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The Calm in the Storm

One thing I’ve learned first hand, and observed over the past few years in connecting with other parents who have lost a child is this:

A content heart amidst a storm is a powerful thing!

Often times we live in the ‘if only’ scenarios:

If only I could stay at home with my kids…

If only we made more money…

If only I could get pregnant…

If only my baby would sleep through the night…

If only my kids were all in school…

If only I could send my kids to a different school…

If only I could live somewhere else…

If only my child would not have died…

If only… then I’ll be content. 

We’ve all been there, we’ve all had those thoughts. But what I’ve come to realize is that God calls us to be content (a state of peaceful satisfaction) amidst the storms.

While it may not be easy, one thing is certain, if you can find contentment in your current storm, you can break fear of the future; as Proverbs 31:25 says, “she can laugh at the days to come…”

Sometimes God allows storms as a way to show His power. He allows storms to show His glory and his peace. He allows storms because He wants to show us there is a better way to live. He even allows storms to protect us.

Are you in a season of waiting, a season of grief, in the middle of a storm?

I’d encourage you to pray for one thing… Lord teach my heart to be content.

One of the quickest ways to a content heart is setting healthy boundaries and guarding our hearts.

A content heart is a guarded heart.

Proverbs 4:23 “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”

We are told to guard our hearts, because everything we do and say is an overflow of what is in our hearts. Take some time and ask yourself these questions…

  1. Who do I need to guard my heart from (friends, family, neighbors)?
  2. What things do I need to guard my heart from (Facebook, Instagram, other social media, T.V. shows, magazines, etc.)? How do those things make me feel about myself?
  3. Who and What do I need to surround myself with? Who and what will speak life? Encourage my heart? Believe in me? Inspire me? Challenge me? Bring out the best in me?

The key to a content heart is a guarded heart. The key to a guarded heart is who and what you allow into your life.

Now this may seem harsh (or even insensitive) to those who are not encouraging or supporting you, but let the Lord deal with them. Often times in deep grief, the energy that we may have had to filter out the negativity is gone, that energy is required to survive the day to day. So what may have possibly seemed ‘selfish’ in the past is actually now ‘self care’. Those who love you and want what is best for you will realize this and maybe even learn to establish boundaries for themselves.

Don’t be pulled in different directions or worried about a thing. Be saturated in prayer throughout the day, offering your faith-filled requests before God with overflowing gratitude. Tell him every detail of your life, then God’s wonderful peace that transcends human understanding, will make the answers known to you through Jesus Christ.

So keep your thoughts continually fixed on all that is authentic and real, honorable and admirable, beautiful and respectful, pure and holy, merciful and kind. And fasten your thoughts of every glorious work of God, praising him always. Follow the example of all that we have imparted to you and the God of peace will be with you in all things.

Philippians 4:4-9

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Our Story of Hope- The Warner Family (Taylor)

On November 13th, 2010 our lives changed forever. After attending a gift gathering party for less fortunate children we were rear-ended at a traffic light. The driver’s seat collapsed onto our sweet 17 month old, Taylor Grace, causing severe head trauma. She was put in a helicopter and sent to the hospital where we spent hours asking “Why is this happening?” and “Why would we be punished for donating toys to a good cause?” We just sat by her bed praying for a miracle and that she would somehow wake up. Eventually we realized she had already left and we had to let go. On November 14th she went to be with Jesus. 

There were several questions that continued to run through our minds. I remember Taylor had been a bit of a surprise addition to our family. The two of us were going through some marital struggles and I wasn’t completely excited about adding another child into a less than ideal situation. However, it seemed she was sent to us to help fix our relationship. She was always the sweetest baby with a quiet disposition. She rarely cried, slept through the night almost immediately and was perfectly content playing with her toys while I got things done. Sometimes she’d be sitting in her infant seat patiently waiting for me to chase our oldest around. She never fussed at all. When I’d finally get back to her she’d grin as if to say “you remembered me Mommy” I don’t think anyone ever saw her without a smile on her face. I had nicknamed her our “angel baby” little did we know that’s exactly what she was.  After we lost her I remember asking repeatedly, “why did you send us an unexpected baby just to take her back?” It wasn’t until months later that I realized her presence had a profound impact on our relationship and her loss forced us to depend on one another to keep going. We definitely had our struggles but in the end she brought us closer together. 

