It's Not My Fault

Psalm 139:13-14 NIV For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

 

How many times have we said - "It's not my fault" - and then proceed to find someone to blame?  I read something this week and I wanted to reach through the internet and tell a precious mom this very thing.  It's not your fault.  She was publicly sharing a very deep grief.  The loss of a baby - a sweet baby that didn't get a chance to live because life ended before birth.  The saddest part of her story was not the reminder to other new moms to treasure life but that she kept saying she failed her baby. 

 

The verses above rescued me from the same guilt.  When you lose someone you grieve - it's a normal part of life and that grief is a process and never fully ends.  When you lose a child it changes things.  Especially when that child dies while still inside your womb.  You suddenly feel guilt and you want to figure out what you did wrong or how you could have known before something happened.  It took this verse and a class full of fifth graders to bring me out of the guilt and failure part of my grief over losing my daughter.  I was teaching them and as I read these words God reminded me that He was there.  Right there with sweet Sarah Elizabeth holding her hand and preparing her life and then allowing her to be with Him.  I wasn't to blame.  God knew - He knew the plan - He knew.  

 

Another blog I read today spoke of deep grief.  To each person the loss that brings deep grief is different.  We all have grief that goes with us through each day and sometimes we want to blame someone, anyone for our pain.  Because if we can then maybe we won't feel so bad about it.  Sometimes choices can cause that grief and I wanted desperately to blame the doctor who didn't deliver our baby when I thought he should.  Then I just blamed myself.  What could have been different?  If Sarah had lived my life would look drastically different.  Instead of my son I would have my daughter.  But for whatever reason I have my son instead.  And what an amazing blessing he is - between my oldest daughter and my son I can see how this grief was turned to joy.  This mourning was turned to peace.  

 

And maybe - just maybe I can help someone else as they walk the road of grief.  You see there is a sunrise and a new day and when the deepest part of grief mellows we are able to see the beauty of life and treasure the days a little better.