Even If

Isn't it strange how time can pass, but one song, one familiar scene, one reminder and suddenly you're right back in the moment like no time has passed at all?

Photo by Priceless Images by Ashley

Yesterday's culprit was Facebook's Memories feature. Song lyrics posted on Thursday, March 30, 2017:

"They say it only takes a little faith
To move a mountain
Well good thing
A little faith is all I have, right now
But God, when you choose
To leave mountains unmovable
Oh give me the strength to be able to sing
It is well with my soul"

- MercyMe


Rewind three days to Monday, March 27, 2017. I remember throwing on my Living Water t-shirt with a red sweater and nervously heading out the door. I remember cracking up laughing at the roadkill on the side of the interstate because it was a raccoon and it looked like the animals Shrek used as balloons in that goofy movie (yes, I have a warped sense of humor). I remember being nervous and wondering whether we'd see two heartbeats or one on the ultrasound. With three positive and rising betas, it never occurred to me that we wouldn't see a heartbeat at all.

Blood work was perfect. Maybe we'd just done the ultrasound too soon.

March 30, 2017 was the day we confirmed God had chosen to leave the mountain unmovable. My heart was in shambles and I'm not even sure my faith was as big as a mustard seed at that point. I was drowning in a sea of grief like never before.

But, God.

He sustained me. He used so many around me to lift me up. He helped me put one foot in front of the other when I didn't have the strength.

For years, I'd heard it said in Sunday services and small groups that it's important to cultivate faith in the good times so that it's strong enough to sustain us in the worst times. In the spring of 2017, I suddenly understood.

I can't ever hear that MercyMe song without at least briefly being back in that moment. Most days I just sing along and give thanks that on March 30, 2019, I woke up to a smiling 9-month old ready for a dry diaper and her morning meal. But every once in a while, I change the station or hit next on my Spotify because I still wonder who they would have been. And you know what? That's okay. There's no time limit on grief and healing isn't linear.

Today, March 31, 2019, our little family went to church, snagged some lunch, and got all spiffed up for family pictures--the last in our current home before we hand it off to a new family and start our new life down the road from the family farm.

In a mere two years, God has changed everything. He has redeemed our story, given us new beginnings, healed our hearts in so many ways, and created beauty where once stood scattered ashes.

He is good in our lowest valleys. He's good in our every day. He's good when we can't see it. He's good when we can. He's good when we can't understand. He's good in the waiting, in the silence, in the heartbreak, and when we don't get the answers we long for. And He was as good on March 30, 2017 as He is today.

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