After two years of attending the Calvary Chapel in Billings, Darren and I felt that the Lord was calling us to move our family. So with our three month old Alexis and seven year old Joshua we packed up our house and moved to Kansas; first. We didn’t know where this journey would eventually land us. As a matter of fact it took six months to end up at our final destination of Sterling, Colorado. Here, we attended one church for two years. It was a good church. Suitable, but it wasn’t our home church in Billings. We sorely missed Calvary Chapel. Darren even called some Calvary Chapels in the Colorado area to see if they would send someone to Sterling to start one. Although, I did make some fabulous life long friends at this church; the false faith movement doctrines that were never taught from the pulpit were entertained by the women within the walls. The flame of false faith continued to be fanned and fueled in me.
Darren and I were to endure our hardest trial at this church. When Alexis was three, I found that I was pregnant again. We were so excited. We bought a more reliable car and a home. The pregnancy went well. No different from my previous ones except for some pre term labor issues which I learned to manage with a few simple techniques. On the evening of Saturday, January 13, 2001; in my thirty-ninth week of gestation, I started labor. When I awoke the next Sunday morning I felt strange. Labor was still progressing very slowly and gently but it was there nonetheless. After a couple of hours I finally realized what the problem was. I had not felt the baby move. I called the doctor and she had us meet her in the hospital. My worst nightmare was realized. The baby had died sometime in the night. How can this sort of pain be described? Even as I sit and write ten years later the memory is as real as it was that moment. Nothing had prepared me for the grief that was so to ensue from this moment on.
One week later, on the morning of Sunday January 21, I made a difficult decision to go to church. I knew it would be a painful thing. Staying home, even in pain, was far more comfortable. However, I also knew that I needed the Lord. I could have worshiped alone at home. I could have read my Bible alone at home and it would have been ok and nobody would have blamed me. Though, there is something precious and intimate about worshiping in the congregation of believers. God is there in His power and fullness. Once a person has entered into corporate worship, there is a sense of vulnerability. I needed to share my pain with the Lord and I needed to do it publicly. I stood there on Sunday morning, with arms lifted up, I cried and worshiped. I didn't really care that so many were staring at me and weeping with me; sensing my desperate pain. It proved to be the most painful yet one of the most powerful experiences I have ever had. No prayer meeting with “prophetic” women could even come close to that experience. While I worshiped, I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that my Lord knew my agony.
The body of believers at this church showed Darren and I an enormous amount of compassion during this time. We were lavished with cards, calls, food, visitors and most of all love. We felt embraced and cared for. This body truly represented to us what God always intended for His body; to weep with those who weep and to laugh with those who laugh. I will never forget this display of Christ’s love.
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