Freely Given, Freely Received: Seeking Reconciliation
It was only a few weeks after Anna died and I could sense that she was pregnant. Why wouldn’t she just tell me and get it over with? And how could she hide this knowing how badly I hurt? I talked with my grief counselor about my fears. I expressed how hurt I was—as if my friend getting pregnant was a direct attack on me and my grief. I was jealous, I was envious, I was angry.
I wasn’t angry at God for allowing it, I was angry at her for letting this happen so soon after my loss. I realized it was incredibly selfish, but I needed time to heal first before dealing with a new baby so close to home. I felt so neglected by God in my infertility and loss. Did this news mean she was better than me? More worthy? Satan’s lies piled up in between me and this friend of mine.
Finally, two months later, the day came when I knew she would be telling me. “Can we come over to tell you something?” My heart sank. I cried and prayed on the phone with my closest friend in preparation for the official news I had been dreading. It happened to be the 7th of the month, three months to the day since Anna died. Those month markers were oh so important in the beginning. Now my focus shifted to, how could she choose this day, of all days?
They told us. We did celebrate and provide congratulations externally. We were genuinely joyous for them. But deep down I could feel Satan gathering his list of reasons in my heart of why I couldn’t possibly forgive her for this hurt. To top it off, there were comments of, “When will you guys try again?”
Try again?
It was like asking a widow at her husband’s funeral when she would start dating again. How dare they be so insensitive? How dare they try to pad this blow with a reminder that we could “just have another baby.” We didn’t want another baby. We wanted our baby that died, and we simply wanted our friends to get that without having to say it.
I cry just writing these words and remembering how terribly excruciating those moments were in my acute grief. My tender wounds were scraped open again and bleeding, no, hemorrhaging.
By this point, the initial shock of loss had worn off, and my sinful nature started rearing its head. It was the perfect storm of emotions met with Satan’s temptation to draw me away from the Lord at all costs by pointing blame and allowing anger to fester. My friend did cause me some pain, but I wasn’t completely off the hook either. I was grieving the Lord with my sinful attitude toward a sister in Christ, and with some my actions and the words in my heart. I wanted to rejoice with her as I have been commanded, but my pride hindered me.
Another two months passed that I spent reveling in pain and envy. Not a word was spoke asking us how we were since the news arose, just shallow small talk. I assumed she thought all was ok. Finally, after one particularly difficult Sunday morning, I decided I couldn’t let Satan hold this friendship or my mind captive any longer. I wrote out my expression of grief in words via an email to her. I described what my grief over losing Anna looked like behind closed doors. I chose to be gracious toward her knowing what they had done wasn’t intentional, but expressed how hard the news was to accept because of how badly I hurt. I expressed how it hurt that they chose that date, indicating to me that they hadn’t been keen to know how important it was to me. I explained how I desired for God to win over this and to allow our friendship to grow because of it.
Oh what grace I received in return for extending my hand of reconciliation. The next morning, she texted how sorry she was and how important it was that she respond in person. I was so relieved and grateful, like a weight been lifted off of me in that instance. It didn’t remove all the pain immediately, but it was a start. It was one yard line toward the Lord and away from Satan.
Her extension of grace instead of defensiveness was what I needed to start breaking down my walls. Ironically, we met to talk on the day she was 16 weeks along, the same mark that my water broke with Anna that started our process toward delivering too early. It felt like a symbol from the Lord to remember how precious her baby was since I knew from holding Anna at that gestation how perfectly formed her baby was in her womb. She expressed, tearfully, how Anna’s death was very saddening for her and that she grieved the loss of our babies being friends and so much more. She told me how faithfully she had been praying for me and realized that I simply needed to hear that verbally from her. She explained how she didn’t know how badly I grieved Anna’s absence on the inside since I was acting pretty normal on the outside.
Yes, after our meeting the wound was still a little tender. Yes, I still struggled to forgive, but I forgave over and over and over again until I finally didn’t have to anymore. Each month was still difficult because it was a month she got with her baby that I didn’t have with mine. Her growing belly was hard to look at. And while I wanted to be a part of her baby shower planning, it was set to be on a day I was out of town. The Lord was also gracious in knowing what we needed to continue to heal. Instead of attending, I was able to gift her a special day out together, which was much more gentle on me than attending a shower.
Finally, on the day her baby was born five months later, it was as if our friendship was re-born as well. The months of prayer, working through the hurt with Jesus, and intentionally nourishing our friendship had allowed grace to reign instead of condemnation. This would not have been possible if I had never decided to actively extend grace in obedience or if my friend had never extended grace to me when she could have easily been defensive and called me out on my selfishness.
Just as our Savior extended grace on the cross to those who sent Him to the cross (Luke 23:34), we can extend grace to those around us who don’t (and won’t) know every intimate detail of our grief. If we are expecting our friends, family, and spouses to understand to the same extent as we do, we are placing unattainable expectations on them. H.A. Ironside once said, “Grace is the very opposite of merit… Grace is not only undeserved favor, but it is favor shown to the one who has deserved the very opposite.” Like Jesus, we can extend grace to those who hurt us in our grief because He extended His grace to us first. Likewise, in light of God’s greatness, we should be humble enough to realize when we have been extended grace by others, because grief gets ugly, and we are not sinless in our pain.
My wounded heart needed to bleed. As a nurse, I know that it’s only with healthy, bloody tissue that a wound actually does heal from the inside out. The Lord knew exactly what circumstances I needed in order to work through my sin and come out closer to Him because of it. Looking back, I’m grateful for this situation, not only because of how it healed me in new ways, but also because of how much intimacy my friend and I gained through this awkward and difficult situation. If you find yourself in a similar situation, don’t wait to seek reconciliation and extend grace upon grace. And when you get weary, look to Jesus, our perfect example.
- Kayla
Hope Mom to Anna Joy
Kayla is married to Justin in sunny south Florida where they enjoy life together with friends & family. Kayla is a teacher at heart, nurse by profession, & lover of truth! She serves as a volunteer nurse at her local Care-Net & enjoys women’s ministry discipleship especially in the areas of grief, marriage, & infertility. You can follow more of her musings on grief here.
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