After that weekend, I realized that with all the shuffling of suitcases, sacks, bags, etc., I wasn't sure where that pad of paper had ended up. I looked in several places but assumed I'd find it later. I still haven't, over 4 weeks later. I'm sad about it because it was part of my heart and soul on paper. But I've realized since then that perhaps God allowed me to write it and lose it because He was helping purge me of some of the bitterness and resentment I'd been holding.
It's been a very long, very difficult five and a half months so far. I still cry too often. I'm so sensitive to others' pregnancies, their new beautiful babies, but also just broken with others at their losses. God has allowed me into the hearts of other women whose hearts are just as broken as mine over losing a sweet child before meeting them. It's definitely an experience I never wanted or expected and it's not one I enjoy. I'm grateful that God has given me this commonality with women I otherwise would never understand. I find it amazing that it's this second loss that has hit me the hardest and worked God's Word and His grace so deeply into me. My first loss was quickly softened with the expectation of my oldest child; this loss has been allowed to sit untouched by new life, making it more potent, sharper, deeper.
I've been studying Genesis in BSF (http://www.bsfinternational.org) this year. Our first lesson was on Genesis 1 talking a lot about how God separates light from darkness and how His light separates us from spiritual darkness. One of the questions that week was basically--what things of darkness do I need God to separate from my life? The first thing I thought of was my depression surrounding the loss of our baby Jenson in April. I know it's only been five months, but then again, it's been five months and I'd love to have God's perspective on this event in my life. I know He has great plans for me and I want to find those plans and live them out. That is very hard to do when I'm focusing on the child I don't have, the loss, the hurt, pain, guilt, the desire to join my sweet boy in heaven. God doesn't owe me an explanation for my loss. I read this from a blogger's journey through Job: “God doesn't give explanations, He gives promises.” I firmly believe that. After several years of being angry at Him following my first loss, He told me in His tender way--
I am God. I don't owe you an explanation.
You can't possibly know everything I know.
And if I explained it to you, would that change anything or help you in any way?
So what I want to do now is let the real healing begin. I want to remember that my sweet baby boy is in heaven--a real place with a real God who loves both my children in heaven and on earth and me. Through Genesis, I see that God is the creator of all things, but also the creator of me, of my heavenly children, of my husband and kids, of everyone I know and all I see (and all I don't!). The God who hung the stars in the sky and gave them purpose also has made my life the way it is for HIS purpose. Perhaps I will never know why I've lost these 2 precious lives; the important part is that in the process of grieving them, I don't lose sight of God or His purpose for my life.
One thing you, my friends and readers, can do for me is pray. Ask the Lord to help me process my grief in a way that glorifies Him, allows me to feel the way I do with all the anger and hurt and sadness without blaming God (because in Job 1:22 it says "in all this (his great losses) Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing."). Pray that friends would come at just the right time to ask how I'm doing and that I would be able to honestly tell them. It may seem counter-intuitive, but grieving people need to be asked, on occasion, "How are you doing?" Ask when you have some time and when you are truly interested in the answer. Ask with great compassion and a tender heart who is willing to share some of the burden--it's so heavy to bear and grieving people need help bearing it. Thank you so much.