From my journal, dated September 11, 2002:

 

“One year ago our nation was dramatically changed forever. On September 11, 2001 terrorists hijacked 4 American airplanes…Almost 3000 lives were lost that day…Our nation was in shock, grief and mourning. The naïveté of the nation was lost. Everyone realized that bad things can happen here. For the first time in a long time, people were looking beyond their individual concerns and focusing on their families, their communities and their country. People turned to God and the churches in record numbers.

 

For Derek and I, much of what the world felt on September 11^th, 2001 was what we felt as a couple in late February of that same year. That’s when we learned that our baby girl, conceived after 18 months of trying, including numerous tests, surgeries and procedures, had a fatal chromosome abnormality called Trisomy 18. Amniocentesis confirmed the diagnosis and we learned of it via a cell phone call from a genetic counselor when we were on the beach in Maui…

 

The news rocked our world…When we learned that our daughter would die, likely before she was ever born, we were devastated. We walked back to the condo and went into our room and just cried together for about an hour. We were confused, in disbelief, shocked and in grief. But we both felt something very strongly at that moment. God was protecting us, he was in control, and he had a plan for our lives, although at that moment it was hard to imagine how losing our beloved baby could be required.”

She died March 2, 2001. It is impossible to believe that this was fifteen years ago this month. It was our very lowest moment as a couple. I can vividly recall in the weeks after that waking up from a dead sleep and as soon as I remembered what had happened, I was sobbing all over again. Poor Derek was living through the nightmare himself, but also had to deal with me and my huge emotions. That darkest, deepest, lowest moment knit us together even more tightly. Our grief was shared. No one else could really understand. But God did.

You see, in that moment in our condo in Maui when we cried together, God met us there. We did not yet really know Him, but He knew us and the depth of our loss. We believed the facts about God, His son Jesus, the resurrection. But we were not yet following Him. Until then we had maintained that we were in control and together we would persevere. Yet, Jesus still met us in that bedroom that day. When I reflect back on that moment it’s like an outer body experience. I can see Derek and I on the end of the bed huddled together in our tears and I can see a large man, arms outstretched, wrapped all the way around us, comforting us. I can still feel His touch. I can still recall His presence. He became real to us that day. Very real.

That previous fall, out of the blue we decided “We should get back to church.” We had been married in the church and liked the “idea” of church and we thought we “should” go back. We had found a neighborhood church near us that we liked and we were attending when we could, between Sunday soccer games and rounds of golf. But if it was raining and we had nothing planned, we were there. I say all that to say, we weren’t giving God much attention, but He was giving us all of His. He was so patient with us. He was such a gentleman. “I’m here when you are ready.”

On March 21^st, nineteen days after the death of or baby girl (who, although we never formally named her, I always refer to in my heart as “Hope”), still weak and weary, physically and emotionally, we attended an outreach hosted by the church. It was a “strong man” outreach.  There were body builders performing amazing physical feats. And the gospel message was shared. As the event concluded, the audience was encouraged to bow our heads and pray. With all eyes closed and hearts open, an altar call was made. If you had never known Jesus or had never asked Him to come into your heart or be Lord of your life, and you were ready to do so, then you were to raise your hand. With our eyes closed, Derek and I grabbed hands and slipped them into the air together. We didn’t know exactly what this meant but we knew that we needed someone to take the reins for us. We were stumbling. We were weak. We were lost. We needed help, guidance and hope. God met us there again that day. Right where we were, as we were, raw and tired and emotionally spent.

We gave Him our lives that night. He has given us back every day since then. We jumped into our faith journey with both feet. We read the Bible for the first time. We met with our pastors weekly. We learned as much as we could. We soaked it all in. We knew we were home. We knew we were protected. We didn’t know where we were headed, what the road ahead would look like, but we knew we could trust the One who did.

And in pure God fashion, reminding us that He is in EVERY detail of our lives, even though over the next few years we would continue to struggle with infertility, and procedures, and surgeries and heartache, on March 21, 2003, two years TO THE DAY from the day we responded to that altar call, He gave us twin boys. They were born two months premature, they were tiny and they had challenges to face, but their arrival into the world on the anniversary of our salvation was no coincidence. A friend told us “it’s like God gave you two babies for the two years you have been serving Him.” Yes, yes He did. See Getting Real with God: His Perspective

The journey of faith is not easy. It is hard to deny our flesh. We make a mess of it every single day, still. But just as He was patient waiting for us to surrender to Him, He patiently awaits us every day. And when we abide Him, He abides in us. Daily. Forever, Amen.