Last week in my Bible study we were discussing some heartfelt and difficult things. At one point I said, I would never have chosen this journey but now I wouldn’t trade it. And another girl who who has also experienced a similar loss said, I would. I would trade it. And it really made me think and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. Because really, I would trade it too. Give me my daughter back? Yes, please. Let’s make this happen yesterday.
How can two conflicting things be true at the same time?
I would go back to those moments when I held Grace in my arms in a heartbeat and yet you couldn’t pay me all the money in the world to go back to that day and the days following. I would not have chosen this journey but I also wouldn’t trade it. I would both trade this journey in a moment and also not trade it for anything.
I think what I’m realizing is that I only want some things to be true from each reality. I want the feel of Grace’s body snuggled up to mine and the feel of her sweet forehead as I kissed it over and over but I don’t want the pain of knowing she was already gone and anticipating that excruciating moment of giving her away. I want the compassion and wisdom I’ve gained from suffering loss but I don’t want to have to lose something precious to gain it.
I read this today:
Faith for my deliverance is not faith in God. Faith means, whether I am visibly delivered or not, I will stick to my belief that God is love. There are some things only learned in a fiery furnace. -Oswald Chambers
I could not have learned that God is immeasurably near and faithful in times of darkness unless I had been in the dark and seen it to be true. I could not have known that God will carry you when you do not have the strength to take one more step unless I had experienced such profound sorrow that I could only rest in his arms as we moved forward step by step, day after day. I would not have believed that I truly cannot control my life unless I had had all control taken away and learned that there is only One who holds my life. And he is trustworthy.
I remember one day in particular not long after we had originally gotten Grace’s diagnosis at 16 weeks. I wrote this that day:
“I do trust the Lord. I know he’s in this. Today I drove down a common street and my eyes flooded with tears as I was completely overcome with the nearness of the Lord to me so strongly in that moment I could have almost reached out and been held. The almost-audible voice that spoke profound hope and truth to my heart that he is in this.
Would I have appreciated the magnitude of that moment had I not been so desperate for him? I don’t know. Perhaps. But I don’t think that water is nearly as refreshing unless you’ve been dying of thirst nor food nearly as rich as when you’ve gone without for too long.
So I think what I’m getting at is I’m thankful. I’m thankful that God doesn’t waste the pain in our lives. I’m thankful that we don’t have to rely on “time” to heal us because time doesn’t heal. God does. I’m thankful that if we let him he will use the pain to soften us and will guard us from hardened, bitter hearts. I’m thankful that I’ve learned that he is enough. When everything else isn’t, he is.