Kelli’s Story

Seven Years Later

Her heart was aching and lonely, she felt lost and misunderstood. For months, the heart of this carpenter’s wife, who was not yet a mother in the eyes of the world, grieved the loss of child she never got to meet. No physical scar or sign to hold that would indicate to the world the condition of her heart and how it was left in tiny shards of glass. No one seemed to see the disaster that lay before her. Her heart, once perfectly crafted and beautiful and whole like a lovely porcelain vase, now lay on the ground where common people trekked. Often times, she felt like she was kneeling on the ground, overwhelmed at the destruction and unprepared of how to begin to pick up each and every tiny piece because all those parts mattered to her. No one heard her cries and no one helped pick up the ruins.  Instead, this wife, not yet a true mother in her own eyes, saw person after person go on with his or her life, and her ability to remain invisible made her want to scream.

Even if she would begin to pick up the parts, one by one, she knew lacked the ability to fix this mess like a true craftsman, unable to rebuild and make beautiful again what had been so violently and suddenly shattered. So, in silence, she often stared and cried at the fragmented bits. As she touched the parts, she cut her own fingers, and she wasn’t sure if the pain or the bleeding of her heart would ever stop. Friends close to her had babies and she was reminded of her empty womb and her empty arms. For months, the sun rose and it set, and she was angry that life dared to move on without her and every day she drifted deeper into the darkness away from the light. Her cries in the murky valley were slowly becoming silent as numbness began to overcome her. She felt she had been fighting the waves of grief for so long that she finally let go and was slowly and inaudibly drowning. But that night, in an attempt to survive and to keep up with life, the carpenter and his wife set out to the theater to watch a movie. Perhaps a flick could dull the pain, if but for a moment, and even bring her a smile. It was a tale about a little girl, a lost princess, who was stolen in the middle of the night, much like her own baby was, who would, at a time much later, find her place and be reunited with her parents.  In the dimness of the theater, emotion overcame her and left trails of tears down her face as she uncontrollably wept while the lost princess who was no longer missing, was restored to her grieving family. Parents who perhaps never really believed they would hold their little girl again. It was at that moment, the Lord, the Rescuer of the carpenter’s wife, the One who saw her drowning in her grief reached His mighty hand down in the water and reminded her of a day when she, too, would be unified with her baby. He used this secular story to remind her of His timeless truth (Revelation 21:4). As this moment played out on screen, her mind flooded to the day, oh, the glorious day, where she would be dressed in the white robes of righteousness, restored to her fullness, sin finally removed, her broken heart mended,  a majestic place of golden streets and pearly gates where there would no longer be weeping or thieves to steal what was beloved by her; but a joy, oh a sweet, satisfying happiness, not only because she would see her Savior face to face, but she would finally meet her baby, the one whose life she was left to only dream about.

Her tears continued to fall, but for the first time in months, she could breathe, she was heard, she was seen, she was known and she felt thankful that even in her grief, she could see the light of hope. Her anguish wasn’t over, but she knew He was coming for her heart, that He would make good on His promises to take what was meant for evil and use it for His good (Genesis 50:20; Romans 8:28) and that He was capable of taking her ashes and exchanging them for a crown of beauty (Isaiah 61:3).  And as she looked down at her shattered heart, it no longer seemed overwhelming; as she saw Him picking up the pieces, one by one, with careful attention, promising that He could and that He would make her new. And as He collected the pieces so tenderly, the ones that no one saw, it was as if He whispered to her, “Kelli, I know you don’t understand, but please just trust Me.” And she knew somehow that He would do what she could not do. He would take her shame and find healing; He would take her hurts and give her grace; He would rebuild her life, piece by broken piece; but that He would create something new and more magnificent than what was there before. He would do what humans could not do. He would be faithful to complete His work in her, and if she’d be open to Him, His light could shine through her more brilliantly than ever before.

Seven years later, the wife of the carpenter and the mother of three munchkins and one in heaven, can attest that He did and continues to do exactly that.

I am a follower of Jesus, wife to my high school love, Galen, a teacher at heart and mother of three children on earth and one in heaven. I live in Goshen, IN where I spend my days basking in as much sunshine as possible, raising chickens and children all the while running a business and learning what it means to truly follow after God.

We would be honored to share your story as a Hope Mom on our blog. Every Saturday we feature a Hope Mom’s story in order to showcase God’s faithfulness even in the midst of such deep sorrow. If you would like to have your story shared on our blog for this purpose, learn more and submit here.