Lead Me On

I’ve never been good at letting go. Maybe it’s the result of too many novels as a child, a latent demand for happily-ever-after. Maybe it’s faith, waiting for the hope of tomorrow–for the “One Day” of eternity when all wrongs will be righted.

It’s been over a week since I first heard the baby within me was dead. (Can it really be?). Today we received a reprieve in the week of steady rain by means of an early-morning snow melting into brilliant afternoon sunshine. Life has resumed some form of normalcy. JD and I are even starting to laugh again; maybe a little hollowly at first, but a forerunner of the happiness we believe we will feel again. Joy is not measured in happiness, and can only be kept down so long. The powerful emotions that accompanied me through process of miscarriage are dwindling into a quiet, blank place in my heart. I don’t ask how life can continue as if my Kyla never existed. It is the mercy of God that we don’t camp in the death-shadowed valley–He promises to lead us through and that necessitates our moving forward.

Why do I write this? I realize it is not the hindsight, look-at-what-God-has-shown-me kind of post I normally write (although He has made His Presence known to us in a tender way). I write because I’m in the middle of the lesson, and I want to affirm in my brokenness that I still love my Jesus. I write because I don’t understand why He is allowing us to walk this road, but I choose to trust Him anyway. I write because I’m struggling with the “why” questions, but I believe He’s big enough to handle them in time. I write because I know that worship is most valuable when it is sacrificed, that death is a prelude to life, that my words are empty if I never face bleakness, and that voluntary love is worthless if there is never difficulty in the choice. We cannot offer God unconditional love in the way He offers it to us. Unconditional love in the way we understand it means that we choose to love even when the other person has committed an atrocity. God cannot be evil. His nature is goodness and justice. He cannot sin against us. Therefore, our offering of unconditional love to Him must take the form of unoffended love when He allows us to face what we know He could have spared us. I don’t understand You. I don’t understand why. But You are good. You are always good.

I write because I am not without hope; because I know the blank place will fall into joy again as surely as the stabbing of grief has already quieted to an ache. I write because I don’t want to forget this place–because the purpose of suffering has always been to conform us to His image. I don’t want to lose sight of the purpose in the pain of the process.

I have a daughter. My child waits for me with my Savior. How will our relationship be when we meet? I have more questions than answers. But I know we will meet. I will know her. She is mine for eternity as long as I run this race well.

My sweet little boy has come and leaned his head on my arm as I write. Although a place in my heart is empty, my arms are still full and for that I am supremely thankful.

You are with me. Your rod and Your staff are my comfort.

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5 Responses to Lead Me On

  1. Oh my Crystal. I am so deeply and painfully sorry for your loss. It is hard not to question our Savior in times like these. You see, we too have suffered such loss, not once but twice. It is such a heart breaking and gut wrenching feeling that is unexplainable to someone who have never experienced such a loss. Though I am sure these words have been said to you, they are true; In time your pain will subside. Though the thought of our precious babies happen often, we hold on to the promise of eternal life. Within that promise, our pain heals. One day, when this life is over, we will meet our precious babies that God called home, too soon for us, but within His perfect timing.

    I will offer my advice (you can take it or leave it), cry. Cry until your body feels numbs. Cry until you have no more tears left. Then, cry out to Jesus! Honey, he hears you, he feels you, he loves you. He is there with you and Jim. He is holding you in his arms and if you listen carefully, I am sure you will hear him say; All will be okay. I have a plan. Trust him, lean on him, and depend on him. For he is the Master of our loves. He will heal you and Jim, in time.

    My thoughts and prayers are with you and Jim.

  2. Pam Cranford says:

    I, too, have a son who waits for me, Crystal. He was my first child. He was full-term and a very long deliver time that lasted 27 hours. I allowed the “why” to consume my life for way too long, and reading your words comfort me today. My son has been waiting for me for 39 years now…longer than your own life.

    I’ll tell you that God blessed me with a son and followed that with a multiple birth of twin girls. When my father was very sick and was to have his first open-heart surgery, I was so afraid I would lose him. My son, who was only 7 at the time, came to me, placed his hand on my crying face, and told me that it was going to be okay because the Man had told him. I asked, “Which man?” He told me the Man who was standing on the other side of the river, under a tree, holding the hand of a little boy that looked just like him.” I KNOW he waits for me, and I will know him when we meet just as Kyla waits for you.

  3. Sara says:

    Very well said…love you much!

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