the twins and their mother died in delivery
and I sat on the floor of a closet of "double" outfits and shoes...
grieving for baby girls
I was mourning, and who could understand?
I had never held them; yet I lost them.
searching, waiting, getting the adoption referral...
hoping, praying, shopping,...
the bumpy wave of emotion had crashed, again
after too many closing doors,
this final disappointment was too much
I must have been wrong.
God had not lead us here.
It wasn't "meant to be".
Questioning, second guessing...
Was God in this?
How did I misunderstand?
Where is He now?
Why is He silent?
And then, this Psalm...
Brief Psalm of Ascent ... 3 verses.
Had it always been there?
tucked away,
blurred into the other psalms,
until
August 8th
when tears washed my eyes to see...
He is my hope,
my only hope.
Desperately seeking, I find...
because He is leading, ...drawing me.
A partial view. I did not know what God was doing. I still do not know... "why?"
But, even in the moment of my emptiness and deepest grief, my future was still pregnant with hope.
As I was aching over death, a new life was waiting to be brought forth.
What if we had given up? ... Our greatest joy was still yet to be.
Even after time had passed and we had our daughter's referral, my heart ached, my mind flooded with questions of:
"Why did you put us through that?",
"Did their lives matter?",
"Why were they even conceived if you weren't going to let them live?",
"Why do I still ache for those babies?",
and "God, what were You thinking?"...
Questions that could only be drained away with, "Yet, I will hope in the LORD." The "too difficult", "great matters" were too deep; no one had answers... just
"I'm sorry."
and "That's too bad."
In that lonely window of waiting, the Lord sent one friend to comfort me with merciful understanding words, not answers, but... her story.
"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God... through Christ our comfort overflows... our hope for you is firm, ...share in our comfort." (see 1 Corinthians 1:3-7)
"Eternity is set in our hearts."
Every life, beginning to end, long or brief, is too short.
We are made for more.
No one can compare grief ... for a husband, a brother, a parent, a friend, a child?
"Each heart knows its own bitterness, and no one else can share its joy"...except God. He knows.
If you are facing "things too difficult",
"hope in the LORD".
He is still good.
He still has a plan.
He has never stopped loving you.
Rest against Him.
Let Him comfort you.
He will.
This was the first Psalm of Ascent that I set to tune, a mournful Jewish lullaby for myself:
and I sat on the floor of a closet of "double" outfits and shoes...
grieving for baby girls
I was mourning, and who could understand?
I had never held them; yet I lost them.
searching, waiting, getting the adoption referral...
hoping, praying, shopping,...
the bumpy wave of emotion had crashed, again
"Hope deferred makes the heart sick."
after too many closing doors,
this final disappointment was too much
I must have been wrong.
God had not lead us here.
It wasn't "meant to be".
Questioning, second guessing...
Was God in this?
How did I misunderstand?
Where is He now?
Why is He silent?
And then, this Psalm...
O LORD, my heart is not proud,
nor my eyes haughty;
Nor do I involve myself in great matters,
Or in things too difficult for me.
Surely I have composed and quieted my soul;
Like a weaned child rests against his mother,
My soul is like a weaned child within me.
O Israel, hope in the LORD
From this time forth and forever.
Brief Psalm of Ascent ... 3 verses.
Had it always been there?
tucked away,
blurred into the other psalms,
until
August 8th
when tears washed my eyes to see...
at the end of myself,
not understanding this... or God,
"great matters", "too difficult"
cried all my tears, now quiet, spent
without strength or thought, I rest in the Lord.
who is old enough to know You?
still a child, I come as a child
with a whisper, "O LORD, You know."
yet, even now, and always
"I will hope in the LORD."
He is my hope,
my only hope.
Desperately seeking, I find...
because He is leading, ...drawing me.
A partial view. I did not know what God was doing. I still do not know... "why?"
But, even in the moment of my emptiness and deepest grief, my future was still pregnant with hope.
As I was aching over death, a new life was waiting to be brought forth.
What if we had given up? ... Our greatest joy was still yet to be.
Even after time had passed and we had our daughter's referral, my heart ached, my mind flooded with questions of:
"Why did you put us through that?",
"Did their lives matter?",
"Why were they even conceived if you weren't going to let them live?",
"Why do I still ache for those babies?",
and "God, what were You thinking?"...
Questions that could only be drained away with, "Yet, I will hope in the LORD." The "too difficult", "great matters" were too deep; no one had answers... just
"I'm sorry."
and "That's too bad."
In that lonely window of waiting, the Lord sent one friend to comfort me with merciful understanding words, not answers, but... her story.
"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God... through Christ our comfort overflows... our hope for you is firm, ...share in our comfort." (see 1 Corinthians 1:3-7)
"Eternity is set in our hearts."
Every life, beginning to end, long or brief, is too short.
We are made for more.
No one can compare grief ... for a husband, a brother, a parent, a friend, a child?
"Each heart knows its own bitterness, and no one else can share its joy"...except God. He knows.
If you are facing "things too difficult",
"hope in the LORD".
He is still good.
He still has a plan.
He has never stopped loving you.
Rest against Him.
Let Him comfort you.
He will.
This was the first Psalm of Ascent that I set to tune, a mournful Jewish lullaby for myself:
