Grief mixed with joy

We can deal with the ambulance if God is in it.  We can stomach the ICU if God is in it.  We can face the empty house if God is in it.  He is.  (Max Lucado)

 

When I arrived at the girls' safe house Tuesday morning, we were met with several shouts of "Awesome!"  Two weeks ago I taught them the word and its significance in Spanish when we played the "Awesome Game."  I told them several times over that they were AWESOME.  And they are.  They have overcome the unspeakable.  Thirteen girls.  One girl, who was never given the opportunity to learn to read or write, dictated during our journal expression, "I don't want to be here.  I want to go home."  Most of these girls have no idea how long they are staying at the safe house or what will happen next in their process.  They are waiting without seeming direction.  I was told they are waiting to testify.  Many times we enjoy their smiles and laughter.  Other times they look at us without expression, or maybe with a sadness so deep there is no expression.

Two nights ago Phil and I mourned the loss of Ronan, God's precious gift to our nephew and his wife who carried him for just 23 weeks in her womb and later held him for a few precious hours upon her chest until he entered eternity.  His father said, "I don't understand it.  But even as I am filled with sadness God has given me joy.  Joy to know our tiny son is with my mom in heaven.  Joy because I sense God's love and provision through the staff at the hospital and through people who have encouraged us.  More than anything, I want Ronan's older brothers and sister to learn that there is no fear in death."  Tears rolled down my face as I listened.  He told us that a family in the same hospital experienced the opposite.  Their baby lived, grew strong and went home with his family, on the very same day Ronan struggled and breathed his last on this earth.  And yet, knowing this, our nephew experienced the miracle of joy and gratefulness even as he grieved.

Today my beautiful niece and her husband have returned to another continent to visit their two adopted daughters, daughters who because of failed process outside of their control, were never allowed to leave their birth country and experience a new life with their parents.  I can hardly fathom the depth of love which would return these parents to hold their girls, knowing fully that they will experience the deep loss and pain of saying goodbye, again... 

Like my nephew, my niece, and the girls, I have found that God miraculously allows me to hold both grief and joy in my heart, even in the same moment.  Because He dwells in me.  He who endured the cross for the joy that was set before Him.