Love in the silence
I read it mere days after our twenty week ultrasound. Days after learning we would once again be walking the road of unknowns with an EVC baby. Days after realizing that each week of pregnancy inched us towards a day that would either usher in life on this earth and deep beautiful breaths…or life in the true eternal kingdom, but death in these shadow lands that we call home. Or perhaps something in between. The start of a daily battle for life and breath, of decisions to be made – how much do we intervene? When do we let go?
We had walked the road before. We had walked it in the not so distant past, so recently that the emotions, the ups and the downs of the journey, were still fresh in our minds. How would it be the same this time? How would it be different?
We’re approaching the end of the waiting months. Four weeks from yesterday is my official move date to Seattle, assuming I don’t significantly dilate before then. Five weeks from Saturday, on July 1st, I will be induced – assuming Shiloh doesn’t decide to make her own timeline and come early. We’re getting so close. Close enough that lists form at the back of my mind. I know I need to find the bin of newborn clothes, pick a few items, wash them up and whisper a few more prayers for opportunities to use them. For pink plump arms and legs to fill them. For spit up and explosions to stubbornly stain them.
This nearing to the end has turned me reflective, and wondering at how different things seem this time around. With Bella, all of life seemed to orbit around her story, around the expectation of her arrival. We felt this rising tide of expectation and anticipation – in our own hearts and many around us – as we approached delivery day. There were constant reminders of the Lord’s presence – an email or text from friends and strangers, the appearance of poppies in the most unlikely of places, spine tingling “coincidences” all pointing to the tangible presence of the Lord. There was no denying we were on holy ground.
This time with Shiloh, the road has been much quieter. The prayers have been just as numerous, the constant rhythmic backdrop to our days, but her story line has not dominated the landscape. Part of that is the presence of two daughters who rightfully demand a great amount of attention, energy, and focus. Life is full and moves at a brisk clip.
But as I reflected on the difference in experience over this past week, my mind drew to the forefront those words I read in the early days of this journey. Words from one of my favorite companions on this road – Streams in the Desert. The entry from February 9th tells the story of a vision of three women praying, and the Lord interacting with each woman as she prays. The first woman is attended tenderly by the Lord – He bends over to speak to her and comfort her. The second woman the Lord merely pauses briefly to place his hand on her head and give her a look of loving approval. The last woman the Lord quickly passes by with no interaction. The one seeing the vision is asked to interpret what she saw. She guesses that the Lord’s love is greatest for the first woman. But the Lord corrects her…
“The second woman has stronger faith and deeper love than the first, and I can count on her to trust Me no matter how things may go or whatever people may do. Yet the third woman, whom I seemed not to notice, and even to neglect, has faith and love of the purest quality…she knows me so intimately, and trusts Me so completely, that she no longer depends on loving glances, or other outward signs to know of My approval. She is not dismayed or discouraged by any circumstances. She trusts me…knowing that I am preparing her for eternity, and realizing that the understanding of what I do will come later.”
Oh how I long for the description of that third woman to be true of me! And I can see how the tender leading of the Lord in the past has prepared me to pass through this quiet season. But reading these words again this week was a gentle reminder to me that the silence of the Lord does not indicate His absence, nor a removal of His intimate activity in the circumstances surrounding me.
I know that I know that I know that He is at this very moment at work for His glory and my good and sweet Shiloh’s good. I know that there is an eternal story line being written, a story line that someday, some glorious day, I will get to gaze and wonder at in full, but I may never fully see on this side of things.
And so I press on, each day hurtling us closer to the day when many things…certainly not all…but many things become clearer. The day that I am eagerly anticipating. That day when I get to feel the weight of my daughter in my arms, to count those twelve fingers and ten toes. To wonder at the purposefully numbered days laid out before her.
And to set aside the prayer for that rib cage to grow, knowing that at that moment, it has been perfectly and purposefully and completely knit – each bone placed and stretched exactly how her creator deemed best. Knowing that her broken heart beats its unique rhythm so that another’s power and glory might be made manifest in her little body.
My daughter is and will be wonderfully made. In the midst of all the unknowns, of that I remain certain – as well as the fact that the one who made her is with me, in the silence, lovingly and constantly shepherding me, even when I do not see Him.
Once again, your words have completely broken me. I’ve followed your story since before Bella, aching for you as I carried a child inside me. Anxiously awaiting a new update, my prayers for you are many. Thank you for baring your heart and for speaking truth in the midst of beautiful chaos. I am so grateful.