This is the life He has called us to. One of loving and losing. One of extremes. Great joy and great sorrow- sometimes all mixed up into one. This is the life we have said yes to- because we live for the joy and we live through the sorrow because that bit of joy mixed into it all is what makes it all worth it.
Like medicine hidden in chocolate. The joy keeps us going. The sorrow teaches us to trust and lean and bring it all to the feet of Jesus.
And it’s in moments when yet another baby dies that we think- why the hell did we say yes to this? Why did we say yes to loving? Why did we say yes to a world full of disease and death and corruption and cruelty? Why did we say yes to a God that never promised to stop the hard times from coming?
And we breathe in deep… and we force our heart to calm and soften and open to the Truth that washes healing through us. Because that joy that keeps us coming back for more- that is JESUS. He is what makes beauty from the ashes… He makes beautiful things out of us… He is who makes it all worth it… He is the one that brings the love we pour out each and every day… and He is the only one that can bring the healing and renewal.
We love and we lose. And yet we gain Jesus through the whole process. And we gain eternity with the one we are losing.
Baby Peace, Baby Joel, Baby Shamim- We miss you. We love you. We cannot wait to see you again.
I wrote this two weeks ago when Baby Shamim went to be with Jesus. I wrote it for my friends who loved Shamim and fought for her life no matter the cost. I didn’t send it… I don’t know why. Maybe because these truths hadn’t quite made it from my hands to my heart and Jesus knew I would need them this week.
Sweet, Precious Ajuma went to be with Jesus this morning. I’m not going to lie- I don’t feel at peace, I’m not trusting God, I’m not strong.
For once I want a baby to live. For once I want a miracle. I’m sick of loving and caring and working for lives only to watch them slip away. I’m sick of being positive and dreaming about the day they’re running around and laughing only to see that image crushed to pieces.
But you know what? This isn’t about me. Madeline L’engle wrote “compassion means to suffer with, but it doesn't mean to get lost in the suffering, so that it becomes exclusively one’s own.”
The moment this grief becomes all about me is the moment I’ve lost sight of what this all means.
So friends please join me in having compassion for Ajuma’s family- his family that are grieving the loss of their son and brother, a family that sat by his bedside for months at a time, the family that didn’t blink before sacrificing anything that was asked of them to try and save their son’s life. They need your prayers.
And please friends join me in remembering the hope we have in Christ. It is because of Jesus that Ajuma is dancing in heaven fully healed and fully whole. It is because of Jesus that we do not need to grieve. It is because of Jesus that we know the sadness with only last for a season.
It is because of Jesus that we have the strength to do this again. Love and lose. Again and Again. And humbly pray that we leave glimmers of Christ along the way.