Finding Harmony in Chaos

After a really great anatomy scan last week for our third child, the universe felt the need to throw us a confirmed curveball. I say confirmed because we have been watching some blood panel levels since I started experiencing itching in the palms of my hands and feet at around 12 weeks. Now 7 weeks later, my slightly elevated levels have doubled even on a medication that is supposed to help. The docs call it “intrahepatic cholestasis of pregnancy” (ICP) and it’s not supposed to present until the 3rd trimester, yet here it is, putting our family back into an uncertain season of anxiety and worry. 

One of the biggest risks to this pregnancy-induced liver condition is stillbirth, so after initially being surprised by the news of a third child in our future, we are now faced with the possibility of never meeting her. Logan and I find ourselves in this protracted season of being continually reminded this world is indiscriminately cruel. It sometimes feels like we’re playing against an opponent who throws loaded die at every turn and there’s no one to step in and prevent the blatant injustice.

To say I have been spiraling is a bit of an understatement. I am angry, terrified, and most of all heartbroken at what may come. I grieve over the loss of innocent joy that comes with a normal pregnancy. I am frustrated as I see huge families with lots of healthy children walk by as if they all popped into existence without the slightest hiccup. Once again, bitter accompanies sweet and I find myself only tasting the bitter. It shouldn’t be this hard. And yet, here we are again.

Today’s teaching at church covered the final beatitude: “Blessed are the peacemakers for they will be called sons of God.” Didn’t seem super relevant to our current situation at first, but as it turns out it was precisely for this moment. The Hebrew word shalom is used in this text and it means more than just peace. It’s not as simple as an absence of conflict but rather it’s harmonizing with God in the midst of the struggle, struggling as one. It’s not looking for an end to the conflict, it’s finding God’s path through it. Skip Moen says in his commentary on Shalom, “Those who pursue peace (the peacemakers) seek spiritual wholeness and well-being, not necessarily an end to stress and disturbance.”

I just want to confirm I am not a peacemaker by nature. I want everything to be happy and good and easy. Sadly, I know this is an unattainable desire. This knowledge hasn’t stopped me from wanting the impossible anyway.

The truth is it is much harder to harmonize with God, to sing His song, when the world feels like it’s collapsing around my ears and all God has to do is snap His fingers and make it go away- or better yet, prevent it in the first place. I often forget God isn’t doing this to me. I have been so horribly angry with God over this diagnosis I have only wanted to yell over His voice. It’s hard to listen when you’re screaming. 

But these circumstances I walk through are the ramifications of a fallen world. I am heartened by the gentle reminder of today’s teaching that God doesn’t sing an ugly song. His is not a song of darkness, but a battle-song of light. He sings against death and illness, against brokenness and destruction. He sings a song of reconciliation in all things. I can sing that song with Him. I can intercede on my daughter’s behalf.