Finding your way around

Showing posts with label devotional. Show all posts
Showing posts with label devotional. Show all posts

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Proverbs 31 for Pregnancy Loss

I have a love-hate relationship with the Proverbs 31 woman.  You know her – the model wife who seems to have it all together, the Superwoman of the Old Testament who takes care of everything and everyone and is praised by her husband and children at the end of the day.  I love the example – but I also hate her perfection.  What would she do if she were thrust into twenty-first century America, I wonder!

As a mother of children in heaven, I have struggled with her example, too.  Losing a child in pregnancy not only sets a woman on a painful road of grief, but it also is an awful blow to her view of herself as a woman.  I’ve lost three children in pregnancy.  In the place where they should have been the safest, my womb, my body failed them, and me.   What could I offer, if as a mother, I could not protect the most helpless of my children?

Reading Proverbs 31 again, though, showed me not a perfect woman, but a list of priorities that I could use to help navigate the waters of loss, and they focused on some key areas that I believe are potentially hazardous to women who have suffered this unique devastation.  This Mother's Day, a day that may hold much pain for you, I want to invite you into her world to see what she can offer us in our journey.

“She is worth far more than rubies.”
  It is easy to feel worthless after the loss of a baby.  But you are not.  You are valued far above earthly treasures.  Believe it!

“She brings [her husband] good, not harm.” 
It’s easy to neglect your marriage in your own pain and grief.  Don’t forget to focus on your husband and his pain and loss, as well as your own.

“She…works with eager hands.” 
It’s easy to become apathetic.  Guard against this by choosing activities that you can take pleasure in.

“She provides…for her family.”
  It’s easy to turn inward and ignore the needs of others.  If you have living children, don’t ignore them.  If you don’t, then focus on other family members – your husband, your friends, your pets, and your home.

“She considers a field…” 
When you have lost a baby, your whole future is changed.  It helps to make new plans, even short term ones like special date nights, that will allow you to still look forward to the days to come.  

“Her arms are strong for her tasks.”
  After a loss, it’s easy to neglect your body through poor eating and lack of exercise.  Don’t forget to take care of yourself physically, which will help you emotionally, too.

“She sees that her trading is profitable…”
  Take time for the things that are profitable in your life, the things that make life better.

“She opens her arms to the poor…” 
It’s easy to be self-focused when you have experienced a devastating loss.  Look for ways to bless those who are even less fortunate.

“When it snows, she has no fear for her household.” 
There are many future events that are hard when you’ve lost a baby – due dates, anniversaries, Mother’s Day, holidays.  Preparing your heart for them in advance helps when those days come, and makes them less intimidating.

“She makes coverings...”
  Another way to fight apathy is to put your creative energy into new projects around your home and yard.  Surround yourself with beauty. 

“She is clothed in fine linen…”
  The last thing you want to think about after losing a child is how you look.  But taking care of your appearance helps you emotionally, as well.  Don’t be afraid to dress up a bit and look nice.

“Her husband is respected…among the elders...” 
When we are hurting, it’s easy to want our husbands to focus on us and on grieving with us.  It makes the loss easier to bear.  But your husband also has needs and responsibilities, many of which are outside the home, and focusing on those feeds his spirit in a way that will enable him to give at home as well.  Take the time and effort to praise your husband and to encourage him in his activities and friendships with other men. 

“She…supplies the merchants with sashes.”
  Can you use your artistic abilities to make something that will bless others, especially other mothers of babies in heaven?  I know of many mothers who have used their natural talents in art, music, poetry, gardening, photography, and writing to remember not only their children, but the children of others as well.  What can you do?

“She can laugh at the days to come.”
  It’s hard to imagine ever laughing again after a loss.  But you will.  It’s okay to smile, to laugh, to lose yourself in a happy moment.  Remember, your child right now is experiencing unceasing joy!  It’s okay for you to have some, too.

“She speaks with wisdom…” 
When we are hurting, it’s so terribly easy to lash out at others, especially those closest to us, including our husbands.  Be careful of this.  Guard your tongue and ask God to give you wisdom in what and how you speak.

