This whirlwind of a summer took off with a week-long visit from a dear friend, a week-long visit to see Houston family, a week of family festivities back in Colorado leading up to a cousin’s wedding, and then now…
All I have on my agenda today is babysitting and exercise. I must figure out what to do with myself for the next several weeks of “real” summer. I must admit, I’m eyeing a few cleaning projects and hoping to make it a bit further through my reading list.
Yet, despite the possible frivolity of the next several weeks, I long for something beyond this semi-emptiness that I feel. Until several days ago, David and I were planning with great expectation how we would spend the rest of the summer…planning, shopping, dreaming…about our baby due in February. (I was probably WAY more excited about the planning and shopping. 🙂 )This week, however, we lost this second Little One as well.
In Christ, I am so much stronger this time than I expected.
After the past few years, I expected to be broken by the grief. In fear, I wondered if I would rage at God and turn my back on my Savior. I wondered if my marriage could withstand these trials.
I’m not broken. My Savior is still pursuing me with unfailing love. David and I are more in love than the day we married.
It is well with my soul.
One of my dearest friends challenged me this year to memorize Matthew 5-7 with her. Well, I’m woefully behind in my memorization, yet I plug on, committing verse after verse of the Sermon on the Mount to memory. Listen, as this truth takes root…
“You are the salt of the earth…You are the light of the world…Nor do you light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lamp stand and it gives light to all who are in the house. In like manner, so let your light shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in Heaven.”
In awe this week, I realized that my light shines only through the supernatural comfort that the Holy Spirit has wrapped me in. Perhaps those verses were not just meant as a commission to evangelize, but rather as a commandment to live life through all its heartache and pain in a way that still lets the love of Christ shine through.
In that light there is no room for bitterness.
In that light there is no room for looking back.
In that light there is no room for fear.
In that light is peace.
In that light is a promise of no more tears.
In that light is something more glorious than this poor, grieving heart can comprehend.
And so, I choose to share my story and these intimate details of my life. Not to say “woe is me.” Not to beg for your sympathy. Not to question my Savior. Rather, to invite you into the glory and comfort that is in my home this week. To beckon you to experience the same daily mercies that are holding me up. To walk together in His Light.