The Point

A few years ago, I saw a Grey’s Anatomy about a pregnant woman who fell and broke her arm. In true Greys’ fashion, she had not only broken her arm but the fall had caused her to lose the baby as well. There was a scene of the doctors watching this woman and her husband as they examined her new cast amidst smiles and laughter. Just before the doctor went in to tell them that they had lost the baby, a nurse said, wait. Give them a few more moments of happiness before you shatter their world. And so the next few minutes were spent watching this happy couple thinking everything was right in the world, complete with dramatic music that, on its own, would probably be enough to make you cry. The next scene was this woman, in labor, working so hard through the physical pain and yet knowing that the outcome would be her stillborn child.

I watched this years before I ever got pregnant with Mia. Yet I thought about it for weeks to come. I just couldn’t believe that you would have to actually give birth, go through the pain of labor and give birth to your stillborn child. It just seemed like adding insult to injury to me. I don’t know how I thought they would get the baby out otherwise, I had never thought about it before, but I was just so surprised that she had to go through all that pain and for what. To go home from the hospital empty handed. To walk into her nursery and know that for at least a year, there would be no infant lying in that crib. No baby dripping in pink or blue.

When I told Paul about it, thinking he would be as appalled as I was about the injustice of it all and the seemingly pointless suffering they went through, he just shrugged it off as another overly dramatic storyline of Greys. He’s not a big fan. Ok, that might be an understatement.

But these stories are real. They happen. To people we know. I have heard from so many people about how they delivered their baby knowing they had already lost her. Or delivered knowing that he would only live a few days. And what took me by surprise was that there is no bitterness in these stories. They all seem to have an underlying sentiment of gratefulness. Of being thankful for the opportunity to have the baby. To meet the baby. Even to just have the privilege of carrying the baby.

The last several weeks I have been wondering what the point of the journey is. I feel like I am being prepared for something. But for what? I think I am starting to see some of the possibilities of purpose.

I went to an event tonight with Joni Eareckson Tada (a quadriplegic from a diving accident who started the non profit Joni and Friends which serves people with disabilities and their families all across the world). Paul used to work at her organization and is now on the board. As we were talking, she said that one of the things about going through a cancer scare was how it brought her closer to her husband. She lamented about the challenges of suffering but stated that it is in those times that the splashovers from Heaven are seen. Meaning, that is when God is closest to us. It’s when we get a taste of him, his mercy, and his grace. We sang a song that goes “This is my story, this is my song. Praising my savior all the day long” and she stated that our life is our story but the point is God’s story being told through our lives. I think she’s right.

If suffering is what brings us closest to God, then it is in suffering that we can most closely know who God is – and if our goal is to be more like him (like Jesus), then, right there, is a good reason to go through suffering. The things that we go through develop character traits that, if processed correctly, can replicate the character of God. We can become more compassionate, loving, accepting, humorous. All traits of God’s.

I recently received an email from my brother that said thank God for God’s Hands. That’s it, I thought, that’s the point.

The point is Gods Hands. His hands that guide, that mold, that protect, that heal. It’s the whole idea about life being more about the journey than the destination. And just like the stories I have heard from other moms and dads who lost their babies, they are not asking what was the point. They are thankful, grateful for the time they had with their baby. Even if it was just for 9 months in mommy’s tummy. There is learning in that. There is suffering in that. And suffering is what brings about compassion and healing. Not just for ourselves but so that we can share it with those in our lives that will inevitably go through suffering too.

Just like when riding the roller coaster, it’s not about the end. It’s about the whole track. The scary parts. The parts that allow you to catch your breath. And the comfort of knowing that you are strapped in. Held. By God’s hands. Its exhilarating.

And what changes is you. Is me. The shaping that takes place. The learning that takes place. The walls that come down or the thick skin that is grown. That’s what’s important. Those changes are what grow us, develop us and make us the people we become. But we have to accept it – the whole thing. We have to accept the path. And we have to accept the changes. If we don’t, we protect ourselves with a layer of resentment which quickly turns into bitterness. Cynicism. That is certainly not the point of suffering.

It can be painful to accept the process of change in you. But it’s worth it. I think that’s why the moms and dads I have heard from are free from anger. From resentment. From bitterness. They have accepted it. Sure there are questions that they still have but there is also an underlying peace. They are choosing to rest in God’s hands.

Thank God for God’s Hands.

I couldn’t agree more.

Maybe these journeys are in preparation for something else. Maybe they’re not. Maybe it’s just to become a little more like our Creator - a little more sympathetic to those that miscarry, a little more compassionate to those that cannot get pregnant, a little more thankful for the family members we have already.

A way for God to tell His story through us. And His story is one of love, compassion, mercy, grace, and power. As our stories unfold and we allow his hands to mold them into his story, these are qualities that we begin to reflect. We start to share them with the people in our lives. And we all begin to live with more love, more power, more intention than ever before. It changes us, our interactions, our purpose.

That’s a good enough reason for me to go through a journey of any kind.