Marks of Beauty

It is the day after we lost Lilia.  I asked her in a text the night before if I could see her.  "Anytime, yes. I am here."  I meet her on her front lawn, her children being driven away in a van by someone.  The windows are dark.  I can't see through them to know who has given us this gift of time together.  But, I am thankful.

We embrace and cry together.  Unaware that life is moving on around us.  That people are checking off their lists of mundane "to do's".  Perhaps someone looks through their window and notices us, wondering.  She welcomes me into her home and takes me to a special place in her bedroom.  She tells me this is where she meets Jesus every day.  I have heard her talk of her "Mount of Olives".  I feel privileged to get to meet with her here.

For the next two and a half hours we talk and cry and sob together.  I share every detail, ask a lot of questions.  She, too, shares her story.  I'm amazed that she would let me in to such a sacred place of her heart.  The place she holds her firstborn.

She holds her hands out with all ten fingers showing.  She says we've come together "like this" as she connects her thumb on her left hand and her pinky on her right.  It was eight years ago.  While I was giving birth to my first born pink, juicy baby, she was feeling hers die inside of her each day.  And now, eight years later, she holds her fifth born on her hip while I search for ways to make sense of losing mine.

When I share details of the birth, the markings, the bruising of the umbilical cord around her abdomen she says something that nearly takes my breath away.  I listen.  I let it sink in.  "Those bruises, the ones that show her death was caused by nothing that could have been prevented, they are marks of beauty, Erin."

Marks of beauty.

The words hit me hard.  She easily could have been born with no hints as to what went wrong.  Hours before her birth they asked us if we wanted the tests, the autopsy.  There was no second guessing, "No." To what end would knowing bring?  Someone to blame?  Ourselves to hate?  Doubts?  Fear? We didn't want to know.  It would hurt too much.

But this mark of beauty, this unexpected gift in this raging storm gave us some peace that we didn't know was going to be offered.  Marks of beauty.  The words flowed out of her mouth, but I have no doubt they were His words.

These marks of beauty don't end there.  They are there when my friends gather to pray on a weekly basis for several months for me... for us...  They are there when I somehow escape post partum depression, something to which I am prone.  They are there when dinners overwhelm our refrigerator, cards spill out of the mailbox with prayers, verses.  They are there when I have a challenging night, only to open my email with a long time friend pouring out her heart to me.  They are there on another night when I pray as I sit at my computer and ask God to show me that what is going on in my head is only lies. A message instantly pops up with this verse from a sweet friend: Isaiah 43:3-4 For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior... Because you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you... These marks are there when I question why, only to hear from others that her death brought them closer to Him.

When my sister is nearing the end of her pregnancy and my anxiety begins to set it, He provides more marks of beauty.  She has high blood pressure, high enough to need weekly non-stress tests, but not high enough to cause concern.  As the weeks near the end, we are reassured that her precious baby is fine over and over again.

More low moments come, but they are quickly swept away with a card from a sister of a dear friend... Or an unexpected verse in my Bible so close to the one my dear friend gave me the day after we lost her.  I draw a line connecting the two.  There is a connection.

I will give you the treasures of darkness

and riches from secret places,

so that you may know that I,

Yahweh, 

the God of Israel call you by your name.

Let the earth open up

so that salvation will sprout

and righteousness will spring up

with it.

I, Yahweh, have created it.

Isaiah 45: 3 and 8

Her death had purpose.  He chose this for her.  For us... So that salvation will sprout and righteousness will spring up with it... 

Marks of beauty.  Marks are often connoted with blemishes, ugliness, something that should be removed.  But the marks He gave us are permanent and full of beauty.  They give us glimpses of His perfect plan for us, for Lilia.

May the Lord be praised, 

for He has heard the sound

of my pleading.

The Lord is my strength and my shield;

my heart trusts in Him,

and I am helped.

Therefore my heart rejoices,

and I praise Him with my song.

Psalm 28:6-7