Remembering

This is not "supposed" to be what I was doing right now. I wasn't "supposed" to eat turkey with my American "family" here or put up our Christmas tree or sing Christmas carols with our local friends. No, instead I was "supposed" to leave for Thailand in the middle of November in order to give birth there. Today was "supposed" to my due date, the day Kevin & I welcomed this sweet little one into our lives.

But I'm not in Thailand. I ate turkey on Thanksgiving, strung lights through our pathetic little Christmas tree, and sung Ping An Ye (Silent Night) with dear friends on Tuesday. Because our baby died last summer, there is no due date today.

But even though there is no baby in my arms, there is still hope. Even though I'm not doing what I thought I was "supposed" to be doing at this time, God's good plan for our life hasn't changed. Even though the emotions are still strong, even after all this time, and this little one is no more than a thought away, my God's keeping power over my life is stronger and, though I've struggled, I haven't fallen.

During one of my sleepless nights last June after our second miscarriage was confirmed, I wrote this little poem. I wanted to share it to memorialize this little life that never got to join us and to rejoice in the fact that God's kindness and love, though somewhat veiled for a season, is always there for those who cling to Jesus.

I prayed a prayer for you, baby

that the Gracious Giver above

would grant our pleas for a little one,

a manifestation of His love.

I shed a tear for you, baby

when I learned it was finally true.

My longing womb, vacant no more

A special home just for you.

I dreamed a dream of you, baby

The life that we would share.

The stories we'd read, the memories we'd make

You & mama--the happy pair.

I prayed a prayer for you, baby

that God would preserve your life.

Though the doctors said you were just too small,

that something wasn't right.

I shed a tear for you, baby

when your life ended in haste.

Even before it truly began

Was it just a waste?

A waste of love, of hope, of joy

To end like this?

A mother empty, a father grieving

Could this be God's gift?

It is.

God dreams a dream for us, baby

Only His dreams never fail

That the suffering of life, the heartache, the pain

would forge a steadfast trail.

A trail that leads to His throne of grace,

my hope and my peace still.

He welcomes me with compassion true

and comforts me in His will.

A trail that recounts His own suffering

Evidenced by scarred feet and hands.

Now suffering I bear, though through sadness and strain,

so that in His likeness I may stand.

You were a gift from above, baby

in life and in death.

He gives & He takes from His beloved

From our lips, may His name be blessed.