Deep Dreams Lost

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It was the day of her baby boy’s funeral.  Her son had gone to live with Jesus at birth.  I cannot fathom how she got out of bed that day.

That day, as my heart bowed down in grief for my friend, I heard news from another friend.  At 34 weeks, her baby girl had passed into eternity too.

Stillborn.  Sweet toes that never get to touch this earth.  Eyes that open to see the face of God instead of the face of their mummy.  A life that skips over the temporal.  Lungs left unfilled.  Mother’s milk left behind.

The depth of this grief cannot be known but by those who are forced to endure it.

I feel like an uninvited guest at a private event.  My heart hovers over the sacred ground of their journey.  I dare not pretend to understand.

And yet, I feel a tinge of knowing.  The devastation of deep dreams lost.

_ _ _

The expectation of a beautiful beginning.  The anticipation of a brand new season full of life and hope.  The investment of years of planning, dreaming, building and preparing.

Leaning toward the future.  A new era that will affect every facet of life as we know it.

But it doesn’t come.  A bend in the road.  A tragedy. Dreams lost. Potential unrealized.

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but desire fulfilled is a tree of life.
(Proverbs 13:12 NASB)

We were created to create.  Made by the Maker.  Designed by Elohim in His image and likeness.  Our minds, our hearts, our bodies bear fruit.  We are compelled to birth new things.  We are fulfilled as we create, design, craft and launch.

Despite the odds.  Even when the cost is great.  We dare to face the loss, because the possibility of success exists.  What else can we spend our earthly lives doing?  Is there anything else but this?

My heart is unable to imagine what these sweet mothers are going through.  But their journeys have changed me.  I am praying today with new depth.  Praying for them. Praying for me.

You’ve kept track of my every toss and turn
through the sleepless nights,
Each tear entered in your ledger,
each ache written in your book.
(Psalm 56:8 The Message)

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2 responses »

  1. Through your writing I feel your grief, but not the grief of the lost mothers. Something, as you said reserved only for those who have dreamed and lost. Thank you for such sensitive writing, the outpouring of a sensitive spirit.

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