Two years ago I resembled a wounded animal. My emotions were raw, my mind numb, and my nerves were wound up tighter than a tangled ball of yarn. It hadn’t been quite a year since my husband lost his job.
I was sleep deprived from working night shift. We lost our home. My grandfather passed away during this time. I felt empty, and dead. And even though my faith told me I was supposed to hold onto the cloak of Jesus… I let go.
I knew I was there. I had read about it before. Studied about it off and on for years. It was my “dark night of the soul.” My time to feel separated from the love of God.
I barely existed. I started to feel nauseous in the mornings but passed it off as stress and exhaustion. I pretended the signs weren’t there. The pregnancy test was positive.
I prayed. I had no choice. I couldn’t do this on my own. I was going to have this baby in faith that God would provide... that she had a purpose, regardless of my own situation.
And suddenly it was over. Gone just like that. I was in the bathroom at work as the miscarriage started… my heart broke.
And God showed up. Peace flooded. Calm replaced chaos. Hope returned. Amazingly enough, after so much loss packed into such a short amount of time, I am thankful for all of my circumstances.
And I believe that the very baby that left my womb was sent to save me.
Note: The above 259 word essay is my entry in a contest posted on the blog, “wannabe published?” The essay is to be about a “thin moment” in your life where God shows up to refresh and rekindle your faith. If you would also like to enter this essay contest, click here! You could win a Kindle!