In the raw wake of my Dad’s passing, I’ve found myself surprisingly thinking about another past loss that has slowly been bubbling to the surface of my mind over the past few weeks. I never had plans to share this because it’s a tender and private memory but I can’t stop thinking about the connections between the loss of my first child and the loss of my father. It’s amazing to me how much beauty God spun out of the pain from both of these losses. Praise His wonderful name.
I was saved by Jesus Christ in 2015 and J and I had been together 14 years. Not once during those years had either of us desired to have a child. But within a short amount of time, God changed my heart dramatically and I was surprised when I shared my new feelings of wanting to start a family with J that he was quickly and fully on board. Thankfully, God had been working abundantly on his heart, too.
By August 2015, I was pregnant. J and I were elated. I remember sitting next to J and just staring at the pink lines. I had never felt more alive. And then, around eight weeks, after a middle-of-the-night emergency visit to the ER, our dream came to an abrupt and painful end. Our Wren was gone.
And I felt robbed … robbed from meeting and knowing and adoring a girl who was sure to be one of the greatest loves of my life. I was grieving a life I was never given the chance to know. And with my Dad, I mourn the loss of great love that I came to know and love deeply.
The thing that has probably been the hardest to accept with Dad’s recent passing has been the thought that Dad won’t get to see our darling son grow up. But God’s plan is always good just as God is always good … and I’ve clung to that truth despite the dangerous spirals that heartache can take your mind. If you read my last story about my Dad, you’ll know how God used a huge rainbow to minister to my family. I have seen more rainbows during this valley of life than ever before. And as I was backing down my parents’ drive just the other day, I heard W say “Mama, look at that rainbow!” I turned my head and there was another big, bold rainbow shining over my parents’ home just like the one that appeared the day before my Dad passed.
And then a memory sprang to my mind. I remembered the rainbow I saw right after losing Wren. And that’s when I finally made the connection I feel God was illustrating to me for some time. While Dad can’t be here to see my son grow up, he’s in our eternal Home with the daughter who I can’t see grow up. And I know, without a doubt, that she is with him in the Throne Room dancing with her tiny 4-year-old toes on top of my Dad’s feet, swirling and twirling and laughing with joy … the way I often danced with Dad years and years ago. Both losses leave an undeniable ache but I love knowing that the God I serve always has our best interests at heart. My little girl gets to grow up with our Heavenly Father who is perfect in all ways and the best earthly Dad there ever could have been. I truly can’t wait to join you both and sing praises to our Lord together forever.
