In Honor of those I'm sure gonna miss.

I feel like grief is something I was born into. The “what might have been” grief especially. If I had been able to not only meet but grow up knowing my loving, singing, prayer warrior Grandma. I have very clear memories as a child of my Dad just missing his Mom. Maybe he would hear a song that would make him think of her, or a memory would come into his mind, and then my Mom would notice and would cry with him and hold him. He was only sixteen when she passed away. My Mom would miss her Grandma and cry about how old age was stealing this beloved person's memories of the most precious times of her childhood.

And now I miss the child who didn't grow. And my Mom misses the grandchild she didn't get. Sometimes I feel like I can't cry, and feel so alone, and then I go online and read about complete strangers, who have gone through so much more than I have. Who have been able to hold and bathe and cuddle their babies before they died. I cry for them (looking up the #whathealsyou and #captureyourgrief tags) and I am connected to them and then I feel kind of guilty for assuming a connection since my story is so much less painful than theirs. Sometimes I feel fine and that I've finished being sad. Sometimes I think about how far along I would be. Sometimes the phrase, “When I was pregnant” comes to mind, and I feel hollow and heavy at the same time.

My friend Naomi, who I spoke about in an earlier post, lost her child. The girl she was expecting turned out to be a boy. I have wept and wept for her, and her husband, and for the baby. Tears and lifting her up are all I can do. (That and making ourselves available for those who are going through loss is all any of us can do for those we love.)  There are no shortcuts for helping people through grief. You can't pull all all-nighter. You can't expect it to follow a pattern and be over on a certain day. Anyway,  I check her blog regularly, and it always moves me. It's like choosing to pick up a balloon that you know is going to take you somewhere, but it is completely out of your hands. Boy, it must be late, I don't feel like it made sense. Oh well. I'm leaving it in.

On the day that I went to the doctor for a check-up, to make sure that everything is working the way it should after the procedure, I got the news that Ann Sieber passed away. I cried there in the hospital waiting room. Ann was always so happy to see us when we arrived back at the office. She was a prayer warrior, committed and faithful. She had a lovely smile and the twinkle in her eyes. I seriously never heard her complain, or say anything negative about anyone. What an amazing Christ-like lady. I met her the day after I turned 21, and saw her one last time in this world a few months ago, in July, when the Lord answered my prayer to get to go to Germany to see everyone at training before coming back to South Africa. I sure am thankful for that.

I miss so many people. I wish I could just pick up a phone.  I wish the road wasn't such a lonely place.  

Christmas in Sweden is our big hope right now. I haven't seen my Swedish family in two years, and I am so excited to meet my nephew. Once I meet little Leo, I will really feel like an aunt.

So that's what's up. No helpful updates, no information on what it's like in South Africa. (Life is life, you know. We eat off plates and work off tables and pack our suitcases and pack our vehicle, just like we've been doing on 2 other continents.) No deep impacts or insights. It's just the reality of grief and there's no need to sugar-coat it or just repeat the happier sounding truths like it makes things hurt less.

Hope seals our spirit's promises, but longing souls can only be satisfied by His filling.

What might have been does hurt, incredibly so. I just keep speaking the word Peace to myself, because it is a promise I have been given to hold onto.  

This is about pain.

Hello friends and prayer warriors and family.

I haven't shared about ministry in awhile. It's still happening, and I'm still blessed to do it. Even days after we found out that we lost our baby, we were doing programs. We were glad to have something other than sadness to think about, and the Lord opened up our eyes to amazing things he is is doing in South Africa. One of our first programs was in Gautang, at this place called Vastfontein Community.  These guys actually worked with Kurt and Cathy good friends and fellow ministers of ours, for many years in Japan. Since they have had such a long running time of ministry there, they were excited to connect on this continent. As he shared stories of the lives a lot of these children are living, taking care of younger siblings, starving, having to grow up incredibly fast, as the miracles that came by out of obedience to God in seeing needs, I was so moved.

