Beauty from ashes

It’s Friday evening. Usually I don’t start writing until late Saturday night, and sometimes not until Sunday afternoon.

But I called out of all of my QVC shows for the day, and I have all the time in the world to sit and think and write. To consider how to write this week’s post, if at all. And to dwell on how peculiar life is, and how it is that God’s timing is perfect, but sometimes unfathomably so.

We’ve all been there: When the normal grind is suddenly disrupted by unexpected circumstances. When your hold on the future is gripped by the throat and shaken to the core. When you’re brought to your knees from the weight in your chest and refuse to get up until given answers.

Josh and I lived there this week. And in the midst of the chaos, no, he did not dress me.

I have no cute pictures of flouncy dresses to show you. No witty remarks about marriage or my husband stylist. I have no style advice to give you this week, because I spent it in sweatpants of my choosing and sweat-soaked t-shirts.

For the past three weeks, our little home has buzzed with joy and celebration following finding out I was pregnant. Three weeks crawled by as we anticipated entering the “safe zone” so we could tell our parents. We knew the chances of a miscarriage were higher than normal because I have PCOS, a hormone imbalance which can complicate getting and staying pregnant. We knew the risk but rejected fear, choosing instead to hope and pray.

In my heart, I believed God wanted me to keep the pregnancy to show the world that He’s bigger than statistics. I knew He was there when I told Josh angrily that “I would hate to get pregnant at this stage in our marriage”, referring to a rough patch in our marriage that we couldn’t seem to get past. And I know He delights in irony and grace and making beauty from ashes.

I cautiously reminded myself the same would be true were the outcome of the pregnancy a miscarriage. I’m reminding myself of that truth now, as I wonder how the pain of this loss fits into His plan.

This week, I was dressed in gray shades of uncertainty.

This week, Josh adorned me with the gentle, comfort of his touch and  unshakable peace.

This week, the only picture I took was a picture of me laying hands on my womb, flat and aching.

This week, I dwelt upon the beauty of community, knowing Josh and I would be overwhelmed with support and prayers and words of encouragement for future children.

This week, I prayed- hard- for you mothers and fathers who have also experienced this kind of grief. I thought of the women who have strongly gone before me, fiercely pursuing wholeness and hope, like my own Mother. I, too.

And finally, this week, I held on to my husband. My best friend, my rock, and the father of my someday children.

I share this information from a place of total vulnerability that I know may come across to some as TMI. Not to mention that sharing personal, sensitive information on a platform as vast and unforgiving as the internet is super scary. But I share with a longing for all to know that God’s love is so huge and beautiful and his plan for you so perfect and intricate, that fear is pointless.

You probably didn’t expect to read such a heavy post today, nor be preached to. So if you made it to this point, thank you for taking a moment to sit with us. It is beautiful and comforting to feel surrounded and supported by loved ones and friends.

Next week is moving week. I’m not really sure how to transition from this week’s unexpected tumult, but somehow, life goes on. Sometimes before I’m ready, and at times with a substantial limp, but it goes. And that, my friends, is a reason to hope.

Love,

Meg

 

“Of one thing I am perfectly sure: God’s story never ends with ‘ashes.'” – Elisabeth Elliot 

 

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photo by Autumn Kern Photography

 

 

 

 

7 thoughts on “Beauty from ashes

  1. Matthew Weston

    Tears have filled my eyes. I feel hope and sorrow all at the same time for both of you. I am currently in a different type of struggle. To be honest your words have touched me deeply.

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  2. Dear, dear Meg…I had a difficult time conceiving, followed by 3 miscarriages. Even though I am blessed with 4 amazing daughters, I’ve never forgotten the lost children. I’ve never forgotten curling up in a ball on the bathroom floor balling my eyes out ’til my husband rushed in unexpectedly (he was supposed to be on a business trip) to comfort me. (God sent him home.) I’ve never forgotten other hospital traumas related to miscarriage; nor forgot the moment I realized my grandma had nine children but had been pregnant 18 times (3 died right after birth!)…and how I told the Lord he “owed me” 3 since I had lost 3 (thinking of Grandma losing half and having half).

    This is the reason my 3rd daughter’s initials are ASK. He did answer my prayers and even gave me a bonus baby.

    My heart goes out to you and I wish I could hug you. So glad you have others to do so. And glad you shared this with us all. You aren’t alone, sweetie. And I’m sure the day will come that you’ll be looking, as I do, with amazement at your grandchildren and praising the Lord for His goodness.

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  3. Soohia

    Meg and Josh,
    My heart aches as I have experience this pain and void all too well. We lost two pregnancies both at 21 weeks, five months into the pregnancy. And although no words can tskenyour pain away. Only time heals the soul. Just know God has a plan for everything. You will be in my prayers and I will also pray to St. Gerard Majella to intercede for you to conceive( he’s the patron of expectant mothers), I prayed all my pregnancy on my last pregnancy. Many blessings your way.

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  4. I am sending love and prayers, and am mourning with you for your Little One.
    Your courage to share this can help many others.

    I know the Lord does not desire this grief for you… He desires only to bless you both. As you say, He can bring beauty from the ashes of even this kind of loss.
    I don’t have the ‘right’ words to convey my wishes for you, for healing and for your future, I choose rather to share with you His words that have helped me in difficult times.

    ‘To console those who mourn in Zion,
    To give them beauty for ashes,
    The oil of joy for mourning,
    The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;
    That they may be called trees of righteousness,
    The planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.’ (Is. 61)

    ‘In all their adversity He had adversity, and the Angel of His faces saved them; in His love and in His pity He redeemed them; and He carried them, and He bore them, all the days of eternity.'(Is 63:9)

    ‘And God shall wipe away every tear from their eyes; and death shall be no more, nor mourning, nor crying, nor shall there be distress any more, for the first things have gone away. (Rev. 21)

    ‘Blessed are they that mourn…for they shall be comforted’.

    I am so thankful you have each other to hold on to.

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  5. sarahchristmyer

    Sending you love, my dear. Something similar happened to us. I still feel the sorrow but God has brought to us such joy since. He is the master of bringing beauty from ashes. It’s what he does!

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  6. Meg Delagrange

    I finally had the chance to really read this. I’m not familiar with being on the other side of this and knowing what to say, even though I know it’s not about the right words. My own loss is still so close to my own heart that I thought it might be difficult but instead I felt like these words just radiate from the screen. I don’t believe a single person feels preached at or like a single word of this would be too much…. no, do not doubt your sharing or vulnerability for one moment. You are so beautiful in the midst of this. Trusting God through so much loss is like some of my favorite lyrics by Leonard Cohen, light shines through your shattered heart…. I was not supposed to have Emma after they diagnosed me with so many things, after I had already lost four sweet babies, but I did and she is an incredible miracle. Thank you for letting others sit with you. Thank you.

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  7. Laura

    ❤ I too have walked the road you are on. And for each one it is different, but the ache is real and deep. You are wise to seek comfort in community, because you are not alone. Praying for you! May the God of all peace, the kind that passes understanding, be with you now. Someday, we will know the faces we have never seen but have loved all the same.

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