The snow fell, swirling and dancing through the sunlight. She watched, entranced at the glittering display of beauty.
“Look!” She called to the little girl whom she was babysitting, who was wielding her crayons at the kitchen table. “It’s so pretty!”
The girl glanced up briefly. “Pretty!” she echoed happily, but was soon drawn back to the array of bright colors in her crayon box.
The woman watched the glitter falling from heaven and thought how it must be a sign, and a thrill of hope warmed her weary heart.
And when the call came just an hour later, and she heard the hesitating pause, the verdict, the slamming door, a coldness settled down deeply.
As tears thickened her throat, and she called her husband with shocked voice, and her hand tremblingly brushed at wet cheeks, the numbness set in.
Only after the little girl was dropped off at her home, her wails of sorrow echoing in her ears, did the dam break.
She drove home and walked inside and sat on the sofa, staring into space.
No, no, no, no. It couldn’t be true. She’d heard wrong. How long she sat, she didn’t know. Time passed, swept along in a tide of grief.
But with every call she made, and every message sent out, reality set in.
And she wept. The tears wouldn’t stop. And when her husband walked in the door, there were no words to say. Just a silent embrace that spoke pain and realized grief.
When the numbness faded, the woman discovered she couldn’t pray. She could only utter her Father’s name and fall silent again.
And in the days that followed, the anger and hurt took over disbelief.
“How is this good?! How could You allow this? God, where are You?!”
How was it fair? For so long, they’d waited to be parents. And after only months of cuddling, hoping, and dreaming to have it snatched away and stomped on was devastating. It wasn’t just the loss that crippled. It was the false accusation that twisted and burned and broke precious dreams. And when she heard the reality of just how long it could be until they tasted parenthood again, she broke.
How could a person cry so much? Surely the tears had to dry up…
So she grieved and screamed to her God. She accused Him of turning His back. She felt forsaken. Betrayed. Alone.
“How is this good?”
The messages and phone calls kept coming in. Her prayers kept ascending and the silence was deafening.
“How is this good? How is this fair?”
And the answer came, strong and clear.
It isn’t. It isn’t good and it isn’t fair. It’s painful and it hurts.
And when she lifted empty hands and a broken heart, He moved. She read His Words and as her eyes ran over the Truth, light seeped in.
Fear not, for you shall not be ashamed; neither be confounded and depressed, for you shall not be put to shame…
For a brief moment I forsook you, but with great compassion and mercy I will gather you to Me again…
For though the mountains should depart and the hills be shaken, yet My love and kindness shall not depart from you, nor shall My covenant of peace and completeness be removed, says the Lord, Who has compassion on you.
The pain still hovered, dimming the brightness of the day. She read on.
But no weapon that is formed against you shall prosper, and every tongue that shall rise against you in judgment you shall show to be wrong. This peace is the heritage of the servant of the Lord; this is the righteousness which they obtain from Me says the Lord. (Isaiah 54:4,7,10,&17 AMP)
It settled deeply and as her eyes closed in prayer with her husband that evening, she knew. She knew they might never fully understand why their God had allowed this life-changing decision.
She knew the road ahead was long and rocky, and completely different than they’d both imagined. She knew the battle was far from over and the grief would hang around for a long time.
She also knew Grace. Her God hadn’t abandoned her. He loved her. He loved her enough to let her heart break, yet again, to draw her closer to Him.
And the next day, her Father lavished that love on her. His Presence was so near, surrounding her every step. Every little detail was rich with His compassion. Joy filled her day, following her from moment to moment. How could this be, when just a day before was empty pain and silence?
Grace. Sweet grace.
The situation didn’t change. The next day held pain, lingering grief, and broken dreams.
How is this good? It isn’t.
But God is. And that makes all the difference.