Hope During Sorrow

Warning, in case you're a guy: this is a little graphic.

Last year, around early August, I sat in a Chik-Fil-A, crying by myself. The young cashier girl brought me my order, and hesitantly slid it towards me before almost running away from the scene she didn't know how to deal with. 

I should've been fine. It had been two months since we'd had our miscarriage. But my body was telling me differently. While I tried to hope for better days ahead, my body continued to bleed and remind me of what was lost. And, little did I know, the bleeding would continue on for another month after that as well. A month after the miscarriage I had attempted to process it, and wrote this article. But sometimes bad experiences require more time and attention than you prefer to give them. Sometimes God won't let you be so easily content without a good, heart-broken cry on His shoulder to remind you where your strength comes from.

After sitting there for a while, attempting to eat waffle fries through dripping snot and cry hiccups, I knew I needed a token of the hope I had for the future, something tangible to remind me each day that I serve a God that doesn't leave me in despair. I drove over to the Christian book store in the mall and found the Willow Tree figurine you see in the picture above. I bought two. One was for my get-ready dresser, and one was for another friend that had experienced a miscarriage long before me, and now dealt with infertility. I cried as I held them, and thought of how God gives us hope, even when things seem really bleak. I was teary as I sent hers off from UPS, not knowing if my journey would also include infertility, as hers did. (I really made the workers in the stores wonder about me that day!)

This morning I was putting on my makeup, when I noticed that little figurine sitting there. Today is our next baby's due date, and we are looking forward to her arrival. My wavering hope from last August has been realized. It made me want to praise God for how He provides for the broken-hearted, and turns mourning into joy. But it also made me want to tremble, as I realize His ways are much higher than ours. I don't know why I have a baby coming, while my friend still struggles with infertility. I know that my heart hurts for her in a way it wouldn't have if I hadn't gone through my own long miscarriage experience.

No matter what God chooses to send our way, whether prolonged heartache or our heart's desire, we have to trust Him and believe that He is good and in control. I wish I could change my friend's situation, just like I wished I could change mine last August, but that isn't how God works. He knows what we need to grow in holiness, and what path will bring His name the most glory. So here, as I joyfully anticipate the arrival of my baby, I remember that time at Chik-Fil-A when I had to fight for hope in the midst of sorrow, and how glad I am that I did.

"For in hope we have been saved, but hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what he already sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, with perseverance we wait eagerly for it. -Romans 8:24-25


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