Learning from hardship

This is a version of a contest entry I wrote for Kelle Hampton's blog Enjoying the Small Things.  She asked readers to write how we have found "joy in the unexpected." Winning entry or not, I thought perhaps it was worth repeating. Besides I spent my time writing this, so I don't have any time left for my regular post!

“You’ve had more than your fair share of heartache,” I often hear. I don’t know how to measure a “fair share,” because any share is too much. But it doesn’t have to be needless. It doesn’t have to leave a vacuum in its wake.

The Details:

1. My husband is diagnosed with cancer at 27. I am five months pregnant with our first daughter. Declared cancer free after surgery, six months and a colicky newborn later, doctors find it spread to his lymph system.

2. Thirteen weeks into my second pregnancy--a miracle since chemotherapy leaves us without hope of conceiving again-- a doctor tells me over the phone that the cause of my profuse and sudden bleeding is likely miscarriage.  Ultrasound reveals vanishing twin syndrome, and there is still one healthy baby. Joy! Still, there is no guarantee I will carry her to term.

3. A surprise third pregnancy brings a son into our lives. Three hours after his birth, he is diagnosed with Down syndrome.  This time the grief cracks me open wide.

All this in five short years.

The Truth:

If you list it all, stacking up the three big things and the little ones that fall in between, then yes, life hasn’t been easy. But if you dropped by our house, spent a few hours, I’d tell you all the stories that took place between the lines: the way community heals; the way our daughter Emelyn Kate helped us fight cancer fierce because she made us a family, and that love, that bond was worth preserving; the way we rejoiced over our daughter, Audyn Grace, because she was the baby we were told not to expect—twice. Joy and grace beyond measure--we might never have known you. And my Kaleb Matthew. His story writes deep on my soul, writes over my first fear. My boy of piercing blue almond eyes is smart and funny and determined. His name means courage. It means gift of God.  We named him Kaleb before we knew. We named him Matthew after.

Life is full of unexpected turns, some of them joy-full, others sorrow-full. But I discover I have a choice. What will I do with the heartache after its first piercing sting has passed? Will I allow it to write me, or will I craft a beautiful story over the pain? The lesson is needful; I learn again and again to cherish what is most important in this life: Walk by faith. Love deep. Choose joy.