healing, hurting, hoping

I have this really bad habit of getting engrossed in blogs about sick kids. When my husband reads this confession, he’s going to boycott those blogs the same way he’s boycotted WebMD for me. I agree; both are extremely unproductive: WebMD, because I think I have every disease I look up (seriously, though, one day I will! How do I know it’s not today?!).

And, it’s also unproductive to read those kids-with-diseases blogs. A college professor I had best explained WHY this is bad. Long ago, he said, (before mass media), if you heard of a tragedy, you could help. A neighbor died? Plow the fields for his family. Someone’s house burned down? Rebuild it. This fostered community and pride, instead of powerlessness and sadness.

Nowadays, we learn of tragedies, and mostly, we are impotent to act. Sure, you can comment on someone’s blog, “share” a link on facebook, even donate money sometimes…But you can’t see the gratitude in someone’s face. Most times, all you take away are sad thoughts, an empty heart, and unanswered questions.

And more importantly, you only see the tragedy, and can’t see the growth.

A few weeks ago I posted some thoughts on our rough March and miscarriage. I’m sure the same people who thought it was crazy for sharing that, are going to think I’m crazy for the update post #2.

But I want to follow up on that slightly depressing post with another – well, probably also somewhat depressing piece – but that is hopeful. And shares the real-live blessings that can happen when someone goes through something hard, like a miscarriage.

I’m not just trying to conjure up good thoughts out of thin air, either. I’m not making it up.

God has really and truly been so good, and I have in my heart not bitterness or agony, but so much gratitude for His goodness.

From the first day when I had the miscarriage, there were so many blessings. I had the flu, also, and the best mom in the whole world came and took care of our family. She did laundry, talked with me (because she knows I wouldn’t want to be alone), made dinner, went grocery shopping, played with the boys, and said all the right things. Not the cheesy, annoying “right” things. The real things, that are true and sure. It was a really horrible day that actually wasn’t that horrible of a day. Do you know what I mean?

And then my friends.

My sweet neighbors brought me dinners, and left baskets on the door, and made muffins, and came over to hug and see how to help. One friend read in the blog about how I wanted to make Resurrection Eggs for Easter, but hadn’t, and she did the craft herself and gifted them to the boys. Another friend (with four kids, mind you!) bought and delivered Easter outfits for the boys, because I’d written I didn’t have them. Amazing.

There are many more blessings – sweet phone calls with family, and texts, and just kind, empathizing words…

Which reminds me to tell you all something. Sometimes the not-hurting people often agonize over what to say to the hurting people. I re-remembered something: the words don’t matter. They don’t. I absorbed very little theology these last few weeks, but I’ve felt a ton of love. Don’t stress over the right verse, or phrases. Just send the message. They’ll see your name, and feel the love, and that’s all that’s needed.

The long and short of it is that at every corner, the Lord was there, showering blessing after blessing. A bad thing was beautiful. It really was.

And there were other good things, too.

• I sympathize better. Sometimes I cry for the child I lost, but often I find myself sad for others who’ve lost a baby, who’ve lost many babies, who never even had the excitement of any pregnancy, who’ve lost beloved children, who divorce, who are in physical pain…Hurt opens your eyes to hurt. 
• I need the Lord. I spoke last time about how the emotions from miscarriage can be complex. I am more and more feeling this is the case for me. Grief for me is often fear. What if I can’t have more children? What if something else bad happens? What if I lose these children? And anxiety, as I’ve said before, brings me to the cross more than anything else in my life.

And in the meantime, April, gratefully, has looked much better than March. We’ve been romping around the grass, digging for worms, getting our toes wet in the hose, and doing all the other things little boys do. Once that suffocating blanket of pollen washes away, I’ll be one happy girl. 🙂

“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” {II Corinthians 1:3-4}.

 

 

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