choosing joy while we wait

Be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the LORD!

Psalm 31:24

These were the words that trembled out of my mouth as I read them from the bed to Tyler.  Almost every night since the start of the year, we have read and prayed through the Book of Psalms before we went to bed.  Today marked the 31st day.  Only today we read this psalm in broad daylight.  Two huge windows flooded the room with sunshine and revealed the bustling streets of Westwood.  The bed I was laying in was on the fifth floor of Ronald Reagan, UCLA’s hospital, in Labor and Delivery.  Tyler sat in the chair just to my right, dressed identically to the others walking in and out of our room with his pastel blue scrubs, hospital ID, and pager clipped to his pants.  He had initially started reading Psalm 31 to me, but had to stop to dry the tears running down his face.  I relieved him of his reading and read the last few passages, which ended with, “Be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the LORD!”  A few moments passed with nothing but silence.  Then, from the deepest pit of my stomach, came weeping I had never known possible.  Today, at 21 weeks, 2 days, we lost our first son.

This wasn’t the news we were expecting, though we weren’t completely blindsided.  It is just part of a story that will someday become complete.

The night of January 1, while Tyler and I were going to bed, I felt a sharp pain to my abdomen.  The next day, I started spotting blood, so we kissed my mom and dad goodbye a night early and headed back to LA.  By our usual pitstop just shy of Kettleman City, I had full on started bleeding.  By the time we got home, I had bled through an entire pad in about three hours.  Tyler rushed me to the ER where I sat in a similar bed to the one I was in today, and until dawn, we waited.

The doctor returned, letting us know that the ultrasound revealed no evident cause for the bleeding, but one thing we could not rule out was a possible abruption to the placenta, which could either continue to tear or clot and be fine.  He urged us to make an appointment to see my regular OB/GYN as soon as possible.  So until then, we waited.

Two days later was the wedding of two of our very dear friends, which Bryant and I had the privilege of photographing. While getting dressed early that morning, I felt a little weak, but ready, when a terrible pain struck my back and shot through my legs, bringing me to the floor.  Tyler helped me to my feet, I left a voicemail to one of my most dependable friends to see if she could come as back up, and I headed out the door.  On our way to the venue, I made a quick call to the groom to explain the situation, which was received with much grace,  and I got a call from my friend letting us know she could come photograph the wedding as well.  Praise God.  We arrived to the venue where the bride was getting ready, and I mustered up all the strength I had to act normal, though each step was a painful burden.  Just when I was confident that I had adequately masked my disability from the friends who were buzzing around the room with excitement, the bride’s mother pulled me aside.  And with perception and intuition only a loving mother could have, she asked, “Are you okay?”  The mom and the bride sat me down as I burst into tears to tell them what had happened.  She grabbed me by the shoulders and had me promise that I would go home when I needed to.  It was our little secret.

The bride wore a gorgeous cathedral length veil, lined with delicate lace.  It was the same one the groom’s mother had worn on the day of her wedding.  She looked radiant.  The veil is one of my favorite symbols in a wedding, because it reminds us of the day when we get to heaven and see God face-to-face with unveiled faces.  Just as a bride eagerly awaits complete intimacy with her groom, we eagerly await the day when disappointment, fear, and pain no longer stand in the way between us and Jesus.  But in this lifetime, we wait.

After a beautiful ceremony and when all the family pictures were completed, the bride’s mom grabbed me by the hand and took me straight to Tyler.  It was time to go home.  By the car ride home, the adrenaline had worn off.  Standing, sitting, and laying down were all uncomfortable.  When we reached the apartment, I was pretty much completely incapacitated.  T did everything for me.  He held both my hands as I walked.  He supported me when I went to lay down.  He lifted me when I needed to sit up.  He picked me up Udon for dinner and put frozen vegetables on my back.  Such a beautiful picture of God’s unconditional, selfless love.  It was when I tried to get up from the toilet, however, when I realized truly how helpless I was.  Standing with my pants around my ankles, every prideful part of my flesh wanted to maintain my dignity and pull up my pants in my own strength.  Quickly, I had to come to accept that truly wasn’t an option.  I called to him for help, and we laughed about it.  He willingly and lovingly pulled up my pants and helped me get into bed.

Laying in bed, I reflected on that simple act of kindness shown to me by my husband.  Though it was simple for him, it would have been an excruciating task for me, and all I had to do is ask for help.  Too often my posture towards adversity is to say to God, “K thanks, I can do it on my own,” while I try to carry a burden too heavy for me to handle.  Instead, our loving Father invites us to come to Him for help when we are deeply burdened and He will help us; He will give us true rest that satisfies the soul.  There isn’t a distance too short or too wide that is beyond God’s help.  He helps us not out of obligation, but because it brings Him great joy and delight to help us.  He helps us because the very essence of His character is true love.  As a groom will go to any length for his bride, so Jesus has and will for those who trust in Him.  The greatest evidence of His love for us is on the cross.  On the cross he bore every single filthy thing about us, every selfish desire, every fear, every deep and dark secret we keep hidden, so that we could live in intimacy with Him, free of those things.  What’s more is that He didn’t just die.  He conquered death, bringing ultimate victory to the thing we could fear the most.  With that victory, we have the invitation to new life with Him, which can start here in this world and be perfected in the next.  On that day, Jesus will wipe the tears from our eyes, there will be no death, no more mourning, no more hurt, and no more pain.  “Behold,” He says, “I am making all things new.”

And that is the hope we have.  This heavy, heavy burden we will cast to Jesus, because He cares for us.  This entire day was filled with a peace indescribable.  We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair, struck down, but not destroyed.  Yes, this is extremely difficult, and I know there will be pain and emotions that surface as time passes.  But coupled with our grief is the assurance that our God is good; He is loving; He is merciful; He is almighty; He is just; He is sovereign over all.  We rejoice knowing that God is working all things for our good, thatHis ways are higher than our ways, and His thoughts are higher than our thoughts.  We rejoice knowing that the Lord saw it fit to spare our little baby boy from the troubles of this world, and bring him Home.  We rejoice knowing that there is no other place better for him to be.  We rejoice knowing that one day we will get to meet him, hold him in our arms and sing songs of praises alongside him.  Until that day, we will wait.

In the verse, “be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the LORD,” the Hebrew word translated into “wait” is yachal, which also means “to hope expectantly.”  So wait, we will.  Not passively, or begrudgingly like we do at left turn yields in LA traffic, but actively striving to hope expectantly that the Lord will continually deliver us, and accomplish so much more that we could have ever dreamed.

We thank God for each and every one of you and the tremendous blessing you have been in our lives every step of the way.  Know that your prayers are powerful and effective.  Your thoughts are deeply felt.  We know with all of your prayers, without a doubt, this all was God’s will and plan.  Blessed be His name!  Never before have we felt so loved.  Thank you for your listening ears, words of encouragement, acts of service, and friendship.  We are so grateful to know that you will continue alongside us and share in our joys and our sorrows until, we too, will be safely Home.

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.  Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all. 

Psalm 34:18-19

Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning. 

Psalm 30:5

 

 

All our love,

T+L