Emptiness becomes her. When will I carry life again? she asks, will death encompass me forever?
Five years ago I had a dream. I had a dream that I gave birth to a son, our second son. His name was Josiah, and I was told Josiah meant ‘God heals’. Little did I know months later I would become pregnant with this second son of mine, and I would have to say goodbye too soon. I can still feel the cold jelly on my bare stomach as the ultrasound tech left the room to ‘check that the images were turning out okay.’ My swollen belly exposed to an empty room, the minutes passing, and my mind running...
What has been one of the most painful seasons of my life has also been one of the most joy filled. It’s a bittersweet dichotomy. The beauty alongside the pain. They go hand in hand.
I wouldn’t have Eliyanah without the loss. I wouldn’t have Ezekiel without the shameful journey of pregnancy before marriage. The pain, the shame, the guilt, the questions, I’d do it all over again. A million times over.
I didn’t grow up in the church.
I walked into the church as a broken 20 year old.
Surrounded by “perfect” Christians I quickly felt out of place.
We tend to hide our imperfections. We say there’s room for grace, we speak it out loud, but don’t confess our own need for it.
We put sin on a scale. And I felt like the prostitute weeping at Jesus’ feet with no one around me saying “me too”.
There’s room for grace. You need it. But me, I’m good.