“She does not eat the bread of idleness.” 
It can be easy to fall into the trap of escaping from our pain through busy idleness – surfing the Internet, watching soap operas, losing ourselves in fantasy novels. Take time to rest, but also make the most of your time.

“Her children…call her blessed; her husband also…”
  Did you notice this is the only reference to children in the whole passage?  Being a woman of God is so much more than being a mother.  But if you have a child in heaven, you are a mother!   You will see your child again.  And as women, we have the wonderful potential to "mother" others, to encourage younger women in their walks, including those who walk this path of loss.  Seek out those opportunities. 

“A woman who fears the LORD is to be praised…”
  This is also the first mention of a woman’s relationship with the Lord, but it clearly underlies everything else.  You may have very mixed feelings toward God right now – confusion, anger, disappointment, distrust.  Take time to work through them and to nurture your relationship with Him.  He will carry you through this time, I promise, and there is life on the other side.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

"I will not fear!" (Psalm 46)

There has been a lot of tragedy in the world news in recent years. Earthquakes, tsunamis, hurricanes, wars...all of these are more trigger strong emotions, but for those directly involved, I believe fear tops the list. Fear is a natural reaction to disaster and tragedy, for when the world as we know it falls apart, it is easy to wonder if anything can be trusted to hold us up.

Fear was one of my strongest emotions after losing my daughter Naomi at 18 weeks gestation. Even as a young child, I had feared losing someone close to me. Now, as an adult, the worst had happened. My body had failed me, my baby had died, and no one had been able to stop it. What terrible thing would happen next? Over the next several months, I became hyper-vigilant, checking on our one-year-old daughter several times a night ("Is she still breathing?"), waiting nervously for my husband to get home from work ("What if he got in an accident?"). It was as if I thought my worrying could keep my loved ones safe.

One day in my Bible reading I came across Psalm 46 and was struck by the psalmist's declaration of "no fear" even in the midst of a great natural disaster. He describes the earth giving way and mountains disappearing into the heart of a roaring, surging ocean - who wouldn't fear? And yet, he declares, "We will not fear." How could he live that way, I wondered, when no happy ending was guaranteed?

The answer, I saw in the Psalm, is that we can live without fear not because God promises a happy ending on earth, but because of who He is. He is our refuge when we need protection ("God, protect my family members!"), our strength when we are weak ("God, I can't make it another day!"), our ever-present help in trouble. I love that last description especially. He is not far off, we don't have to call 9-1-1 and wait for help to arrive. He's ever-present, always with us. And someday, the psalmist assures us, wars will cease. God will be exalted over the nations, and in the earth.

Our response in the meantime is to "cease", to "be still" - cease striving, stop trusting in my ability to protect my loved ones by the sheer force of my love and anxiety. Instead, lean on God, and trust in His power and love, and let Him be our stronghold, a place to hide when the waters threaten to drown us, not only physically, but spiritually, too.

There are still plenty of days I battle my old enemy, fear, but when I remember who God is, I, too, can say, "I will not fear, though my body fails me, and my babies wait for me in heaven, though I don't know what the future holds...the LORD of hosts is with us, the God of Jacob is our stronghold."

Has your loss led to a battle with fear? How have you dealt with this? Leave a comment and share your journey.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Even though

One of the emotions I struggled with the most after we lost Naomi was fear.  The unthinkable had happened.  I had lost my baby.  Not only that, but God had allowed it.  Who would I lose next?  I was fearful for my husband, my parents, and especially my one-year-old daughter.  I cringed when she went down a slide, when she played on the swings, when she climbed on a chair.  I went into her room at night to make sure she was still breathing.  I was hypervigilant, reasoning that if I wasn't, I could lose her, too.  I couldn't trust God to keep my loved ones safe.  After all, He had let me down.  Either He wasn't watching or didn't care...so I would do His job for him.

