How to keep moving forward when all hope seems lost

How do we keep moving forward when life looks so different and we feel so lost?

When I am gasping for breath from the weight of the grief I am carrying, who but God is strong enough to hold me up, to gently pick me up and quietly whisper to my weary frame, “it will be okay.” I can still vividly remember the swaying back and forth as I had collapsed onto the floor in a puddle of tears. Our littlest baby had become very ill. Less than 6 weeks old with an unexplained fever. We were urged to take her to the emergency room. Nothing will get you in quicker, a vip pass if you will, like telling them your baby has hydrocephalus, a vp shunt at birth and she’s running a fever. We were rushed to the back and immediately the testing began. The fever raged but no answers came. We waited. Our neurosurgeon came in to see me, to tell me he did not want to tap her shunt, doing this could introduce bacteria, could possibly cause an infection, and require brain surgery again. I had seen God move in power, I knew He had healed our baby girl we had fought so hard for. He would make this all right. Days passed and every test came back negative. Their worst fears confirmed, they wondered. The Dr. came in to speak with me, this same man who had not seen the value in her life just months prior now hoping with all his might that it might not be her shunt, there is no treatment for an infected shunt, only brain surgery to place another shunt.

I don’t have words to express what I felt in that moment, frozen in time, as if I was floating through the cosmos, this man, brilliant man, holding my baby girl so tenderly in his arms, very much fighting for her, praying it could be something else. He held her close and comforted her as she wailed from the puncture. The love that filled the room engulfed me, I couldn’t breathe. God, is this why you had said, “He will be her Dr. do not switch providers”. That you might display your glory, your power, your love? 

He handed me my baby doll. He walked out. I wept over Gods goodness. While still the fever raged.

More waiting. The resident walked in, “We wanted to let you know she has elevated white blood cells around her shunt, it is more than likely an infection…” I nodded. Fear gripped my heart. She had barely shut the door when I fell onto the floor, sobbing wildly before God, “Oh Lord, please no, please don’t let this be how her story will play out Father…” I wept uncontrollably, “this is so unfair Lord, please Father, not my sweet baby, Lord…”. I felt Father pick me up from the floor, His swaying, rocking me back and forth and back and forth again. Shhh, shhh, shhhh, He spoke to me over and over again. It was as if I could feel Him sweetly stroking my hair, kissing my head as I do my own children when they come to me crying, hurt from a fall. His whispering, “It’s going to be okay.” And as He did, I felt myself begin to calm. To breathe easier. He didn’t open up the skies and show me a vision of my darling girls life. He didn’t show me how it would all turn out, but He did say, “I know, I know, it’s going to be okay”. He didn’t promise me I wouldn’t experience more sorrow or have to fight through fear every time she would spike a fever and I would desperately look for a runny nose, a cough, anything that would say, “it’s not her shunt”.

Those early years of her life were hard and they were sacred and beautiful. I missed many special events because I had to sit in hospital rooms making sure it wasn’t her shunt and they would assure me, the more you know her, the better you will be able to know whether you need to bring her in or not, they were right. 

The more I got to know my baby girl, the better I recognized her bodies responses, but the peace I had, came long before these moments. In those first two years of her life the possibility of her shunt becoming infected was very real. I held onto Fathers hand and prayed that I might not allow fear to rob me of loving my baby girl, of walking in joy and peace. Of being present for my family. 

From the depths of my despair, I hold onto you Oh Lord, I cried out as I sobbed before Father, extending my hand to His.

I don't hold onto the gifts, the hope that He gives and the joy that will transcend this place of brokenness, NO, I hold on to you Oh Lord, My God, My Rock and My Redeemer! The ONE who HOLDS me tightly. The one who envelopes me in love as I sob and wail and kick and scream, I want it all to be better right now. For the dark and hard and ugly and death to be undone. 

It isn’t at all how I thought it would end. We pray boldly and humbly, and we cling to truth, and we know He is able, we know He can, and yet His ways are not our ways and a lot of times what we think will best show off His glory, is not what He has in mind. 

My son walked in and found me crying. He asked if I was sad. I nodded. He asked me why, “because I miss Ms. Dana.” We had one of our girls wellness check ups today, she would have been one of the first I would have texted. Her joy would have been one of elation over the report of more growth in both height and weight. We would have celebrated Gods faithfulness and she would have told me, “remind her, I’ve not forgotten our picnic.” My sweet girl was still waiting for her picnic with Mrs. Dana. I lovingly, with a broken heart told her our picnic would not happen as she stared at me in disbelief, our dearest friend, gone. "But we haven’t had our picnic", she said. 

Later I would tell my little girl, our picnic looked different. Instead of a beautiful picnic underneath massive oak trees it would be in her little bedroom as the effects of the illness ravaged her body. We had brought her bread, and Mac and cheese and rice, and butter, all of the carb loaded foods we could think of that would bless her heart and her body. We were not the only ones bringing provisions. We shared some of the beef stew another dear friend had brought her, and right there on her bed, we had a picnic just weeks before she passed. She shared the chocolate chip cookies she would wake up to eat in the middle of the night. I look back on this day with such fondness, she was concerned they would feel afraid because of how different and small she was, and while they felt unsure about the new surroundings their joy abounded when they saw her and so we dined, mismatched plates I had found in the kitchen on the bed. The last meal I would share with my friend on this side of Heaven. I would have lingered longer had I known it would be our last visit. I was concerned with not overstaying and keeping my girls quiet so as to not disturb her roommate. But she delighted in us all the more. Reminding me, their joy was her joy, they are just fine! 

