If I didn't lose you

I do enjoy my morning coffee

Quiet and unrushed

I do like being free

To make plans or be spontaneous

All my clothes still fit

And my bank account is full

And everything can go on

Just like it did before

If I didn't lose you

I'd be more exhausted now

My calendar would hit the breaks

I might be missing out

My body would look very different

Money may be tight

Nothing would be the same

And that would be alright

If I didn't lose you

You'd be born about this time

A precious little bundle

With a twinkle in your eye

I would memorize your face

And your cries and coos

I would cradle you all night

If I didn't lose you

I still thank the Lord for you

That I got to be your mother

And with every passing milestone

I'll still wish we were together

There will be an eternity of stories

To share between us two

And in Glory it will be

As if I didn't lose you

.....

Greif.

Waves.

Ebbs and flows.

Peaks and valleys.

It's strange the sort of things that can be triggers for what we have lost.

Perhaps the most notable triggers are the milestones.

The things they should be here to see.

The holidays they should be here to celebrate.

The birthdays they should reach.

The mundane they should experience.

The accomplishments they should hear about.

The achievements they should share.

If I didn't miscarry my first pregnancy, my baby would be here about now.

I should have swollen ankles.

I should be craving ice cream.

I should be tripping over baby toys and mailing shower thank-you's.

I should be nesting.

I should be telling Jon how to put the crib together.

I should be practicing my breathing.

I should be eagerly awaiting a baby.

There are so many things in life that should, but don't.

And so many things that shouldn't, but do.

If Jesus Himself had to learn obedience through the things He suffered, how much more must we (Hebrews 5:8)? That is not to say that every bad thing happens to 'teach us a lesson', but it is to say that it would be impossible to learn of such determined, consecrated, unwavering and devoted obedience without hard things.

After a few days of unsteady grief, I began asking myself these questions:

What can I learn through this?

How is this experience making me more like Jesus?

How will this experience allow me to minister to others?

What might my future self tell me on the other side of this?

What might my past self tell me if I gave up?

"The heart knows its own bitterness, and no stranger can share its joy." - Proverbs 14:10

There are times when, even those closest to us, those who know us the best, cannot share or engage with our burdens or joys. We may receive an inspiring revelation and we excitedly share it with someone and they can't seem to be as excited as we are. Or we are sinking into the mire of heaviness and they can't seem to understand why we are so sensitive.

In 1 Samuel 30, David is faced with a devastating situation. He returns home with his men to find their city Ziklag burned to the ground and all of the wives, children, animals, and possessions stolen by the enemy. Verse 6 says, "David was greatly distressed, for the people spoke of stoning him because the soul of all the people was grieved, every man for his sons and for his daughters; but David encouraged himself in the Lord his God."

There will be moments when we are alone.

Emotionally isolated.

No one will be able to completely understand us.

They will not be able to know our bitterness or joy.

Except, the Father.

It is necessary for us to learn how to encourage ourselves in the Lord.

People will not always have the word of knowledge to call you in your dark hour.

People will be busy and forget to check on you.

People will forget the 'anniversaries' of your losses or the valleys you've been through.

People will believe that you are a strong person and not think you need them.

People will assume that if you really did need something, you would text them.

And people are not our source anyway.

It is necessary to learn how to give yourself the same pep talk you would give your best friend.

It is necessary to learn how to intentionally meditate on scripture until your thoughts change.

It is necessary to learn how to regulate your own emotions publically and privately.

It is necessary to learn the balance of keeping busy to direct your thoughts elsewhere, and also being still to sort through what cannot be ignored.

It is necessary because worship is not an upbeat song on a good day.

Worship is doing the hard, obedient things on the worst days.

This is a sermon excerpt from Charles Spurgeon on March 11, 1886:

"Then Job arose, tore his clothes, and shaved his head, and fell to the ground, and worshipped, and said, Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return there: the LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD. In all this Job sinned not, nor charged God foolishly." Job 1:20-22.

Job was very much troubled and he did not try to hide the outward signs of his sorrow. A man of God is not expected to be a stoic. The Grace of God takes away the heart of stone out of his flesh, but it does not turn his heart into a stone. The Lord's children are the subjects of tender feelings—when they have to endure the rod, they feel the smart of its strokes—and Job felt the blows that fell upon him. Do not blame yourself if you are conscious of pain and grief, and do not ask to be made hard and callous. That is not the method by which Grace works—it makes us strong to bear trials, but we have to bear them! It gives us patience and submission, not stoicism. We feel and we benefit by the feeling—and there is no sin in the feeling—for in our text we are expressly told of the Patriarch's mourning, "In all this Job sinned not." Though he was the great mourner—I think I might truly call him the chief mourner of Scripture—yet there was no sin in his mourning. There are some who say that when we are heavy of heart, we are necessarily in a wrong spirit, but it is not so. The Apostle Peter says, "If need be you are in heaviness through manifold trials," but he does not imply that the heaviness is wrong. There are some who will not cry when God chastises them and some who will not yield when God strikes them. We do not wish to be like they—we are quite content to have the suffering heart that Job had—and to feel the bitterness of spirit, the anguish of soul which racked that blessed Patriarch.

Furthermore, Job made use of very manifest signs of mourning. He not only felt sorrow within his heart, but he indicated it by tearing his clothes, by shaving his head and by casting himself prone upon the ground, as if he sought to return to the womb of mother earth as he said that he would. And I do not think we are to judge those of our Brothers and Sisters who feel it right to wear the common tokens of mourning. If they give them any kind of solace in their sorrow, let them have them... I remember the gentleness of Jesus towards mourners rather than His severity in dealing with them—He has much pity for our weakness—and I wish that some of His servants had more of the same spirit. If you who are sorrowing could be strong, if the weeds of mourning could be laid aside, it might indicate a greater acquiescence in the Divine will, but if you do not feel that it should be so with you, God forbid that we should rebuke you while we have such a text as this before us, "Job arose, tore his clothes, and shaved his head, and fell to the ground." And, "in all this Job sinned not."

I want you, however, to notice that mourning should always be sanctified with devotion. It is very pleasant to observe that when Job had torn his clothes after the Oriental custom and shaved his head, and, after the Patriarch had fallen to the ground, he "worshipped." Not, he grumbled. Not, he lamented— much less that he began to imprecate and use language unjustifiable and improper—but he, "fell to the ground and worshipped." O dear Friend, when your grief presses you to the very dust, worship there! If that spot has come to be your Gethsemane, then present, there, your "strong crying and tears" to your God! Remember David's words, "You people, pour out your hearts"—but do not stop there, finish the quotation—"You people, pour out your hearts before Him." Turn the vessel upside down! It is a good thing to empty it, for this grief may ferment into something more sour. Turn the vessel upside down and let every drop run out—but let it be before the Lord. "You people, pour out your hearts before Him: God is a refuge for us." When you are bowed down beneath a heavy burden of sorrow, then take to worshipping the Lord and, especially, to that kind of worshipping which lies in adoring God—and in making a full surrender of yourself to the Divine will—so that you can say with Job, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him."