When Sorrows Like Sea Billows Roll

I didn't know this until I saw some blog posts mentioning it, but October 15 is Infant Stillbirth and Miscarriage remembrance day.

I wish days like this didn't have to exist. I wish we didn't live in a broken world, full of hurt and loss and suffering and grief. I know why they happen; because of sin, because of broken relationships with God.

Sometimes, I have tears that trail down my face as I think about what could have been. The baby I never held would be nine months old. Nine. The past 15 months would have been worlds different from what they could have been. I wouldn't dread the 11th of every month in remembrance of the 11th of June. Our life was changed, not by the presence of a little human, but by its absence, and I never would have expected to feel about it the way that I do. I looked forward to knowing and loving and teaching and growing, and then I never got to do that. Someday, maybe. But not then, not right now.

I've learned to realize that I'm not going to forget and move on in the way that maybe I would like. I can't pretend that this didn't happen, or that I don't have hurt. Life changes, but this part of me won't.

Throughout the past fifteen months, I have struggled, really struggled, with how I felt toward God. I found it difficult to be honest with how I felt about the whole thing. I wanted to say that I trusted God with this, but I also wanted to feel that and not just say words I didn't mean.

One of my favorite hymns is "It is Well With My Soul". If you don't know the story, the writer of this hymn suffered the loss of his son to sickness, much of his wealth in the Great Chicago Fire then the loss of his four daughters in a tragic shipwreck. It is after these events that he wrote "It is Well", a song that gives testament to God's grace EVEN in times of trouble.

When peace like a river attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, 
It IS well, it is well, with my soul. 

There will be pure, unadulterated joy one day. Though we are affected by them, we don't live in light of the things of this world. We live in light of what is to come, what we don't know yet. Along those lines, the Psalmist wrote, Weeping may last for the night, but JOY comes in the morning (Psalm 30:5). David writes these words later in that same Psalm: You (God) have turned for me my mourning into DANCING; You have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with GLADNESS, that my glory may sing Your praise and not be silent. Oh Lord my God, I will give thanks to You forever. 

Faith is not necessarily blind, but it looks past what we know of this world. It looks to a future hope. It looks to heaven and the beauty of restored relationship with God that will happen after this life. There is a hope in heaven. There will be no pain, no suffering, no brokenness... only the fullness of joy which is God Himself. I know that I will one day see my little one, who's been with Jesus for fifteen months, who loves him or her more than I ever could. I CAN think of my loss in such a way that I can also say "It is well with my soul".

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blessed assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And has shed His own blood for my soul. 

But, Lord, 'tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal; 
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul.