April Showers
I just returned from a Women's Weekend and am feeling refreshed and
rejuvenated. Because of my short break - which gave me a chance to
fellowship with awesome women, hear amazing speakers, and draw closer to my God
- I have started this week with a newly renewed passion to be a better wife and
momma. And yet... there is a cloud hovering because of what this
month represents.
Through biblical teaching, I was reminded of so many amazing truths this weekend: Our joy is not based on our circumstances, but on our relationship with Christ. Somewhere along the way, "we bought into the fairy tale that our good works, plus God's great blessings, would equal a happy ever after." But God never promised us this. As we endure troubles, "we long to be like the strong lighthouse, which stands strong even while the waves keep crashing upon us."
We were asked, "What has to happen in our lives for us to realize our need for Jesus? To start walking in faith and not by sight?" We were warned that if we hadn't already gone through a significant trail, we would. I sat there knowing what my "trial" was, and prayed that it was the hardest thing I'd have to endure.
All weekend, a vivid memory was on the forefront of my mind - The last time I was on this amazing weekend, at this gorgeous retreat center, I was carrying Gabriel. I was four months along, hadn't felt him move yet, and was growing more concerned. It was about a week before I discovered that my reality was far beyond my worst fears - On April 29th, 2009 at our routine ultrasound, we were told that Gabe was growing without his kidneys and therefore had very little fluid surrounding him. This was a fatal condition. My baby was going to die - either immediately, as they urged us to end the pregnancy, or right after I gave birth to him. What a decision to make - abort the living baby growing inside of you, or endure labor and birth to a baby who will soon pass away.
The details of that day are still very clear in my mind, even though it's been four years now. I remember bawling before we got confirmation that his condition was fatal - I knew in my heart something was very wrong. I remember seeing Kyle break down when the reality hit him. I remember calling both his mom and mine, who were anxiously awaiting to hear the gender of our new baby. They both met us back at our home to be here for us that evening. I remember seeing the confusion and devastation on their faces. (To read more about his diagnosis, our decision, and the rest of his short life, go here.)
This weekend at the retreat, we were told that fear and joy cannot live in the same heart. We were reminded of the story of the disciples stuck in a storm on the sea, who tried to deal with the chaos for nine hours before calling upon Jesus. "How long do we run on our own power before we realize we need His power in our life?" We were reminded of what happened when they called out to Him - "Jesus came. He walked on water to show that He knows what they're enduring, He cares, He loves us, and He is God. He always walks on the troubled waters, in the middle of our storms."
"He walked on water to show them that the thing they feared the most - the raging seas - was merely the steps to bring them to Jesus. We often fear the very things that bring us closer to Him."
And, per usual, I heard exactly what I needed to hear this weekend. I was reminded of how close I was to my Savior during the deepest valley in my life. I began to remember that although it was a devastating and horrific time, I was very close to my God. I prayed often, out of necessity. I needed help getting out of bed every morning, and leaned on Him to get me through my days.
Do I still miss my son? Everyday. Do I still long to be with him again? Every moment. But, am I clinging to my Jesus like I was in those dark days? Sadly, no. My prayer is that I will "know Him, worship Him, and be grateful to Him" on my good days, too. That I would remember that He is always near to me, and that I should rejoice in Him.
I hope this entry blessed you in some way, dear readers.
Through biblical teaching, I was reminded of so many amazing truths this weekend: Our joy is not based on our circumstances, but on our relationship with Christ. Somewhere along the way, "we bought into the fairy tale that our good works, plus God's great blessings, would equal a happy ever after." But God never promised us this. As we endure troubles, "we long to be like the strong lighthouse, which stands strong even while the waves keep crashing upon us."
We were asked, "What has to happen in our lives for us to realize our need for Jesus? To start walking in faith and not by sight?" We were warned that if we hadn't already gone through a significant trail, we would. I sat there knowing what my "trial" was, and prayed that it was the hardest thing I'd have to endure.
All weekend, a vivid memory was on the forefront of my mind - The last time I was on this amazing weekend, at this gorgeous retreat center, I was carrying Gabriel. I was four months along, hadn't felt him move yet, and was growing more concerned. It was about a week before I discovered that my reality was far beyond my worst fears - On April 29th, 2009 at our routine ultrasound, we were told that Gabe was growing without his kidneys and therefore had very little fluid surrounding him. This was a fatal condition. My baby was going to die - either immediately, as they urged us to end the pregnancy, or right after I gave birth to him. What a decision to make - abort the living baby growing inside of you, or endure labor and birth to a baby who will soon pass away.
The details of that day are still very clear in my mind, even though it's been four years now. I remember bawling before we got confirmation that his condition was fatal - I knew in my heart something was very wrong. I remember seeing Kyle break down when the reality hit him. I remember calling both his mom and mine, who were anxiously awaiting to hear the gender of our new baby. They both met us back at our home to be here for us that evening. I remember seeing the confusion and devastation on their faces. (To read more about his diagnosis, our decision, and the rest of his short life, go here.)
This weekend at the retreat, we were told that fear and joy cannot live in the same heart. We were reminded of the story of the disciples stuck in a storm on the sea, who tried to deal with the chaos for nine hours before calling upon Jesus. "How long do we run on our own power before we realize we need His power in our life?" We were reminded of what happened when they called out to Him - "Jesus came. He walked on water to show that He knows what they're enduring, He cares, He loves us, and He is God. He always walks on the troubled waters, in the middle of our storms."
"He walked on water to show them that the thing they feared the most - the raging seas - was merely the steps to bring them to Jesus. We often fear the very things that bring us closer to Him."
And, per usual, I heard exactly what I needed to hear this weekend. I was reminded of how close I was to my Savior during the deepest valley in my life. I began to remember that although it was a devastating and horrific time, I was very close to my God. I prayed often, out of necessity. I needed help getting out of bed every morning, and leaned on Him to get me through my days.
Do I still miss my son? Everyday. Do I still long to be with him again? Every moment. But, am I clinging to my Jesus like I was in those dark days? Sadly, no. My prayer is that I will "know Him, worship Him, and be grateful to Him" on my good days, too. That I would remember that He is always near to me, and that I should rejoice in Him.
I hope this entry blessed you in some way, dear readers.
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