Lilies of the valley

In the spring of 2023, as the yellow flowers began to bud, we confirmed my first pregnancy. Ten days after receiving the news, we lost our baby, and a few weeks later, the lilies were gone too.

Spring of 2026, the lilies surfaced again, and once more, there was news of life. Excited but anxious, we remained hopeful that this time would be different. But as short‑lived as the lilies of the valley are, so was the life of our unborn child. It was like a flash of light — here for a little while, then gone the next.

Remaining faithful and hopeful has been incredibly difficult for me. Experiencing this heartbreaking loss twice did not make it any easier. Perhaps it is the anticipation of future sorrow that weighs on me most — the physical pain and the deep grief of loss. Yet not once did I doubt that God is able or that He is good. I know He can. Absolutely! But even with that truth in mind, I know that He is God and I am not. Whatever this life brings — joy or sorrow — He is sovereign. His ways are higher, even if it means earthly loss for us.

From joy to grief, with fear, pain, and weakness in between, I wish I could proudly say that my hope never faltered, that I fought the good fight of faith, that I rolled up my sleeves, knelt before God unshaken, and declared that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. But there are times when I feel that having no expectations is easier because it seems to mean less heartache.

Yet God, in the most difficult moments of our lives, was surely not silent. He showed His lovingkindness through His Word and in our times of prayer. It became a season of remembering who God is and His promises of presence and comfort. It was a daily surrender to the sovereign will of God, difficult in every way,  because we had to remain hopeful and still. At times, I opened my heart to God and asked for His mercy. Some days I gave thanks; other days I had no words at all.

I realized that as a Christian, there will be times when it is hard to walk the talk. I was truly humbled. I used to look at other people’s challenges and think, they just need to have faith. As simple as that may sound, and while it is true that we need faith, what God allowed me to experience helped me see faith not as something I keep in my pocket and pull out when needed, but as a gift from God, an active work of the Lord in my life through His Word and His testimonies.

God brought my husband and me to His throne of grace. He attended to our needs and graciously supplied us with faith to move forward — not without pain, but also not without God. He reminded us that trials are opportunities to draw closer to Him and to know Him more deeply. It was a time to take an honest look at our spiritual life and where we are in our walk with Jesus. It was a beautiful encounter with our Savior, with our loss as the vessel that carried us into His arms. It was another reminder of how brief life on earth is — and that it does not matter whether we are inside or outside our mother’s womb, God knits, molds, and shapes us into the likeness of Christ, and then we are taken home to be with Him in glory. How long that process takes, only God knows, for in Him we live and move and have our being.

Like Peter, I have often been convinced that I would never fall away from my faith. But when trials come, and the gauge begins to measure, only then do we truly see. Jesus calls me in my weakness, and with His strength carries me through. Jesus is who He says He is: our Lord and Savior, our very present help in times of trouble, the Good Shepherd.

Healing still feels distant, but God is near, and His comfort is great. To those who are experiencing grief from loss, our prayers go out to you. May Jesus be your source of rest and comfort. May He give you peace and strength. May His rich kindness and grace surround you and give you hope. May you look only to Him for tomorrow, for His mercies are new every morning. And may the lilies remind you that He makes everything beautiful in His time — that one day we will see Him face to face and be reunited with the saints who have gone before us in our homecoming.

Habakkuk 3:17-19

¹⁷ Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail, and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls,¹⁸ yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation.¹⁹ God, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the deer's; he makes me tread on my high places.

To the choirmaster: with stringed instruments.

In grace and mercy