A Note to My Readers ~ Three weeks ago, I sat down with my journal and began writing an account of my life over these last 2½ years—a season filled with one hardship after another for my precious family. Many tears fell as I remembered the difficult times. And yet, in the midst of the heartache, I saw many glimpses of hope and joy and peace. I saw God’s love and faithfulness to my family during this long season. He was there every moment. It’s my prayer that as you read the stories within this three-part series, you will also see the hope I found during this winter season.
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Winter descended upon my family more than two years ago, transforming the serene landscapes of our lives into a season marked by hardships and heartaches.
This season began with a round of flurries when my dad was diagnosed with throat cancer in November 2010. Believed to be stage 1 cancer, the doctor gave an optimistic prognosis: a full recovery if my dad underwent 28 radiation treatments.
Cancer was not new to my dad and my family. At the age of 36, my dad was diagnosed with malignant melanoma skin cancer and at 46, colon cancer, both detected in the early stages and treatable. With this track record, I was confident my dad would win this third battle against cancer.
I had HOPE.
Two months later, I discovered I was pregnant. A joyous yet apprehensive moment for me. My husband and I yearned to grow our family with another precious child. But a history of miscarriages had prevented us.
I immediately visited my doctor to make sure all was well with the pregnancy. A couple of blood tests later, my doctor called with the results. Her matter-of-fact words stung: “I’m not optimistic about this pregnancy.”
Winter’s snowfall thickened and frosty gales penetrated deep.
How could this be happening again?
I called my mom, weeping as hopelessness overwhelmed me. In that moment of despair, she spoke sweet words of life to me.
HOPE breathed into my heart and soul.
“Pray,” my mom said. “Nothing is impossible for God.”
This call to prayer restored my HOPE.
Over the next several days, many prayed for my precious baby.
HOPE birthed a renewed commitment within me
to love and follow Jesus no matter the outcome.
Loving God no matter what. . . no matter what.
Eight days later, I lost my baby.
I sobbed in the arms of my husband. In the days that followed, I was wrapped in the tender love and comfort of family, friends, and my sweet Jesus.
In the midst of my grief, my love and commitment to God stood strong.
And I would need this in the months to come.
~ TO BE CONTINUED~
Please stop by tomorrow for Part 2 of this story. And if you have a few minutes, please watch the music video. I pray it will bless you as it has me. :0)