It's Time // To See What Heaven Sees

The stars to numerous to count.

The almost-full moon bright enough to light up the white sand and cast a beautiful blue glow over us.

The waves crashing gently as they brake.

The wind blowing steady and strong.

A dozen or so lights, hanging from boats, bobbing on the water in the horizon. 

Perched behind the group on a side-ways-growing beachy-looking palm tree.

"I love, I love...
I love you Jesus.
I love, I love...
I love your presence..."

I do, Jesus, I do.
But I don't understand.

I know.
It's not always for me to understand.
But I feel like that will bring me comfort. 

My husband comes and wraps his arms around me, after putting O to sleep in the tent.
I latch on tighter than I have in a long time and the tears come faster and harder still. 
I can barely breathe through them.
My heart physically hurts.
It hurts because I want our baby back.

I thought I was okay. 
But it was probably just God's grace heaped up on top of us.
But now, it's running dry.
Because I am certainly not okay.
And now I know.
It's time.

"So open up our eyes
to see what heaven sees
come and awaken hope in us... "

I couldn't stop the tears.
This is mourning.

I long to see what heaven sees.
Our baby, in Jesus' arms. 

I need hope.
Jesus, please.

Hope that the tears will stop.
Hope that the fear of intimacy with my husband will go away.
Hope that the fear of getting pregnant again will bring this same
horrible
terrible
gut-wrenching fate
again,
will GO AWAY.

Fear is not from Me.
I know, God.  I know.   

The tears falling now far outnumber the stars in the sky.
They come at (seemingly) random times, but always, always
in worship.
Because I know my Father loves me.  I know this isn't something HE did.
I know he will redeem this.
I know.
But it still hurts.

"Open up my eyes,
Let me see what heaven sees
Come and awaken hope in me...."

This is mourning.