The week and months after were a challenge. Our 4 year old son, Jack, struggled the most with the loss of his best friend and reliving the trauma of the accident itself. For several months he wouldn’t speak about her at all, only watched videos on my phone. He spent hours with our family priest and play therapists working through his PTSD. I remember one day he had a breakthrough and finally said out loud with tears running down his face, “they put her in the helicopter and I never got to tell her goodbye” We remember feeling terrible because we debated whether to take him into the PICU to see her. We decided we didn’t want his memories to include her bruised and unconscious, only playing and happy. A few days later he came downstairs and told me “Taylor came to me in my sleep and told me goodbye.” It seemed to heal his broken heart a little but to this day, he’s almost 12, he still struggles with the loss. We’re so thankful he survived that terrible accident but a piece of him died with his sister. We’ve had a constant battle with people who don’t understand how PTSD works in a child. We spent years trying to find him the perfect fit for school and social environments and he’s finally moving forward in a positive manner.

Almost exactly one year after the accident we were blessed with another baby boy, Rylan Taylor. We truly believe he was sent to us around the anniversary to give us time to process the grief of a year passing but also distract us from the pain. We had a Mass said in Taylor’s honor and the following week we had a beautiful addition sent to us from Heaven. He’s wise beyond his years, definitely an old soul, and people have said he must’ve gotten his own brain plus the smarts that Taylor passed onto him that she wouldn’t need anymore. He always knows when one of us needs a cuddle or a funny comment to cheer us up. He was definitely sent at the perfect time for our wounded family.

As Rylan was nearing his second birthday we found out we were expecting yet another baby boy. I’ll be honest when I say that I was a bit heartbroken at finishing out our family with 3 boys and an angel baby girl in Heaven. I wanted another little one to dress in pink and spoil rotten to fill the void that we had from Taylor. I really wanted that close mother-daughter relationship that my mom and I share. However, things would soon change for our family again. At my 20 wk ultrasound we discovered there was no longer a heartbeat in our precious Patrick James. Another tragic event led to more struggles for our family. I remember posting on Facebook that our sweet baby boy had gone to play with his big sister. There was some comfort in knowing he already had someone to take care of him but we were still angry that God would allow us more heartbreak. This time our priest was no longer available to help work through the grief. We had to depend on one another and our faith in God to see us through. We knew there was a reason we lost yet another precious gift but didn’t know what it was at the time. 

Just a few months later we received our answer. We were expecting again, this time a baby girl. It seems that God also had a plan for our family. He didn’t think we were emotionally ready to add pink back into the family. We were blessed with a beautiful baby girl, Finley Joy, in March of 2015. Finley is the exact opposite of Taylor in every way. She’s much more demanding and her physical features are completely different. It’s been amazing watching her grow these past 3 and a half years but there are definitely moments when we look at her and think of the things Taylor missed out on. We often wonder if Taylor would’ve been as obsessed with princesses, pink and all things girly.

We knew we wanted to do something to honor our sweet babies in Heaven but struggled with emotions of opening old wounds. After several years we decided to look into the dangers of Seat Back Failure on back seat passengers, the official cause of death for Taylor. We discovered it’s unfortunately very common and made it our mission to fight for change in government standards to prevent this from happening to another child. We’re still fighting today but have Hope that things will change in the near future. We’ve run several news stories and have many government officials fighting with us to require auto makers to fix their seats and lessen the chance for them to collapse on rear impact. 

We felt that fighting for change with Seat Back Failure was definitely an important mission but we were still looking for another way to honor our babies. That’s when we found Hope Family Care Ministries. Their mission to help other families who are drowning in grief at the loss of their child spoke to us. Our son has really struggled with the loss of both siblings and through Hope he’s starting to see things differently. He no longer feels “singled out” as the only person who has lost a sibling. Now that we were in a place we could discuss our pain with others we wanted to join forces with them and help others who are experiencing similar loss.

