Looking back over the weekend, I stand in awe of the awesome power of God. On Friday afternoon, Chris and I ran down to the city for a doctor appointment and to pick up a few gifts. We didn't plan on doing much shopping as we had a youth event we needed to get back to town for. After our appointment, we swung by the big Christian book and gift store and found what we needed. As we were paying, a guy in line beside us got a phone call and told his wife that the sirens were going off in our area. But it looked sunny outside from our angle. We walked outside and Chris turned back to the west - and interrupted me to say, "Get in the car now!" There was a huge, dark, low-hanging wall cloud bearing down on us. We hopped in and tried to get out of Omaha - except so was everyone else. We were in stop-and-go traffic on the interstate when the storm hit a few minutes later. It was insane - winds gusting to hurricane force, torrential rain in an already saturated area, and bucketloads of hail. I was nervous - but taking pictures. Chris thought it was awesome and kept calling friends to tell them that we were in the Storm of Death. I'll upload pictures later but they don't do it justice. We found out yesterday that two teenage boys were killed during the storm when a tree fell on the car they were sitting in. Please pray for their families.
On Saturday, we got the call that our friends had delivered their baby girl and we were excited to get the news.
But later in the day I was hit by feelings of sadness - mostly about us not getting to have a baby yet and sad that our baby wasn't still growing in me. And I've been sad about this before so that wasn't all that different. But there was also a restlessness in the sadness, and I wrestled with it all night. And then this morning during worship, our pastor prayed for all those with hurting hearts, and encouraged us to seek His face even in our hurt and disappointment (he knows about our miscarriage and sometimes, although I know he is praying for the whole congregation, I feel like he is speaking right to my heart). I teared up for a few minutes. And then as we sang another song, our worship leader encouraged us to get our hearts right with God, just listen to what He has to say and open our hearts to it. And you know what, I shocked the crap out of myself. Because I didn't meekly ask for forgiveness or for any specific prayer request. I got angry. Really, stinking, raging angry.
(I'm digressing here for a second but I want to refer you back to a postby Angie Smith on her blog Bring the Rain. I read this post in the midst of the miscarriage and I remember sobbing it out to God. If you haven't been yet, go check out her story and the entire entry. But I'll post this here for the link-weary, and for the sake of brevity, this was the most important part of the post for me. Angie writes,
And it was weird. I remember being sad and disappointed and hurt and let down and fragile and unloved. But I haven't felt this kind of rage in a very long time, if ever. And I don't know if I've ever been angry like this at God. And I told Him so. I told Him how angry I am that I see all these other people, some who don't even want them, having babies, getting to be parents, blah, blah, blah. And you know what - He took it. He took it and then He filled me with a peace. He still left me some of the anger, because He knows I need to work that out, but he also gave me this peace that told me, reassures me that He does have it all under control. And whether I cry or scream or rage or be still, He will be there. He is there. He is here.
And now I am simply tired. Not exhausted. But tired. Ready to sleep and dream and pray and to wake up to a new tomorrow that He has planned for me.
Good night, Friends.