Living our lives with arms wide open will cost us. No amount of money can take away the pain of losing someone we love deeply, but never to have loved? That is the greatest sadness of all. Our lives are richer because we loved and were loved in return! 

Yessi argabright

While I never expected we would say goodbye to our dear friend so soon, The Lord knew, and as He has always promised, He never left her side. He held her until her very last breath and even now He holds her still. My Mama and I rejoiced fully to know her parents had loved and cared for her, a prayer we had prayed through sobs, “Oh Lord, please send our sister help, please bring her someone to care for her as she continues to heal, O Lord, please hold her close.” And He did. 

The most beautiful picture I hold closely in my mind especially in seasons of hardship, is this tangible reminder, “even when I don’t have the energy or the capacity or strength to hold on, HE ALWAYS DOES!” It is His grip that matters most. Just as it is my grip that matters most when my little darlings are walking across the busy parking lot with me, even when they let go, my grip is firm, I will not let go. Father’s grip is all the greater, and He will not let go. 

I pray these words breathe comfort and hope to you as they do me. 

His Word in 2 Timothy 2:13 goes as far as to say, “even if we are faithless He will remind faithful, for He cannot deny Himself.” It is who He is. The Faithful One. 

Even in our wrestling with hard questions, in all of our insecurities and fears, God is steadfast and He anchors us to Himself. HE does this! He draws us close. His Word says, “no one comes to the Father unless through The Son and no one comes to The Son unless The Father brings Him.” It is all the work of His Spirit, all of it. Even the faith to believe His Word, "Draw near to me and I will draw near to you..." "He prepares a table for me in the presence of my enemies, surely your goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of The Lord forever." Psalms 23.

Sister, it is all a gift. The very breath inside of our lungs, the skin that covers our bones, the blood the flows through our veins, it is all a gift. A gift He gives freely, a gift that displays His goodness for all to see. Yes, even this pain, He promises to use for our good, for His glory. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I have walked with Him long enough to know, even in dry and weary lands He will hold us close and see us through and we will come out on the other side wondering how we made it. Marveling at how I can breathe again. And it will not be because I white knuckled my way through this life. It will be because I yielded my life to His. Freely. Because like Peter, I have only these words to say, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. ⁶⁹ We have come to believe and to know that you are the Holy One of God.”

Where else could I turn to? Where else would I go? There is no one who loves us more than The Lord. Sister, no one. He is everlasting life Himself, everything is found in Him. Everything we long for, hope for, it is all found in the person of Jesus. Our Savior King.

What do we do, do we hope again?

Yes! We dare to hope again. We pray and ask God to keep our heart for hardening, to guard us from the desire to self-preserve, to not feel. We will hope again, not because of who we are, but because of who HE is. For today we will grieve but tomorrow as we continue to walk close, the wound will not be so open and raw, and before we know it, the pain will not consume our every waking moment. When the wind and waves, they soar threatening to swallow us whole, and grief comes seemingly out of nowhere, we will press our face against The Lord, Our Rock, the tears will come freely, but sorrow will not my future hold, for He has anchored us to Himself. His Word says, “He holds the keys to hell itself.” (Revelations 1:18) Despair cannot have us. Because He has ordained it so. In this place of waiting, we can rest and trust Him to work out the details. So do not fret sister, the sun will shine again, all hope is not lost. 

His tangible hope is present here today. In the roses we smell, in the crape Myrtle’s that bloom, in the dirt beneath our feet and the very blood flowing through our veins. In puppy kisses and children laughing, His goodness is ever present, we need only to open our eyes to see it.

Behold with me. And if you cannot see it still, tell Him and ask Him with me, that we might not miss His mercy in this place.

Our prayer:

Keep our hearts from growing calloused Lord. Help us to hope in you, keep our feet firmly planted in you, our everlasting King of Kings. For in you we have placed our hope, and this hope will not leave us. You have anchored us to you and in you is the safest place to be, under the shadow of your wings.

That baby girl is much older now. She brings me to my knees in joy and laughter. His Word has remained true, He promised to be the One to sustain us, and He has and He will. Over a week in the hospital the fever left her. No answers. No infected shunt. We could go home. Those next two years The Lord would keep us in a bubble of sorts, away from most of the people that I had walked with for years, for her protection and our faith. To cause us to depend on Him all the more. We have tasted of His goodness. We know He will see us through. This is my hope for us, to stay rooted and tethered to Him. He will do it sister, He will.

Many blessings and love for you today. I know hope will come to meet you, His Name is Jesus, I pray His tangible love will envelope your heart and engulf your pain even as He holds us close. I have a whole hope series I am working on, you can find more hope while walking through grief here.

We are loved, don't forget it. As always if this has blessed you would you please leave me a comment and share with the ones you love whom you know would be blessed by these words. Thankful for you.

Dig deeper: John 6:68-69, 14:6, 2 Timothy 2:13