You are making new wine
In the soil, I now surrender
You are breaking new ground
When I trust You I don’t need to understand
Make me whatever You want me to be
I came here with nothing but all You have given me
Jesus, bring new wine out of me
It never occurred to me the first time I sang this song, that I was about to enter into a crushing and pressing time. I was going to go head on with some of my greatest fears – through a period where understanding was not on the options. At some points I felt that fear was the better option. At least when I “feared” I knew what I was feeling but when I trusted, I felt like I was blindfolded.
My heart felt like it was literally crushed, as for a third time in the space of two weeks, Jeremy and I faced more bad news. My chest hurt, so did my cheeks as hot tears streamed down them. There was no easy way to tell my husband…we were losing the one thing we had been praying and hoping for – a baby. Today I would have been 17 weeks pregnant. Even now, those words sting.
The last few months have been a trying time as we have both experienced the most intense season of learning that no amount of questions will cause us to gain answers or understanding. It has been a soul-altering experience. While the body is repaired and whole, allowing my mind and emotions to heal is another journey.
Fear gripped me so hard just after the miscarriage. Questions came up:
“Will I ever fall pregnant again and what if I never do?”
“What did I do wrong?”
“Why me? Why us?”
“Will the hole I feel from the piece of me that is gone, ever be filled?”
Somebody made a remark to me which just set me off, “Oh, but you can have another baby.” I was like, HOLD UP! I don’t want another baby. I want the one I lost!
About a month after the miscarriage, I sat in church and we sang this song. At first, I refused to open my mouth. How could I sing that I would yield to His careful hand and trust Him, without needing natural understanding? I felt betrayed and angry. As the song carried on, I sobbed. There was no sound coming from my mouth, just tears that ran until the collar of my top was damp.
I wanted to run far away from people, from anyone who would ask,”So when are the kids coming?” I wanted to hide away from worship. It hurt to be transparent with Jesus. I had so much desperation, depression, anxiety and anger in my heart – that I did not want to willingly put it out there before Him. I definitely was not going to be vulnerable. I felt like I would be a failure to put all my “ugly” before Him. As much as I wanted to run from people, I also want to be around people, but not necessarily have them huddle around me. I felt lonely as I dealt with this hole in my soul.
As I got into the presence of Jesus one morning, I poured out my soul before Him. I took my ugly and laid it out in the open. I suppose I expected some miracle-moment of deep revelation. Instead, I got stillness – and nothing else. I asked Jesus why He wasn’t saying anything, His response:
“You need my healing presence, not my passionate presence.”
This lesson will stick with me! When people are in deep pain – leave the passion at the door. They don’t need your teaching, explanations, advice, encouragement or even Scripture. The best thing you can do is show up and shut up. Just be WITH them. Real comfort is often displayed through the healing ministry of ‘presence’ – a knowing that they are not alone.
So this journey of surrender and trust – is one that I can only take a moment at a time, day by day. I am learning that there are no easy words for these moments, but there is His endless grace. It is as I fully surrender myself to His perfect grace that I find it is a gentle reminder of His love for me. Through this love, I experience a healing…as if it attracts all the fragments of my broken heart. It is through His careful hand that He has begun mending my soul. I am slowly daring myself to believe and dream again – to trust again.
If you are facing a moment, a season, or a circumstance that has left you feeling shattered – it’s okay to not be okay. When you are ready, reach out to someone and let them walk this path with you. You are not alone.
I look forward to sharing more with you as my husband & I walk through this season.
“There would never be rainbows without the rain”.
From my heart to yours