The Hope Kids Bags really touched our hearts because everything our son received after the accident is still nearby at all times. He cherishes the gifts he has in remembrance of Taylor and wanted to contribute to others in a similar way. There are nights when I’ll see him cuddling a stuffed animal or reading a book he received almost 8 years ago to connect him with his sister. Our younger children will never know their big sister but they also feel her presence every day. We created an art room in the basement for our middle child. It’s in the same space that we keep Taylor’s possessions and he finds comfort in going downstairs to color or paint and know his sister is with him. Our daughter still isn’t quite old enough to really understand but she knows she has a sister in Heaven and she gets to wear some of her clothes and play with some of her toys. It’s our way of connecting the two girls with one another. We never want our children to lose Hope in the face of grief and struggle so we do our best to keep them connected with the memory of their sister to the best of our abilities. We hope that by sharing our story we can help others find Hope in their own painful stories.

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Our Story of Hope- The Ford Family (Everly)

“You have been assigned this mountain to show others it can be moved.” – unknown

The morning of May 2nd started out different than usual in that I didn’t rush.  Everly woke before Major, my 3 ½ year old and I pulled her into bed to nurse.  As I laid there on my side feeding her from my body I took her all in.  I savored her.  I distinctly remember looking into her eyes as she nursed, stroked her hair and thanked God she was mine.  But she wasn’t mine.  Not entirely.  She was on loan and little did I know that loan was being cashed in later that afternoon.

I left for work that day not knowing it would be the last time I would hold my baby girl.  I nursed her before I left because she wouldn’t take a bottle and prayed I could get home to nurse her again without having to pump.  I was the Regional Manager of Georgia for lululemon athletica and my Area Director was flying in that day to visit my stores with me.  I was on a store visit when I noticed I had several missed calls from my husband Josh.  One of the workers came up to me and handed me the store phone.  It was Josh saying in a desperate, frantic voice for me to get home and that Everly wasn’t breathing.  I screamed as I dropped the phone and ran towards the door.  My boss grabbed my things and ran after me asking me what was wrong.  In between groans/screams I told her what he had told me and she drove me to the hospital.  My husband had called me back to tell me to go to the hospital and not to come home.  He would be on his way behind the ambulance.  What he really didn’t tell me was that the investigators were at our house and treating it like a crime scene.  He didn’t want me to have to deal with that.   (My husband is a federal agent and has been on the other side of situations like this.  He knew how to handle law enforcement and shielded me from that side of things)

I arrived at the hospital and someone was waiting for me.  She ushered me down a hallway and another until we passed the emergency entrance.  I saw a gurney and a paramedic standing there.  He wouldn’t look me in the eyes and I knew.  I knew my baby girl was gone.  I screamed, “He won’t look at me.” Over and over until I was hoarse.  The doctors and nurses who worked on her came into the tiny room they put me in conveniently positioned next to the psych ward to tell me the news.  I couldn’t believe it even though I already knew in my heart that what they were saying was true.  She was gone.  It felt like a bad dream.  I hadn’t pumped and my breasts were beyond full.  I was so angry that she wasn’t alive for me to nurse.  My whole body hurt, yearning for her.  My husband arrived shortly after the doctors told me and I howled in pain as we held one another, hot tears streaming down my face.  How in the world was my beautiful, perfect baby girl dead?

Everly was with my trusted nanny Cici the day she passed.  She put her down for her nap like any other day and Everly never woke up.  She passed peacefully in her sleep with no suffering.  She was face up and perfectly fine.  She didn’t suffocate or suffer.  Her autopsy months later came back perfect.  She had nothing wrong with her.  It was a tough blow to hear because it would almost be easier if there was something wrong.

