What Matters in the Marching Mess

 I have kept my mouth shut this past weekend regarding Trump’s inauguration and the Women’s March… largely because I’ve been processing, figuring out what I feel about it, organizing my response in my mind before blurting it out my mouth. I’ve kept quiet because I didn’t want to simply jump on the nearest bandwagon, or say something I would later regret, or needlessly offend someone by speaking out without a fully developed viewpoint.

So I’ve spent the weekend taking it all in and processing it – reading news articles, reading blogs, reading Facebook posts from people on various sides. Discussing the issues with my husband. Writing this post a few sentences at a time. Trying to discern the truth amidst all the untruth.

And mostly, I’ve been sad. Appalled at the hate and anger screaming in the streets and screaming all over the internet. Wondering at how people can “march for love and tolerance” and yet verbally rip apart anyone who disagrees with them. Incredulous at some of the things being demanded. Grieving for the utter selfishness and lostness portrayed in our beloved nation this weekend.

To me, all of that is far more tragic than a crude-mouthed President or any rights that anyone might be lacking.

Selah’s song “Unredeemed” has been playing in my head today, and especially the line: “We live in the shadow of the Fall.” That truth is so painfully evident right now, isn’t it?

I realize there were many people attending and supporting these marches across the country who are simply and sincerely concerned: about immigrants who could be forced from their homes; about their homosexual friends; about the health plights of women in poverty. Their care and concern for others is commendable. 

But in reality, those few marching for unselfish reasons were loudly and hopelessly overpowered by the ones shouting profanity, hate, entitlement, and the desire to kill their unwanted babies.

Matt Walsh phrased it perfectly in his article on TheBlaze:

It’s fair to say that once a political demonstration cites baby murder as a fundamental value, nothing else it stands for really matters. I cannot take a march seriously after it has professed an affinity for child killing, just as I cannot willingly consume your homemade chocolate cake after you inform me that fecal matter is one of its ingredients. (see full article here)

I also know that there are people who truly feel threatened by and afraid of what the new President stands for. They fear their safety, privileges, freedoms, and lifestyle being taken away, and for some, those worries may turn out to be legitimate. I do not discount these precious individuals and their fears. They are unique, beautiful humans, created in the image of God, loved by Him… and their stories matter.

But – I can promise you that our God cares far more about their souls than about their LGBTQ rights.

He is much more concerned about their eternal salvation than which side of the border they live on.

He would much rather see them embrace forgiveness and mercy than demand rights and retribution.

He longs to heal the hurts of their hearts, no matter what pain may have brought them to this point.

Shouldn’t that be our desire, too? If we are followers of Jesus, shouldn’t our burden for hurting people be for their life to be healed and transformed by God…. not for their right to equal wages or free birth control?

Let’s focus on what truly matters in this mess, friends.

Yes, the new President has made some terrible remarks about women and minorities. The words are sickening and I don’t support that. Yes, some people will lose their access to affordable health benefits. It will feel painful and unfair. Yes, this is a world in which women must live in constant awareness of our surroundings and potential dangers. I don’t think there has ever been a time in history when this wasn’t true. And yes, our country is ripping itself apart at the seams, as people choose to be destructive instead of to respectfully disagree, and scream and fight for their own wants in the name of “love.”

But let’s ask ourselves what matters, ultimately.

• In the end, it’s all in God’s hands: the fate of the nation, the heart of the President, your life, my life, their lives.
• In the end, my calling as a Christ-follower is to trust God with everything and pattern my life after Jesus – which absolutely includes loving people, but not the style of “love” demonstrated this weekend.
• In the end, all of this chaos will fade away when we stand before God our Judge, and all that counts is whether we know Him and whether we told others about Him.

So I’m not judging Christians who participated in the march – and I know several personally who did. I’m simply saying, sisters, let’s think about what we’re standing for (and what it looks like we’re standing for), and let’s focus on what truly, eternally counts.

 

You are welcome to politely agree or disagree. Please refrain from rude comments, but I would love to hear your opinion!

Psalm 13: How Long, O Lord?

 

This morning I was in the shower, praying about what topic I should write on today. But I was coming up blank – zero inspiring ideas. Finishing my shower, I pulled on some comfy fleece leggings and my favorite tshirt, snuggled cross-legged into my glider chair (yes, I’m such a grandma), and opened my Bible to where I’m reading in Psalms.

Psalm 13:

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me? 

It starts off a bit depressing, doesn’t it? But I could identify with the writers’ feelings.

I certainly wasn’t drowning in depression this morning, or feeling overtaken by the enemy. It was just a normal morning. But often, in the midst of normal, there can be a sorrow hidden deep in the heart, and these silent questions underlying our days – how long, O Lord? 

You know what I mean, don’t you?

It’s the single woman, longing for the husband she’s been praying for.
It’s the woman who feels lonely without true friendship in her life.
It’s the one stuck in a complicated situation and wishing for simplicity.
It’s the wife who feels isolated from her husband.
It’s the woman who can’t have children.
It’s the mom whose children are far from the Lord.
It’s the one dealing with a long-term illness.

