Recently, I was reminded of the power of our stories - how simply sharing our past can equip others in their future, their right nows. How, just by showing our scars another can find healing. And then, I thought about my husband and I's first baby. Not my two year old son, who right now lays in his daddy's arms in our bed - but of our very first baby, who I imagine is with all of ours Father- in His arms, in Heaven. 

I tend to believe that the year I miscarried, was my year for a great personal spiritual awakening -- far ahead of even knowing I was pregnant, the Lord and I's relationship ran deep. He and I met daily. In fact, it's the only year of my life that I have a journal filled to the brim with scripture, teachings, prayers, and words from my heart; and His. And I'm so glad that I was writing then - that I have such a clear picture of that time. Looking back, it was a gift that I didn't know I needed- a scrapbook of how the Lord prepared me for darkness and then brought me through it -- and not leaving me there, redeemed me from it.

It was here where I wrote about our baby and his brief time in my belly. And it's here in this space, that I want to share those words - my prayers and my story and the hope that came from it, not just for me - but for you too. 

The following is an excerpt.  

You hem me in, behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, to lofty for me to attain.
— PSALM 139:5-6


Lord. I don't have the words for this moment. I only know to lay my concerns at your feet; to not be anxious, but to be hopeful. I rejoice for the blessing of a child and am patient in expectancy. Lord. Please wrap our baby in your arms and secure him. Please let this child live. I am reassured that you hem us in. That you have such hope for our lives. I plea with you Lord that you would co-labor with me - that this pregnancy would be fruitful and so very blessed by you. I can only imagine how you feel when you lose a son or daughter - so I know that my desperation and hope and cries are not lost on you. I know you get it. Lord. You are miraculous. God. You are supernatural - and the miracle within me can only be attributed to the supernatural. Lord, let this child grow, live to love, be loved, be an impactful individual in this world. In the meantime, in the waiting- I am patient. I will be still. I will be calm - knowing that your hand is on this. Lord, only you can intervene, only you can maintain. I love you. Amen. 


It has been three days since I've written here. Three days that I never would have thought I could go through, survive through or even see happening. 

We lost Baby Pan Pan. 

He stopped growing at 7 1/2 weeks even though I thought I was 10 weeks along. The doctor confirmed by ultrasound. 

The first couple of days were as if time stopped. We cried and held each other and talked and cried more and asked questions. 

But truly, God has wrapped Himself around us and our hearts. 

Lord. You have taught me so much in the last couple of days. I am so blessed by you, and your presence, and how you have wrapped yourself around us- how you have reassured us, encouraged us, and empowered us, how you have given us hope and peace and love. Lord. You have surrounded us with so much goodness. You are good!! Your people are good. Though normal won't be the same- we are not left on the ground struggling in despair, but we are standing strong with you. You lift us up. I just pray that everlasting peace on us, that though we may choke up when we remember or dream, that we know not only is our hope in you, but so is Baby Pan Pan. Bring us into the calm of the storm. Let us find the quiet place within you. Amen.

...I’ll show up and take care of you as I promised and bring you back home. I know what I am doing. I have it all planned out - plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for. When you call on me, when you come and pray to me, I’ll listen. When you come looking for me, you’ll find me.
— JEREMIAH 29:11-14
Then I said to myself. “Oh, he even sees me in the dark! At night I’m immersed in the light!” It’s a fact: darkness isn’t dark to you; night and day, darkness and light, they’re all the same to you.
— PSALM 139:7-12

Reading through this journal entry and remembering that season of our life - I'm reminded of two things I learned then that I think could carry me, and you, through any circumstance. 

01 God doesn't see our lives in seasons, only we do. Seems counter-intuitive doesn't it? Bare with me for a second. We know that God is everlasting, that He never changes. But, we certainly know that we change. However, our position in Christ does not. The only season that is significant to the Lord is our transition from sinner to saint. That's it. I challenge you to sit on John 15:5; and ask yourself, "Where is the season?" Then, get back to me. I say all this to point out that God is no closer to us in our valleys than He is on our mountaintops. He's always there. We simply have to invite Him in, abide in Him. He's always here. And there. And everywhere. We look for distance while He spans it. 

02 God is always good. Even in death. Even in pain. We have a tendency to scapegoat Him for all the horrific things that happen here on earth. But, if we really believe that God is good, and I mean, if we really believe He fully embodies this ideal - then how can we blame Him for where we are at? I'm not here to tell you whose fault it is for our tragedies, but rather to say we waste a lot of time trying to figure out the why, instead of focusing on the who - the Who whom will carry us from it, and out of it. Focusing on God's goodness, changes our rhetoric. It changes our perspective. If He is good, then He will save me. If He is good, then He will redeem me. If He is good, then He has plans for me. If He is good, then this side of Heaven isn't all there is for me. 

Baby Pan Pan will always be in our hearts, not just as a part of our family -  but as a banner of truth declaring God's faithfulness in all things - in the ugly, the hard, the grim, and the bleak.  And in the coming home, the redemption, the victory, and the celebration. It's His faithfulness that gives us hope; hope to embrace this season.