For the moments he was Earthside, we cherished him deeply. We still do.

I sat in the driver’s seat, surrounded by a magnificent day in April. The “Colorado blue” sky was dotted with wisps of cotton candy clouds and birds cresting in the gentle breeze. Warmth awakened my skin as I mimicked roller coasters out the window of my car.

It was a picture-perfect morning, except for the tears rolling down my cheeks. I turned up Meredith Andrews’ song Open Up the Heavens—as loud as I could manage, without being a nuisance to other drivers.

Grief sat beside me, the unwelcome companion that deposited unshakeable pain in the deepest parts of me. A mama’s heart knows when life has stopped.

A few weeks before, our second ultrasound had revealed a labored heartbeat. Too slow. But we were thankful nonetheless since we’d not heard a blip during our first ultrasound. Despite our caution, we bounded into Bible Study and risked the joy of celebration.

We were grateful for God’s presence as we shared cake topped with yellow booties and sky-blue laces. We prayed and rejoiced, thanking God for however long we would have with our little bundle of favored joy.

The Grief of Miscarriage

Despite our prayers for preservation, I drove that sun-soaked April day, heartbroken that our baby boy had already gone home and was face to arms with Jesus.

One in ten women will suffer a miscarriage during their lifetime, left burdened with the grief that accompanies it. That’s a tremendous loss. Not to mention mamas who mourn with thoughts of what might have been.

Perhaps you, dear reader, or someone you love, have joined the uninvited ranks of a sisterhood to which no one requests entry. I’m sad for you also.

But here’s what I’m discovering about wounded hearts and dispirited hopes.

Tucked beneath the layers of sorrow, gratitude waits for an invitation.

No, gratitude doesn’t erase grief or remove its sting.
It doesn’t pretend or put on a pretty face.
Nor does it sidestep the deep work that grief requires.

‘Come what May’

Into the loss of Martha and Mary when their brother Lazarus died, Jesus wept. The Bible doesn’t tell us why he wept. Simply that Jesus was there and that he did.

Just as He did for two desperate sisters, Jesus offers his tear-stained embrace for those realities we wish weren’t ours to hold. He and the Father grieve the wounds of life more keenly than you or I do.

An unexpected partner to grief, gratitude reminds us of what grief can make us forget. That God will never leave or forsake us because Jesus experienced that separation on our behalf.

As much as my heart still aches for all three of our boys to come barreling around the corner at youth group or hit whiffles in the yard, gratitude anchors me to God’s presence, come what may.

Gratitude widens our capacity to receive the good with the bad. To make room for the heartache alongside the happiness.

Growing up, Revelation 21:3-4 was among my favorite passages. I love Eugene Peterson’s The Message paraphrase:

I heard a voice thunder from the Throne: “Look! Look! God has moved into the neighborhood, making his home with men and women! They’re his people, he’s their God. He’ll wipe every tear from their eyes. Death is gone for good—tears gone, crying gone, pain gone—all the first order of things gone.”

Words of hope and gratitude.   
Words of a reality unseen.
Words of a future that erases pain of the present.

Even still, there will be days that throb more than others. On those days, I invite you to remember God’s gift of gratitude amid grief.

Let gratitude comfort you in your sorrows while propelling you forward to a day when tears and broken hearts will be no more, erased by the Glory of the One who calls us to our forever home. In due time.

Until then, when ‘Come what May’ comes, roll down your window on a sun-soaked day and mimic roller coasters with your arm. Give thanks for God’s Presence—even with tears cascading down. And celebrate the one whose life has already been made beautifully perfect and whole.

A Prayer for Gratitude into Grief

Kindhearted God,

You see the tears I hide from others, the cries I quiet in the corner of a room. You aren’t put off by my shouts and accusations that things would have been different if only You’d been here. Instead, You draw near, with comfort and hope. When I struggle to express gratitude in the presence of my grief, will you help me carry both? And remind me of Your Presence that will never leave or forget me, come what may.

Through Jesus, I pray. Amen. So be it.  

He loves us eternally and unconditionally. Every day is full of God’s mercy and the life that He gives to those who seek Him. This life is the substance and the quality that makes us truly alive and truly happy.

Meet Jennifer Sakata

Where to find her . . .

• Website
• Instagram
• Facebook
• Joy: In & Out of Season podcast

Begin Within is a series to inspire a year-round lifestyle of gratitude that will impact not only your own life, but the lives of your neighbors as well. Gratitude is a theme we talk about often around here because it ties so closely into other missional living rhythms. Practicing gratitude reminds to keep our hearts soft and expectant and our eyes open. Therefore, the more we embrace gratitude, the easier it becomes to truly see our neighbors and where we can join what God is already doing in our neighborhoods.

If you would like to contribute to Begin Within, you can find the submission guidelines here.