Writing helps

On a recent Saturday night I sat sipping margaritas with two of my girlfriends. It was a magical night, one of those nights that reminds you of the joy of being human, of connecting. We shared funny stories, and heartaches, and the present happenings of our lives and hearts.

I spend the majority of my hours focused on being a mom. With my leftover energy, I try to give my husband some attention, and keep our home and table in reasonable order. It was wonderfully refreshing to focus my attention on me as a woman, separate from my son and husband, and to connect with these friends in this woman to woman way. I haven’t developed friendships like this since before I was married when I had all the time and energy in the world to devote to my girlfriends.

To me the theme of that night was redemption – how God has taken the broken and painful parts of our lives, and somehow woven them together for his good. It was beautiful. I left feeling alive, and thankful that the struggles and pain we experience, that Satan may intend for evil, actually makes us stronger, and more compassionate and loving women. I was touched by their openness, and reminded that utter authenticity is a sweet and rare gift.

This has been a season of grieving in my life. And when I am grieving, it is easy to feel like I am alone, and to spiral into despair and discouragement. This valley is dark, and some moments I think the sadness will overwhelm me, and my heart will split open. But God has shined much light into my heart as well. And just as often I feel that I will burst with the joy of living. My grief has not turned to despair, and instead the pain surprisingly seems enriching and deepening, and I am a better person because of it.

My friends and family have been overwhelmingly generous in their care for me during my miscarriage. I have a whole file of e-mails letting me know that people care and are praying. I have never felt so loved! The thing people most often say they are praying for is that I will experience God’s presence. And nights like margarita night I know that God is answering these prayers. I feel him so strongly, like he is sitting right there at the table with us, quietly delighting in his daughters communing together.

The night of my miscarriage I was meeting with my girls group. As I felt my body finally surrender this little life that I had so longed for, my friends cried with me and prayed for me. I couldn’t pray at that point, and it felt soothing to be held up in their prayers. Its funny, just a few weeks before I had written an e-mail to all the girls saying that I was dropping out of the group. I wasn’t feeling very connected with them, and I was overdosing on all the prolactin. I decided to sit with the e-mail another 24 hours before I sent it out, and pray. The very next day I ran into one of the girls at the aquarium, and she lovingly asked me lots of questions about my fertility process. And so I didn’t send the e-mail, and thank God that I didn’t.

This road is hard, but the friendships that have sprung up in the past few months are treasures. Is it just coincidence that these friendships have sweetly blossomed in the same season as the deepest heartache of my life? The joy of walking with these fellow travelers actually makes part of me glad that I am on this rough road. With Jesus holding my hand, no, make that carrying me, and these angels, I mean friends, at my side, I feel truly blessed.