Sparrows

“I got you a present!” I told Lily, my five-year-old, who was buckled into the backseat of our SUV.

“A present… for me?!”

“Yes, for you.”

I handed her the small bird book I had picked up at the local used book store, a catalog of commonly spotted birds from Montana. You would have thought I got her a diamond ring . . . “Ohhh, thank you, Mother!”

Since that day, we have talked about birds. We go for walks and notice birds. Pecking at worms in the grass. Flitting from one tree to another. Singing outside our window in the morning. Birds are everywhere, and they always have been; they haven’t changed, but I have. Now I have eyes to see them.

An owl has been hanging out around our house at night. Her repetitive call is eerie yet comforting. We don’t really know if it’s a girl, but Lily named her Julia. One night, she was right outside our window and about every 30 seconds called out with a whooo..who…who…who. According to the internet, this identifies her as a Great Horned Owl.

Now that we know about Julia, we see her occasionally. Flying from house to house in the neighborhood. Up in a tall pine tree on a morning walk.

Bird watching has helped me to see how much is happening in the world around me and how small I am in the grand scheme of things. I am more in awe of my Creator, who knows all things and controls all things.

I used to really fear bad stuff happening to me. I would tell myself, If this specific event ever happened to me (insert tragedy of choice), I don’t think I could handle it. I didn’t really know how I was going to handle suffering until I went through it, but telling myself in advance I wasn’t strong enough was not a great place to start. This fear of future maladies kept me living in a mentality of self-protection and self-preservation. Over the years, as hard things have happened, I have built more resilience, by God’s grace, and am not as fearful of the future.

In the experience of my last birth, and an emergency delivery, God clearly protected us. This has been a full circle realization that I am not in control, I am not in control at all.

This is both terrifying and liberating.

As I spend time reading the Bible, I am getting to know better the God who is in control. The God who holds my life in his hand. This God is the arbiter of life and death. I am beginning to scratch the surface of the sovereignty of God, and while so many things are still mysterious to me, I now consider his sovereignty a blanket of comfort in times of sorrow.

We got pregnant with our fifth baby. We were so excited. The kids started telling people that our family was growing again.

This pregnancy felt different. My symptoms were not as potent as I am used to, and that made me feel uneasy. Around 8 weeks, I became anxious and distressed. I was listening to an Elisabeth Elliot speech, and she encouraged the listeners to surrender to God whatever was weighing heavily on their minds. She mentioned that surrender is a choice and not a feeling. I thought, Well, I trust my husband completely with the lives of my children. If God loves me even more than my husband does (which I believe is true even if I don’t feel that way all the time), then I can trust God with this child.

I got on my knees in the living room and surrendered our child to God. I prayed that God would use this baby for His glory. I gave up my sense of control to the One who knows all things. Then the anxiety ceased. Like when Jesus calmed the storm on the sea.

The next day, we found out that I had miscarried. I was in pain. We were heartbroken. It felt like my whole body was grieving.

I had never studied for myself, what happens when babies die? Do they go to be with God? Will I see this baby in Heaven? There aren’t any explicit verses that say that they do. Some theologians infer that because God is just, babies go to Heaven because they cannot make a conscious decision to follow Christ. There is one verse, though… 2 Samuel 12:23. David has been fasting and praying, asking God to spare his baby son, who is severely sick. When the son dies, David eats and washes up. His servants are confused by David’s grieving process.

That last line is the only verse in the Bible that I have found that hints at what may happen when a baby dies. David says, I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me. David expects to be reunited with his son someday.

Now . . . my kids and I read the Bible together, and we happen to be reading through 2 Samuel. This specific chapter was exactly where we left off in our Bible reading, and the first chapter that I read to them after the miscarriage.

The medical staff who checked on me could tell that our baby had stopped growing after just a few weeks. The moment I gave our baby to God, I think God already had him.

Our kids are so resilient. They know that our baby died. They pray that God will give us another. They are so so sweet to me, and they helped take care of me as I healed.

When we first moved to Montana, we purchased some chickens. They arrived in a box at the post office. It’s hilarious how in the spring, the post office is full of the sound of chirping. When we opened the box, most of the chicks were happy and healthy, but one of them was dying. When it died, we buried it. It felt so sad to lose this tiny life. So fragile and weak.

Throughout the aftermath of the miscarriage, I have had this image in my mind of a bird in God’s hand. Just this tiny fragile thing. And that not even one sparrow falls to the ground without the Father. He holds life, and he holds death.

Another comfort in this season of loss has been Romans 8:28.

Now I used to think that this meant that God would turn MY circumstances around for MY good. That He would make the bad things that happen to ME, benefit ME somehow. But I don’t read it that way anymore.

I view this verse as a promise that because I love God, anything that happens to me, He will put that thing to work for the overall good that He has in mind. He might use my story to bring healing to someone else. He might use this event to bring courage or comfort to my children when they experience hardship.

I have a hard time envisioning what Heaven will be like. But I know that the best days of my life here on earth are when I met my children. At first, when I miscarried, it felt as if all this effort was for nothing, even though I knew logically that wasn’t true. Going through pregnancy, especially the first trimester symptoms, has been worth the struggle at the end when I have a beautiful baby in my arms. It felt like I was making sacrifices for a baby, but I didn’t get the reward in the end. But now I wonder, do I still get that joy of a new child, and is it just delayed? Do I have a treasure waiting for me in Heaven?

When I miscarried, it felt like my whole being was wrapped up in a ball around this tiny seed that I wanted to protect. I loved this child even though I didn’t know him. Does God care for me in this kind of intense and emotional way? The way that I care for my children?

This week at church, our pastor preached a sermon from Psalm 22 about the cross. As I reflected on my Savior hanging on the cross, I saw His arms open wide, a posture of complete exposure and vulnerability.

Does God care? Yes.

He cares enough to come to earth and suffer. To be tortured. To die a long and horrendous death. And his death and resurrection, and the power that comes from that, are enough to cover me now. To cover my grief and my pain. God might not remove every trial that comes through my path, but he paid the price to carry the sting of my suffering if I will offer it to him.

A few weeks ago, I was reading in Matthew, and I read this passage:

I thought, It’s interesting that Jesus is asking those who are weary to come and carry his yoke. Then I asked myself, What is the yoke of Christ?

I think that maybe the yoke that Christ is referring to is his cross. How could the cross be easy and light?

We see again later in Matthew that Jesus asks his followers to take up the cross.

I think that the only way to get rest from the heavy burdens that life brings is to carry them to the cross. So here I am, imperfectly carrying this cross of my sorrow, to the God who already paved the way, to the God who fills me with His power to do all things. All things through Christ who strengthens me.

A good friend asked me how Colten and I are grieving.

Well… it hurt, and we did grieve.

But…

Colten and I are committed to living a life that is not about us. We aren’t here for our own plan. We aren’t here to make sure all our dreams come true.

We wake up every day and try to lay our lives down for the Kingdom of God. We try our best to find ways to love and to serve, and we offer ourselves as living sacrifices to the one who paid it all. Some days this looks like folding laundry and preparing meals. Some days, this looks like offering our broken hearts to God.

I know I’m not the only one who is grieving a loss, and I know that my loss may pale in comparison to what you are walking through right now. I am praying for you. God knows every detail of your situation. If you are going through a miscarriage or other hardship, I pray that the God of all comfort comforts you, too, by the power of the Holy Spirit.

If you would like to share your story or a prayer request, we would love to hear from you via email. Colten and I will pray for your situation.