Baby pigtails, lollypop smiles…what could be better? This BIG SISTER is spilling the beans about the little sister joining their family this year! I couldn’t be more thrilled for the sweetest family.
Elizabeth has the biggest heart and has openly shared about her miscarriage last year. She has such a way with words, and having suffered loss myself, they spoke so strongly to me - I encourage you to read them below!
From Elizabeth:
“Matthew 14 talks about Jesus walking on water. Peter calls out “Lord if it’s you tell me to come to you on the water.” Jesus calls Peter to come. Peter gets out of the boat and he walked on the waves.
We know what happens next. Peter takes his eyes off Jesus and begins to sink. And I’ve always focused on that: the sinking.
But look what happens next, he begins to sink and he cries out, “Lord save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out and caught him. Immediately.
He asks Peter, “you of little faith, why did you doubt?” (I encourage you to read that again with the genuine and gentle tone of a loving father.)
We don’t get to hear Peter’s answer. They climb back in the boat and those who were in the boat worshipped Jesus.
There’s a lot of little sermons packed into this story, but I’ll point out a few things: Peter may not have had the faith to keep his eyes on Jesus, but he knew who to call when he began to sink. Jesus immediately rescues Peter. Jesus didn’t wait for Peter to figure it out. He didn’t let him suffer even for a minute to teach a lesson. He responds immediately. I’ve always focused on the sinking. On Peter’s shortcoming. But if you look at the last verse in the story, it is exactly Peter’s reckless faith that motivates everyone else to worship. Peter got out of the boat. He was the only one. And then he fell. And it wasn’t cute. But Jesus enters in. And you know what? Everyone else saw Jesus on display. And they worshipped Him.
I’m not strong enough to pick up the pieces of this loss. I’m not in a place to comfort anyone else because I’m freaking broken. But you know what? That was never my job. My job is to get out of the boat. To tell my story in all of its brokenness to magnify God’s glory. And to be honest, I’m not sure how those two things fit together right now. I’m learning to take a posture of grief while juggling everyday joy. I’m learning how to take opposing ideas— gratitude and longing, hurt/fear and hope— and hold them both in my hands. I’m learning to tell a story that isn’t finished. I’m learning how much of this is mine to carry and how much to leave at the feet of a God who is still a mystery. I’m learning more about a God who enters into this grief with me and sits in the hard places. And sometimes He doesn’t bring answers for me. Instead, he asks me if I’m going to continue to trust Him. Not for an outcome, but just trust Him. My flesh says “no.” But my heart sighs relief into the comfort it is to worship a God so big I cannot fathom. He’s so big. So much bigger than I knew. Big enough for my questions. He is my portion when there isn’t enough. He has met me with a peace that truly surpasses my understanding. He’s been there when I wasn’t sure I wanted Him. He is here. In the grief. In the mourning. In the brokenness. In my weakness. In the loneliness. In the dark night and there still in the bitter morning. In the unbelief. In the sinking.”
