13 March 2015
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.