Then came the dark days of living through that time of year again. A full year had passed since I gave Allison back to the Lord. As I remembered the pain, the hurt, the hollowness, I wondered what had happened to God’s presence. I felt so alone, numb, bereft.
And yet there was one who knew all the anguish I was experiencing—the child in my womb. And I worried what effect my grief and pain might have.
Over and over again, I chose life in the face of fear. Not that my emotions ever changed, but I still spoke life to myself and to my baby.
Again and again, I had to come back to letting go, releasing Allison, my other children, myself, and this unborn child into the hands of a God I chose to believe was loving and good, even though I had no sense of his presence at the time.
I chose not to blame God. I chose it on a daily basis. I chose not to live in fear. Every time, I found myself anxious for this new life and my response to it, I chose again to rest in God’s love and faithfulness, despite any lack of feelings I had to go with the choice. I simply kept choosing to believe there was truth in God’s word. It wasn’t easy. There were times I longed for the feelings of God’s presence with me. Still, I chose life.
This is a bit from my journal in February of 1987. It’s not particularly good poetry, but it gives you a perspective of some of the things I was wrestling with.
When God is Silent
The air is still
no rustle of leaves
the wind, ever-present,
suddenly soundless,
leaving me becalmed, afraid.
What if it’s a boy?
I held the clay vessel--
A little girl, spirit gone,
I touched fingers and toes.
gazed into eyes
already fixed upon God.
Loved her.
If it’s a boy what will I do?
A petite little girl, full
of life, boundless energy
as she lived her life in my womb.
Precious in my arms,
but more precious in God’s.
Oh, but Lord, what if it’s a boy?
Child, whatever you are, boy or girl,
you will be special to me.
You have known my sorrow,
my despair, my longing.
Those things hide from others
so they do no feel my hurt,
I am unable to hide from you.
And one day, little one,
When God in his wisdom and mercy breathes life
Into this numb spirit of mine,
You will know the height of my joy.
For that, my child, you will be special.
If it’s a boy, I will rejoice.
It seems to me that by becoming pregnant again, you did choose life. Even in the poem, you are worrying about things, as if it will be okay, a child to nurture.
ReplyDeleteYou're right, Linda, though this "felt" like a very hard time, and the choice needed to be made often. Feelings are such transient things, learning to live above them or above the lack of them is a process.
ReplyDeleteHi Doraine (long time!) how powerful this poem is. I am so glad you shared it!
ReplyDeleteHi Juliet! Yes, years since 2007 Chatauqua. I hope all is well and you are writing like wildfire. Thanks for stopping here.
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