When You Don't See His Plan

I have a small dry erase board on my refrigerator where I jot down people and situations I'm praying for. That board has been up on my fridge for years, ever since the kids were teenagers. They brought it home for me one summer from Centrifuge, a Christian youth camp and it didn't take me long to figure out where to put it. Since the refrigerator is the hub of my kitchen and I go past it or go into it many times during the day, I knew I'd be looking at that board often. And as I'd glance at the board, I'd try to pray for those who were listed on it.

Today, with one swipe of a tissue I wiped away the name of my grandchild. "Anika", one little life gone before she had even had a chance to be born. Another dear grandchild who will never run into my arms here on earth. And it just seems so surreal, much as these last weeks have been, ever since we got the news that our daughter-in-law was pregnant again.

Our initial joy was soon tempered with concern when the first sonagram results indicated a yolk sac that was much too big. In my optimistic ignorance, I thought it might just indicate twins. But no, this was an indication that there was a high probability that there was an abnormality with the fetus that would likely result in a miscarriage. And so the waiting began. Hope mixed with concern wrestled with fear every time the phone rang or a sonagram was scheduled or an email popped into my in-box from the kids. What was the news?

As the days went by and Laura remained pregnant I dared to hope that maybe the sonagram had been read wrong. Surely God wouldn't put them through this a second time. So many of us were praying for them and for the baby. Yet the answer that came with my son's call was not the one I had hoped for. The baby had died in the womb. Now it was a matter of waiting for the miscarriage to begin.

My dog comes and rests her muzzle on my lap and looks up at me with that worried look she gets when she senses I'm upset. I pat her head gently and say, "It's OK. It's going to be OK." I believe that and yet the tears drip down my cheeks. I cry for Jason and Laura and the pain they are going through. I cry for David and Joyce and George and I as we grieve this grandchild that we'll never have the chance to spoil. And I cry for Anika. When we celebrate a birth, we not only celebrate the beginning of a life but also the potential in that little one and the opportunities ahead. When we mourn the unborn, we also mourn the loss of all that could have been.

I still will cling to my belief that God's plan is perfect. I don't understand it much of the time but I only see such a small part of it. There is a song that has meant a lot to me over the years and it speaks with such wisdom in situations like this. It was written by Babbie Mason and Eddie Carswell. It's called "Trust His Heart" and the chorus sums up so well what I am feeling and what I know to be true:

"God is too wise to be mistaken

God is too good to be unkind

So when you don't understand

When you don't see His plan

When you can't trace His hand

TRUST HIS HEART."