Spring came, my love.

The week after our first miscarriage, I found myself reading Angie Smith's book, I Will Carry You.  Her story through carrying and losing her fourth daughter and how her faith played a role throughout.  I had actually read the book before without really knowing why I was, but I see that the Lord was just preparing me for what we would walk and that I would recall so much from this book to bring comfort.

I posted a photo on Instagram that week of this quote from one of the pages:

"However easy it may be to allow myself to wail over my loss, it is a far more satisfying thing to believe that all of this is a brief season.  The Lord I have placed my trust in tells me that I will see my child again, and while He stands beside me, He weeps.  He doesn't weep at the barren ground, nor does He mourn the browning branches.  He cries because I can't see what He can.  And in the fluttering of the breeze, with my heart pressed to His, I can hear Him whisper, Spring will come, my love."

For the months following that loss, I kept praying for my Spring to come. I kept begging for it.  Make it obvious, Lord.  Where is the Spring?  Then we found ourselves facing loss again and I forgot all about the coming Spring.

I think the strangest thing about loss, and the hardest to explain to others, is that I still hurt.  There are no replacement babies.  Sure, having a baby has taken away a lot of the ache and filled me with joy, but there was still loss.  I still hurt as I watch friends and family walk this same path.  As they feel the bleakness that comes with winter and crave the Spring.

I honestly hadn't given much thought to this quote since that time.  Just last week, as I sat holding my few day old baby boy, with our doors flung wide and the breeze rustling the trees, did I remember the Spring.  I couldn't see what He could.  In the midst of the craziness, Spring showed up.  Literally and figuratively.

And I heard Him whisper... Spring came, my love.