Hope

Sometimes We Just Believe.

“…Don’t be afraid; just believe.”

Mark 5:36

 

Pre-writing is a rare luxury for me, but I’ve had my post for Monday, April 12th, written and anxiously waiting for quite a while.  Even today, as I read it again, I picture myself sitting alone on a flower-filled green grassy hill (in an oversized comfy chair, because I’m not really a grass-between-my-toes kind of girl).  The sun is shining and the warmth on my hot hair feels like a blanket full of promise from the Father.

But those words will remain a treasured secret.  Because things have changed and the lesson, while hard, has come anew…

It’s our last week in Munich.

The house is echoey and bare without fabric or frames.  The kids are still planning play-dates and water park visits with their friends, because they clearly believe our trip to America will be a mere vacation, as per our norm.  Steve is away on business, working his own insane hours during this crunch time.  And my personal list of to-do’s requires a color coded chart.

I’m busy trying to separate what should come along on our cross-continent drive to Spain for the next 6 weeks vs. what needs to be packed for our indefinite time without a house upon arrival in the U.S.

My focus is pulled in many directions.

And then there’s the baby.  The one I’ve been waiting to tell you all about.

This year was already an impossible adventure in the making – filled with the kind of unknowns that leave me breathlessly excited and simultaneously secretly terrified.  And the decision to have this child was not an easy one. It’s an epic story that I hope to be capable of sharing one day.  For now, I can tell you that my heart has wrestled around holding this baby for years.

And I’ve been feeling great.  A big change from my pregnancies with Brenner and Sawyer.  So, given our highly transitional time, I decided to share our news earlier than normal with our friends in Germany.  I’d rather look the people I love in the eye when I tell them, than send a mass e-mail a few weeks later.

I was waiting for one more all-clear ultrasound before shouting the official announcement.  When the day finally came, I arrived early in the city to have a coffee and snack at my favorite spot near my doctor.  It’s a little tradition I have, and the security guard there always smiles when he sees me coming.  He’s watched me sip lattes through the entirety of my 2 previous pregnancies.  But I was feeling very anxious that morning, and Steve called from NYC to pray with me – even though he didn’t understand how feeling so well could scare me so much.  I was truly desperate to see that tiny heart beating.

My doctor and I were talking about her recent trip to Italy when she fell silent.  I lay staring at the screen.

“I think your instincts for concern were right”, she finally said.  The next thing that I remember clearly is standing alone in the elevator shaking as the reality sunk deep.

My baby has already been dead for more than 3 weeks.

My friends were gathering nearby at our meeting spot for my going-away lunch.  I found myself running in the opposite direction, while sending them an awkward text with my apologies… I wouldn’t be joining them after all.

Fighting my way to the parking garage, I called Steve, and the flood gates opened.  I had a D&C scheduled for the next afternoon.  I was alone.  And my soul filled with a rushing current of the deepest sadness I’ve ever known.

That night the miscarriage began on its own.  By morning I was having heavy contractions and severe bleeding.  It felt like slowly watching my child slip away, piece by piece.

As I searched for the directions to the clinic, I found the prescription my doctor had written for me to take:

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I stared at it – speechless – feeling ripped in two.  Those harsh words were more than my already broken heart could bare seeing.

Thankfully, a friend forced me into letting her take me to the procedure.  Truly, I don’t know how well I would have survived without her.  She cared for every detail, balanced the perfect level of sadness and laughter, and turned one of the most painful days of my life into a memorial of a child whose life, however short, is worthy of celebrating.

And the truth is, I fully believe God told me to have this baby.  It makes me feel like a cross between a liar and phony. But trust me when I tell you that I am certain of it.  And my mind has been racing between the loss and the questioning.

Do I hear You?  Are You there?  What happens now?  Do You see me lying here immobile, in recovery?  Do You know that in just four days my house will be scurrying with movers?  How can I be who You are calling me to be, if You’d let this happen to me?

But the answer is as tangible as this computer under my fingers.

“Don’t be afraid, Just Believe.”

