Today marks one month since Ellie went to
be with Jesus. All throughout this process I’ve really tried to just let myself
feel whatever I feel, whenever I feel it. Sometimes I feel like crying.
Sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I’m just tired. Like somehow all of the emotions
end up in a giant ball that feels like a ton of bricks that I’m carrying
around. It’s definitely not intentional because I do try to give those emotions
to God as they happen. But sometimes there’s nothing particularly “definable”
in terms of how I’m feeling or even what exactly I’m feeling. Today is one of
those days.
I went to see my doctor today. For anyone who’s ever had a baby,
this is the visit where you’re supposed to bring your baby so that the doctor
and all the staff and “ooh” and “ahh” about how precious your new little life
is. Having to go without my new little life was simply exhausting. I made a
memory book on Shutterfly for my family, so I decided to take that because I
wanted them all to get a chance to “meet” Ellie. Everyone loved the book and
told me how special it was, which was nice. But not as nice as bringing my
sweet girl up there to meet them in person. That thought felt like a cloud that
just wouldn’t go away the whole time I was there. This wasn’t how it was
supposed to be, and we all knew it. Thankfully, my doctor is absolutely
wonderful and doesn’t even try to understand or relate. I realize as I write
this, that sounds like she’s cold-hearted or uncaring. That couldn’t be further
from the truth. The truth is that until you have walked in these shoes, you
just can’t relate. It’s like an exclusive club with a lifetime membership that no one ever wants to join but some of us still end up there. In
all of her years as an OB/GYN, my doctor has never had a case like Ellie, a
baby lost suddenly with seemingly no explanation. She’s just there and willing
to support me however I need it, which is all I can ask of her, or anyone else
for that matter.
If I had to pick a word to summarize how I feel today it
would be “weary.” The dictionary defines weary like this: feeling or showing
tiredness, especially as a result of excessive exertion or lack of sleep.
That seems entirely inadequate. I mean, the lack of sleep is
certainly there. Sleep doesn’t come easily these days. Other than my everyday
life chasing two toddlers and keeping a house, I’m not excessively exerting
myself. But it’s not merely a physical weariness. It’s a soul weariness. My
soul is tired. My heart is worn out. So many unending emotions, feelings, thoughts constantly being processed by my conscious and my subconscious being. It’s simply exhausting. I feel like there’s little room for anything else in my
brain. I preserve enough brain cells to function and do what needs to be done, but aside
from that I’m just weary. Why do I write all of this? For one thing, I want to
be real about this journey of grief. Despite the fact that my posts are often
filled with hope and awe at the goodness of God, this path isn’t always
sunshine and roses. This post is not in any way intended to take away from that. Even on the worst days, that is always there. But some days are just hard in spite of that. Today is one of those days.
I’ve shared this before, but when I was putting together my
playlists for birthing time, I felt particularly drawn to songs about the cross
and the suffering of Jesus. At the time it seemed a little odd, but I did it
anyway because I felt such a strong leading in that direction. Now it’s all a little
clearer. The cross is the perfect thing for me to ponder on days like today. It’s
because of the cross that I don’t have to carry this burden. I can bring it
there and leave it. Jesus died on the cross to take those burdens away. Not
that I don’t still feel sad or burdened at times. I certainly do. But instead
of having an overwhelming dark cloud hanging over me that I can’t seem to get
out from under, I can bring those feelings to the cross and leave them there.
Jesus is here to shoulder the burden with me. He promises that His yoke is easy and His burden is light. I don’t have to do this alone. Even
in the moments when the enemy of my soul would have me believe that I am in
this alone, the truth is that I’m not.
God brought this song to mind the other day. I love the
simplicity of the words. “When the world falls apart and you fear for your
heart, there’s a tower of peace. It’s still the cross.” It's easy to try and run in the opposite direction if we think we can handle things on our own. The truth is that we can't. He's strong enough to take it all, but He's not going to take it from us unless we give it to Him. The cross is always there, a place of strength and courage, where we can take refuge if we choose. My prayer for myself
and for you on days like today is that we see the cross as the place of relief
that it truly is and that we run there to take shelter and find peace even when
everything seems to be falling apart in complete chaos. “There is hope for the
lost. It’s still the cross.”
Sometimes it seems the world's unraveling around us
We fear it all may one day come undone
We can't forget the One who came before us
To forgive the past and bring hope for what's to come
When it all comes crashing down
The cross still stands alone
And on this our faith is built
And our courage is made strong
When the world falls apart
And you fear for your heart
There's a tower of peace
It's still the cross
So bring your sick and your poor
And your longing for more
To the place of relief
It's still the cross
There is hope for the lost
It's still the cross
Sometimes it seems that I have been forgotten
I don't know how I will make it on my own
But the One who said I will never be forsaken
He still hears my prayer and I will never be alone
When it all comes crashing down
The cross still stands alone
And on this my faith is built
And my courage is made strong
When the world falls apart
And you fear for your heart
There's a tower of peace
It's still the cross
So bring your sick and your poor
And your longing for more
To the place of relief
It's still the cross
There is hope for the lost
It's still the cross
Though the world may not confess You and Your holiness
One day all will see You in all Your majesty
And the cross will stand alone
As the place where you made known
Your love for all mankind
Til then in it we'll hide
When the world falls apart
And you fear for your heart
There's a tower of peace
It's still the cross
So bring your sick and your poor
And your longing for more
To the place of relief
It's still the cross
There is hope for the lost
It's still the cross
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