The Miracle
A few weekends ago, the good doctor and I headed to a grieving couples retreat led by Nancy and David Guthrie. I must say that when we initially heard about it we thought, "We need this. Yes! Let's do it." Then, the week before the retreat both of us were thinking, "What are we doing? Can we get out of this??"
Not really knowing what to expect, we showed up Friday night to a room full of couples who had also experienced the same devastating loss we had: losing a beloved child. Looking around at each couple, it was hard to believe each of them had felt or was feeling the same sadness we had felt.
As we shared stories that night and Saturday morning, my heart was burdened for each of them as I listened and saw the courage they had, the pain the carried, and the hope that drew them forward. Each story was different, yet out of ten couples, one thing was the same: an unswerving faith and trust in God.
To be perfectly honest, this absolutely shocked me.
I think I expected there to be a mix of people who knew the Lord and those who didn't. I didn't expect to leave feeling so humbled at my small faith.
The first year after Joseph died I felt really protected by God's love. We were so tender and fragile, He graciously gave us a fairly easy, slow year to grieve and be sad. Then, quickly after that year we jumped into a very stressful lifestyle of moving and residency and picking back up with life in a hurry. The "bubble year" was burst and life sputtered forward.
Without even realizing it, the hurt turned to resentment and the sadness to coldness.
Yet at this retreat, I didn't see any of this. I saw a glowing hope in these faces mixed with an utter honesty about the pain.
I think I saw what I knew deep down: Being angry at God doesn't make the pain go away.
Only bringing our pain to God brings healing.
Only submitting to His will brings peace.
Only worshipping Him in good and bad times brings joy.
We can rage at the pain and at the injustice of it all, but where does that leave us?
Raging and alone.
At the end of the retreat, we were asked what we would tell friends about our experience.
My response was that all of us didn't receive the miracle for our children that many prayed and hoped and even expected. But maybe God worked a miracle anyway.
God's miracle is always upside down and unexpected.
The miracle to me was these couples. Their faith in God and love for the other and love for their child. Who can explain the peace and the hope? In the midst of utter devastation?
That they could say the name of God and mouth it with love and respect.
That they could look at their spouse with kindness and touch them with sympathy.
That they could listen to my story and feel empathy and compassion.
That they can carry on, one foot in front of the other, one day at a time.
That is the miracle to me.
Not really knowing what to expect, we showed up Friday night to a room full of couples who had also experienced the same devastating loss we had: losing a beloved child. Looking around at each couple, it was hard to believe each of them had felt or was feeling the same sadness we had felt.
As we shared stories that night and Saturday morning, my heart was burdened for each of them as I listened and saw the courage they had, the pain the carried, and the hope that drew them forward. Each story was different, yet out of ten couples, one thing was the same: an unswerving faith and trust in God.
To be perfectly honest, this absolutely shocked me.
I think I expected there to be a mix of people who knew the Lord and those who didn't. I didn't expect to leave feeling so humbled at my small faith.
The first year after Joseph died I felt really protected by God's love. We were so tender and fragile, He graciously gave us a fairly easy, slow year to grieve and be sad. Then, quickly after that year we jumped into a very stressful lifestyle of moving and residency and picking back up with life in a hurry. The "bubble year" was burst and life sputtered forward.
Without even realizing it, the hurt turned to resentment and the sadness to coldness.
Yet at this retreat, I didn't see any of this. I saw a glowing hope in these faces mixed with an utter honesty about the pain.
I think I saw what I knew deep down: Being angry at God doesn't make the pain go away.
Only bringing our pain to God brings healing.
Only submitting to His will brings peace.
Only worshipping Him in good and bad times brings joy.
We can rage at the pain and at the injustice of it all, but where does that leave us?
Raging and alone.
At the end of the retreat, we were asked what we would tell friends about our experience.
My response was that all of us didn't receive the miracle for our children that many prayed and hoped and even expected. But maybe God worked a miracle anyway.
God's miracle is always upside down and unexpected.
The miracle to me was these couples. Their faith in God and love for the other and love for their child. Who can explain the peace and the hope? In the midst of utter devastation?
That they could say the name of God and mouth it with love and respect.
That they could look at their spouse with kindness and touch them with sympathy.
That they could listen to my story and feel empathy and compassion.
That they can carry on, one foot in front of the other, one day at a time.
That is the miracle to me.
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