Recently, we worked with a school in Cathcart, which is in the Eastern Cape. Our host shared with us this- I just copied this section from my weekly letter to my supervisors.

"He shared from his heart how much it hurts to see how the culture of ancestor worship and the methods of “becoming a man” are ruining so many lives. He told us how young men, usually around 16-17, but sometimes even as young as 12 go into “the bush” where they go to this school where they are brainwashed about what it means to be a man, and then they get circumcised by someone who is not equipped to handle this kind of surgery, and then they come back as “men.” Then they are free to have sex and do whatever they want. And it's a common situation for young girls to get pregnant, but the father will deny that it's his child, because that would dishonor his ancestors. He shared that about 50 young boys died last year due to infection caused from the circumcision, but they all flock over there to get it done, not noticing any connection.

It break their hearts how they see people who say that they are Christians, but walk around with so much fear of their ancestors. It's easy to blame why something goes wrong. I didn't sacrifice a beast when I was supposed to do it! Now I must sacrifice 3 of them. And a cow is a lot of money.

There are definitely a lot of strongholds here. "

It's so hard for the Christians there to  see others suffering, the kids they teach, and live with, and when they try to encourage them, what they hear in return is, "Oh, you are just being racist. You don't understand my culture. And they just want to shake them and say, your culture is killing you! You aren't respecting ancestors, you are selling your soul to the devil and he is laughing at you!

There is so much pain going on. It's good to be aware, and for me to share with you guys how you can pray for these things.

So often people come to our car when we are stopped and say, "I'm so hungry. Do you have any food?" There are so many people out of work, and so many people living off of a small grant that is given from the government when a baby is born. It's not enough for one person, but whole families somehow exist on it. 

And as I look for food to give and learn about the cultures and learn lines and find places to sleep, I carry this burden of my own. 

I finally shared on facebook about losing my baby, and a good friend said that it was unfair, and as I was thinking about that, I wrote this-  it's not about fair. It's not a justice issue. God didn't owe me this. One of my struggles has been why did he let me get pregnant in the first place, but it doesn't bother me anymore. I see that a lot of good has come out of it, and I don't hold it against God, or my womb, or anyone.

When I say it doesn't bother me anymore, that should probably have read, it doesn't bother me right now. Because I know this is not something you get over. I know I've got some hard times ahead of me, but I'll get through them.

Another facebook friend asked me if I had any insights or thoughts as to why some families go through this loss, and some don't. I wrote-  I think he takes the weak, the ones who might not seem so strong, and shows His strength through us for the world that doesn't have hope to see it. A host in Germany who actually lost her baby a few days after she was born wrote me and said, "And hard as it is: we can help other mums to go through it. We can show that we belong to Jesus not only in good times but also in the heartbreaking ones."

I think that goes for a lot of suffering. I read in a little book by Barbara Johnson that suffering is like a cake. If you take a big spoonful of flour and shortening, it will be disgusting. Stomach turning. But the Lord is putting all the ingredients together to make something beautiful, in His time. No, these ingredients do not make sense now. We just have to wait. 

Here's a quote from Barbara Johnson- "I find that people who trust God with their suffering have an invisible aroma of a freshly baked cake, that draws people to them. As Paul puts it, "all things (all the ingrediants of pain and suffering) work together for good to them that love God." When we believe that nothing comes to us except through our Heavenly Father, then suffering begins to make a little sense to us- not much, I admit, but a little bit, and that's all God needs to work in our lives, just a mustard seed of faith."

What is unfair is that so many don't have hope, food, shelter or love. Lord use us to lift this unfairness off the face of this earth. As Christians, our pain pulls a closer to His arms, and to each other for comfort. We cling to the promise that blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. 

Our pain awakens us to the pain of others and this enables our hearts to feel what the Lord feels all the time. He is constantly feeling the pain of the world, and the separation of those he loves. He is the hero in search of the lost sheep, and he won't stop until he finds them.  I better stop already, this is a novel now!

Lots of love you all,

Katie