Together Before the Throne
It was early in the afternoon on a Friday in January. I was sitting in the waiting room at the doctor’s office waiting for a quick ultrasound of the precious babe I was carrying. At my previous appointment I had measured a few weeks ahead of schedule, so my midwife wanted to verify that the due date I had been given was accurate. I didn’t mind at all. I would always welcome another opportunity to see this tiny child of mine.
But as soon as I was called back and my baby appeared on the monitor, everything changed. My dreams for the future vanished beneath the deafening silence of a still heart.
Later that afternoon, with swollen eyes and a broken heart, I sat on the couch beside my husband, Jesse. We had walked this road before, but that didn’t make it any easier this time. We wept together, him and I, all the while knowing that, despite the devastating sorrow that had suddenly and unexpectedly washed upon us yet again, we had to somehow prepare our hearts for what was still to come that day.
In just a few hours, we would be leading a group of high school students on a winter retreat. Through tears, we decided that for the sake of our students we would not share the news of our loss with them until after we had returned from the retreat. We didn’t want our grief to distract them from receiving all that God had for them during the weekend. We would entrust our grief to the Lord, each other, and a few close family members and friends who we knew would lift us up in prayer until the retreat was over.
The rest of the afternoon and evening passed in a blur, and late that night I found myself in an auditorium filled with teenagers. The lights dimmed and the band had begun to play. As everyone stood to sing, I caught a glimpse of my husband from across the aisle. His eyes were closed, and although he was doing his best maintain composure, I knew that he was aching inside. We both were.
Silently, I carried my grief as a heavy pit in my stomach, just as I carried my still baby in my womb. The shadow of grief felt so oppressive that I was sure everyone who saw me would be able to tell that I was cradling the sting of death within me. But the Lord graciously sheltered me in my sorrow.
I had nothing of myself to give to my girls as I led our small group discussions after each session. I felt empty and heavy at the same time. Throughout every conversation, during every meal, in the middle of every activity, my mind was constantly fixed on the ugly reality that my baby was gone from me. I longed to find a quiet, dark corner and weep until the tears ran dry. Every chance I could, I would steal a quick glance at the ultrasound picture I always carried with me, knowing now that this was the only piece of my daughter that I would ever have on this side of eternity.
All the while, my husband was struggling as much as I was. Our weekend was spent mostly apart—his time devoted to shepherding the high school guys, and mine to caring for our girls. However, even though our time with each other was limited over those three days, our hearts could not have been more closely intertwined. Every time Jesse was near, I could confide the depth of my heartache in him with only a passing glance. He knew when no one else around me did. The ache of my heart was understood. I was not alone.
When we would gather for worship throughout the weekend, I found such comfort in knowing that despite the weight of sorrow that had been placed upon us, we were both committed to going before the throne in praise of the One who was sustaining us in our grief. As we lifted our voices in worship, we were declaring together that God was worthy. When tears flooded my eyes and the words got caught in my throat, I would glance over at my husband and find the encouragement to press on in spite of the sorrow. My heart continued weaving its tapestry of emotions, each thread feeling heavier and more complicated than the one before it, but I knew that Jesse and I were on this road together, and that through it all the Lord was worthy of our worship—He was enough.
In our nearly ten years of marriage, Jesse and I have made countless memories together. We have travelled to foreign countries, served in ministries together, worked for hours on end renovating our home, been on many adventures, made mistakes, laughed until we cried, and stayed up way too late just enjoying each other’s presence. But there has never been a time that I have felt more intimately connected to him than while we were worshipping the Lord together that weekend. I felt such a unique nearness to him as we chose to be in the Lord’s presence together amidst such brokenness and pain.
No matter what tomorrow brings, I know that as we both pursue the Lord together, our marriage will continue to grow stronger. With every step that brings us closer to the Lord, we are also brought closer to one another. With every choice to praise God for all that He is and all that He has done, we connect with greater unity. With every decision to trust the Lord, our relationship deepens. The very best thing we can do to strengthen our love for one another is to continue committing ourselves to the One who is love, Himself.
I am so grateful for this man who has stuck by my side through our joys and sorrows, and I am committed to loving him through all the days ahead. And together, we will commit to loving our Lord above all.
- Ashlee
Hope Mom to Simeon and Odelle
Ashlee is the Editorial Coordinator for Hope Mommies, and author of I AM (Hope Mommies, 2016), and Identity (Hope Mommies, 2018). She and her husband, Jesse, live in Milwaukee with their children—five on earth and two with the Lord. You can read more of her writing on her blog.
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