One weekend during this period of time, my husband was preparing his sermon on Psalm 46, and God used the words to touch my heart:

God is our refuge and strength
A very present help in trouble
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should
And though the mountains slip into the heart of the sea
Though its waters roar and foam
Though the mountains quake at its swelling pride....
The Lord of hosts is with us;
The God of Jacob is our stronghold. (v. 1-3, 7; NASB)

Could I learn how to do that again?  Could I trust God to be my stronghold?  I tried putting my situation into the verse - I will not fear, even though I lost my baby; even though I almost died myself; even though I was still recovering from abdominal surgery, even though....  Wow, that was hard.  How could I not fear in light of all that God allowed to happen to me?  Some stronghold!

Then I read the end of the Psalm. 

He makes wars to cease to the ends of the earth;
He breaks the bow and cuts the spear in two;
He burns the chariots with fire.
"Cease striving and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations.  I will be exalted in the earth."
The Lord of hosts is with us;
The God of Jacob is our stronghold. (v. 9-11, NASB)

Someday, God will make the wars end.  He will bring peace to the earth.  He will put an end to suffering and miscarriage and ectopic pregnancy and stillbirth and early infant death.  Not yet, but someday.  But in the now, he is with us.  He is our stronghold in a world where everything can go wrong.  He is our refuge and strength in the even though when our circumstances mock our belief in a strong and loving God.

It has taken me a long time to walk in the truth of what that Psalm teaches, and there are some days where my grief is too close and I can't see the big picture.  But I am learning the even though of following God, and, ever-so-gradually, how to cease striving and know - and trust - that He is God.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Life in Exile


I've heard the words hundreds of times. "I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future" (Jer. 29:11). Words often spoken with the intention of instilling hope, but so often they bring back that ugly bitterness in my heart. What hope? What future, when the child I planned to raise is gone?? When I don't know if I'll ever get pregnant again?  I have been harmed – physically, emotionally, spiritually. What kinds of plans are these, God?

Sometimes, though, I forget that these words were spoken to a people who had as little reason to hope as I feel I do. The Israelites were in exile in Babylon. They were a conquered people; their city and temple had been destroyed; they were far from home, and decades away from the Lord restoring them to their land.  The older ones would not live to see that day.  What hope, what future could they have? And yet, God gave them a task while they were in exile: Build houses. Settle down. Increase in number; do not decrease; seek the peace and prosperity of the city where you are exiled. In other words, live. Don't put life on hold, waiting to return to the Promised Land.

When I lost my daughter Naomi, I felt like I was going into exile. I had been in the pregnancy "club" where women talk about birth and labor and nurseries and baby showers, where the doctor's office was full of pregnancy magazines. When I went back for a check-up after our loss, they scheduled me at a time for gynecology appointments, not pregnant women. The waiting room was the same, but I noticed – the magazines were gone. In their place were women's magazines that didn't scream "baby" on the cover. And while I'm sure they did that to save women the heartache of the reminder of what they'd lost, to me it was a stark reminder that I had switched club memberships, from expectant mother to mother of a baby in heaven.

I'd been exiled from the Promised Land. I felt conquered, defeated, without hope.

And yet – God had a task for me, too. To "increase, not decrease" – by committing myself to continue growing spiritually, emotionally, and relationally. Would my time in exile end with a less mature woman than I had been at the beginning? Or would I use this time to grow? "Build houses" – I needed to commit to building the family and marriage that I have been given. Marriages have the potential to suffer terribly after the loss of a child. Would mine become a statistic, or would it come through stronger? "Seek the peace and prosperity" of my city of exile. I do not like the city of Pregnancy Loss. I don't think anyone who lives here does. But while I'm here, I can seek the peace and prosperity of those who live here with me – through prayer, encouragement, and a shoulder to cry on.  I can build friendships with others who have been exiled here with me and help bring them back to the Promised Land – not the Land of Pregnancy, necessarily, but the Land of Hope and the Future, where we seek and find the One who does have plans for us and who longs to hold us in his comforting arms. And by seeking their "peace", I find peace, too, both within myself and with God.

Are you in exile, too?  Join us in fulfilling God's purposes - even here.