A Weeping Christian: When Faith and Grief Collide

A blog by Kimberly Crumby






On this icy winter-like day, the concept of finality has diametrically opposed meanings in my heart. Just four short days ago, when the temperature was sitting at a pleasant 65 degrees, we swore to tell the truth- so help us God. And truth telling we did- we answered that we have a strong desire to raise this precious baby as ours, and we long to form a parent-child bond with her. In a mere ten minutes, the judge deemed us fit to adopt this life, and he scrawled his name on the magic line.

I have developed a skill I never dreamed of having- the ability to not cry when I choose not to. I willed the tears to stay in as we sat in the judge’s chambers; I knew if they started, I would dissolve into the dreaded ugly cry. I was overwhelmed in so many ways- how God carefully orchestrated this moment and everything that preceded it…wondering if Hannah was able to see this happening and what she was thinking…how thankful I am that this sweet baby is healthy and thriving despite her traumatic birth…God’s redemptive plan for us. Overwhelmed.


Now, four days later, with a frigid 18 degree chill, I ponder how much finality can ache. How it hurts harder than I ever knew possible to know that our sweet Hannah has been gone from our sight for four years.

1, 460 days. Days that sometimes seem like they have gone too fast…and sometimes have been interminable. Over the course of these four years, I have grown to accept that I will never know why. If I knew, I would not understand…no matter how good the reason was. If I understood, it would still not be enough to entirely pacify my heart.

God just has to be enough…and he is. More than enough. On the days when I have barely been able to get out of bed…on the days I have laughed harder than I ever thought I would be able to again…on the days it feels like my feet are mired in quicksand. There he is…again. Day after day. Even when I haven’t felt his presence and desperately asked why-  he kept me in the palm of his hand. The moment I walked into our home for the first time after leaving the hospital and fully realized I would never hear a four year old girl’s laughter decorate the halls again…finality.

Except that now, I will one day hear a four year old girl’s laughter again; it won’t be the same sound, but it will bring joy to my heart. God indeed works in ways that I could never imagine with my finite brain.

Now, no one on this earth can take our newest baby girl away from us- finality. Our 1st girl has been taken from us- finality. But that finality is only bound by this temporal world- we will see our sweet Hannah Grace again. God is faithful.


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2 thoughts on “Finality

  • Jenny @ FamilyBees says:

    I thought of you several times today. I’m so thankful that your newest baby girl is in your family. Praying for your comfort, strength, peace, and joy. <3