I walk into the grocery store, glancing around to see if anyone notices my wounds. They see my skin, my flesh — the outside. But they don’t see me limping.
They won’t see me limping.
Because my legs work fine, you see…it’s my soul that wrestled with God (and He won). So I limp.
My soul, it limps.
Passersby don’t see the pain or the wounds, because the outside seems okay. Seems functioning. Seems normal.
They don’t know we lost a baby. They don’t know before that we lost our house. They don’t know before that we lost a job.
So much wrestling. So much wounding.
I hear the so squeaky wheels on my shopping cart and think about how even my cart has a limp. The cart suits me. We will lumber along together.
Even though we lumber, and make noise, and seem like at any moment we won’t make it. We do make it. We are victorious.
I am victorious.
The earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal. So I heal. From the inside out. The way deep wounds heal, without a scab to protect it, just the deep re-knitting of tissue. The slow, labored, limping healing that shows signs that a battle, that wrestling, happened here.
The healing that only comes with God’s breath laying constantly upon each decision, each choice. Each thought. With each breath He winnows, He molds, He changes. And even though the limp never quite goes away, I march boldly on to follow and endure whatever battle comes next.
God does not despise our limp. He wounds us because He loves us and wants to heal us. My limp is my battle scar. I grow prouder of it each and every day.
Even as I wrote the birth story of my stillborn daughter, I felt that victory. I felt the peace that surpasses all understanding, even, and especially, my own. To have such beauty, to dig deep and still find only tranquility on such a day…well God’s breath creates perfection in times of wrestling that are beyond me. And beyond my understanding.
Jesus knows my limp, He bears it with me. Even when I think a grieving mother is the most alone person in the world — my Lord reminds me that He knows my loss. He knows the isolation of grief. He knows, well, travailing for things to be different.
And I point to my limp and say,
“how does the heart break free?“
I hear His voice in my heart as He answers and says,
“be victorious, for Me and through Me, limp and all.“
Have you felt wounded by God? How have you found your victorious limp?
by Arianne, To Think Is To Create
Leave a Comment
Jen Martinson says
we briefly conversed on twitter in April about my loss (at 15 weeks) and yours…sharing (((HUGS))). This post is so much of what I have been feeling.
“Jesus knows my limp, He bears it with me. Even when I think a grieving mother is the most alone person in the world — my Lord reminds me that He knows my loss. He knows the isolation of grief. He knows, well, travailing for things to be different.”
I feel victory in knowing He bears it with me!
Thanks for your beautiful words {reminders} that say I am not alone.
Much love and prayers to you!
Elizabeth says
I needed to be reminded today that God is bearing it all with me. Almost a year ago, I had a miscarriage and it’s been very, very difficult. I need to remember that I can fall back into those Everlasting Arms every day.
Lanie says
Monday, I wrote about the loss in my past year on my blog. Not a miscarriage, but several deaths in my family and challenges. My post was entitle Everyone Has a Story. Basically it was about how we don’t know the pain and trials in other’s lives, but God does and he loves us and holds us up through them. Thanks for sharing this beautiful post. I pray that your heart continues to heal. ~Lanie J.
Jess says
This is just beautiful. It put words to how I feel so often! “My soul limps” – just perfect. I think like you do whenever I go to new places, I think “They don’t know. They don’t look at me and see the 29 year old widow. They don’t know my heart. They don’t see the pain.” Sometimes, it’s wonderful – it’s nice to take a vacation from being “Jess, the one who lost her husband after just 8 months of marriage”. Sometimes I’m glad my wounds are on the inside, they are easier to cover up. But sometimes I do want to just scream “Don’t you know what I have been through?” – it reminds me that I am probably not the only one wandering around that grocery store broken.
MARILYN says
I am so sorry for the loss you are bearing.
Thank you for being willing to write this and doing it so beautifully. I have walked long with a limp. Am not sure I would say I was ‘wounded by God,’ but no matter on that. I go with the limp, own it, trusting God for the healing, in His time. It is just part of my story and I believe in beauty from ashes. Not that I crave a silver lining, as though it will whisk away the pain of what happened, but I DO trust that something beautiful is in process.
Your words here were beautiful.
Traci says
I love your heart! I love your writing! You inspire me!
Jenny says
oh my goodness this was so powerful… in so many ways… reading this post reminds me that brokenness is not optional when we live in Christ… and to be broken does not mean to be deficient in any way.
Susan says
I am in that limping stage right now – – just getting up after being pushed down and heartbroken. Thank you for the reminder to take it one step at a time, knowing that God is healing. Not expecting it today – -but trusting Him with today.
