Sometimes we need moments to mourn the brokenness of this
fallen world. To grieve the fact that there is so much loss in our own lives
and in the lives of those we love; loss of life, relationships, and hope for
the future. Today was one of those days for me.
After dropping Jack off at preschool and putting Maggie down
for her morning nap, I checked my email. I had a notice from Caring Bridge that
one of my best friends had posted a new journal entry. I clicked the link and
read her post about the reconstructive surgery she is facing today as a result
of her battle with breast cancer. I then looked at the past journal entries to
see if there were any I had missed. I found one from May where my dear friend
wrote that she and her husband are unable to have any more children due to the increased
risk of her cancer coming back. She had her first baby about a year before she
was diagnosed with breast cancer. She cherishes that sweet baby girl but still
mourns the fact that she will never hold a newborn again or spend the wee hours
of the morning breastfeeding her baby.
I then remembered other dear friends who have tried for
years to have a baby, only to see “Not Pregnant” on the test every time. I
thought of friends and family members who have lost babies, some so early in
pregnancy that almost no one knew they were expecting, others so far along that
they had a nursery ready in their home and delivered a lifeless baby.
Others were brought to mind too—friends facing marital and
family issues including abuse, divorce, and addiction. I thought of my own
family—as we have lost ones we love, and have encountered cancer, financial uncertainty,
and other dark times.
I sat in my quiet living room and cried. Brokenness is
inevitable in this world tainted by sin. Sometimes we need to take time in our
lives to let that soak in. To stop avoiding the fact that we are messed up,
that people have hurt us, and that there will not be an end to sadness and loss
this side of heaven.
As I was crying, my nine-month old daughter Maggie woke up
from her nap. I went in her room, picked her up, held her tight, and cried. I
told her I loved her. I thanked God that he has been gracious to give me two
children I do not deserve. And then I changed my baby’s diaper, because
although there is a time to mourn, we must also continue living our lives. We
must work, take care of our families, clean our homes, take showers, and do all
the other seemingly mundane things that are part of living in this world.
Because even though this world can seem so dark, it is not completely black.
There is some light—there is hope. And changing Maggie’s diaper and watching
her play with her toys reminds me of that.
“There is a time for everything, and a season for every
activity under the heavens. A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn
and a time to dance.” –Ephesians 3:1 and 4
