Strengthen the faint-hearted

The months before Joy's diagnosis were a time of transition for our family. We had recently left the church where we met and got married and where I had attended for 10 years, and had begun attending a smaller church closer to home.  Eric's reasons for leaving were largely theological, while I was seeking a local community of moms.  (I always joke that this makes Eric sound super-spiritual and me pretty shallow, but it is what it is!)  I had plenty of friends, but many of my friends were either too far away to get together for an hour or two to play and visit, or were just in a different stage of life.  After over a year of being a stay at home mom, I was feeling the need to connect with other SAHMs.

I had been invited to join a Tuesday morning Bible study at our new church.  I really wanted to join, but had a previous commitment, so I deferred.  I was re-invited just as my previous Tuesday commitment was ending, and so I cautiously joined. My introvert personality tempted me to withdraw on a day-to-day basis after such a difficult life event, but there was a part of me that was anxious for community.  So it was with mixed emotions that I joined the group. At this point, I had known about Joy's diagnosis for a few months - it was about halfway between her diagnosis and her birth.

As someone who is generally self-sufficient and prefers to keep her emotions under control, it was a vulnerable time. But these ladies were so generous, kind, and gentle with me.  I know it sounds cheesy, but I truly believe that these new friendships were a gift from God.  I had amazing support from family and other friends as I carried Joy, but there is something unique about the daily, ordinary encouragement I experienced from these new friends.  In many ways, it was remarkably unremarkable - play dates at the park, conversations around the kitchen table as our kids snacked.  But these moments remain vivid in my mind, and mean more to me, both then and now, than my friends may have realized.  Looking back on it, it serves as a reminder to me how just being real and being present to other can be a big deal, even if it doesn't seem like it at the time. 

I am grateful for all the people in my life, both then and now, who weren't afraid to mention Joy's name or to ask how I was doing (and mean it).  I am often guilty of being scared of saying the wrong thing and opting to say nothing instead, and I know many others feel the same.  And yes, sometimes people did say things that weren't all that helpful (just being honest here!). But at least from my perspective (particularly in the situation where the crisis was such a visible elephant in the room!), I much preferred that someone say something, even if it was awkward, than to say nothing at all.  It meant a lot for someone to take the risk of broaching the topic to me.

Just a month or two after I joined this Bible study, I was asked how I felt about having a prayer shower for Joy. I was nearly flabbergasted!  This was something I had read about in my hours of internet research and thought it was a lovely idea, but didn't feel comfortable asking my friends of family to do...it just seemed to much to ask.  And here were these ladies I had only known for a few months, who wanted to bless me in this way. It was the first, but certainly not the last time that the words of Ephesians 3:20 rang in my head: "Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think..."

So a small group of gathered on a Saturday morning for a simple but beautiful celebration of Joy's life.  Knowing that Joy wouldn't have all the other celebrations of a typical child, such as birthday parties or a baptism, made this day that was all about her so special. There was delicious food, good conversation, and even little favors for the guests.  I received some lovely keepsakes - journals, a picture that hangs in our living room, etc.,  - that I still treasure, but the thought and love that was behind it are lovelier still.  And being that it was a prayer shower, there was a wonderful time of praying for me and for Joy and for the days to come. Here's the framed picture that the group got for me.  Interestingly, it now hands in our living room right where I took my monthly maternity pictures. 

Our pastor ends nearly every sermon with a benediction based on 1 Thessalonians 5 (I didn't know it was from there until I sat down to type this and looked it up!).  He says:

And now go out into the world in peace;

Be of good courage;

Render to no man evil for evil;

Strengthen the faint-hearted;

Support the weak;

Honor all men and women ["and babies" - my mental addition];

Love and serve the Lord;

Rejoicing in the power of the Holy Spirit

During this difficult season of my life, I felt like our church (and many others in our life) really lived out the charge given in that benediction. Those words nearly brought to tears each time I heard them while I was carrying Joy. Even now, three years later, during the benediction, I often think of this time in my life and the love shown to us.  In many times it was a sad, difficult period of our lives, but there were definite moments of sweetness, and the generosity and care of friends and family was one such bright spot.  "The church" often has a bad reputation in our modern culture, but I think that this was a wonderful example of the church being the church as God designed it.

So that's my charge to you who are reading this post  - Go out into the world and strengthen the faint-hearted; support the weak. While I can't guarantee that it will be this kind of life-changing experience for the recipient of your kindness, I think it's safe to say that more likely than not, it will be appreciated and noted by them in their time of difficulty.  It doesn't have to be something big to feel like something big to someone else.