Tomorrow is Holy Thursday, the beginning of a set of days celebrating Jesus' institution of the Eucharist, His death, and His glorious resurrection. Easter is a celebration of grace, a reminder of God's unfathomable love for each of us. To me, though, Easter is also about hope.
On Easter Sunday, God turned the most hideous, unjust death ever suffered into the most beautiful promise of life. Easter, then, reminds us to cling to hope. Hope that God can pull beauty out of the most dire situation. Hope that when we are afraid of what life will throw at us next, God is walking beside us. Hope that when we do not understand our circumstances, God has a plan for our lives, even though it is often not the plan we envisioned.
April has been a strange month for me. This is the month when our first baby would have been born. Part of me longs to know that child, to hold it and love on it. Yet if we were anxiously awaiting the birth of that precious one, our twins would have never been conceived. Out of the loss of our first three children, God brought Andrew and I to a place where these twins could find life. When we began our journey towards parenthood last spring, I could have never imagined where that journey would take us. Now, though, I look back at our whirlwind ride through recurrent pregnancy loss and infertility treatments, and I know that we are exactly where we were meant to be. These twins were meant to be our children all along. Biological children are unfortunately not part of everyone's path, but thankfully they are a part of ours.
I have great hope for these twins. Hope that they will arrive this fall, safely and healthily. Hope that they will grow up loving Jesus and loving each other. Hope that each Easter, they will be reminded of God's great promises of love, grace, and enduring hope.