Our pastor and his wife where really wonderful with us in the weeks after. Our church is large, several hundred large, and with these times being what they are there has been a tightening of the belts and a spreading of the workload. And I can safely say they were busy before all that. Even so, they made the time to come to our home and pray with us as well as checking in with us regularly.
Little did I know that that Sunday evenings’ sermon was to be given by the pastor’s wife and it was on Jonah. Part of what she spoke about was the presence of God and asked to use our situation as an example.
I was touched to say the least. I also couldn’t listen to the sermon for several weeks.
What she spoke about was that sense of being in the presence of God, not just the often vague concept of Him being with us but being in a place and feeling the weight of Him.
Coming into our home and speaking with us about all that had happened was a standout moment for her of feeling His presence.
It was as I spoke of my encompassing gratitude for the small mercies that surrounded me amidst the nightmare that was holding my son in the palm of one hand. But I got to hold him.
Jeff was away. But I was not alone. My friend’s daughter magically fell asleep an hour before she usually does which allowed her to be with me. It hadn’t occurred to me to ask anyone to come.
As I was laying in bed that first night after having had to wake up Jeff in China to tell him, I began to pray and the only words that would come out were “Thank you”. Obviously not for the loss but for His provision in the loss.
Had I gone to the hospital, they would have hidden my son away from me. And I would have let them.
Small as he was, he could have been lost down the pipes as that’s where I was when he came. I only knew what I felt, it was the hardest thing I have ever done to reach down and rescue him. I couldn’t see past the blood and the tears. But I am forever thankful for the courage to look and that he was kept safe for me.
I lay there thinking I should be angry, screaming, railing, but all I was was thankful. I knew this was not something God had done to me. This, as with all others, was a product of a fallen world, a decaying system, a good and wonderful creation eroded by sin and time. All I could be was thankful that my God was alive, there with me, holding me, holding him.
I have a hard time when speaking to people who are bitter with God, how can a loving God allow…(fill in the blanks). I honestly don’t understand. This world is fallen, it is full of sin. If he didn’t allow this, then he could allow nothing.
I have an easier time understanding the cry of, “why didn’t He heal?” It feels like what Jesus prayed in the garden, Please God, but if your answer is no then I will trust. I know God could have healed whatever was wrong with me or whatever was wrong with Jonah. But the only way that I know that is because He has healed me.
Not of everything, I still need contacts (despite many fervent prayers to the contrary), I was in a wheelchair for my entire 3rd trimester with Willow due to hip pain. But here’s the thing. I have been pregnant. Three times. Only one of those times needed medical assistance. One of those times was completely by accident. I was told at 21 that I would never have children.
I know first hand that God heals. And I know first hand that He doesn’t heal everything. But I also know our nature, as humans. If faith were easy we’d still find a way to screw it up.
In Hebrews it talks about the people of Israel in the wilderness becoming bitter towards God and hardening their hearts. These were a people that had seen God do amazing and wonderful things on their behalf. Not once but over and over again. At one point, God even made it so that no woman in the Israel camp would be barren or have miscarriages. I thought that sounded pretty good on both counts.
But still they found a way to be bitter. They lost their gratitude. It would have been very easy to lose my gratitude. ie, why did you let me get pregnant if it was going to end like this. But I have always been keenly aware that my ability to have children is not mine, my body was broken. But God made it whole in ways I did not dare ask for. And for that I will always be grateful.
When we first found out we were pregnant with Willow, we thought about keeping it to ourselves for a bit, as many do for just this reason, but we couldn’t. We wanted to shout it from the rooftops. We wanted everyone to know what God had done. As we put it that first night in our baby journal, no matter what happened from then on, the miracle was that I was pregnant.
I’m trying to think of how to wrap this up. Day three has a verse at the beginning that is Paul telling the Phillipians how not to worry, how to have peace. “Pray about everything. Tell God what you need and thank Him for all He has done.” I’m good at the thankful part. I’m even good at the praying about everything part. Where I struggle is telling Him what I need.
This is where I struggle. It’s easy to think you are not hardening your heart if you focus on the thankful part. But what if you don’t ask Him for the desires of your heart because you don’t want to risk being disillusioned if it doesn’t happen. I have stopped praying that my kids will sleep through the night if I’m too exhausted to see straight because that is a sure fire way to have them wake up 5 more times each. 5 different times each.
I can pray for a lot of things. Except the things that I really want.
So yes, I rock the attitude of gratitude. But I have also hidden part of my heart away. The part that has hardened. The part that I don’t want to acknowledge. The part that I want to talk into submission. Small as it may be, it is where the hurt lies.
Reflections on Hope 
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