Psalm 18:1-2

I will love thee, O LORD, my strength. The LORD is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower.
Psalm 18:1-2

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Blessed are those who mourn .........

Where were you September 11, 2001? This is a question asked by many on this very somber day of remembrance.  A day America will never forget.  A day of mourning and sorrow.  A day of tribute and unity.

A day hubbie and I were at home, alone, recovering.  You see, for us, a more relevant question is, where were you September 7, 2001?  Now, please understand what I am about to say.  In no way am I belittling or even comparing our circumstance to those who suffered and lost in the attack on America on 9/11.  I am just relating to you where we were when it occurred, and to do so, some back story is required.

In August of 2001, we learned that after 2 years of marriage we were expecting our first child.  Excited doesn't even begin to describe our emotions over this news.  We were beside ourselves.  I was so overjoyed that I began wearing maternity clothes almost immediately, certain that I was already showing!  We spent hours talking and dreaming about our beautiful child, and all the wonderful times we would share.

So, on September 7, when I began to spot, I was nervous but honestly thought very little of it.

Then I began to hurt, like cramps.

In the doctor's office it felt like time suddenly stood still, as he told us that I was probably having a miscarriage.

Surely not.  Not my baby.  Not my precious child, this child who had stolen my heart.  No, it couldn't be.

We left the doctor's office broken and full of heartache, but clinging to the hope that he was wrong.  He could have been, you know. He wasn't even sure.  So we went home, and rested, and tried so hard to believe.  We prayed like never before, crying out to God to save our child.  To intervene and stop what was happening!!

Then we went to bed.

I remember vividly waking up to the pain, and the blood.  We rushed to the ER, screaming out to the Lord.

Please God! Save our baby!

The ER doctor confirmed our greatest nightmare, and tried his best to bring us whatever comfort could be found.  He was a great doctor, and a dear man.  He would see us through not one but 2 miscarriages, as only the Lord could divine. 

But there was no comfort.  No, not there. Not in the place where I held what was left of my child.  In my hands. Lifeless.

It would be many months before I would find any comfort, and many long talks with my Lord.  But no matter how much time passes, some things are as vivid as the day they happened.

So, where was I on September 11?  I was at home.  Mourning. Grieving.

"Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted."  Matthew 5:4

"To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that he might be glorified."  Isaiah 61:3

For the next and final chapter in this story, read .

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