Getting better.

I was holding steady until John 16. I was hanging w/ the fam, snug in my row, swallowing the words one jagged little pill at a time. Then someone used John 16:33. In an anecdote, maybe. Not even as a main point. But the words were spoken. And the words went:

"In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."

Then I knew I would never make it to the end of church without big ol' crocodile tears coursing down my cheeks. Just give it up, girlie, 'cause you aren't that strong!

It was a good cry, really. The reason I came, probably. To sit in a place where all the words ring true, where other ragged pilgrims who have nursed hurts much deeper than mine come together. Where we sing a few songs and spot a few typos and hear at least one football analogy, all while straining to retune our hearts to the vibration of the Divine.

It was good worship. Good for me to hear truths that especially touched my heart. To know other women were sharing the hurt of my week and rooting for me to feel better.

I was crying before communion, though, and I knew I needed a little intervention if I was gonna stand and step forward and be presentable and such. (It's a Southern demon, this bent toward presentation. I know; I know! But I really can't stand to fall apart in public.)

I did regain composure, and the way truly was mysterious. :) (This next part is especially for NPT, a small laugh between two girls in the know.) The congregation began to stand and some "canned" music was cued as a background for the taking of communion. The first phrase I heard was, "God, your love is extravagant."

Now, that's not nearly amusing in and of itself, but when you are -- as I am -- conditioned to pronouce that word "extragavant," the phrase somehow becomes ROTFL funny. (Stop and say it with me, now: "God, your love is ex-TRAG-a-vant!") In the inappropriate twitter I suddenly had to suppress, I found the strength to step up and hear a blessing with my name inserted in the middle.

It was good worship. I came; I carried a burden; I cried. Oh, but, truly! I came into the house of the Lord, and I did not go away empty.

My mother-in-law asked if it was too much, being in church yesterday, but it wasn't. Somehow, it was just enough.

Also, while there, I learned about two more women I know who lost babies in early or mid-pregnancy. And I decided to start a list. A short list of blessed assurance -- children I know who arrived on earth after their mothers suffered loss for the right to be moms. So far, the list includes:
Josh and Gabe
Taylor and Jameson
Joshua
Caden Seiferth
Olivia Smith
Micah Sheets
two Johnson cherubs
Lee
Noah
and baby Thomas (appearing April 2006!)

...And these are just the kids I can think of right away; in two small circles of acquaintance.

Since I know there are many more out there, I'm going to keep the list active for a while. Then, when I see any of the faces on the list, I will be reminded of how God is faithful. How his ways are above our ways, but his plans are always for our good. How nothing is impossible with God.

When I see these children, I will worship.