Yesterday, I talked about how helpful prayer is in the weeks and months following a miscarriage. One of the things that has been such a blessing to me since we lost the baby is how much hope other people have had for us. We’ve received emails and cards with hope-filled words. Women who are dear and close to me have hoped in God’s goodness for me when I couldn’t bring myself to hope—or when I couldn’t see far enough ahead to hope. That’s what the body of Christ is supposed to do—hold us up when we are falling and bring words of hope when we are hopeless. For me, at times, it feels like I will never be pregnant again. For my sweet friends, they have confident hope in God’s goodness for me. They know that good will come in my life. They continue to pray for me when I am too faithless to get down on my knees.
Like I have said before, this will look different for every woman. Knowing her pain, disposition, and circumstances is key to bringing hope-filled words. In the immediate aftermath of the miscarriage words do not bring hope as much as tears and sheer presence. As a side note, I can’t even begin to describe how much it blessed me when people just cried with me. To me, their tears meant that they felt my loss and they cared. But in recent days tears have been less and hopeful words have been more. It might mean a card with Scripture, or an email to check-in, or even sending her something to remember her baby. A dear friend of mine would pray Scripture for me and when she sent me cards or emails she would include the particular Scripture she had been praying. All of these things have brought so much light into my life in recent days.
Hoping for your friend does not mean simply quoting Scripture to her in hopes she will move on from her pain. Rather it is an empathetic, heartfelt, Christ-like response to one who is grieving and often times cannot see the hope right in front of her face. It is simply bringing into focus the things she can’t really see through the dark clouds of grief. It’s sort of like holding her arms up when she is too weary and weak to keep going (Exodus 17: 8-16). Hoping for your friend means trusting that God is not finished with her yet, and it means leaning into him for grace to minister and grace to carry on.
Like I have said before, this will look different for every woman. Knowing her pain, disposition, and circumstances is key to bringing hope-filled words. In the immediate aftermath of the miscarriage words do not bring hope as much as tears and sheer presence. As a side note, I can’t even begin to describe how much it blessed me when people just cried with me. To me, their tears meant that they felt my loss and they cared. But in recent days tears have been less and hopeful words have been more. It might mean a card with Scripture, or an email to check-in, or even sending her something to remember her baby. A dear friend of mine would pray Scripture for me and when she sent me cards or emails she would include the particular Scripture she had been praying. All of these things have brought so much light into my life in recent days.
Hoping for your friend does not mean simply quoting Scripture to her in hopes she will move on from her pain. Rather it is an empathetic, heartfelt, Christ-like response to one who is grieving and often times cannot see the hope right in front of her face. It is simply bringing into focus the things she can’t really see through the dark clouds of grief. It’s sort of like holding her arms up when she is too weary and weak to keep going (Exodus 17: 8-16). Hoping for your friend means trusting that God is not finished with her yet, and it means leaning into him for grace to minister and grace to carry on.