Open Hands Our Story

Before my husband and I were dating, we shared that we’d individually decided to live with open hands in surrender to God. It was the quiet creed we wrapped around ourselves. Living open-handed has its joys and benefits. For example, the things of this world become dim like the mist they are. You are free from the chains of their expectations. In addition, the simple things in life are rich and colorful in spaces where everyone is telling you otherwise. The flip side of living out this creed isn’t so romantic. Loss and pain inevitably weave themselves into the story. Only two weeks after we started dating, the Lord took away our home church. I had done life, fellowshipped, and worshipped with that church for twelve years. The death of something so beloved to me and potentially healing to my then-boyfriend died suddenly. My heart broke. I spent the following months navigating grief, betrayal, and loss. My hands were open, and the Lord gave me a wonderful man, but he’d also taken away the home where my soul went to experience God in celebration and shalom.

The following is a testimony about what it has been like to live with open hands and surrender to the Lord.

On November 26, 2022, Andrew became my husband. We spent one rapturous month together before our world was radically altered. Much like that painful season in July, the Lord would give us something precious only to take it away.

January 4, 2023, after weeks of feeling physically off, we found out we were pregnant.

January 12, 2023, Andrew and I were reading a devotional. The theme was loss and the Lord taking gifts away. Instantly, Andrew and I both knew the Lord would take our child away. By the end of that day, that very thing took place.

Some might think a week is not enough time to be connected to and fall in love with a tiny, unseen life, but it is. Even at five weeks old, I knew and loved my little gem. My baby was more than cells, more than a blob, more than an idea or option. The pregnancy was a precious baby, and I wet my pillowcase most mornings grieving the loss of their life. The loss and healing process took me about two weeks. In those days, I wrestled with two things. First, death and loss are often awkward and confusing for outside people to navigate. Miscarriage is no exception. I faced well-meaning people with their well-meaning one-liners. These only succeeded in dismissing my child’s life and my pain or placing me in the position of comforter. Even the hospital that was supposed to care for and support life treated my child like a virus that I would get over. In addition, people have an allotment of time for mourning and that turned out to be only two weeks. That was not my timeframe and I wondered why they expected it to be. How could I wrap up all my pain in only fourteen days? Why was that the expectation? People’s responses made me feel very alone. None of it seemed fair and so it took supernatural grace to extend grace to others when I felt so sapped by death myself.

While that was difficult, there was something even harder to navigate. I believe the God of the Bible is real and good. I believe He is my Father and my King. I believe He is wise and sovereign. I believe my life is His and His plan for me is whole and good. Because of all of that, I believe He promises and allows suffering and uses it for my good. (This is perhaps one of the most difficult things to reconcile as a Believer). This meant that the One who crushed me and caused this pain was also the One to whom I needed to run for healing.

Bethany Dillon captured my wrestling so adequately in her song “Who Else”

I, all I'm hearing is white noise

All I'm feeling is salt in the wound

I turned a corner and got knocked out

And the one holding the weight was You…..

So who else am I supposed to be angry at?

Who else, who?

Who else am I supposed to be angry at?

You're the One who calls the shots

Since I was fourteen my relationship with the Lord has been sweet and intimate. I find Him and His ways mystifying and beautiful. There is no one like Him and I am humbled that I get to love and serve Him. He is worth my everything! With that perspective, I have faced suffering and adversity with realistic grace. But here I was facing the fact that the One who said he would carry me on wings like eagles struck me down and made me feel like dust. Those first weeks I couldn’t feel Him. I couldn’t pick up my Bible. When Andrew told me it was time to read our devotion together, I balked. Worship music was bland and lifeless (most days it still is). I was in a pit, and it was hard to look up at the One who threw me there.

While I never doubted that He is who He says He is, it still took time for me to wrestle with God’s plan to give me a baby and then take that baby away. I still have moments when the hurt is so raw, my heart physically hurts. I’m still healing. I’m still growing.

Time passed. I went back to work; I went back to church. But I couldn’t ever go back to how things were before.

In March of 2022, I felt the familiar symptoms of pregnancy.