Kathy @ Beautiful Mornings says
Many years ago we had a baby that only lived two days, and though it was an extremely painful journey, God did bring us through in the victorious way only He can do, praise Him! Our joy was restored and our healing was complete.
Several years later, God brought a lady into my life that lost a 2 month old son to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. She was new in town, not a believer, and God allowed me the privilege to walk through the valley with her. She came to know Jesus as her Savior and I watched her heal from this tragic loss, slowly and steadily, and I watched her get to know the Lord and grow in her walk with Him.
She allowed me to befriend her because I had been down the path of losing a baby and she knew I could understand her pain.
I could not have told her about God’s comfort in a pain so deep, if I had not known that comfort myself.
2 Corinthians 1:3-4 (NIV) 3Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, 4who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.
Ashleigh (Heart and Home) says
you take my breath away and leave me without coherent words. i love you.
Becky Ramsey says
Thank goodness that Jesus bears those pains with us. Sometimes it’s just too much to do it on our own. I know that the times when I’ve leaned on God have brought me so much closer to Him.
Thank you for your touching, honest post.
Kelly Langner Sauer says
I wrote about you in an article about wounds. Your wound – He’s teaching me to live watching you limp victorious. Please, for Him, for me, keep limping.
Nancy says
Thank you for your post. As I read it, I knew it was written especially for me. I am victorious through him and for him…just beautiful. I have been going through valleys of darkness since the start of this new year..trial after trial..struggle after struggle. I cried, I cursed, I fought, I rebelled,I whined, and he rescued. Never one did he allow me to give up on myself or on HIM. Never once did he let me go, and I knew it because all along I had this quiet strength deep down that I knew was not my own. Today, I realized the beauty of his love..he loves me, and you enough to wound us. He wounds us in order to push us to step out and step up into what he has waiting for us. Be courageous, and choose to live a life of victory. Choose to stand in the love of Christ! Stand boldly and firmly.
Megan says
This reminds me of the story in Genesis 32, when Jacob wrestles with God and gets a limp.
We lost our baby boy to a chromosomal disorder at 30 weeks pregnant. I wrestle every day, and like you wrote, “My soul, it limps.”
Beautifully written.
Katrina says
Thank you very much! Your writing is beautiful. In the fist year of my marriage I miscarried…I always think of what might of happened. But then I figure out that I can’t always dwell on that, I have to dwell on the process of healing and being able to tell others about it. 🙂
jamie says
what a beautiful writing! I am blessed to tears reading this. Sometimes I feel so alone after losing our baby. Things like this remind me we are not alone, not on earth, but most importantly, we are never left by our father above! Praying that each of us is standing in our victory with the Lord, willing and ready to fight the battle with him by our side! thank you for encouraging me!
Adventures In Babywearing says
I had just read this post: http://www.kellehampton.com/2010/06/passport-to-grandeur.html before reading yours, and they both just go hand in hand in my heart. I know them well. So funny how I have been there and back and there again and am even reminded of posts I wrote myself (The Healer’s Signature, re: battle scars) and yet still, I fall back and away and forget. This is a good, much needed reminder.
Steph
Sara says
Simply beautiful. I am so sorry for you loss and admire the beauty in your limp.
Carrington says
Tears….flowing….that was beautiful and I see Gods glory through your limping. I’m so proud of you.
Doreen McGettigan says
So beautifully written. I too lost a stillborn daughter and I am crying for you.
I will also pray for you..
Ann Voskamp@Holy Experience says
And in the limping… we lean.
He is strong and leads us on and your words make me trace my own scars and smile and say it is okay.
The scars were surgery to save me.
How I love you….
Ann
anonymous says
Your post is transparent and beautiful. Thank you for sharing it. I dont have any children. After many years of a troubled relationship and consequent marriage i became pregnant in september of last year. I was so filled with joy that something good would come out of this union. but it was shortlived. I lost my baby 7 weeks later. I didnt deal with it in the long term like i should have. I isolated myslef further than what I already was. Fastforward six months later alone and needy i started an affair that lasted 4 months. It wasnt fulfilling but I needed something. i put my faith in flesh instead of in God. Now Im paying the price for my choices. I urge anyone that suffers the loss of a child to cope and reach out to God as well as friends. Thast not something you can deal with on your own. When youve gone thru something like that you feel so much pain and are clouded with doubt,anger and selfishness. Perfect grounds for Satan to wipe you out.
Gina Lind says
This probably one of the most amazing blog posts I have ever read. I have depression. That is my limp. It touched me, thank you.
My victorious limp says
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