I’ve been thinking about it. There’s not a family member or friend in my sphere right now who isn’t juggling the balance of the celebratory parts of life along with the deep, deep painful parts, too. It’s so hard, not being able to fix all of the hurt around me, especially when it feels like it just. keeps. coming. I want to offer some kind of healing balm–applying it to all of the hardest places and the raw, open wounds, but I can’t exactly do that.
It doesn’t feel quite as simple as offering a cartoon themed bandaid and a kiss to a little one after a fall. In that case, if the bandaid doesn’t fix everything, the kiss will, or vice versa. But when the hurts come from the inside, or they’re hiding, or there seems to be no cure in sight, what’s the answer?
In this waiting period of pregnancy, right at the end before we meet this new life and our sweet baby, I feel like I’m even more sensitive to the hurts swirling around me. I feel like I’m more sensitive to the best balm I can offer, too. It’s the only one I know that’s fail proof.
At the risk of sounding cliché, what heals the most in my experience is the growing confidence that God sees every one of my hurts. He can meet me there, and he will. I wish more than anything that everyone I know and love could put their confidence in the same truth.
I didn’t used to believe that God was so personal, and my hurts felt deeper, harder, and without hope every time.
It’s taken me so long to own this truth for myself–that God sees me and desires to meet me. But it’s times like this, when I am fully round with a baby and leaning on all strength but my own, that I can feel so tangibly just how much God will enter in with us if we let him. Each time that I’m struggling through a part of this process, I ask in faith for help and guidance and God is there. It’s simple and it isn’t. I’ve had to work through loads of doubt to land here…to approach trust in God with more faith than I think I’m capable of, all the while pushing back fear at every turn.
There’s a lot of loss and heartache and sadness lingering everywhere I look–fear, disappointment and self-doubt ravaging the lives of people I love most, the enemy hungry to claim lives and souls and circumstances at the ready. But I can pray, and God can change hearts–I hang my hat on that.
I can pray, and God can enter in. And he can turn fear into trust and mourning into dancing–I’ve seen him do it. The peace he offers is bigger than any pain the enemy can throw at us. Hope and healing are readily available when we trust God with our lives and the lives of those we love.
I love this baby still growing inside of me. And I have had my fair share of worries and fear along the way as I’ve carried him or her for over nine months. Even at the tail end of this pregnancy, I have to fend off lies and doubt so many times a day. But the freedom is worth fighting for, because I’m longing to experience a labor and delivery that honors God and what he has done in growing this life within me.
If I can trust that God has woven a baby together from nothing, I can believe that he sees our precious little one and knows it far better than I do. I can trust that he desires only good for our baby, and for me as the vessel he’s used to carry it thus far. He sees me. He sees you, too. And he sees our hurts and challenges and those of the people we love, and he can meet us in them. He can even overcome them when we ask for help.
I’ve asked for God’s help a lot lately, and I’m going to keep asking. I’m trusting that he loves me enough never to tire of my invitation to join me in what’s hard and to cover me in his grace and peace.
Praying for all of the hurt and loss and loneliness I see around me today. I’d love to know how I can pray for you, too.