No one can ever prepare you for something like this.  You hear of it happening and yet you never think it will happen to you.  I can honestly say I was one of those people who never in a million years thought that I would lose my child.  Everly was a gift from God.  Through all of this I have come to the realization that God doesn’t take our babies.  He received her that day but He didn’t take her.  I know she is with Him and that does give me some peace.  Grief is THE hardest thing I have ever been given the task of navigating and yet I knew almost immediately that God has a plan and a purpose in all of this suffering.  He will see us through this.  Everyone kept telling me that I can be “Mad” at God.  I have never once been mad at God.  I knew that God cried too that day.  God didn’t mean this to harm me.  The enemy did and I would NOT allow the enemy to win this one.

There’s a quote by a poet named Yung Pueblo that goes like this, “true love does not hurt, attachments do.” He goes on to say that Love cannot cause pain; attachments cause pain.  When the attachments that we create in our minds break, we feel their rupture deeply, how deeply depends on how much we identify with the image that we have created.  This resonated with me so deeply.  I had created the perfect image in my mind of my life with my daughter.  I’d bought clothes sizes ahead never once thinking she would never wear them.  I assumed.  I was confident she would.  I was wrong.  In reflecting on this, all I see when I open that closet is pride.  My pride for my beautiful daughter.  None of it matters.  Actually she hated all of the frilly smocked dresses and large bows I put on her head.  She couldn’t have cared one bit about any of it.  It was my own pride and wanting that bought all of it thinking I would have her here to dress her like a baby doll.  I can’t beat myself up for the images in my mind that never came to fruition or for the fancy clothes.  What I do know is that the images of what would be created more pain for me in thinking about what might have been.  So I choose to remember the love I gave her in the eight months she was here.  The really good happy times that did happen, not the ones that didn’t and never will.  To be present with my son and husband and give them a wife and mother they deserve.  I am still here.  There is still a purpose for my life and I must live it to the fullest.

Everly James Ford is a bright light in this dark world.  She set me on a path of deep spiritual awakening and has brought me closer to our Lord during this than I ever thought possible.  I am forever grateful to be her mother.  I will continue to heal through this and know that I will NEVER get over her loss but will get through it, day by day, minute by minute, second by second.  Each day is different and I take it as it comes.  I recently left my corporate job to pursue my career as a Full time artist.  Everly taught me to take risks and live big.  We are not guaranteed tomorrow and I am living life out loud for her.  My art helps heal me and others.  It is where I find peace in the storm of her loss.  Follow along via Instagram as I continue to post there about navigating the waves of grief.

www.jgfcollective.com

@jillgordonford.art- Instagram

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Our Story of Hope- Huie Family (Dash)

‘‘Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus

Just to take Him at His word

Just to rest upon His promise

Just to know, thus saith the Lord.”

“Jesus, Jesus, how I trust Him!

How I’ve proved Him o’er and o’er

Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus!

Oh, for grace to trust Him more!”

