Piecing Together Threads of Hope

by Alecia Klauk
(Chapin, SC)

The last two months since losing my third baby in the womb and almost my own life along with her have been the most difficult ever: full of great trial, enormous pain, debilitating confusion, and searing grief. Throughout these days, I have wanted desperately to find some sense of purpose, some shred of hope, some semblance of assurance. I will admit it has been slow in coming. But a corner has been turned, unexpected, at least as surprising as the initial jolt of trauma.

A few weeks ago, I started to feel like perhaps it would never get better. My normally optimistic, sanguine nature had given way to a darker, more obtuse expression of fear, doubt, pessimism, and gloom. I did not recognize myself, and it scared me. I have to pause here and acknowledge that I still have moments where I visit that place, but a few days ago, it mercifully ceased to be my home.

I was watching TV. Bored. Lonely. Hurting. Waiting. I flipped on a movie I used to love, but as with most previously-enjoyed things in a depressed state, it had little appeal. I decided to watch anyway.

An epic tale of good versus evil, I entered one of my favorite scenes, one in which trump is held fast by the good guys. I loved watching that triumph, and I felt something shift deep within me, a rusty cog moving from its paralysis.

I waited for more. It came. A depiction, however small and human-guided, of evil became a moment in my heart. I watched a brief glimpse of man's interpretation of the malevolent force that attempts to obscure light and life. I felt what it was more than I observed it. Dark. Blood-thirsty. Merciless. Cold. Destructive. Hungry. Unsatisfiable. Scary. Yucky.

And it hit me like a drench in cold water: that is NOT my Jesus! THAT is not my Jesus! That is not MY Jesus! I realized that part of my emotional stuckness was some deep-hidden fear that maybe He didn't really want to protect me, wasn't really after my best, didn't really love me the way He said.

I fell for the original temptation: all the way back in the garden, the evil one began asking man, "Did He REALLY say ...?" Doubt is the enemy. And I had succumbed. Pain does that. It screams and the still small voice feels still and small.

But in that moment looking at the TV screen, that voice, THE voice, became louder than all the others, and I heard my King beckoning me once more toward belief and truth: He loves me. He loves me. He loves me. There is no shifting shadow in Him. None of that brief glimpse of evil resides anywhere in Him ... He cannot even tolerate it around Him! My heart went from a static tension to peace in that second. I was overwhelmed with WHO my God is. That proved to be just the beginning of a shift.

A few days later, I had the monumental job of helping my daughter walk through her own valley. She had surgery last week, and a few days before, she just was feeling such natural emotions: frustration, confusion, anxiety. None of these intense, none overwhelming, but present.

She needed help to navigate those waters, and of course, it needed to be mom and dad. For a handful of hours, my bed became a construction zone in the building of an Ebenzer while we laid brick on brick of the faithfulness of God on her life. We told her story after story of the miracles she's received, many while she was too young to even remember.

But I remembered. I needed to. What peace it brings to look back and see all those places of being held. Like earthquakes producing eruptions of good, my heart shifted again. And still there would be more ...

The surgery went well, exceptionally well. She handled it with the grace she always does, and the doctor was quite pleased with the result. I sat at her feet all afternoon while she slept and read a book about a little boy who had visions of Heaven. Finished it in three hours. Cried all the way through, and the Lord had things to say to me there. Healing things.

The part that moved me most was the description of this boy meeting his sister, who unknown to him, had died in the womb before he was born. He describes the swirl of their union laced with her affection for him. She knew him. I could hardly read through my torrent of tears. And my mind began to wander, to wonder ...

What are my three babies in waiting doing? I don't know how to reconcile there being no tears in Heaven and still being able to feel longing, but I wonder if somehow that is possible and if they are anxious to meet me. The book describes prayers offered from those in Heaven for those on earth. Is that possible ... and if so, are my children praying for me right now?

What do they look like? The boy and his living sister look just like their dad, but his sister in glory looked like her mom. That really got me. None of my living children have my blue eyes, and I wonder if those in waiting do. My mind jumped to this recollection: right after we lost this baby, I had my family ring altered to include my WHOLE family.

Let me describe it to you: there are three strips of gold: Father, Son, and Spirit that make the foundation of the ring and my life. Two strips of small diamonds intersect and wrap around the larger stones. Those strips are me and my Beloved, the us that started the larger we. And then there are five diamonds, one for each of the ones I have the pleasure of raising. But my other children were missing, and it hurt my heart.

So I had three stones added, interspersed into the ring with the other stones, all wrapped around by the strips of diamonds and supported by the strips of gold. Those stones are blue ... and as I read that book, I wondered if God had chosen that color. The stones are blue topaz, the same stone that was the centerpiece of the last gift my parents gave me together while they were still married. The same stone that is the shade of my blue of my eyes.

Was that a sign? I sure hope so! And in my feeble heart, my exhausted, pained heart, that mere possibility sprang forth with a vision of truth that my children are REAL. What if, just what if they have blue eyes? Somehow, that one tiny shred of information made them all feel so much more real.

My heart longs to see them, but I know I will. I know for sure I will. And if I am wrong and it is merely wishful thinking about the blue eyes, I won't know until that no tears thing applies to me, so I think I'll risk a little hope! I could sure use it.

A few days later, I was listening to a song I've largely avoided over the last two months. "Hope's Anthem." We named the baby Hope, and it has just been more than I could handle. But I listened to it again a few days ago, and -- again -- something shifted from all the gentle strokes of healing the Lord has been doing in my heart.

I had sung those words before I ever knew I was pregnant. I sang them fearful of losing the baby. I sang them when we feared she was gone. I sang them while we hoped she lived. I sang them when we knew she died. Then I didn't sing at all.

I am starting to sing again, and I am unspeakably thankful for the new song of Hope that is beginning to strum gentle chords. All is not well, but it will be. I am sure of that ... as sure that my God holds no dark side, that He has been faithful for years, that my children are waiting. All so full of hope, and I think I am ready to feel it again.

Let these words wash over you and perhaps bring a new thread of hope to you as well ...

He's awakening the hope in me
By calling forth my destiny
He's breathing life into my soul
I will thirst for Him and Him alone

He has come like the rain
That showers on the barren plain
So my heart and tongue confess
Jesus Christ, the Hope of man

My hope is in You, God
I am steadfast, I will not be moved
I'm anchored, never shaken
All my hope is in You

He's bringing hope to the hopeless
And giving his heart to the broken
And sharing His home with the orphan
He is the joy, He is my joy

He is the hope of the nations
The father's heart we're embracing
He is the song we're declaring
He is the joy, He is my joy

Why so downcast oh, oh my soul
Put your hope in God alone