When God Doesn't Show Up

What do you do when God doesn't show up for you? When you've prayed and prayed for him to do a miracle and he doesn't?

I've been thinking a lot about this lately, and I want to share with you some of the things I've learned. Over the next few weeks, I'll be looking at a few Biblical figures who went through difficult situations. Each of these people went through a difficult circumstance in which God could have stepped in and saved them but for some reason chose not to.

To start, let's look at Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego from the book of Daniel. Here's a summary of what happened:

The Babylonians (and King Nebuchadnezzar) defeated Israel and forced many of the Israelites into captivity. Among these were Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. In chapter 3, Nebuchadnezzar set up an image of gold and required all of the people in his kingdom to bow down to it. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego refused. Their refusal, of course, infuriated Nebuchadnezzar. He called them in and gave them one more chance to bow down. If they refused again, he told them he would throw them into the fiery furnace. Here's their response to Nebuchadnezzar's threat:

"If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up” (Daniel 3:17-18, emphasis mine). 

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego believed that God would save them. "He will deliver us," they said. Not might or could, but will. They trusted that God would save them. 

I think we could take a lesson from that. When I pray, I often lack that kind of faith. Maybe it's because I've been let down before. Or maybe it's because I'm scared of being let down again. Whatever the reason, I often fail to really believe that God is going to come through for me. Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego believed God would save them. 

But don't stop there. Look at what they said next: Even if he does not.

They believed God would save them (and probably prayed like they believed), but stood firm that even if he chose not to save them, they would not bow. Even if God let them die in the fire, they would not turn their backs on him. They would be faithful, regardless.

As we've started thinking about trying again for another baby, I can't help but ask myself if I would be as faithful. Would I refuse to bow, even if God does not give us a healthy pregnancy? Would I be faithful even if it doesn't seem like He is? 

What's interesting about this text is that God did eventually save Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. But it was only after they had walked through the fire. 

I think it's the same for us. Eventually, if we remain faithful, God is going to make everything right. Eventually. But that doesn't mean we won't have to walk through the fire first. 

When Trying to Have a Baby Becomes Your Idol

For about 2 years, having a baby consumed my life.

It was all I thought about. Every time I used the restroom, I worried about a miscarriage. Every time I heard a song on the radio, I related it to our circumstances. I focused on having a baby so much that I failed to enjoy life. My focus was on the 3 children I had lost, rather than on the child I already had.

I heard everything through my own lens of pain. When someone complained about their difficult day with a newborn, I became angry. I lost one of the things I've always loved about myself-compassion.

To put it bluntly, I allowing our God-given desire to have a child to become my idol.

I mistakenly believed that if only we could have another child, then I would be happy. If only we could have a successful pregnancy, then I would be content. The problem with idols, though, is that they never fulfill like you think they will.

So far, God hasn't granted me a successful pregnancy (though he has blessed us with a baby through adoption.) I'm reading a new book by Pete Wilson called "Empty Promises." As I've read through this book, God has reminded me over and over again of one thing. Even if he does grant my desire for a healthy pregnancy, a baby will not provide happiness. Sure, it might temporarily fill a void in my life. But eventually, I'll want something else. Eventually, a new void will form. A new void that, if I don't fill it with God, will eventually take over my life.

For me, having a baby became my idol. It became the one thing that I thought about all the time. The one thing that I allowed to consume me. But it might be something else for you. A job maybe. Or a nicer home. Or a relationship. One thing I can promise you is this: that thing (whatever it is for you) isn't going to make you happy. At least not for the long haul. There's only One thing that will, and I hope you'll allow him to take over that void in your life.

A Prayer For When You're Wondering Where God Is...

"You’re telling me that faith is all I need
But fear is all that I can find in me...

I just need you to take my hand..."

When Mother's Day Makes You Miserable

One thing I never realized before our miscarriages was how difficult certain holidays can be for those in the midst of grief. One holiday, in particular, that tends to be difficult for those of us who have angel babies is Mother's Day.

I have two living children whom I adore. Mother's Day is special for me because of them. On the other hand, it's nonetheless a reminder that my home is not complete. Three of my children aren't here. Do I treasure my three-year-old and six-month-old? Absolutely. But one child does not negate another. Regardless of any future children I pray we are able to have, there is still a piece of  my heart that longs for my babies in heaven. My guess is, this longing will always be a part of my life on this earth.

I also know that many women aren't as lucky as I. I have two living children-two squirmy, goofy boys that I get to laugh with and cuddle. Some babyloss mothers don't have any surviving children. Then there are other women who have never been able to get pregnant-women who have tried for years, gone through infertility testing, maybe even pursued adoption, all to leave them empty-handed.

Please remember these women on Mother's Day. I'm not asking you to cover up your own happiness or stuff your own joy. But I am asking you to care about those around you, to mourn with those who mourn, as Paul wrote. This Mother's Day, reach out to those women in your circles who don't get to hold any babies, who don't get to celebrate, who maybe aren't even treated like mothers. Reach out to the moms with empty arms. 