These are words we sung at the homegoing celebration of our first child, our precious three year old son, William Dashiell Huie.
“Dash” was so special for so many reasons. One of them being, doctors had told my husband and myself we might not be able to conceive. After about 3.5 years of trying to get pregnant, we were starting to get frustrated. But…God! I remember being so incredibly nervous when I went to the hospital to have an induction, but God directed me to Psalm 139 and my fears were stilled. Everything went perfectly, he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I had the privilege of being able to stay home with him and we lived each day to the fullest! God knows our future and makes preparation for what we are about to encounter, and I’m so incredibly thankful. A few weeks before Dash passed away, he kept coming up to me randomly, saying, “it’s ok, momma. Don’t be scared.” At the time I didn’t understand, but I do now.
Dash was so full of life and energy and absolutely loved to dance. The weekend before he passed away, Ballet Memphis was doing “The Wizard of Oz” ballet at the Orpheum. I knew Dash would absolutely love it, but at the time money was a little tight as my husband was in the middle of a huge career transition. I had decided we better be frugal and wise and so I had decided not to go. The Holy Spirit spoke to my heart so strongly and impressed on me that “life is too short, and to buy the tickets.” So that’s exactly what I did.  I told my husband that we could just go ahead and make a special day out of it and celebrate Dash’s birthday early (which wasn’t until June 19th, and this was April 8th). My husband cleared his schedule and we had the best day together. It was a perfect spring day, we enjoyed lunch, and took so many pictures. He had an absolute blast. He loved the ballet, but towards the end he kept getting out of his seat to dance in the aisle. When I asked him to sit back down, he said “Mom, I need to dance!” And I’m so glad I let him. That was just who he was, so full of joy, life and laughter. We even let him open some of his birthday gifts early that I had hidden away in the closet. Sunday we went to church and spent the afternoon hunting Easter eggs. He went to bed that night like any other, we said his prayers and tucked him in.
 Monday morning I  noticed he was sleeping in later than usual so I went in to check on him and found him not breathing. He had been with Jesus for a little while already. God is helping me daily with that trauma. His everlasting arms carried me through that horrific moment and are carrying me daily. No one could ever give us a definitive answer as to what exactly happened, even after the autopsy and toxicology testing. I struggled  with this for a long time, because Dash was so unusually healthy. I tried to do everything right, and I felt like I had failed. The enemy tried to tell me the lie that I was a bad mom, that I could have kept this from happening. It just didn’t make any sense.
Then, the Lord brought back to remembrance Psalm 139 that He gave me as I was on my way to the hospital. “All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” Psalm 139:16b. Dash’s mission on earth was accomplished and God just simply took him home, and out of his loving-kindness allowed us to have an early birthday celebration with our boy.  Looking back over Dash’s life, I see God’s prophetic whispers throughout this journey. Even leading us to name our son “Dash” was prophetic, because his life would be so short, but no less meaningful. He dashed in and out of our lives so quickly, but is still changing lives for eternity. When someone passes away, there are a couple of dates on the headstone—the birth date and the promotion date. But it’s not the dates that are as important as the dash in between. The dash represents their life, how they lived it, and the people they impacted. I believe Dash accomplished more in his short three years of life than some people do in a life time. I’m so thankful God chose me to be the mother of a boy so special, he got promoted early for a specific purpose.
Our Father is perfect in all His ways, and He doesn’t waste any of our pain. He wants to use it if we will bring it to Him. All the brokenness, all the shattered pieces of our heart, He wants to take it all and make something truly beautiful from it, like only He can. Just like my son said to me, I want to say to you, “it’s ok, momma/daddy, don’t be scared.” Trust God, and watch what He will do. “He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!”  Revelation 21:5
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Our Story of Hope- Moyd Family

I remember the look on the doctor’s face when she told us the news about our first baby. I think it will forever be engraved in my mind. Five doctors. Five different doctors with the same look on their face.

At eight weeks into our first pregnancy, we were planning our announcement photos. Little did we know our announcement photo would soon greatly differ from the cute ones I had pinned on Pinterest.

The diagnosis was not good for me or our precious little baby. I had a rare condition that they call a molar pregnancy. Even more rare was the fact that I had a twin pregnancy where one was a perfectly normal baby, while the other twin never developed and was a fast-growing tumor. We were told by every doctor there was no chance the baby would make it through this. What complicated things even more was that I have a blood clotting disorder where I clot easily. Molar pregnancies greatly decrease your platelet count, increasing the chances of bleeding too much. Because of this, one doctor, who sees hundreds of patients each week and has only recommended terminating a pregnancy one other time, said this was an impossible situation to manage. And, if I chose to continue, there was a 20% chance of this turning into cancer. There was no way I was going to make it through this. Another hospital that does not perform abortions, said they would make an exception for my situation.

I can still see my husband, Dillon, as he sat solomley stunned, eyes locked into nowhere, his mind racing with every word being spoken. These were big emotions we’ve never had to process before. Even though they were saying everything to me, we were experiencing this together. We shared the same thoughts, the same fears, the same emotions. This wasn’t just my body. This was our baby.

