Kyriou

Next month, Kyriou would have been born. We named our baby, whose gender was unknown, a Greek word that means "of the Lord" or "belonging to the Lord." Many people didn't know the tragedy we experienced earlier this year. It was during a busy time (really, what time isn't?) and we pretty much kept on trucking. Does that mean we're strong? Not really. It means we're actors. But now, maybe because it's Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month, I'm making you aware. As Christians, we believe in the sanctity of human life. We mourn over abortion because babies are being lost. Babies. Not tissue or fetuses or even "pregnancies," but babies. Generations of Christian women before us have often relegated miscarriage to hushed tones behind closed doors. I'm not faulting them, but I know that I am being hypocritical if I do not acknowledge to you that a member of my family has died. Will I answer the question, "How many children do you have?" with, "Four...two here, one in heaven, and one in my womb"? Probably not, although some do, and I think that's great. But in deeper conversation, I'm not afraid to talk about Kyriou because he or she is a real person who lives on even though I haven't met him or her yet. In our case, we are blessed to have another baby on the way who wouldn't have come to be if Kyriou hadn't died. Bittersweet. But, as in all things, God is sovereign. He doesn't always make sense to us, but He is always God, and He is always good.

My friend, Tasha Tollison, has two sweet babies in heaven. She made me think about all of this before I ever experienced it on my own. So, if you have been quiet about your own miscarriage, consider visiting her Facebook page Arrows for Your Quiver.  And as she suggests, give your baby a name. It helps. Our boys talk about Kyriou and know they have a sibling they didn't get to meet. It's important to acknowledge the life. I wasn't trying to be secretive before but, well, now you know. 

Because He Lives

         "Because He lives I can face tomorrow
             Because He lives all fear is gone
             Because I know He holds the future
             And life is worth the living just because He lives."

There's nothing particularly earth-shattering about those lyrics to an old hymn, but it was while singing them that God spoke to me, yesterday.  When Christians go through something difficult, we often remark to each other, "I don't know how people who don't know Jesus get through this."  It's true.  There's nothing like that "peace that passes understanding" which only comes from the Holy Spirit.  We feel His presence giving us strength and His guidance when we don't know what to do next.  We also know that those of us who follow Jesus will be with Him in heaven, one day, and that is certainly a comforting thought.  But while those things are amazing reasons that I'd rather have Jesus than anything else, it was something else that hit me like a ton of bricks, yesterday...  I have a purpose.  What I do with my life, as I try to follow Jesus and do the things He wants me to do, has eternal significance.  This world is not my home.  There is great blessing and joy and excitement here, but it's not what I'm living for.  No matter what happens to me in this life, my day-to-day, year-to-year purpose is to do the will of God - to worship Him and lead others to do the same.  That's it.  Everything else is just icing.  If I lose a job or a family member or an appendage, but I still have breath in my lungs, my purpose hasn't changed.  In fact, I'm counting on God using those things for His glory.  Does it mean that I won't grieve?  Of course not!  There is a time for that, and Jesus grieved deeply.  But it does not give me the right to be debilitated.  There is work to do, and I want to do my part.  I have been bought with a price, and my life is not my own.