Fall activities bring a rush of busyness; the manic energy of new groups forming, school supplies being broken in and the sense that its time to...move on. Time for brighter days, for learning new things and embracing fresh experiences. In the midst of all of this newness I find myself learning something new-- learning how to move on from a pregnancy interrupted. While my family picks apples and eats corn off the cob, I'm packing away my hopes and dreams for what wasn't to be. The dreams of holding my newborn in my arms and hazily adjusting to life with 4 kids is no longer a reality, and I am left with a...space. I can't quite call it a void, because I feel truly fulfilled with my 3 sweet children and my loving husband. In more ways than I can count I have been blessed with abundance and grace, for which I am so thankful. Yet in learning that my little one is now with God, there remains a space to fill. New dreams to dream, a different future than the one I had expected.
While I mourn the loss of my child, I find myself in an odd place. I find myself somewhere halfway between joy and sorrow. My days are filled with the happy flutter of caring for children and still I find myself pausing at times to wonder, "What new dreams do I put in this space?" Sure I can pour myself more fully into the many groups and projects I'm a part of, which is time well spent. But I suppose I want this season of my life to represent something. I feel this sense that there is a lot to learn from this experience, and I'm open to making the most of it. I believe that God wants us to learn new things from seasons of suffering, and I want to be sure I learn all that I am supposed to from the loss of my little one.
One thing I have come away with from this experience is a renewed sense of gratitude for the many blessing in my life. And as I pray to the Lord and to my little one in heaven I am filled with a sense of hope. In this time of sadness and time of forming new dreams the Lord implores me to embrace the hope that He brings. Hope for the future. Hope in Him. Hope that new dreams will come and that this feeling of loss in time will transform into something beautiful and bright.
And so I move forward with all of the hope that I can muster, trusting that the Lord will guide me through this season of change and make new paths known to me.
Uncertain Landscape
by Helen Fahrbach
The day begins in hiding,
the lake lost in fog.
Mist winds around trees
where birds scold about
damp nests. Fence posts
poke through a grounded cloud
and the road is a mystery.
Around noon, when the sun
burns off the haze, obscure
landmarks move into place
the way familiar stars come out
in evening skies.
"And now, Lord, what do I wait for and expect? My hope and expectation are in You."
--Ps. 39:7
by Helen Fahrbach
The day begins in hiding,
the lake lost in fog.
Mist winds around trees
where birds scold about
damp nests. Fence posts
poke through a grounded cloud
and the road is a mystery.
Around noon, when the sun
burns off the haze, obscure
landmarks move into place
the way familiar stars come out
in evening skies.
"And now, Lord, what do I wait for and expect? My hope and expectation are in You."
--Ps. 39:7
xoxoxox
ReplyDeleteSending you lots and lots of love to seep into that unfillable space.
peace, Katie
Erin, I'm praying for peace and for comfort in the midst of your lost. I'm so so sorry to hear you'll never meet your little one this side of Heaven, but I do rejoice with you in knowing that one day you will meet your little one. I'm glad your body is recovering. That must have been really scary, too.
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