As I sat in Colorado this week and looked at the vast and expansive creation all around me, I told my husband I felt like I got dropped in the middle of the mountains with no idea which direction to go. Finally, I found my way out, things started to make sense, and I got plucked up and dropped again, only to start looking for the way out.
It feels like that’s how this year has been. Back in October an unexpected job change prompted a major move, then on New Year’s Eve, we sold our house, packed our entire lives (I lived in the same area for the last 15 years), and started a new adventure. I’ll be honest. I don’t like change very much. Finally, life started to settle. We found a church, started making friends, and I found out I was pregnant. Total surprise, but we figured if God gave us a baby, that answered the “do we have another” question. And after adjusting to that change, life finally felt settled again. I started making plans, preparing for a third baby.
Then last week I miscarried that baby, at 13 weeks. Any loss is difficult, but this one has left me reeling. I feel like I have a case of the “whys?” (My two-year old asks “why?” after everything, which is what I’m doing). Why did we have to move? Why did I have to start over in building community? Why did I get pregnant only to lose the baby? Why is a miscarriage so traumatic physically? And honestly, my “why” questions aren’t even as hard as what some people endure. There’s a lot of horrible stuff people go through, with no easy answer.
The Christian answer is that “all things work together for good.” (Yes, that's only part of the verse, and yes I understand the good is for His glory). But what do you do when you don’t see that good? Sometimes finding the answers seems easy. Maybe we had to move so we could have a better lifestyle, live near family. Maybe we don’t get a job but a better one comes along. And we’re constantly trying to placate ourselves with these lines. If “x” doesn’t happen, “y” must be better. But sometimes these lines seem trite, hopeless, and totally out of place. Because where I’m sitting, I don’t SEE the good in what happened. A life was lost, one I carried for months. And I don’t see the good. So what then? Why did I have to get pregnant in the first place?
I circle this around in my mind, wanting that crystal-clear answer. And I don’t have one. And I’m starting to think, this side of heaven, I never will. My husband said the other day: “I guess we have a choice. We give up (on God), or we trust.” That might be the most simple conclusion, but it’s all I can do. I can either choose to believe there’s a plan—a reason—or there’s not. It’s either true, or it’s not. So I’m going to believe, to trust, that God is good and he does have a plan. That he’s perfect. But I will say I’m not sure I’ll ever understand what it is or why. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe I just have to trust, even when I don’t feel like it. Maybe I’ll never see the answer, but that’s where hard trust comes in. Doing it when you don’t feel like it, putting one foot in front of the other, taking the next right step.
I wish I had answers, but I don’t. I have a lot to be thankful for, though. I’ve had more support than any person could imagine. Family has helped care for my boys, pray with me, and clean my house. My lifetime friends have called and texted, sent a gift card, and offered to drive far distances to visit. My new friends have offered to bring dinner, dropped off flowers, or offered to help in any way they can. My doctor friends have given knowledgeable advice, and just checked in on how I’m feeling. My high school youth pastor showed me a Bible passage to cling to. My husband lets me talk and process for hours, or maybe just cry. I feel loved and supported (even by new friends!), and I get to watch my two boys enjoy life—it’s a gift unlike any other. Today I got to have a beautiful lunch alone with my husband, and celebrate my best friend getting married.
I’m sitting in the mountains, looking at the most beautiful place in the world (currently dealing with a wildfire), and trying to combine the beauty and the broken, the joy and pain, the hope and hopelessness. I used to think I’d be able to smile through life, that things would always be easy because I have Jesus. Reality is that life is hard, and I think it’s manageable because I have Jesus, and cling to eternal hope. I’m not sure I’ll every understand why things happen the way they do, but I’m going to choose to believe there’s a plan and reason, even if I never see it. That’s when true peace and comfort comes, hoping beyond the current circumstances to the bigger picture that’s in God’s control.