Autumn Marks Change...

It's been a long time since I last posted. As summer draws to a close, hints of autumn begin creeping in with leaves changing ahead of schedule and the cool sharp air of early morning chilling my cheeks. Autumn can be a sad time for some, a happy time for others. For some it marks a closing, to others new beginnings. It's a little bit of both for me this year for, sadly, I lost a baby 3 weeks ago. My 4th child on-the-way was just not meant to be here on Earth. In my 14th week of pregnancy I experienced a placental abruption, and my sweet little one went to meet Jesus. After a difficult hospitalization resulting in a D&C and 2 weeks of bed rest, I'm happy to say that I'm back on my feet again.


Fall activities bring a rush of busyness; the manic energy of new groups forming, school supplies being broken in and the sense that its time to...move on. Time for brighter days, for learning new things and embracing fresh experiences. In the midst of all of this newness I find myself learning something new-- learning how to move on from a pregnancy interrupted. While my family picks apples and eats corn off the cob, I'm packing away my hopes and dreams for what wasn't to be. The dreams of holding my newborn in my arms and hazily adjusting to life with 4 kids is no longer a reality, and I am left with a...space. I can't quite call it a void, because I feel truly fulfilled with my 3 sweet children and my loving husband. In more ways than I can count I have been blessed with abundance and grace, for which I am so thankful. Yet in learning that my little one is now with God, there remains a space to fill. New dreams to dream, a different future than the one I had expected.


While I mourn the loss of my child, I find myself in an odd place. I find myself somewhere halfway between joy and sorrow. My days are filled with the happy flutter of caring for children and still I find myself pausing at times to wonder, "What new dreams do I put in this space?" Sure I can pour myself more fully into the many groups and projects I'm a part of, which is time well spent. But I suppose I want this season of my life to represent something. I feel this sense that there is a lot to learn from this experience, and I'm open to making the most of it. I believe that God wants us to learn new things from seasons of suffering, and I want to be sure I learn all that I am supposed to from the loss of my little one.


One thing I have come away with from this experience is a renewed sense of gratitude for the many blessing in my life. And as I pray to the Lord and to my little one in heaven I am filled with a sense of hope. In this time of sadness and time of forming new dreams the Lord implores me to embrace the hope that He brings. Hope for the future. Hope in Him. Hope that new dreams will come and that this feeling of loss in time will transform into something beautiful and bright.


And so I move forward with all of the hope that I can muster, trusting that the Lord will guide me through this season of change and make new paths known to me.

Uncertain Landscape
by Helen Fahrbach

The day begins in hiding,
the lake lost in fog.
Mist winds around trees
where birds scold about
damp nests. Fence posts
poke through a grounded cloud
and the road is a mystery.

Around noon, when the sun
burns off the haze, obscure
landmarks move into place
the way familiar stars come out
in evening skies.



"And now, Lord, what do I wait for and expect? My hope and expectation are in You."
--Ps. 39:7

Weekend Reflection: Hope

photo credit

Hope is the thing with feathers--
That perches in the soul--
And sings the tune without the words--
And never stops-- at all--

And sweetest--in the gale--is heard--
And sore must be the storm--
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm--

I've heard it in the chillest land--
And on the strangest Sea--
Yet, never in extremity,
It asked a crumb--of me.

-Emily Dickinson




Whatever storm life brings, hope sings on asking nothing in return. Hope's sweet melody gives us courage and strength, emboldening us to go forth in the face of great difficulty. It is the ultimate grace, available to anyone willing to embrace it.

Dare to hope.

He is Here

Tears of pain and frustration leak from the corners of my eyes as I wrestle with the tough questions:

Why all of this pain in the world?


How can innocent children so sweet and pure be hurt, innocence forever lost?


How can loving families be torn apart by horrible things...by disease, disaster and death?


Why do people who love each other fail to understand and speak hurtful words?


Why so much pain?

Over the course of one day my loved ones have been personally effected by all of these things, and my heart feels heavy. In midst of all my pain and pondering, I step outside to get the mail. I open the door, questions still spinning in my head and I see this:



Amidst all that is brown and dead, buried beneath a blanket of old stale snow, is life. Growth. Renewal. Hope. And immediately I know that He is here. Here in this pain, in these moments of sorrow and loss. Here in the frustration and disappointment. Here when the hard questions are left without answers.

Here, always.

The Lord is here--The One who endured suffering, pain and death on a cross. The One who makes joy, laughter, sunshine and grants eternal life. The One whose plan is far greater than we can ever comprehend, whose sovereignty is perfect, whose ways are everlasting. And we can rest in this...here.

"Come to me, all ye who labour and are burdened, and I will give you rest."
--Matt. 11:28