As many of you might know, Kelly and I have been going through some major tribulation over the last year. We have had, at the least, 4 miscarriages. The last one, we just found out, was a girl. It is an interesting time to work through the sadness and the pain with each other and with our wonderful Lord. While we are grieving much, we are also learning much. We are learning to see the Lord not so much in our circumstances but rather, in spite of our circumstances. We are learning that true love comes from sticking with one another even when all that surrounds you is grief and questioning. And we are learning the comfort that can be found in a friend who simply stands by you while you weep.
The book that has brought us the most solace is the blessed book of Job. You can tell a lot about the trials one has gone through in their reaction to Job. I have expressed my love of this book to many friends. Some have agreed with me in the comfort that can be found in it. Others have questioned that comfort or expressed their regret in the fact.
One of the most amazing things to me, however, is the response of Jobs friends. These men have spent the time to come and sit with Job for seven days and weep and mourn. And for this, they should be credited. But what comes next is the attempt to preach and teach and reform. I have done this so many times in answering the pain of those around me. And to those people, I humbly ask for your forgiveness. There are no answers that can take away the pain of loss. That's what miscarriage is, not just the loss of a life, but the loss of hopes and dreams. The loss of an innocence that can not be regained.
I have run into many of you who have asked what you can do for us, or for others that may be suffering in a similar way. That is what I wanted to share in this post. There is an awesome book on Job written by Charles (Chuck) Swindoll. His book titled, "Job" has been able to verbalize so many of the feelings I have wanted to express but been unable to.
"The late (and I might add great) Joe Bayly and his wife, Mary Lou, lost three of their children. They lost one son following surgery when he was only eighteen days old. They also lost the second boy at age five because of leukemia. They then lost a third son at eighteen years after a sledding accident, because of complications related to his hemophilia. Joe writes in a wonderful book, The View from a Herse, (which has been changed in title to The Last Thing We Talk About):
'I was sitting, torn by grief. Someone came and talked to me of God's dealings, of why it happened, of hope beyond the grave. He talked constantly, he said things I knew were true. I was unmoved, except I wished he'd go away. He finally did. Another came and sat down beside me. He didn't talk. He didn't ask leading questions. He just sat beside me for an hour and more, listened when I said something, answered briefly, prayed simply, left. I was moved. I was comforted. I hated to see him go.'"
Swindoll then concludes the chapter with this sentence, "Words have a hollow ring in a crucible."
For those of you who have simply been there for Kelly and I. You know who you are. You are the ones that have never tried to answer or fix, meddle or change, motivate or push. You have simply cared for and comforted, cried with and sympathized. You have not questioned our faith or encouraged that we have more. You have prayed without ceasing and stopped by without asking, all the while keeping your words to a minimum. You have realized that you do not know what it is like in our crucible, nor will we know what it is like in yours, but you have loved regardless. We are told in Romans 12 to "Rejoice with those that rejoice and weep with those who weep." You have done just that and we thank you. We can never fully repay you or express to you how much it means to us to know you are there. You have truly shown the love of our Lord. Thank you.