In Mark 5:21-43 we read about a Centurion whose daughter was dying.  He begged Jesus to come and help.  And Jesus did, in fact, go.  But, on the way, a bleeding woman touched his garment and “distracted” Him from the task. His moment with that woman is one of my favorites in the Bible.  However, when the servants came to tell the Centurion that his daughter had already died, Christ turned to him and said, “Don’t be afraid, Just Believe.” Mark 5:36

The weight of what Jesus was asking makes more sense to my heart now than it ever has.  Learning how to live life unafraid and believing when we don’t understand is the key to so many things.  This man’s little girl had died.  He had every reason to be afraid (plus angry, accusing, broken, sad…) and every reason not to believe in a man whose “detour” was the reason they were too late.

In the end, his child lived, and my baby is gone.  But I have a Father who knows the hidden places of my pain.  And in a careful, caring tone, I keep hearing Him say, “Don’t be afraid. Just Believe.”

In truth, I don’t really know how to do anything else.  I trust Him.  I believe that He sees every detail that I can’t.  And His plans for me are filled with GREAT HOPE and a GREAT FUTURE.  So I have no choice but to follow Him towards it.

And I know the enemy is watching… waiting to writhe in sadness and self pity with me.  He’d love to commiserate with my loneliness…  how unfair this is.   But I woke up this morning and decided that Satan will walk the road of disappointment, alone, today.  In my sadness, I will not be shaken.  I WILL NOT BE MOVED.  My faith in our God grows stronger day by day.  And the thief who kills and destroys can live with the disappointment that he does not own me.  Let him walk that lonely path.  I will not be joining.

I will lean into the Father who still knows me… who STILL has a plan.

Friends, whatever you are facing today, let the roots of your faith plant you deeper.  We don’t need the answer.  We just need listen:

DO. NOT. FEAR… JUST BELIEVE.

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  • Phyllis Paladin April 13, 2015 at 1:55 pm

    So sorry for your loss. So encouraged by the truth. Thank you.

  • Stephanie Etchells April 13, 2015 at 2:32 pm

    Thank you for such an open and honest post. It has ministered to my heart today. Only god could use such pain to bring forth such faith and beauty. I pray God continues to
    minister to your soul during this time and you keep letting the devil walk alone.

  • Rachel April 13, 2015 at 3:14 pm

    God is in control and ALL things work to a greater glory and purpose. If I haven’t told you lately…so proud to be friends with you!

  • samukelisiwe mnguni April 13, 2015 at 8:19 pm

    thank you. i love your writing. i need it

  • Seed Sower Sis April 14, 2015 at 2:52 am

    Dear Beautiful Sister in Christ
    Get your family settled into a home close to your family. Another blessed baby will soon be close behind. Breath, Rest and Write. This daughter cannot make it through her week without a prescription of soul love from Heather Yoder Writes.
    Prayers for a safe and God Filled Journey back to the US.

  • Kelly April 14, 2015 at 2:27 pm

    Very powerful! The command is simple but the action is difficult! I am going to use your wise words as I serve the dying.

  • Beth S April 14, 2015 at 2:45 pm

    HI Heather! You don’t know me, but I found your blog through your lovely mother-in-law (I grew up in the same church as Stephen and was a couple years behind you guys at GCC). Anyway, I just wanted to express my sympathies on the loss of your baby. I too lost a baby (in slightly different circumstances, but a loss is a loss).

    Even to my ears, the words can sound trite, but I do take comfort in the fact that God works all things together for the good of those who love him. I know you’re busy, but here is a link to a beautiful sermon to that effect. Maybe you can download and listen as you pack? It’s actually the sermon that our pastor preached just two days after our own sweet baby was born and passed, so the words are ones that I cling to. http://bhpc.no-ip.biz/sermons/2012/08-05-12.mp3

    Sincerely,
    Beth Salesky

  • Megan Owens April 28, 2015 at 7:22 pm

    Oh Heather. I understand too well the pain and loss you’ve experienced. I miscarried our fourth baby – the one we weren’t going to have. The one that took a great leap of faith and trust to embrace. I am praying that the Lord continues to give you strength and peace, even as you mourn. You helped me remember that time, which I don’t think about that often anymore, and I am even more thankful for Wesley, born one year later:)