bring everything to the Lord, even if it’s my anger at Him that I am bringing. Rather than grief separating us from God, we are given permission and invitation to bring it all to Him.
So here we are…all of that is what brings me back to all of you who have comforted or helped Nathan and I in some way. You are like the angel in the story of Elijah, who have not rebuked or abandoned us, but have offered us everything in your hearts. This is where I want to say the biggest, tear-filled THANK YOU to anyone who has reached out or supported us. We have received more cards than we can count, numerous delicious meals, phone calls, encouraging texts, sympathetic emails and so much more.

Just a couple of weeks ago, a friend from a church I attended in high school, bought me an ENTIRE bag of darling and brand new maternity clothes along with another bag of ones she didn’t need anymore. I’ve worn them nearly every day and when I get dressed I am as equally moved by the gesture as I was the day I was given them.
My mom has sewn me 2 blankets and bought me or sewn me anything we think the baby might need after it’s born, even as we anticipate its precious life will be much too short. She has been the tenderest and most loving Grandmother to this baby and I’m often moved to tears over it.
My husband’s family has never forgotten us in their prayers, often texting in the wee hours of the night saying they were moved to prayer for us and couldn’t sleep until they’d prayed and thanked God for us and our baby. They’ve sent us songs and cards and have just been so presently here with us, even though they live all the way in Oklahoma.
Last Sunday, a new friend from church wrote a letter to my baby, which made me sob, but was one of the most thoughtful gifts I’ve ever received.
I could literally go on and on and on. We are so overcome with gratitude to everyone who has been walking along with us in our sadness and fears. And maybe you do not know this but Christ once said that those who have fed the hungry, clothed the naked, visited the sick and the imprisoned, welcomed the stranger, or who have shown compassion to those who are hurting have also done all of those things for Christ himself. You may not think so, but your compassion is a literal gift from Christ and to Him. You’ve blessed me and your goodness blesses Him also. I think that is pretty incredible.
If you are someone who is facing uncertainty and despair, please know that you are not alone. God sees and is moved to compassion by your pain. He promises to never leave you or forsake you. You are welcome and you are free to bring him all of the ugly and scary feelings in your heart. Somehow at some point, those things will be transformed and will no longer be the breaking of you but the making of you.
“Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
the clouds ye so much dread
are big with mercy and shall break
in blessings on your head.”
-William Cowper
