It was then that the unexpected happened, when dreams began to take flight and soar beyond her imagining. She soon bloomed with life and hope; she was rounded with all that she had longed for. She was bursting with dreams nearly filled.
As she struggled and wept and pushed and cried out, seeking to birth this gift from her Father, he would not come. When, at last, she was cut to the core of her, this son, this long-awaited son, would not breathe.
He lingers in these hours and she can not see him. The weight of him has not been felt within her arms. She has not heard his breath, nor his welcoming cry to the world. She is separated by that very thing that nurtured and held him these nine months long, that which had been cut deep. She is separated by miles and machines that keep his heart still pumping, if only for a few more hours.
I've heard the echoes of his father's wails. I've seen the hope dimming within her eyes. I have witnessed the tears, the doubts and questions of those who love them. Of those who have prayed so hard along their journey, buoying the hopes, the dreams, of these they hold so dear. The echo of confusion and "Why?!?" still linger.
I do not have the answers, nor do I understand. But I know her Father, who remains good, despite a heart that is mechanically beating, and despite the shattered hearts of these my friends, my Father, He has still offered them a gift worth taking. He has displayed His love, no matter how it looks or feels.
I know that their journey will go through a valley, deep. I know that there will be a chasm of ache that will seem insurmountable. The way may feel muddied and dark, lonely and impossible.
Yet I also know, that though they may not sense Him, their Father will hover near. He will shepherd them through this valley, with tenderness and care. At their slightest cry, He will come running, to relieve them, to salve their wounds that now are gaping. He will pick them up and carry them close to His heart, that is beating out the rhythm of His love.
I know that He will remind them, teach them, that even this, is a gift. This season of loss where dreams come crashing down and hopes feel dashed upon the rocks of disappointment.
I know these things because I have seen the lily. It bursts with life, spreading its petals in all their glory, causing me to marvel over this gift of beauty. As the sun sets, so does the span of this bloom. It lasts but a day and then withers and is gone. It is then I have a choice. I can weep over its loss or marvel over its splendor, grateful for those moments of delight. I am the one who chooses to accept the gift of loss, the gift of this life, now withered. Through my own losses, sorrows, I have learned that the Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Oh, blessed be the name of the Lord.
As long as I walk within this earthly shell, there will be loss and heartache. There will be difficulty and confusion. But in the end, none of those things matter. Like the lily, those things will all fade away. What matters is my Lord, who never changes; my Father who loves me endlessly; my Comforter that can always salve these wounds and my God who remains, forever good.
I wish I could give them this knowledge, to sweep their doubts away, as well as all the others'. I wish that they could know, that their Father still loves them, that He remains sovereign and able to bring good even from this. Instead, I pray. I pray their hearts will be strengthened through this journey. I pray they will begin to understand the depths of His love, the marvels of His grace. And I will walk with them, whispering, "There is another side to this valley. You have been given a gift, most rare: a lily. I know you longed for a rose whose bloom lasts far longer. It's okay. Your Father, He loves you and He has given you, His best. There is another side. Keep walking, friends. Keep walking. "
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