730 Days

I’ll never forget walking into the playroom just hours after Ellie had passed away.

Seeing the pile of toys scattered around the floor that she was just playing with.

Seeing her shirt, covered in rainbow stars, flung across the room, because she hated wearing clothes.

Seeing my blanket draped across the couch, where we had just snuggled up together that morning. 

I remember the blue paint on the walls.

I remember the brightly colored rug and the furniture. 

I remember the holes left in the wall where we tried to mount our tv.

I remember the exact toys I found on the floor.

The image of that room is forever burned into my memory.

I remember cleaning up her lunch plate, scraping her strawberries in the trash that she had just eaten. 

I remember cleaning up her juice cup. I couldn’t bring myself to dump it out. So I stuck it in the fridge, secretly hoping I was living out some nightmare and that she’d come back soon and need it.

I remember the way my heart raced, the way my vision was blurry, the way I was too in shock to even form complete sentences.

Two years ago today, and it still plays over and over in my mind like a movie.

I know God didn’t cause this. But I also know that he allowed it. If it got to me, it passed through him. And there’s a reason he assigned this to for me to carry out.

This is difficult to remember because our perspective is so limited. We can only see so far ahead. Where as God can see all the way to the day we will enter heaven. And if we can remind ourselves to take on a Godly lens, it offers an opportunity for us to learn how to carry our pain well. And that is something I have to remind myself of everyday.

It's not fun being the person people immediately think of when they hear about the death of a child. That’s become what I’m known for. And that’s not something I would have chosen. But I didn’t get that choice.

Now, I remind myself that even though it’s a burden to walk through, it’s also an honor to carry.

That’s been my main focus this last year. I’m constantly saying, “God, use this for your kingdom. Use this to turn people towards Christ in the midst of their heartbreak. Let them see you in everything that I do with this pain.”

If you really read your bible you’ll see a lot of hardship, a lot of pain, a lot of grief, a lot of suffering, a lot of questioning and doubting God. Even Jesus himself questioned and doubted. If they had permission to do those things, then so do we.

The key is bringing your questioning and your doubting to him, and not bringing those questions into the world. I have an entire journal about this journey that is filled with anger, questioning, and doubting. Questions of why I hear of God preforming miracles for other people, but he didn’t preform mine. Wasn’t I worthy?

I realized I was seeking proof, and not clinging on to faith.

Even though God didn’t stop and preform the miracle I wanted when I wanted it, the miracle has been found in the process. Through this pain, I’ve grown so much closer and developed a much more intimate relationship with God than I ever had before. And isn’t that the end goal? We’re always striving for heaven.

If you find yourself questioning,

“If God is so good, why is there so much pain?”

“If God so loves his children, why does he sit and watch us suffer?”

“If He is a God of grace and mercy and compassion, why was I spared?”

Remember that this is sacred ground, my friend. 

This is where you will meet Jesus like never before.

This is where you will encounter his presence that truly transforms your life.

If you create the space, God will move into it. Even if the space is filled with doubt and questioning.

I don’t have all the answers as to why he allows such pain. But there are two things I do know for sure.

God always knew it would be this way.

And God isn’t good sometimes and bad other times. He is always good.

We have to choose to believe that God is still working all things for good. 

Crowding heaven is the end goal.

Our perspective over our situation is so limited, it only takes us so far.

God’s perspective over our circumstance extends so much further. He always has heaven in mind.

May we cling to that, even in the midst of utter heartbreak, even when we don’t understand, even when we’re paralyzed with pain, to fix our eyes upon Jesus, with heaven in mind.

Ellie, even though I could never put into words how much I miss you and wish you were here, I know you are in the arms of the one most high. I’ll never stop sharing your story. I’ll never stop carrying you with us in all that we do. I’ll never stop trying to make you proud. Hang tight, I’ll be there soon.