GRIEF, FAITH, AND TRUSTING GOD - By Kristen Gorski

Image courtesy of hoaxteadresearch.wordpress.com

I’m the product of twelve years of Catholic schooling – sixteen actually, if you count my college years at Notre Dame (which I don’t since they didn’t require me to wear a uniform or pray before lunch).  So you might be surprised to hear, that despite over a decade of theology classes, my understanding of the actual Bible is woefully lacking.  I’d memorize the books of the Old Testament or the Seven Deadly Sins or the names of the Apostles – and promptly forget all about them as soon as the test was over.  It’s not that I didn’t believe in God back then, it’s just that I’ve always been more of a “feelings” girl - touching homilies (sermons), retreats, inspirational stories of faith – those were the places I’d always find God.  I never really felt connected to Him studying the Bible.

One story did somehow manage to work its way into my long term memory though, the story of Lazarus's death (John 11:17-44).  I know everyone tends to focus on the part where Jesus performs a miracle and raises him from the dead, but the part that has always touched me comes before that – when Jesus weeps with Lazarus's sisters.  He doesn't demand they pull themselves together or tell them that anyone who truly believes in Him would never feel sadness.  Instead, He's so touched by their pain that He cries with them.  There are so many examples of Jesus' divine nature in the Bible, but that moment stood out to me because it was (and is) a powerful reminder that He is also human and capable of great compassion.

Sometimes I wonder if that story stayed with me because God wanted it to; because He knew there would come a time when I would need it.

I’m definitely what you’d categorize as a bit of a planner.  I like ‘To Do Lists,’ daily schedules, and long term goals.  And from the moment I began imagining adulthood, being a wife and mother were always a central part of the plan.  So you can imagine how lost I felt when, at the age of 25, fertility issues brought all of that to a screeching halt.  I thought I’d be designing a nursery and highlighting passages from "What to Expect When You’re Expecting."  Instead, I was undergoing painful examinations and surgery and resolutely avoiding the empty bedroom where a baby was supposed to be.

The following fall, I finally got pregnant.  I was absolutely thrilled.  I made lists of potential names and dreamed of cradling a tiny human in my arms.  Then, three weeks before Christmas, I had a miscarriage.  Saying I was completely devastated feels like an understatement.  I don’t know that I will ever find the words to explain it.  I just know that day, when I laid sobbing on my bathroom floor with my heart in a million pieces, I remembered Jesus weeping and knew I wasn’t alone.  I knew He was there with me.  He was there with me when I finally summoned the strength to pull myself up off the bathroom floor.  He was there with me in the days to come, when I spent my nights staring at the ceiling and my days barely managing to get out of bed.  He was there with me that entire Christmas season, when instead of merry and bright, I felt hollowed out and brittle.  And He was there with me three months later, when my husband and I began the process to adopt our oldest son.

It's been 10 years since my miscarriage.  It no longer takes my breath away when someone announces they are pregnant.  I can go to a baby shower without secretly seething with jealousy.  I can hold a friend's newborn without crying alone in my car afterwards.  I'm the mother of three incredible boys who came to me through adoption and they are the absolute joys of my life.  I'm not the same person I was the day I laid sobbing on the bathroom floor; that experience changed me because I have a God who sobbed with me.

I learned that often times the best way to support someone who is struggling is to simply show up.  Don't minimize their grief.  Don’t pretend it doesn’t exist.  Don't try to fix it (I'm admittedly still working on that one).  Just let them know you are there to walk beside them.  Jesus taught me that.

I have learned that we can turn to God with our greatest heartaches and deepest pain.  He does weep with us as we mourn and He does carry us through our darkest hours.

Most importantly, I learned that when we let God in, He is capable of amazing things.  He raised Lazarus from the dead.  He can perform miracles in our lives.  Sometimes those miracles aren't the ones we pray for or think we want.  He didn't physically heal my body.  Instead, He mended my heart.  Even when we are lost, even when all our plans fall apart, God always knows exactly what we need.