I hate Fridays

I hope I don't always hate them but I sure do now.  Today is 13 Fridays since our beautiful boy was born still and silent.  I re-live it every Friday and I know the hurt and tears are part of the healing process but it still hurts today like it was yesterday.  Will it lessen?  The books say so.  The Bible says so (weeping remains for a night but joy comes in the morning.  Psalm 30:5).  But in the meantime, I am broken up with grief.  It's hard to think straight on Fridays.  It's hard to make conversation, finish tasks, feel like doing anything on Fridays.  I feel very much like I can't do this on Fridays.  I think that's what it means when the Bible says "in my weakness He is strong (2 Corinthians 12:10)."  Be strong for me, my Father.  Abba - Daddy!  I need You!  I am cast down...but not utterly destroyed.  Here's why:  

He shot his arrows deep into my heart.  The thought of my suffering and hopelessness is bitter beyond words.  I will never forget this awful time, as I grieve over my loss.  Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: the unfailing love of the Lord never ends.  By his mercies we have been kept from complete destruction.  Lamentations 3:13, 19-22

Death is all around us.  And I hate it.  It should be hated. It was never God's intent for us.  We chose it but He does not leave us completely at the mercy of sin, sickness and death.  God was in control when my baby died in my womb around 11:00 am on October 6, 2011 as I stood chatting it up with my girl friends in the hallway of home school co-op totally unaware of the road ahead.  Psalm 139:16 says All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.    

A few weeks before Christmas our church had a beautiful Lessons and Carols service during which we sang songs of Christ's birth and read passages of Scripture that remind us why He came.  The first of these was the account in Genesis where sin entered the world with one really stupid choice.  Did we have any idea what we were giving up?  God came looking for His beloved and with a broken heart asked "What have you done?"  My heart was pierced when I heard this because that's when God's beautiful perfect world and everything in it started to die.  That's why I'm not changing diapers or nursing a warm little boy today.  It's why our Bob-o is in a teeny little white box in Section P of the cemetery down the road.  Next to a little girl who was stillborn in December of 1997.  Anna.  14 years later and I'd bet not a day goes by that her mom and dad don't wonder with aching hearts how old she'd be, what she'd look like, what her favorite ice cream flavor would be...what they are missing on this side by her absence.  It's ugly and awful but it's NOT how our story ends.  Our awesome God made a way for us to get back to Him and all of the beauty, perfection and eternal life in intimate fellowship with Him that He has waiting for us.  Thank you, thank you, thank you Jesus.  

 

Comments

[Melissa]

Remembering your Bob-o....he is beautiful...