Everything medically made sense to follow through with termination. Even the hospital was making an exception on their policies for me. I thought, “if there’s no chance of us both making it, why would I choose to let us both die when I could be a mom to another baby one day?” The doctor stepped out and told us to take as long as we needed to make our decision. Every doctor we spoke with just wanted the best for me. They treated us like family and mourned with us as they had to deliver this terrible news and recommended what they thought was best. I can’t imagine what they must have been feeling as well. But, I couldn’t run from what came next.

I don’t even know how long we just sat there. Praying this wasn’t really happening. Waiting to wake up from this nightmare. We were just putting off the inevitable. We had to make this impossible decision. Dillon broke the silence. “I’ll be with you with whatever you decide.” My survival instincts screamed reasonings in my head. My heart ached. Then, deep in my soul I felt a whisper: “Would I rather meet God slightly further out in the course of eternity knowing what I had done, or would I rather meet him maybe a little sooner, knowing I could stand tall and chose what pleased Him?” Less than two hours before we found out the devastating news, we had seen the ultrasound of the baby moving around. We had heard the heartbeat of our child. Even when we weren’t sure how it would affect my life, we chose to give our child a chance at life. This is in no way valuing my life any less. Would life be worth living if I didn’t live for anything? If I don’t stick to and stand up for my values?

We told the doctors our decision to continue our pregnancy. I could see the concern on their face, but they displayed the utmost respect for our decision and sent us to a new team of doctors they believed could better handle our situations and the risks with which they came. With this new team, we were informed that the risks of cancer would have been the same percentage even if we would have terminated the day we found out. If I would have given into my fears that day, I would have been crushed to find out we chose to stop that beating heart we heard just hours before, and then later find out the risks are still the same to me.

To anyone who has made the decision to end a pregnancy, I want to tell you this does not define you. Just like my decision to continue my pregnancy does not define me. Only Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior, defines me. And He can define you too. There is hope and forgiveness in Jesus. If you are holding on to a decision you’ve made in the past, give it to Him. And don’t try to take it back. Getting caught up in guilt delays the redemption and healing. All He wants is for us to follow Him. All He has for us is love. All we have to do is accept it and follow. Let go of any guilt and let Jesus define you.

After telling our family the news, we tried to think about the best way to tell all of our loved ones so they could join us in prayer. We could not carry this burden alone. We found relief in laying it at the feet of our Heavenly Father. He also gave us a community to help us through this storm. We decided the most effective way to reach everyone would be to post an update on Facebook. I must admit, the initial response was so uplifting and encouraging that I found myself starting to shift my reliance to the words on the screen than the God in my heart. We had gone to a movie to escape from the turmoil within for a couple of hours, when I was quickly reminded of why I can only place my contentment in Christ alone. We walked out of the theater to an insurmountable mountain of Facebook notifications. In the matter of two and a half hours, our post had gone viral. People we’ve never even met were commenting words that still loom over me some days. My mind soon was flooded with evil words. I was drowning in discouragement. The words wouldn’t leave my head. They just kept repeating over and over and over. Self-righteous words proclaiming judgement over my husband for not valuing my life. Claims of me just wanting to be a martyr. Accusations of us missing our “boat” of rescue through the five doctors. Yes, the accusations ripped at me, but that wasn’t what the deep ache in my heart was about. They didn’t see it. They didn’t see the reason behind it. The God that had so much glory to show us through it all. Our prayer from the start was that people wouldn’t see our faith as the main thing in this story, but rather what God does through this. Still, the hurt was real. When we got home, I told Dillon I just needed to worship. I couldn’t replace the evil words on my own. So, we sang the songs God has given to others who have gone through hurt. We sang the hope He’s given to people just like us time and time again.

As Dillon strummed and we sang through the tears, it wasn’t too long before the words of praise replaced the gut-wrenching words inside. You know why? Because praise always triumphs over pain. The God we sang to is far mightier than the demons we fought.