There are so many possibilities, so many circumstances that could be the source of our sorrow and our questions. You have yours, and I have mine. Sure, we aren’t continuously depressed, but if we get quiet and look deep, the “how longs” are there.

But I love how Psalm 13 ends:

But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
My heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
because he has dealt bountifully with me.

(emphasis mine)

I have trusted in God’s faithfulness, and I will continue to trust.

I will rejoice. No matter what. I will rejoice when He comes through for me and answers my prayers, but I will rejoice until then, too.

He has been good to me. Already – even with unmet desires and unanswered questions – He has already blessed me so much.

So I keep singing, praising, and trusting… because no matter where I am, He is good!

How to Help a Friend Going through Miscarriage

A few months after we lost our first baby, a friend sent me a private message on Facebook, asking my advice about how to encourage another friend of hers who had just suffered a miscarriage. “I’m sorry if this isn’t an appropriate question,” she wrote, “[but] I’m curious as to what were the most encouraging things other people did for you.” 

It was absolutely an appropriate question, and I was so glad she asked! One of the biggest reasons Brett and I chose to be open about our loss was so we could help and encourage others going through the same thing.

Miscarriage is far more common than you might think – the estimate is that 1 in 4 women experience pregnancy loss. So the chances are high that, at some point in your life, someone you know will go through this tragedy. My hope in this blog post is to give you a few simple, sound suggestions for how to help when a friend tells you, “I lost my baby.” 

1. Recognize That She’s In Pain, And Realize It’s A Big Deal That She Shared It With You.

Many, many, many women suffer miscarriage very early in their pregnancy, often around 6 or 8 weeks pregnant. If they had not announced their good news yet, often they will keep the miscarriage quiet, too, grieving in silence. There is a sort of stigma around early pregnancy and miscarriage, in which our culture tells us we should “keep it a secret.“ That’s a topic for another day, but suffice it to say, if your friend opens up and shares her loss,

image source

realize that is a big deal, and it took a lot of courage.

 

You also need to realize that your friend is in pain. If you haven’t experienced this type of loss yourself, you may not understand grieving for a baby you never knew, a baby who was no bigger than a pumpkin seed. But to your friend, it was her baby. She is a mother. She loved that little pumpkin seed from the moment she saw those two lines on the pregnancy test. And she is absolutely going through every stage of the grieving process.

2. Don’t Avoid Her. Even If It’s Awkward.

In the days and weeks following my miscarriage, there were quite a few people who felt uncomfortable around me and didn’t know what to do or say, so they simply avoided me. Maybe they assumed I wouldn’t want to be bothered. I don’t know, but the avoidance hurt. It felt like they didn’t care, or like maybe they thought I was contagious or something.

So the people who braved the awkwardness were so incredibly encouraging. I’m sure it was uncomfortable for them, but pushing beyond their own comfort zone, they came to ask me how I was doing, to hug me, to cry with me, to keep inviting me to things even though I kept saying no.

I know it’s awkward and you don’t know what to say. But please, don’t avoid her. She needs you right now.

3. Know What NOT To Say.

image source

Some of the things people frequently say to a grieving mom really are just not helpful at all. There are several articles around the internet that highlight what not to say, so I won’t take the time to repeat. This post and this one are two good ones to check out. Trust me – I heard many of these platitudes and more, and they’re much better left unsaid!

4. Put Yourself In Her Shoes, And Reach Out To Encourage.

If you were in her place, what would you need or want from your friends? What would be comforting and encouraging?

People reached out to me in different ways. Some were unafraid to take the risk of asking me how I was feeling. Others simply offered silent hugs or hand squeezes. A few friends crafted a beautiful handmade card and left it at my front door. One friend came over and brought me a stack of chick flicks, knowing I wouldn’t feel like getting out much for a few days. Several people sent cards in the mail. Like I mentioned above, some would invite me to join game nights or hikes or trips to town, and even though I said no for a while, it was really nice to know I wasn’t forgotten.

5. Keep Remembering And Keep Talking.

Knowing that people care is huge after a miscarriage, and even more so in the weeks and months following. I can tell you from personal experience that, after a while, the bereaved mom will feel like she is the only person in the world who still thinks about her baby. She will feel like everyone else has moved on and forgotten, like life continued on as if nothing ever happened. Occasionally, she will feel guilty or embarrassed that she still thinks about her baby so often. She may feel pressured from other people around her to “get over it.“

This is when your friend needs to know that you remember, and you care. A hugely

image source

encouraging moment for me was receiving this text from one of my best friends:
“I just wanted to tell you that you’ve been on my mind today. I know this month would have been baby’s due date month, and I want you to know I’m praying for you!” I also received several cards and messages from people on Mother’s Day, acknowledging that I’m a mom even though I don’t have a baby on earth.

You bringing up your friend’s baby is not going to make her suddenly remember her loss and get sad. Believe me, her baby is never far from her mind; you aren’t going to remind her of something she’s forgotten. On the contrary, you talking about her baby will mean the world to her! It’s just good to know that someone else remembers and cares.

 

Have you had the opportunity to encourage someone after a loss? How did it go or what did you learn from it? 
Mamas who have lost babies – what else would you add to this list? What has someone done for you that was especially encouraging?