07/26/2015
This morning we went to church. In between two of my closest friends, tears silently streamed down my face.
I came with such a grateful heart, I didn’t realize how difficult it would be to worship God. I hear His promises in the words of the songs. I hear of the depth of His love. I hear of His power, and His mercy, and His grace. I hear what I know to be the truth. But even with my grateful heart, the words barely escape me.
Even with seeing His provision, even with feeling His comfort, my heart struggles.
It aches to praise His power, the power that took our baby, but enabled me this weekend. It hurts to sing of His love, the love that gave me baby, the same love that holds me now. It stings to sing of His grace, the grace that didn’t deliver me, but sustains me. Maybe one day those things will coexist as well, now they fight within me.
Sometimes I lose myself in His sovereignty. I forget the role my flesh and free will played in the way of the world. I forget I have a choice. I would have eaten the apple. I chose the apple over Him every day.
I know this world is not what God intended. All that He does, good and bad, is to restore this broken world to the glory He created it in.
Right now, I hate that.
At the end of the day, in the quiet of our home, Michael holds me and the sadness rushes back. I miss the joy that came with knowing our baby was inside of me.
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