It’s 5:30 AM, which is my new wake-up time because we got a puppy.
Technically, the kids got a puppy, which means that she “sleeps” on their side
of the house and they are responsible for getting up in the middle of the night
if she needs to go out. And by “they,” I mean that when I come into the living
room at 5:30 AM I know I will find Claire sleeping on the couch with little
Lucy curled up at her feet. I tap her on the shoulder and whisper, “Honey, do
you want to go back to your bed?” She nods, picks up her pillow, and stumbles
away for a couple more hours of sleep. Claire is twelve, but has always been
forty in her heart, which is what I will be in reality one year from today.
Today is my birthday. I sit beside Lucy on the couch and think
about it. I read from my Bible-in-a-year plan and think about how Solomon had
all the wisdom he asked for but slipped further and further into compromise
until you can’t even recognize that wisdom anymore. I wonder about myself, and
whether I will remember or forget the wisdom I have learned in 39 years.
Three months ago, for the fourth time in my life, I experienced
the incomparable shock wave of awe that comes when you realize that God has
formed a new life inside of you. It was unexpected. I had thought our family
was complete, but when the shock wore off I laughed at how much I had believed
that I was writing my own story, and at how different the plot was going to
turn out than what I had expected.
The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord established his steps.
This morning my reading was of Solomon’s prayer of dedication at
the completion of the temple construction. He was on point as He recalled the
Lord’s faithfulness in the past and pointed toward all the different
circumstances that would compel God’s people to call on Him in prayer. I wonder
if Solomon had clung to that thought, if it would have changed the trajectory
of his story. I wonder if the turning point was when he stopped thinking about
God’s faithfulness, stopped thinking that he needed to be one of those people
crying out to the Lord.
In those early weeks I was not afraid. This was completely God’s
idea and not our own. I’ve lived long enough to know that He is faithful, and
that His plans are better than ours. In past seasons I have struggled and
rebelled against unexpected change, but for the first time, I knew nothing but
peace about this twist in the plot. This little life was God’s plan, and it was
good.
But when I walked into that ultrasound room to see my baby for the
first time, and when the technician took too much time before turning the
screen around to face me, I knew.
Abide with me, fast falls the
eventide
The darkness deepens Lord, with me abide
For three more weeks I walked around in a body that thought I was
still pregnant but with a mind that knew the truth and a heart that hoped
against hope that maybe the ultrasound was wrong. Week by week I watched as my
labs returned with the confirmation that the life in my womb had ended. On June
23, the day before I would have been at the end of my first trimester, alone in
my bathroom I delivered the sweet shell of my child.
When other helpers fail and
comforts flee
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me
The thing that I knew most deeply during the days of my
miscarriage was that my Shepherd was with me and that His faithfulness would
never fail. I knew it so deeply that I could taste it. Even when my spirit was
raging within me, I was fully confident in His goodness. I found rest. My
disbelief and fear and disappointment were safe in the refuge of His
compassion. In my brokenness He was so near.
On my 39th birthday, I think about Solomon. I wonder in
those early days of his reign, when he was so broken and bowed by the weight of
the crown on his head, when he knew without a doubt that his only hope for
fulfilling his purpose was to sit at the feet of the Fountain of Wisdom, if he
felt that same nearness, if he could taste it. I wonder when it started to
fade. I think at the end of his life he remembered, but it was so bittersweet
as he wrote, “Remember your Creator in the days of your youth.”
If this baby was a girl, her name was going to be Tessa Joy. Tessa
– “harvester” – after my mom, who also
discovered that the name can mean “fourth child.” Harvester of joy. In the
hardest days, I read from Psalm 16 – “In Your presence is fulness of joy.” This
fourth child is in a fulness of joy I have not yet experienced, and that is a
beautiful thought for my heart to dwell on.
I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to
bless
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness
I’ve probably never been so broken as I have been in this season.
But what a deep well of wisdom is formed through suffering. I pray that I would
never be the same, that I would be marked forever by the comfort of God’s
presence that can only be experienced in brokenness. I look at Solomon and see
someone who gained wisdom but forgot how to use it. On my 39th birthday I hope I will
not forget.
Where is death's sting? Where,
grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me