Happy Birthday, Eden

A beautiful tribute my parents made for Eden last year    

 For some reason, all the dates that circle around Eden are more difficult than those that circle around Jessie and Ella. I don't know if it's because she was our first loss or because I allowed myself to get more attached or what, but for some reason, her due date and loss date sting a little bit more than the others...

This week should be Eden's first birthday. On Friday, she should turn one. A friend of mine had her beautiful daughter a couple weeks before we should have delivered Eden. At first, this made it really difficult. It was hard to see her and think I should have one too. It was hard to celebrate with her when all I wanted to do was roll into a ball and cry.

But now, I feel a weird sense of peace when I look at that sweet baby girl. As I watch her grow, I can see what mine should have looked like. When she smiles and laughs, I can imagine Eden doing the same thing. The only difference is that she's doing it in Heaven instead of here on earth.

Happy first birthday, Eden. I hope Jesus gives you a big piece of cake to enjoy on your special day.

Why Do We Grieve?

When I was working on a post about what not to say to someone after she has miscarried, I had several women tell me what people had said to them. One of the comments was this: "Don't you think it's about time you got over it already?"

It is to that comment that I want to write today. I'm sure the motives of this person were good. I'm sure they thought that by encouraging her to move on, they would help. Good motives or not, though, this was not helpful.

Here's why: grief is weird. It's not something we can put on a timetable. It's not even linear. It's circular. It works its way through an individual with ups and downs. Even when someone feels like she has pretty much healed, grief can still rear its head again in the future.

As much as I hate the grieving process, I'm learning that it's really not all that bad. For one thing, it is through grief that we heal. Even more than that, though, it is through grief that we feel the depth of our love for someone.

Plain and simple: we grieve because we love.

I will NOT force myself to stop grieving, because I will not stop loving. Neither should you.

Why Easter Changes Everything

Last Easter, my husband and I were grieving the loss of two babies: Eden, whom we lost in October 2010 and Jesse, whom we lost in January of 2011. This Easter, we celebrated the gift of a new baby. A baby I never expected to receive.

It's amazing to me how God can turn around anything and make it new.

He used three miscarriages to bring us a baby. Death to bring life. Pain to bring beauty.

At a time when I didn't think God cared anymore, he proved that none of my tears went unnoticed. This past weekend, we celebrated Easter. For me, it was an Easter I'll never forget. Not because of the egg hunts or the time with family (though I enjoyed both) but because I think I finally understand what Easter is all about.

It's all about reversals.

On Friday, Jesus' disciples thought all hope was gone. On Sunday, God turned it all around.

On Friday, Satan thought he won. On Sunday, God proved the opposite.

On Friday, Jesus died and was buried. But on Sunday, His resurrection brought our restoration.

Death bringing life.
Pain bringing beauty.
Easter changes everything.

My Greatest Fear

I read this post a few weeks ago on a friend's blog, and it spoke to me so much that I wanted to share it with all of you. I hope it ministers to your hearts as well.

Please click here to read the post in its entirety.

What Makes A Mother?

To all the mothers whose babies are not at their sides...

Learning to Let Go

A couple of weeks ago, as I was getting my hair cut and talking with my hairdresser about our hopes for a healthy pregnancy in the coming months, I realized something. I don't really trust God with my future. I want to trust him. With all of my heart, I want to believe the verse that says his plans for me are good.

But if I'm really honest, I don't.

I'm afraid that when we try to get pregnant again, we'll have another miscarriage. Or maybe even have an unhealthy or stillborn child. If I've learned anything in the past two years, I've learned that God doesn't always give us what we want. We can pray non-stop, believe he's going to do a miracle, and still walk away empty-handed.

7 Helpful Things to Say After a Miscarriage

A couple of weeks ago, I re-posted a popular article entitled "What NOT to Say After a Miscarriage." I really hope that post will prevent someone from unintentionally saying the wrong thing after a miscarriage.

That being said, it's important that you don't allow your fears of saying the wrong thing to immobilize you. Those who have recently miscarried need your prayers . . . and they need your words of encouragement. I've put together this list of things you should say after a miscarriage. These are things that people said that encouraged me. Please keep in mind, though, that everyone is different. What helped me might not help someone else.


The most important thing when talking to someone who has recently miscarried is to think about your words, pray for God's guidance, and then relax and just show them you care. Even if you say something that's not exactly perfect, they'll be able to tell you love them. And that-in the long run-will mean more to them than words.

What To Say After a Miscarriage:

Having a Rough Day

I haven't had a rough day in awhile, so I guess it's time. I think it's been building for awhile. I want so much to be content and happy. We have been so blessed in the last few months. But I can't ignore the hurt that still lives in my heart. I just miss my babies. No other way to describe it. And I'm petrified of another miscarriage when we decide to try again. What if I'm never ever to carry a baby to term again? How am I ever supposed to get to a place that I'm okay with that? This isn't how it's supposed to be. Not for us. Not for anyone.

I know I've posted this song before, but it just fits today. (The second video is a little bit longer but explains the backstory of the video.)

