As I tossed and turned in bed, the rising sun caught my eye. I hadn’t slept well, like so many nights before. My swollen pregnant belly was to blame. He was due any day, a beautiful baby boy. And although this was the fourth child we’d be welcoming to our family, his arrival and the months that followed would be intensely different. Instead of joyful anticipation, worry and confusion consumed me. 

It was the spring of 2020. Thousands of miles and a closed Canadian / US  border separated me from family and friends. In previous births, I could have counted on them to cover me with meals, babysitting and the emotional support that every mother needs in those early days of postpartum. But this time would be different.

Uncertainties raced through my mind in a seemingly constant barrage. If the world was still quarantined, who would watch the rest of our children during delivery? Would my husband even be allowed to join me at the hospital? Should I wait until we can travel again to celebrate his baptism with family? Will we even be able to get him properly baptized in a church? 

As my ambiguity swelled, so did my desperate grasp for control. Control I was quickly losing grip of but clinged to nonetheless. I stressed and strategized, trying to plan for every outcome. Until finally, I gave in and reached for my Bible. Thumbing through pages, my fingers landed on Isaiah 55. 

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, my thoughts higher than your thoughts.”

I echoed this verse so many times before, but today it fell flat. Rather than hopeful, it felt trite as if the Lord was distant and couldn’t be bothered by my childish concerns. He is the Lord. He knows all things, sees all outcomes. I believed He was good, but would His goodness extend to me at this moment? 

The days passed slowly and delivery day came without much added stress given the circumstances. At that point in the pandemic, hospital policy still allowed my husband to join me as a support person for his birth, and a few dear friends offered to watch our kids during the hospital stay. 

Yet even in the midst of the very obvious ways the Lord cared for me, the long, weary days of postpartum loomed heavy. I felt so alone and vulnerable. Caring for four young children in isolation while also trying to juggle the added stress of the pandemic, I spiraled into a deep and debilitating depression. Each morning seemed like a new mountain to climb. By the time he was two months old, it was glaringly obvious that I was in over my head. 

It was then that I walked into our family doctor’s office for his well-child check up. The moment the nurse made eye contact with me I fell to pieces. She kindly asked me how I was doing and though I tried to fein a polite smile, the tears welling in my eyes told a different story. She comforted me and summoned the doctor. He greeted me with a gentle smile and kind words. A father of five children himself, he assured me that the circumstances I was facing were in fact hard. After assessing the state of my very apparent postpartum depression, He sweetly offered me a cupcake, made me promise not to share it with my kids and then humbly asked if he could pray with me. 

I was so touched by his simple and unassuming kindness. Who was I to be on the receiving end of such care? The world was in the midst of a pandemic. There were countless others suffering in far greater ways, but on that particular morning my doctor slowed down his schedule to help me, to listen to my concerns, to see me. And God our Father does the same thing.  

It was at that moment in the sterile doctor’s office with my mask on and cupcake in hand that I met Christ tangibly. Little did I know that when life gets messy and hard, we get the chance to experience how big and personal His love is for us actually is. He isn’t just thinking about the grand plan for His creation, discarding and ignoring some heartache for the good of the whole. He sees you and me. He sees our weary, tender, beaten down hearts and meets us right in the midst of it. Not just for the big life-altering moments, but for the seemingly small, insignificant ones as well. 

In that moment, He didn’t just recognize me as one of His many children, rather I felt seen in my loneliness and isolation. He didn’t just offer uplifting platitudes and distant proverbs in Scripture, He spoke to me in my despair. He didn’t just die for me 2000 years ago and leave me to figure the rest out. He showed up, walking beside me in one of my darkest moments. He placed me in the path of others, who by His grace acted as His hands and feet, carrying the burden when I no longer could. 

I wish I could say after that day at the doctor’s office things got better and easier for me and our little family. They didn’t. Life doesn’t always give us such simple conclusions, tying it all up in a bow. In the months that followed, we were unexpectedly kicked out of our rental housing. Soon after that my husband lost his job. It seemed as if 2020 was walking through one valley only to fall face first into another. 

And though my particular circumstances didn’t change much, my perspective did. In the months that followed that grace-filled encounter, my prayer led me back to Isaiah 55 but this time with fresh eyes and a softened heart. 

Further into the chapter professes, “For just as the rain and the snow come down from the heavens and do not return there until they have watered the earth, making it fertile and fruitful…so shall my word be that issues forth from my mouth. It will not return to me unfulfilled, but it will accomplish my purpose and achieve what I sent it forth to do.”

Rather than distant and apathetic, the verses spoke to me of His grandeur. A grandeur that promises He is about a great work. He holds all things together…works all circumstances for the good of those who love Him…for the good of you and me. His Spirit will not return to Him void, but rather it accomplished what He sent it to do. He is inviting us into a deeper, more vivid life with Him. He is a jealous God fighting for the prize of our hearts, and He will not stop until His purpose is complete.

The question becomes not if we will encounter obstacles, for challenges are as innate to humanity as breathing. 

Rather the question becomes how will we respond when we do encounter struggle. Will I fret and strategize, cling to control and try to manage every outcome? Or will I lean in, look up and surrender to His workings in my life…choosing to trust that He is holding all things together? Do I have the confidence that He is who He claims to be, a powerful God who loves and cares for His people.

Though that particular season of my life was full of challenges, looking back I can see how He was laying the groundwork for beautiful things to come. Through my postpartum depression, I was able to experience the love and care from friends who became life family, making the gift of their care all the sweeter. Friends, who watched my older children, provided us meals and taught me in their selflessness what loving your neighbor really looks like. Due to our housing situation, we were able to move back home closer to family much sooner than anticipated. This allowed for an introduction to our son almost a year sooner than they would have been able to given the border closure. 

God’s ways are far beyond my ways. His ways are far higher than mine. He knew how this would all play out. It was in His hands all along. He had marked these days from the beginning and He does the same for you. Still when we are stuck working our way through the bramble of the trees, it's hard to see the beauty of the forest that surrounds us. But our Father is a good Father. He is trustworthy, working all things together for our good. So let us go forward, confidently trusting in His provision, knowing that His plan will come to fruition, and seeing with the eyes of faith all the ways He provides for us now.