June 3. A day that makes a lump rise up in my throat when I hear it said. A day that I dread but long for in so many ways. The day we held our first baby in our arms. I try to hang on to every memory I have of that day, good and bad and am thankful when I can still recall the events of June 3, 2010. June 3, a day to be brave.
It's been 4 years since we held Grant for the first and only time. So much has happened since that day. And while that day and that baby boy will forever be a part of us, I'm so thankful that isn't all there is to our story. I'm not just talking about the fact that we now have two beautiful children, although I'm thankful for them and they have brought so much joy to our home. You see, June 3, 2010 was a turning point in my faith that required me to put into practice the faith I've professed since I was a little girl. For me this was the conversion of just believing that God has everything under control to the practice and submission of knowing that only he can sustain me. Let me not give the impression that this has been an easy process. This acceptance that I'm not in control wasn't something that I embraced wholeheartedly on June 3. It has been a continual laying down of my own plans, knowing that he has proved himself time and time again. It was watching him make opportunities for conversations with friends and even strangers to share my story of loss and grief and hope. It was trusting that God's timing was best despite my heartache each month when I hoped to be pregnant and found out yet again that I wasn't. It was trusting that, just because our first baby died, that didn't have to be the way it went for other pregnancies (despite the timing being nearly the same). I'm not in charge, but I know and trust The One who is. While it isn't something I ever want to experience again, I will continue to mark June 3 as a day to be brave and remember my God's faithfulness.