Baby Ella-Not Here But Never Forgotten

Ella's Name in the Sand

Baby Ella's due date is today. A lot has happened since we lost her in August, the biggest event, of course, being our adoption of Caden. One thing that's been really hard since the adoption is that people act as though Caden's arrival negates the pain of three miscarriages. Don't get me wrong. I love Caden-adore him with all of my heart. That little man already has me wrapped around his chubby little finger. Nonetheless, having Caden doesn't make Ella's due date any less difficult. One child cannot replace another.

If you have never experienced a miscarriage, please hear me on that: one child cannot replace another. That rainbow baby can fill your life with joy. He can give you hope that God does still care about your pain. He can brighten your day with his toothless grin. But he can't-no matter how perfect he is-replace the baby (or in our case, babies) you lost. 

So today, on the day I should be holding Ella, I'm instead writing her a letter and hoping her Heavenly Father will read it to her:

Sweet Ella,
Today is the day you were supposed to be born. Today is the day your daddy and I were supposed to see you for the first time. I'm so sorry I wasn't able to carry you longer than 8 weeks. But on the other hand, I'm so thankful that you never had to experience any pain on this earth. You went straight from my womb into Jesus' arms. I love you, baby, and I can't wait to hold you in my arms someday. Keep your big brothers or sisters in line until we meet again. I love you always and will never-I promise you-forget you.

Until that day,
Mommy

What NOT to Say After a Miscarriage

This topic continues to be one the primary searches that leads people to my blog. Because of this, I wanted to re-post a couple of articles I wrote last year about what not to say and what to say after someone has a miscarriage. This one was originally posted on  June 29, 2011, shortly before our third miscarriage. I hope it helps you as you talk with your friends who have experienced a miscarriage.

What NOT to Say After a Miscarriage:

1. God needed your child more than you did. (Really? Because that would make Him a really weak God?)

Our Adoption Story

Years ago, I listened in on a workshop about adoption. At that time, though, I didn't really think adoption was something my future held. After all, I had heard about how expensive it can be, and I knew we couldn't afford to adopt unless God did some major work ahead of time.

Then, after our third miscarriage, while in the middle of fertility testing, my husband and I were approached about possibly adopting a baby boy that was due in a couple of months. To say we were overwhelmed was an understatement.

To All Miscarriage Survivors

This blog has been therapy for me. It's been a place where I can be completely honest (or at least, pretty much completely honest). And I truly believe God has used it to help heal my heart. For me, just getting my thoughts out there helped tremendously.

Because of this, I've been thinking that maybe other miscarriage survivors want a place to share too. Maybe you miscarried years ago and never really shared your story with anyone. Or maybe your loss is recent. Regardless of when your miscarriage was, I want to open my blog up for you. I want this to be a place for you to share your story-completely anonymous or with your name attached (whatever you prefer).

If this is something you might be interested in doing, please either leave a comment here or contact me through Facebook, Twitter or email. I'm not looking for anything in particular-no word counts to worry about or wisdom I'm looking to find. I simply want to offer you the chance to share your story. No strings attached. It helped me to share mine, and I pray it helps you too. 

How to Tell A Friend Who Recently Miscarried that You're Pregnant

I've had plenty of opportunities to figure out both good and bad ways to tell someone who has recently miscarried that you're pregnant. I hope this post helps you know how to better communicate with someone dealing with grief because of a miscarriage.

What Helps After a Miscarriage?

I noticed that several people found my blog by searching for this: "What helps after a miscarriage?" Unfortunately, I didn't really have a post that talked about this. Well, I will now! Here a few things that helped me heal after our miscarriages:

1. Talking about it with someone I trusted, someone who wouldn't judge me for feeling angry or abandoned by God. (If you don't have anyone like this in your life, a counselor might be a good place to start. I know it's expensive. But if it helps you heal, a few sessions are worth the money.)

2012: The Year of . . .

Photo Courtesy of Petr Kratochvil/ freestockphotos.biz

In January of 2011, I asked the Lord to give us a year of rainbows. As I read that post this morning, I felt the pain all over again. At that point, I had only had one miscarriage. Two more followed in the months to come. Looking back now, 2011 was not the year of rainbows I hoped for. In fact, the majority of the year was pretty painful. More storms than clear skies.

This year, I'm not asking God to give me rainbows. That way, if he doesn't, I won't be crushed like I was last year. I am asking for something else, though.

The faith to take whatever the year sends my way. Do I want a pain-free year? Absolutely. Do I long for a healthy pregnancy? Sure. But this year, I know there are no guarantees. God never promised me a carefree life. He never promised health. Never promised the easy road. What he did promise was this: that he would be with me through it all.

So 2012, I'm claiming you as the year of faith. May I be faithful, regardless of the weather of my life.

Dealing with Grief Over the Holidays

Last year, I found out I was pregnant right around Christmas. Then I miscarried on New Year's Day. Nothing like a miscarriage to start the year off, right? Needless to say, the holidays were difficult for me last year. If you're in a similar spot this year, here are a few things that might help you deal with grief over the holidays: