A Very Serious Post, Not for the Feint Hearted

I've been debating whether to write this post, and decided for it for a few reasons:

1. So that you know why the sadness sometimes lurks in my eyes.

2. Because I need to talk about it, but I don't want to talk about it.

3. So that you who have not experienced it can hear one person's story. Not that I claim my feelings and reactions are universal by any means, but for those who care for others, maybe my story can help.

Last week Dave and I were happily expecting our second child. Today we are not.

I tuned out when the doctor mentioned the possibility of miscarriage. Hadn't I just seen the baby's little heart beating? No danger could touch its little life in my strong, healthy body, a body which was designed to bring forth life.

Which is why I feel so betrayed by my body.

For days I ignored the mounting evidence, searching internet sites for every other possible explanation. It was only the wise council of my husband a good friend from church that kept me from preaching this weekend, and the end finally came at the exact time that I would have been in the pulpit Saturday night. Thank God for clearer minds than mine.

As soon as I could steal away to a private room, the wrenching sobs which I had repressed for hours poured out. They surprised me. It's not that I don't cry- I cry quite easily over movies, Hallmark commercials, good books, a well-told story, a sermon (even my own), weddings and funerals. I just don't often cry over my own life or situation. But I cry now.

Initially, I thought I'd throw away the pictures from the sonogram with the little white blob, an arrow, and "baby," but they're still in my purse in the envelope. I can't look at them, but I can't throw them away. They're all I have left of baby.

I feel like I have a tomb inside of me. A cold, dark, lifeless tomb.

And every minute of every day, my body reminds me of what has been lost.

The other stories have surprised me. They shouldn't. It only makes sense when you look at the statistics: around 25% of pregnancies end in miscarriage, so of course women all around me have suffered through this. But I just never thought of how many there were. It's like I've discovered a huge underground sisterhood which I didn't want to join, but for which I am incredibly grateful. They share their stories with me, and I can believe in hope, in the return of real laughter, in a body that will bear life again.

Tomorrow I will look again for the sunshine. Maybe the next day I will even dance just a little bit. It's just life; we'll win in the end.

But tonight I'm crying again.

God at Oak Park Mall

Yesterday I spent some quality hours at Oak Park Mall (thanks, SPRC!) and a few spiritual experiences caught me by surprise.

The first encounter was at the Seacret kiosk. Elad, a salesman at the kiosk stopped me to demonstrate their nail care kit. While he was beautifying one of my nails (it really did work well, so I bought the whole kit) we chatted. He's lives in Israel, and is here just to help promote the company's products in the United States. He lives just 30 minutes from the Dead Sea, his favorite place back home. He asked me about myself, and when I told him I was a pastor, he was more than a little surprised. He said, "you don't look like a pastor." He expected a pastor to be dressed in a dark suit and tie. Back home, he told me, religious leaders always dress differently from other people, so he really was taken aback by a pastor who looks, "normal." We laughed about this, and he shared with me what he loves and misses about home.

Not long after this fun encouter, I ran across Jesus. He was hanging out at the top of the escaltor, just watching people over the railing. He was in full regalia- white robe, crown of thorns, full beard and long flowing hair. We didn't talk, but I couldn't help but think about Elad, wondering what his reaction would be. What is his overall impression of Christians, or at least Christians in the United States?

My final encounter was at the check out counter of a department store. I bought a couple of items that finished out my gift card, and it rang up $0.98 over what was left on the card. I very rarely carry cash (yes, I know what Dave Ramsey would say), and so asked if I could put the $0.98 on my credit card. The woman checking out next to me laughed and handed the cashier a dollar for me. I thanked her and she just smiled and waved me off, then left. It was just a dollar, but she did it so quickly and without a second thought, that it made me think that generosity must just be a way of life for her.

It's been an interesting season.

Merry Christmas.