Pressed but Not Crushed

I keep wondering about adding to this blog. I feel like so much of this story is not yet written, but it might be better to leave this chapter finished... But today I want to share, so share I will.

I was remembering yesterday, as weekends naturally bring Eden's birth to the forefront of my mind, what it was like in the recovery room as Eden's family and visitors poured in.

We were in a private and dimly lit room, holding a child we all knew was not likely to survive much beyond these precious moments and yet there was not a great pall of death in the room. There was not the unwelcome spirit of desperate grief. There was the prayer of my pastor, a prayer of intense spiritual struggle that comes out in only three words repeated "Jesus, Jesus, Holy Spirit, Jesus". Words that spoke volumes in their simplicity. There was heartbreak over prayers answered differently than we'd hoped. Tears ran freely. But there was joy. There was celebration of this little being that God had made so perfect in every way but one.

It is this joy that carries me. It is this joy that buoys my heart when my arms ache with emptiness.

I would never choose this journey. I would never wish it on anyone. Yet still, I am forever grateful to have been given the opportunity to walk with God through this trial.