Hope in Pain

September seventeenth. I've told the story a million times. Talked about it. Thought about it. Smiled about it. Cried about it. Been through the memories for five years now.

Six years ago today, my little sister, Katherine, was born.

Five years and forty-six weeks ago, Katherine passed away.

It was a whole new feeling. A shocking feeling. Like someone came right up to me and punched me in the stomach. I walked around in a daze for the next few weeks. It didn't feel right. How could the earth even still be rotating? How could I even still be breathing? I remember seeing other people getting on with their regular lives without even skipping a beat. People that knew our story, and complete strangers. I would go to regular places like the grocery store where everyone comfortably threw their boxes of crackers and bags of flour in their carts like nothing was out of the ordinary. Like nothing life-changing had just happened. Because it hadn't, for them. I just wanted to scream, "Don't you know my baby sister just died? How can you all act like everything's normal? Like everything's fine? It's not!"

Sometimes, it still feels that way. Sometimes, when I tell people about Katherine, they just treat it dismissively, like six week old babies die every day. Even if they do, that doesn't make it any easier. Because every death hurts someone. Especially the death of someone very close to you, like a family member or a friend. I couldn't understand why people didn't even seem to care. Why this was just another little piece of their day. Because it felt like my whole world had stopped.

Most people I meet honestly don't know what it's like to lose a little sibling. And even those who do obviously can't directly relate to what I've felt, just as I don't know how they have felt. Everyone handles things differently and no one can truly feel your exact same pain. It drives me out of my mind when people say, "I know exactly how you feel." Because they don't. Maybe they have an idea, but they will never truly know the pain I've endured. They're not me.

I never wanted people to understand how I've felt. I would never want someone else to have to go through the same aching I and the rest of my family felt during this event in our lives. Truly, what anyone wants when they suffer a hardship, is just someone who cares. Someone who is willing to hold them while they cry. Someone who will listen to them rant, offer their encouragement, or just sit in silence with them. Someone who loves them and acts like it, especially when they're hurting.

Someone like Christ. Someone who loved us so much that He was willing to die for us. Someone who endured our pain so that we would never have to feel it. He actually does know how we feel. He put Himself in our position so that we could have eternal life. That, that unconditional love. It's remarkable. The fact that He cares so much, He won't let us die. And when it comes to our daily struggles, He is still always there. He is our mediator for God. Our Rock when we can barely stand. Someone who listens to us, and never, ever, ever forsakes us.

God has been so, so merciful to me, over the past six years especially. Not only has He given me His own comfort, but has placed so many incredible people in my life that have carried me through. So many people who have been there, who have cared, and who have loved. Who have listened to me speak incomprehensibly, who have hugged me, and who have offered me wonderful encouragement. I would take a moment to name them all if I wasn't afraid of leaving someone out. But if you're reading this, thank you. Thank you for all the time. Thank you for caring.

Even during the most painful events in our lives, we have hope. Because there is always Someone who cares. Someone who cared for us so much that He died to save us.

May our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father, who loved us and by his grace gave us eternal encouragement and good hope, encourage your hearts and strengthen you in every good deed and word.

He will never leave us, even when it seems like our world is crashing down on us. He is stronger than the pain that attacks us. His scars prove that he cares.

We have God. And we have the people that God has given us. The people who I value so much. The two people who emailed me this morning because they remembered Katherine's birthday. The people who were there for my family during the six weeks of her life, and afterwards. The hundreds of complete strangers that kept up with our story, our website, and our lives. The thousands of prayers offered for us. The people who care. Who at least understood that death causes detriment in a family.

Through this event, I have learned how to be very empathetic. To understand people going through their own pain, even if I don't know exactly how they feel. It is our duty as God's children on Earth to show love to the hurting people around us. To care. Because sometimes, that's all you need when the tears are flowing. To be there. Having someone walk with you provides strength and relief hard to describe.

God doesn't leave us uncared for. Christ has incredible sympathy and offered His life for us. He gave us people to physically hold us while we cry. And despite the bitter pain, we do not lack hope because there is always at least One who cares. Not only do we have hope, but we can be the hopeful by caring and loving. To feel the pain hidden behind layers of smiles and tears.

It still hurts. I still miss my sister. But God is so good, and has offered me so much healing. He is very merciful, and my survival is because of Him. Because of His love. His provision. His plan. I can never stop thanking Him for what He has given me through and because of this experience. He is my hope through the pain.

Hey Katherine, I remembered your birthday...