Every once in awhile, something drives me back here -- to read and remember. This morning Bryan's former boss and mentor's granddaughter died after only 14 days of life. I've been following her story and praying fervently for baby Olivia and her parents. They have clung to Jesus in a beautiful way. I am truly grieved for them as they face life without sweet Olivia. And I can't help but remember Samuel and the day he died and the months that followed. Though every story is unique, I can imagine what today is like for David and Danae.
A friend emailed me this morning to tell me she is praying for us as she prays for the Woodalls, for she knows it must stir up a lot in us to see a similar story play out in someone else's life. As I thought about her sweet email, I couldn't help but think of all the ways God cared for us after Samuel died. I came back here to read some of my posts from those first weeks without Samuel, and I am so glad I recorded what I was thinking and feeling. It is good to remember. It is good to have a record of God's faithfulness. Here are two paragraphs that echo my prayers for David and Danae as they walk in this valley:
"Once again I find myself at the feet of Jesus, depending on Him for the strength, joy, and courage to move forward and to face what this day holds. He continues to be my portion, my rock, and my good, good God. Is it weird that I am amazed -- truly -- at His goodness as I navigate the paths of grief? He is so very real, so very present, so very strong, and so very tender with me. Can I say yet again, IT IS A GOOD GOD WE SERVE!"
"…despite being very, very sad and tearful and fairly unable to take care of ordinary tasks, I have a constant and steady peace underneath it all. I know in no uncertain terms that God is good. He is trustworthy. He is worthy of my praise, and I find I can praise Him even in my darkest moments. Though the world around me seems dark, and I feel burdened and literally weighed down -- sometimes to the point of suffocation -- the ground beneath me is firm and unchanging. I know the bottom can't fall out from under me because my foundation is Christ, and He is always the same. There is a safety underneath my grief, a sense of being held and kept on firm footing. As long as I make my home on the rock of God, I am safe and peaceful. I never would have thought there could be such peace in grieving, such confidence in my God, such assurance of His sovereignty. But He has shown Himself good and loving even here, in the death of my baby boy."
As I think about David and Danae and all their family, as strange as it sounds, I have a quiet expectation that accompanies my sorrow for them. An expectation of God's tender love for them, of His care, of His faithfulness to carry them through these days and to heal their broken hearts -- not from their grief but in their grief. I experienced God's mighty love for me most clearly and powerfully after Samuel died, and I find myself expecting the same to be true for the Woodalls. I quietly anticipate the tender mercies He will shower on them and the "refreshing springs" and "pools of blessing" He will bring from their loss. I would never, ever wish this sorrow and loss on anyone, but when God takes someone down the road of losing a baby, I silently wait for the beautiful fruit He will produce from it. And I remember. I remember Samuel. I remember fresh grief. I remember the cruelty of life as usual for most everyone around me. I remember the empty arms and overwhelming ache in my soul. But most of all I remember God beneath me, God sustaining me, God loving me. I pray it is the same for our friends.
