beauty for ashes.
In order to fight for healing following the death of my daughter, I had to take the word of God and hide it deep within my heart. In the early days of my journey through grief, I felt the Holy Spirit prompt me to pray for one of the Mercy Teams at Victory World Church during a staff prayer meeting. Usually, this wouldn’t be a cause for anxiety, but the Mercy Team the Lord prompted me to pray for was Victory4Life, the ministry that serves women that have lost children through abortion, miscarriage, stillbirth or in early infancy. Yeah…it was going to be tough to get me out of my seat and up to the microphone. He was patiently persistent in His prompting, and I finally obliged. I don’t remember everything I prayed, but I do remember praying that the babies would live and not die in Jesus’ name! Later that evening during
those that wait upon the Lord
After we lost Phebe, I had a vivid dream in which I was running in a marathon. As I was running, I passed by people to my left and right, and my eyes brightened as the finish line came into view. Excitement began beating within my chest, then it happened - I fell. I didn’t just trip, I tumbled and was so badly injured that I had no strength to lift myself up to complete the race. Those same people that I had recently passed began racing past me, crossing the finish line as I cried out in pain sprawled out on the ground. In my own strength I kept trying to pull my mangled body toward the finish line in sight. But it was no use, I couldn’t move an inch without feeling like my body was about to fall apart. As I lay on the ground I heard a voice
you can have it?
Are you saying to the Lord, “save it for me,” or “You can have it”? I have just experienced the greatest pain of my life in losing my child. I asked God why He didn’t allow me to miscarry earlier in my pregnancy before everyone knew I was pregnant. I told Him if He had done that I would be able to suffer in silence. I would’t have to face questions like “oh, you had your baby!?” or “what happened?” I didn’t even announce I was pregnant until I reached 6 months. My pregnancy was perfect, there’s no answer as to why my daughter died, and everyone who looks at me sees a mother with no child. My pain stares at me in the mirror every morning when I still see extra pounds on my body from being pregnant. I can't suffer in silence! So often, we want God to fix a situation,
the joy of the Lord.
Last year, I was worshipping at a Jesus Culture concert and a woman seated behind me leaned over and said the following in my ear: “The Lord will restore your joy.” She had no idea that I was struggling with contentment and joy at that time, and all I could do was thank her for being bold and telling me what she felt the Lord had put on her heart. Later in the year when I learned I was pregnant with Phebe, I felt that through the birth of my child, God would restore my joy. What the woman so sweetly told me months prior was finally coming to pass! We decided not to find out the gender of our child until her birth, so while Phebe was in my womb, I affectionately called her “MJ” for “My Joy.” What I’ve learned in Phebe’s death is that she was not the source of my joy,
it’s ok not to be ok.
Grief is a like roller coaster. One moment you’re up, the next you’re down and another you’re coasting waiting on the next wave of emotion to come. I’m so thankful for our family, friends, and church community during this time. They’ve been here day in and day out to pray for us, bring us food, get us out the house, and sometimes, just sit with us in silence. I wish I could explain to them how much their presence means to me in the moment, but sometimes I don’t realize it until after they’re long gone. That’s when I board the roller coaster. I feel bad for laughing because I’m supposed to be sad. I feel bad for being sad because I’m supposed to be strong. I feel…well, I don’t know how I feel. What I do know is that I understand what Paul was saying a little better: Because of the extravagance of those
untitled.
How do you say goodbye when you’ve never even said hello? She has my husband’s eyes and lips, my nose and chin with a head full of beautiful black hair. At 34 weeks she was already 18 inches long and was beginning to put on weight in preparation for her estimated arrival in 6 weeks. But the evening of June 16th brought forth a revelation my heart was unprepared to hear: “your baby doesn’t have a heartbeat.” An ultrasound confirmed that her spirit had departed her body and uncontrollable sobs began to echo within the hospital room. The next day, my baby would be born dead. In faith, I prayed for a miracle, but as I read Romans 8:17 in the middle of the night, I knew God’s will was already in motion. We would share in His sufferings in order to delight in His future glory. As Christians, we are forewarned to