Dreams Unrealized & True Joy
This year I have joined a weekly subscription for a writing community called Rhythm and this is a response to the prompt from Week 2.
It looks like a boy.
We’re seeing some problems.
In five words, the dream. In four words, the dream unrealized.
Will he be born alive?
This dream, shrinking.
Will I get to feel him kick?
Smaller.
Hour after hour and my heart and dreams grew. And then day after day my arms ached more, and I wondered: will the dreams ever come back?
With each year that passes I uncover new unrealized dreams I didn’t know I had: motherhood like I thought it would be, seeing my three kids all together, kindergarten decisions.
And yet, with each year it remains the same: joy can coexist there, too.
Joy – in a motherhood shaped by each of my children – living or not, in knowing a nearness of God that is found deeply in the sobs and sorrows of losing a child, in recognizing that life is altogether more hopeful and full and empty and tragic than I ever knew before.
Joy comes from a more honest hope, a more whole perspective on eternity, and a grounding in what truly matters to me in this life. Weeping does last – for long, long nights – but joy does come in the morning (Psalm 30:5).
Even when your babies die, even when you’re completely broken, even when you’re learning how to retell the narrative, the joy is in the love and in the presence of God and in the fighting for the whispers of life to be heard. Even in unrealized dreams, there, true joy can be found. There is where the good news truly is good. There is where I’ve nestled in, for the long haul, holding both, and seeing the gift of long suffering in this world and in the longing of eternity to come.
To hear more about Jacob’s life, please click here. His 5th birthday is coming up & I just can’t believe its been so long since I’ve held that sweet boy in my arms! I’d love to introduce you to him.