Let us not become weary in doing good,
for at the proper time
we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.
Galatians 6:9
February 15,
2013. That was the date I had wrote on the calender for
Esther's due date. Over two months ago. Every day she was under
scrutiny. Signs, no signs? We checked pretty consistently: swelling,
ligaments, udder, anything? Looking at her big belly and trying to
imagine the thoughts of God as He was designing His new creation
inside that caprine womb. Maybe a sign, nope, definitely no signs.
Then a few weeks ago, once we had
finally given up hope on the February due date, the signs started.
Maybe next week, we said. Then, maybe tomorrow. Don't leave home,
don't schedule anything extra, don't live lest she deliver those kids
without us. Then the tomorrows came, and the signs didn't change. The
middle of the night checks waned, then the middle of the day checks,
too. The early morning races to the barn soon became solo walks of
enjoying the scenery. Halfheartedly now we check on her in the middle
of chores. I'm sure some day she has to have those kids.
Two years after Trent's death, a date
that I hadn't had wrote on the calendar, I find myself much at the
same place as with Esther. The anticipation has waned. I keep telling
myself that heaven will come one day. I'm sure Jesus really meant
soon when He said He's coming back. The middle of the night and early
morning worship services have dwindled to hiding under the covers
until I absolutely have to get up and face another day. The arms
haven't been raised as much and the prayers have become pathetic
groans.
Weary? Yes. Like Anna and Simeon in the
gospel account of Luke, I wait {un}patiently for the day that I will
see my Savior. I wonder how many weary days they waited. I wonder
what they did in the meantime. Then I wonder at the overwhelming joy
that they must have felt when the promise was finally fulfilled.
One day we will make that trek down to
the barn and, Lord willing, there they'll be – kids more beautiful
and intricately formed than we could have ever imagined. We will
forget the long months and weeks of waiting, and we would have gladly
made those middle of the night trips all over again when we see momma
with her babies.
As we stew in frustration over “when will Esther have those babies” a miracle is taking its time to form down in her stall. The pain and hard work will belong to Esther alone, the price that she has to bear for it to be possible that there is such beauty for us to behold. Like when Jesus delayed before going to Lazarus' tomb, His glory is often times seen more divinely when there's waiting involved.
As we stew in frustration over “when will Esther have those babies” a miracle is taking its time to form down in her stall. The pain and hard work will belong to Esther alone, the price that she has to bear for it to be possible that there is such beauty for us to behold. Like when Jesus delayed before going to Lazarus' tomb, His glory is often times seen more divinely when there's waiting involved.
3 comments:
I have learned grief takes a toll on your heart & mind. It takes all your energy leaving you drained. Staying in bed late and going back to bed through the day has became the norm. The sooner out of bed means facing the day and reality. Thoughts fill the mind with questions. Oh how could we just go on living when our son is gone. Praying thinking of the song what if I stumble what if i fall what if I loose my step and make fiulls of us all what
If my walk becomes a crawl will the love still comntinue? Heart being pulled with desire to just just be taken to be with my son once again then knowing it would cause my living children more grief & pain knowing they still need me. Oh how the waiting is so hard and painful. Not understanding how good could come from the loss of a child. Never having no idea or understanding or realizing how painful the lose of a child or what a parent goes through until your faced with the lose of your own child. In your own grief and pain of losing your Trent you reach out to me in the loss of my son. Thank you and iI hear your weariness longing and pain in your words. I continue to lift you and your family in prayer. Blessings! Lara
Sending {{Hugs}} to you today, Lara. Yes, you know. I continue to remind myself to look up, look to the cross and the glory beyond~ especially on the hard days.
Yeah, I have had many a talk with our Heavenly Father over His timetable. (LOL?)
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