August 26

This has been a difficult week. It is always a difficult week. Yesterday, marked 8 years since our daughter in Heaven was born. I always miss her presence when looking at our stairstep kids, bouncing down their heads following a pattern of roughly 2 years between each of them, the gap between Rebecca and Katherine is a gut drop, quite literally like when you walk down stairs but miss a step. Despite the fact that I struggle and will most likely always struggle to a certain extent with her loss, I can reaffirm the verse we had carved on her swing, because the God of hope has given me peace.
Now the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that ye may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Ghost. -Romans 15:13
I love the story of the little Shunamite woman of the Old Testament. Here was a woman living a quiet life, but a good woman who was a loved by her friends and neighbors. She insisted on feeding this traveler anytime he was passing through, and after some time figured out that he must be a prophet. In her love for God and compassion for the man of God, she added a room on to her house to be able to keep him. Elisha then asked her what she'd have him do for her, he was so touched by her thoughtfulness, but she was happy with her life, living among her own people. Elisha's servant noticed though that she had no children and no natural hope of having a child, and shared this with Elisha. In return for her thoughtfulness, Elisha told her that God would bless her with a child. She insisted that he not lie to her, which has always made me wonder if perhaps she had experienced other pregnancies, but never a living child. However, Elisha wasn't lying to her, and it came to pass, just as he foretold. Many years passed and the boy grew, until one day while he was out working in the field with his father, he collapsed with a pain in his head. Every time I read the story it seems like a brain aneurysm: sudden, unpredictable, and fatal. They carried him back to his mother, and after a time he dies. The woman doesn't tell anyone but sets out for the man of God. Her husband confused about why she is going, asks her about it, and when she is ready to leave she only answers "it shall be well." Somewhere in the 18.5 mile journey something changed within her, because she could answer when Elisha send his servant to ask after everyone, "it is well." She gets to Elisha, falls at his feet and tells him I told you not to deceive me. You know the end of the story, Elisha returns with her and the Lord blesses him to be able to resurrect her son. (II Kings 4)

The night before we went into the hospital to be induced with Abigail, I can remember laying in our bed, staring at the green walls in the moonlight from the window and replaying that story in my mind for obvious reasons. I was earnestly praying that when we got there and we pulled out that ultrasound again, that my baby would have a heart beat. I could imagine them apologizing and being unable to explain how the mistake was made, but I would know what had happened. But, it didn't work out like that. We went through a 12 plus hour induction processes that was far longer and far more traumatizing than any of our live births. We kept her little body with us for almost an hour, and I tried to cram a lifetime of love into 45 minutes. When I let them take her I just felt that it was time, and I had a peace about the entire thing that I had never had before, because I felt the Lord's presence in a way that I never have before or since.

Since that day I have found something different in that story that resonates with me. For a long time I clung to the hope that it would be well. I thought that in time in would eventually be well, that it wouldn't hurt as keenly. I thought when I understood what happened it would be well, because I'd know why. I was told when I had another child it would be well. The truth is that none of those things made it well. Eight years out it still hurts fiercely. After all the testing, I still don't have good answers for what happened. The best answers they could give me, just made me angry at the negligence of doctors. While having another baby was wonderful, it couldn't replace the child we lost. I knew that one day, I would see her again in Heaven. Then it would be well, and while that helped to make it bearable, it didn't fix things for right now. I still didn't have my daughter. I was telling myself "it shall be well." I just didn't know how or when.

Somewhere on the journey though something changed, and though I can't pinpoint a particular moment it changed, now I can say "it is well." She wasn't miraculously restored to us. Time didn't prove to be magical or healing. Knowledge hadn't taken away the pain. All I can credit is that the God of peace continued to wrap His arms around us, and reassure us that despite everything that was wrong in and with the world we lived in, despite the fact that babies die, that He loved us, He cared for us, and that He is enough. I already knew it would be well. I knew that all that he died for will be together in Heaven one day, without the loss of a single one. I felt that she was included in that number, and on my best days, I know that I am too. But sometimes our head knowledge doesn't line up with our heart knowledge, and for a time my mother's heart only knew how much it ached for her. Eventually in little ways, I would see the continued care of God in taking care of us. In little ways, I would feel the love of God through His people. In little glimpses, here and there I was shown by Him that He is enough.

I believe I know what happened to the Shunamite woman, because it happened to me. God is a God of Hope, the Bible tells us that we hope for what we have not yet seen (Heb 11:1). Romans 15:13 is teaching that he gives us joy and peace in the believing, meaning in the process of believing, or when we do truly believe those things that we hope. That's when we take that head knowledge and make it heart knowledge. When we have that joy and peace our hope abounds all the more because of the work of the Holy Ghost who is the comforter. He asserts, and our spiritual man confirms that what we have hoped on, and believed in is true - that our God is supreme and sovereign, our God is everything; therefore, of course, He is enough. Somewhere on that lonely dusty road, moving a quickly as she could on that mule, the Shunamite woman not only knew that it would be well, but she believed and felt deep within her that it was well. She felt then as much as she knew, that God was enough no matter what the outcome was. This didn't stop her from falling at the man of God's feet, clinging to him, and insisting that she wasn't going to leave him. It doesn't stop me from grieving for our daughter or imagining who she'd be today. But it does mean that we don't sorrow as those who have no hope (I Thes. 4:13).

Child loss doesn't get easier. Our life still has a hole in the shape of a red-headed 8 year old girl. But throughout our journey I have learned more about what a caring Heavenly Father we have, how very much He loves us, and how no matter what happens in our lives He is enough. He is everything, a supremely sovereign God, and yet not a distant or impersonal God. He smooths the rough places enough to be bearable. He fills the emptiness with Himself. He comforts the broken hearted like no one else can. I can say that it is well because He has me and will not let me go. He is enough.
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