miscarry: (of something planned) fail to attain an intended or expected outcome.
The Enemy steals and kills and destroys. The Lord finishes what He begins. Death is powerful but the power of resurrection, of life, of restoration, revival, of fresh, new, is far greater. Darkness can't fight back light.
Comparing pain, judging loss, is pointless. Circumstances are different, we all experience hurt though. There are unanswered questions, mourned dreams, scars with stories written in them. None of this should shape our view of God. He is who He says He is and when you know His heart you don't attribute the loss or pain to Him. There are things I can't know and things I don't yet know, but what I do know is His heart. He's spelled it out for us (literally) and He confirms it to our spirits endlessly because He doesn't change.
The same Papa holds us in His abundant-life, redeeming, healing, resurrecting Hands. In the differing losses hear His heart ring true as the heart pangs of a some dear friends echo out --- read here.
I walk around + journey forward in much security. I stand in strength because my roots are sunk deep in the fathomless love + acceptance + goodness of the Beloved. I have moments I suppose amputees must also experience where you are caught up in normalcy and a sense of wholeness and then realize something is missing. Something important and irreplaceable. Something that was part of your life every day and then suddenly was not. Something -- someone -- that's another half of you, a best friend. I've lost him. Death has taken hold. That's the end.
-- for now. Because where the Lord is, death is never the last word. I know He is not finished here. I don't know what it will look like at all I just know that new life comes next. Probably like a sun rise, slowly and then in its entirety.
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