This time our baby came with a gift, peace. The Lord never promised us we would hold this baby in our hands or kiss his or her new fresh cheeks. After being pressed and crushed, I didn’t expect Him to. With the blanket of peace enveloping me I patiently entered each hour. God had given and taken away before. He could do it again. Days later, with experience, no woman should have, I moved from taking care of my baby to taking care of the fragile body that rejected my sweet baby. We only had our March baby for 48 hours until they died. Every sight of blood was an ugly reminder of that repeated reality. The peace He spread over me before remained, but now it resided with pain and hurt. I embraced it as I intentionally moved to embrace the Father who had struck me once again. Thankfully, this time He didn’t seem so distant. While I processed everything, old thoughts questioning God’s goodness battled for sovereignty over my heart. I surrendered myself to Him and let the process happen. Every journal entry (some entries available on my IG), and every wrestling came to the same ancient conclusion. God didn’t save my babies BUT He is still Creator. He still does the impossible. HE IS STILL GOOD. Somehow that confession means more on the other side of suffering and loss. I doubt it can stand strong on the fragile foundation of the idyllic pictures plastered all over social media posts.

This time around I knew not to expect most people to sit with me in grief. This time I accepted that Andrew and I would be alone (save a few friends and our close family). And this time I decided I wouldn’t get pregnant again. I couldn’t face the toilet full of blood and the intense mornings of depression again. Andrew and I made additional plans to keep that from happening, all while praying “Your will be done.”

The next chapter in our story

Right after the loss of our first child, we read Psalm 127 as a part of our nightly devotional reading. The passage caught me off guard. I thought it was so insane that I laughed out loud. (Sarai, I see you! Genesis 18)

Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord,

the fruit of the womb a reward.

Like arrows in the hand of a warrior

are the children[a] of one's youth.

Blessed is the man

who fills his quiver with them!

He shall not be put to shame

when he speaks with his enemies in the gate.[b] (vs 3-5)

Neither of us could deny that this was a promise from the Lord. I was so shocked yet confident that I wrote this one a piece of paper and placed it in the fold of the passage. “What the heck?! What am I supposed to do with this.”

Journal Entry

April 22, 2023

“Well….

I’m pregnant again

I quit my job

My life has been turned upside down again.

My goodness

Yesterday I still didn’t start my period. I told Andrew the plan was to take a test just in case. On Saturday I even joked about being pregnant again (you have to laugh in the hard times 😉)

Then around ten or eleven I saw very familiar pink blood (usually a sign of implantation bleeding).

I said aloud “Andrew!?” Then I had a small momentary freak-out. Afterward, I reminded myself how impossible it was (we’d taken every precaution to ensure we didn’t get pregnant) and I chose to go about my day…”

That afternoon I hung out with my sister, but I was so exhausted and dizzy I could only get up to pee. Which I did 100x.

During this time I wondered why I felt so weird.

Then it hit me, all those symptoms are pregnancy symptoms…….. I need to take a pregnancy test.

“Andrew was working and I didn’t want to bother him. It was going to be negative so why should I make a big deal out of it?

I grabbed a plastic cup, opened the pregnancy test, and went to the bathroom to take it. I was so calm and confident it would be negative. BUT ten seconds later two red lines popped up. I immediately stepped out of the bathroom to where Andrew could see me. I held up the positive test and said “Andrew!”

He asked if I was joking, and I replied, “I wouldn’t do that!”

Then I burst into tears”

Needless to say, I made a big deal out

Fear, uncertainty, scares, and struggle have all accompanied this pregnancy. Awaiting our son has taken as much faith as it did to walk through the loss of his siblings. (I will write more on this later)

God never promised us we’d have our son with us earthside. He never promised pregnancy after loss would be a breeze. He never promised to withhold the waves of struggle surging behind the last ones. He didn’t promise sunshine and daisies. He never does. But what He does promise is that He is good. He is unchanging. He is wise. He is faithful. He is healer. He is I Am.

Four months later

I am still a mother (my biggest dream since I was five!!) Praise God our son is healthy and growing!!!

I am also a daughter, a daughter who holds her hands open in surrender to her Father even if it means He could hurt her again.

Ultrasounds done by New Life Imaging

https://www.nli4d.com/