Be Still. Surrender. Wait. Repeat.

 And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

Romans 8:28

It’s been two weeks.  I’m still working through my grief.

The denial only lasted a few hours.  Was she sure there wasn’t a heartbeat?

The anger still peaks it’s nasty head out every now and then. Why didn’t you intercede?

The bargaining mirrors an addict begging for one more taste. Lord, just give me a baby and we’ll share your good works with him. Just one baby.

The depression still lingers. I walk into the nursery every morning and just let the tears fall.

And, acceptance. There’s nothing I can do to change it, so I simply accept our loss and tuck away all baby items into a plastic tote until we see our future baby’s heartbeat once again.

While this is all still happening, I’ve asked him questions. . .

Why did you hear our prayers for a healthy baby and not put it in my heart that something was wrong?

Why aren’t you taking this cup from me?

Why do you keep letting this happen to us?

Are we not meant to have a baby to call our own?

Where do we go from here?

Why won’t you tell me?

Some days I think He’s being so terribly heartless with me. Some days I wonder why He’s not moving me in some direction. Some days I imagine that He’s simply letting my prayers drift in the wind.

Then, I feel it.  I hear it.

Be still, Ashley.

And the Holy Spirit moves me to feel a silence I’ve never experienced.

Not a hollow silence.  Not a suffocating silence. It’s a silence full of anticipation, patience and love.

He’s waiting for me to be absolutely in love with Him before He feels I’m ready for His direction after such a time as this. My heart has been engulfed by grief and doubt.  My heart was searching for answers, to questions that simply don’t matter, when this entire time He was the answer.  He sacrificed His only son for others and here I am shedding tears because our hands didn’t get to caress our babies’ faces. How can I question His goodness when He has been so good by sacrificing His son for us? How can I doubt these babies’ heartbeats were in vain when He has sent others to us who have shared how our babies’ and our story has shown them the hope we have in Him? How could I believe that He was forsaking me? How could I interpret His silence as anything other than His plea to me to rest in Him?

The first few days after our loss, I held on to His hope and I experienced His peace.  Then, the days following I let my flesh desires find a spot in my heart.  My prayers were those of a child who bellowed that life isn’t fair. So, now again my prayers to Him shift from lamentation to a song of thanksgiving because He’s choosing to use us. I don’t know how, but I know God has been preparing us for something – I hear it when Matthew turns his ear to me and he tells me of God’s promises as he hugs me when I cry. It’s still difficult to embrace the fact that this sorrow will have meaning for His glory, yet it is a reminder that this pain is temporary compared to eternity.  I have faith that He will transform it all into a purpose to show His glory.

He’s doing something.  We don’t know what it is, but we know we serve an awesome God.  So. . .now we:

  • Attempt to be still.
  • Raise our white flag as we surrender it all to Him.
  • Wait.
  • Repeat.

A friend shared this song with me this morning. I needed the reminder.

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