The months that followed were tough. I couldn’t stomach any foods or liquids. Dillon would sit with me to make sure I took a sip of Pedialyte every few hours to fight off the dehydration. I couldn’t stand for more than seconds and some days I couldn’t lift my head. We continued to go to weekly doctors appointments. Every visit, we were getting good reports for our baby and worsening reports for me. Still, our baby continued to defy everyone’s expectations. Things were actually looking so well for our baby that they scheduled the next appointment 3 weeks out for our 16 weeks ultrasound. We were looking forward to finding out if we were having a girl or a boy when, two days before our appointment, I knew something was wrong. We went to the ER in the dark of night and learned there was no longer a heartbeat to be found. The tumor had grown too fast for our sweet little fighter. The tests they ran on me revealed my liver, kidneys, and heart were shutting down, my platelets were extremely low, and my blood pressure was frighteningly high. They told my family if we had waited even one or two days, I would have been in critical condition. We had to schedule surgery to get the tumor the size of a football out right away and try to regulate my body. Although this seemed like a defeat, we felt almost an instantaneous peace and even joy in the ER room. We were reminded of a prayer we prayed earlier on in this journey. In seeking His will, we prayed for the miracle of our baby being born, or for the mercy of taking our baby home naturally. We begged God to take us out of making that impossible decision. Instead, He gave us hope in the impossible.

After a week in the hospital, we were back home and regaining strength and it seemed like the storm had passed. Unbeknownst to us that we were just in the eye of the storm. The next storm wall was fast approaching. I soon was informed I was in the 20%. The cancer had moved to my lungs.

Five months of chemo later, I was testing negative and I’m now being monitored for a while.

On a particularly emotionally hard day, I remember opening a book I had lain down a few months prior and never quite got back to. There, awaiting me in it’s pages was a lesson written just for me in that moment. It expounded upon the shortest verse in the Bible: Jesus wept. The shortest verse, yet holding so much power. Power to show me a glimpse into the expanse of His love and compassion for me. The scene around this verse is of Mary crying out to Jesus, falling at His feet asking “Why?” Why hadn’t He come to heal her brother Lazarus. She knew He could have. She knew He hadn’t. I was haunted with the eerie resemblance to some one-sided conversations I had had with God at times over the past few months. Yet, Jesus’s response wasn’t rebuke or condemnation. It was compassion. She wept. He wept. He longed for her to see His greater purpose. He was longing for me to stop questioning, and start trusting in His greater purpose. To trust in the greater glory He could get through this plan.

We’ve seen God so much through all of this. Through the love displayed from friends and family, to spiritual growth of self and others, and financial miracles. There’s so many stories

I could tell of when God graced us with unexpected deposits in my account to pay for a little getaway, to rebate checks to pay for groceries we had forgotten to budget for, to two months of meals supplied by our church family after surgery, to countless more. But I want to part with this. I told Dillon a couple weeks after we lost our baby that it broke my heart thinking our baby was up there waiting on a name. It just seemed fitting to name our little one Hope. If we learned anything, it was the importance hope plays into our life. Hope is what keeps us going. If we are hoping in the wrong thing, we are headed toward a path of discontentment and distruction. But, having hope in the one thing that is always constant, always loving, and always IS, leads us to a path of true satisfaction. Hope can seem impossible sometimes, but we are always hoping in something if we really think about it. Placing hope in an omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient God can seem impossible. But, hope in the impossible is what we need. It’s what our soul longs for. And it’s what each one of us can have. All we have to do is place our hope in Jesus Christ. Trusting that He took on all of our sins and took our place on the cross. Trusting that He rose again and defeated the death that separates us from God. Trusting and hoping in Him for the rest of our lives here, and trusting and hoping for the life we know we can now have with Him for eternity.

We had to lean into this hope during our impossible decision. We cling to this hope every day. Hope in the impossible is what keeps us going. You can choose hope in any impossible place you find yourself in. You can choose to hope in the impossible today.

“And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.” (1 Peter 5:10)

“but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.

They will soar on wings like eagles;

they will run and not grow weary,

they will walk and not be faint.” (Isaiah 40:31)

“24 For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? 25 But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.” (Romans 8:24-25)

“And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.” (Romans 5:5)

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” (Romans 15:13)

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28)