Just What I Needed

I started reading an incredible book this weekend. It was a free book that I downloaded on my nook months and months ago. I have no idea why I haven't picked it up before now and I have no idea why I chose to pick it up Friday instead of one of the 40ish other books I have to read. I guess God just knew this is what I needed right now. The book is called "I Will Carry You: The Sacred Dance of Grief and Joy." It's written by a woman named Angie Smith. Her husband, Todd, sings with the Christian group Selah. Their story is heartbreaking, their faith is inspiring, and this book is amazing. I've literally highlighted about half of it and I know I'll come back to it again and again. There are so many passages from this book that I want to share, but instead I'm going to share the ones that struck me the most and encourage you to read the book yourself.

First, a little back story. When they were around halfway through their pregnancy with their fourth daughter, it was discovered that she had several things wrong with her and was "incompatible with life." She wasn't going to live. They were encouraged to terminate the pregnancy, but they decided to carry Audrey until the Lord decided it was time to take her. She was born April 7, 2008 and lived for about 2 1/2 hours. The book is about their journey from finding out her diagnosis through their grief in the months after losing her.

In the book, she references the story of Lazarus often. I'm not going to retell it myself, but if you're unfamiliar with the story you can find it in chapter 11 of the book of John. In the passage I'm about to share she's referencing the part of the story where Mary and Martha are taking Jesus to Lazarus' tomb and the Scripture says He weeps.

"Jesus wept.
Surely these two words are some of the most powerful in all of Scripture, as they reveal the man within deity.
I want to share a beautiful distinction I came upon months after Audrey's death as I poured over these verses. At first glance it appears that Jesus, Mary, and Martha were sobbing together, but the original language of the text reveals that while Jesus was weeping (dakryo), the women were wailing (klaio). While Mary and Martha were crying out in agony over the loss of their brother, their tears moved Jesus, and He began to weep. This is the only occurrence of dakryo in the entire New Testament. He isn't crying over the death of Lazarus but rather the hurt He is experiencing with people He loves dearly. He isn't crying because the situation is hopeless, but because He is an empathetic God.
He knows that in a few moments Lazarus will walk out of the tomb.
He also knows they can't see that hope.
And neither can we.
There is a difference in despair and deep sadness over the time that will pass until we can see her again. It is a conscious, daily choice to experience dakryo, the sadness that allows one to grieve with the expectation of redemption."

I've heard the story of Lazarus many times over the years, but I've never looked at it this way before. I always assumed He was weeping because He loved Lazarus and Lazarus was dead, but He had no reason to mourn Lazarus' death. He knew exactly what was getting ready to happen. Sometimes it's hard to think of God as being empathetic. Especially when we see so much darkness in the world around us, but He feels our hurt. He weeps as I wail over the loss of my babies.

"However easy it may be to allow myself to wail over my loss, it is a far more satisfying thing to believe that all of this is a brief season. The Lord I have placed my trust in tells me that I will see my child again, and while He stands beside me, He weeps. He doesn't weep at the barren ground, nor does He mourn the browning branches. He cries because I can't see what He can. And in the fluttering of the breeze, with my heart pressed into His, I can hear Him whisper, 'Spring will come, my love.'"

Wow. How beautiful is that? It gives me goosebumps every time I read it. I can't see what He can. All I see is my empty, aching arms. All I see is right now. I don't know what the future holds. I don't understand why this is our journey. I don't have all of the answers, and that's okay because He does. I believe He wants good things for me. I believe He has a plan for my life. I believe that joy is coming. I believe that this is all going to work out for His glory.

"As Christians, we often want to tie it up neatly with a bow and be standing ready with our church smiles when someone asks us how we are dealing with loss. I don't believe that "God needed another angel," and I honestly grew weary of hearing people try to explain it all away because they couldn't stand to say those three words.
I don't know.
I know there are people reading who are where I was, and I don't want you to think that you need to have answers. Your God is perfectly capable of revealing Himself. You don't have to feel like you need to fill the gaps. He has put the gaps there so that you will press into Him despite them. That will be your answer to those who murmur around you."

I've been angry with God, I've yelled at him, I've questioned Him, but I've never stopped believing in Him. I've said before that I couldn't make it through this without my faith. My faith is actually stronger because of this journey. I know that probably seems strange to some, but when my world was crashing down around me I only found comfort and peace in Him. I've always believed in God and I've been saved since I was 9 years old, but I feel closer to God now than I ever have. Until I lost my babies, I never really had a reason to cry out to Him and press into His presence.

Later she refers to a story from 2 Samuel 12. David is fasting and pleading for the Lord to spare his son's life. After his son dies, David goes to house of the Lord to worship and returns home and asks for food. His servants are confused by his actions.

"His attendants asked him, "Why are you acting this way? While the child was alive, you fasted and wept, but now that the child is dead, you get up and eat!"
He answered, "While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept. I thought, 'Who knows? The Lord may be gracious to me and let the child live.' But now that he is dead, why should I go on fasting? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me."" 1 Samuel 12:21-23 (NIV)

"She will not return to me.
Six words that will shape every one of my remaining days on Earth.
It was a season that was cut short, and we continue to grieve the loss of what she would have been. Yet we also believe that David's words bring unspeakable hope and remind us that we do not wait in vain. No, she will not come back to us. But the Lord has gifted us with the rest of the story. His Word is water to our thirsty souls, and we drink deep of the promise He has made to us. If you walked the valley of grief, or are walking it right now, I want you to know that I don't have the answers.
I wholly believe that He is real and that He is in control.
I believe He is working everything in my life, and yours, for good.
I believe He can.
But if He didn't?
... Do you believe that the Lord is who He says He is and that He has accomplished what He says He has accomplished? If you do, then know that you are walking a road that leads to Him and to your precious lost children.
No, they will not return to us.
But one day, not so far from now, we will go to them."

What a beautiful promise. It brings tears to my eyes. I wish more than anything I would have gotten the chance to know my sweet children here on earth. To hear their laughter in my home. To kiss their scraped knees. But I'm choosing to find comfort in David's words. They will not be returned to me, and I will always feel like part of me is missing. But one day, one glorious day, I will go to them.