He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress; My God, in Him I will trust.” ~ Psalm 91:1-2
The rain falls and falls, gushing into the earth, painting the doctor’s office window with dripping diamonds, trying to reach into the cracks and crevices inside me. Nothing can fill the new empty place that aches, presses my heart into a sharp, pointed origami shape. Silence on the screen. No, no.
Where are you, little one? Stay, stay.
My hand butterflies over you, surrounding and protecting, praying. But the woman’s gaze bounces from you to me, falls short of meeting mine. I know and the ache swallows me. My hand cups what was, what could have been. You. Our hearts, multiplied into new life.
Where are you, little one? Stay, stay. I will carry you.
She watches the bleak screen for pounding moments, moments topped with questions and bottomed with denial, then shakes her head. “The heartbeat is gone.” The words make her mouth a sad slash of red that offers us only what we won’t hear. Can’t understand. No, no. The rain pours over everything, steals my breath as my hand fists into denial. You are gone?
Where are you, little one? Stay, stay. Still, I carry you.
A quick head shake, sympathetic eye contact, words spoken with care and concern. Emptiness echoes across our souls like rumbling thunder. We leave the office, our emotions bleeding out like my body did hours before. How much we wanted you. Love you.
We miss you, little one. And you’re still carried. Always. Just as He carries us, you are still carried.
*******
I read my sister’s dreaded text as the boys’ sapling arms hemmed me in, walking three across in the Publix parking lot. Groceries fell by the wayside of broken real life. “The news is not good.” My heart dropped low, heavy. Oh, no. I carefully shared the soul-stomping news with our boys, their expressions collapsing as hurting questions raised. We were pain-wrapped on behalf of our loved one who lost this little life. The pain was insistent, sharp, certain. We wrestled with God and gave my sister grace space to grieve and process, all of us asking the eternal “why’s?” while trying to acknowledge His will, His ways, so much higher than ours ...
His mercy – in the heavens, His faithfulness – reaches to the clouds …
Later, while out in our backyard, white contrasting green pulled my gaze downward, to the earth. I stopped, stooped. By itself on a clump of thick St. Augustine grass lay a lone pebble. Slightly bigger than a quarter, grayish-white like clouds building across the Gulf on a stormy summer day, the pebble was clearly heart-shaped. Mine skipped and thudded as I pressed it into Cole’s warm palm. Amidst prayers and pained questions, God dropped a little white heart into our yard, His grace-filled reminder.
God never leaves us or forsakes us, and the little ones who are lost – who leave empty spaces in our hearts, whose hands we never get to hold – are valuable and loved by him. They are still carried.
We love you Mindy, Kerry, and Cody.
Kerry Johnson 