When God Sits With You


“I felt like I should pray but I didn’t know where to start, didn’t know how to begin to express the things of my heart, until recently so full of anticipation, now so full of grief.”

By Fiona Koefoed-Jespersen | Twitter: @fiona_lynne

burn girl prom queenA few days after I miscarried our first child at ten weeks, I woke early without planning to. Sleep alluded me and I could see the sky already lightening where I could glimpse it through the skylight, so I got out of bed without disturbing my tired husband and tiptoed down the stairs.

Grabbing a rug and my Bible I headed for the balcony and pulled the blanket close around me as I sat and watched the sun grow lighter.

My Bible lay unopened where I’d placed it on the table. I felt like I should pray, but I didn’t know where to start; didn’t know how to begin to express the things of my heart, until recently so full of anticipation, now so full of grief. So I just sat and watched the swallows that always appear to welcome the new day swirl and somersault around the roofs.

The morning air made my nose cold but I was warm under the rug. The tears came easily and softly as I sat and watched as this new day unfolded itself before me, stretching out light like stiff limbs, breathing in new sound and movement like a morning yawn.

Something inside me let go that morning. The fist that was clenched so hard in my chest uncurled itself. No clever or holy prayers came to my lips; I still felt sadness running thick through my veins. I heard God speaking to me: Just relax, sweet child, let go of all your expectations of how this should be, and rest here with me. We will grieve together, you and I, for the child you lost.

When we found out we had lost our unborn baby, I knew very little about miscarriage. I had heard in whispers of a few people who had lost a baby, but never spoken about it with anyone who had walked this path themselves. I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel. The pain hit me like an express train in the early days after our loss. A pre-planned holiday gave me space with my husband to process the loss, but I’d find myself standing on the steps of some tourist attraction, my body shaking with unquenchable sobs.

A month later, I still struggle with how to grieve this. Life goes on and there’s work to be done, a business to build, friends to meet, dinners to cook. And in the background is this constant hum of sadness that I’m not quite sure how to deal with. I don’t know what to do with this sadness, but I’m also not sure what to do with the everyday happiness that returned – they exist side by side most days.

In all of it, I keep remembering that early morning on the balcony, the words I felt spoken in my soul: Rest here with Me. I try not to force any emotion, simply allow myself to experience them as they come. When the sadness overwhelms me, I let myself mourn again the lost dreams of this child. When I laugh and joke with my girlfriends, I don’t let myself feel guilty for my happiness.

Years ago I wrote down the words of a young woman who was grieving her brother’s tragic death. I foolishly never wrote down her name or the website, but these words came back to me this last month and spoke powerfully to me of how to mourn with God:

“It is here I have accepted that my tears are my prayers. My pain in my prayer. My questions, my art, my hope are my prayers. My hope that the sun will rise again, that I will see him in that perfect place, that everything I live for is real.”

Here is what I’ve learnt then about resting through the grieving process:

1. Every grieving process is different and intensely personal. Even my husband experienced this loss differently from me. There is no right way, so I am learning to let go of the expectations of grief that we place on ourselves. If you’re walking through this now, allow yourself to feel whatever emotions come, don’t force them if they’re not there, or dismiss them if they are. God is not threatened by our emotions, he can handle whatever we bring to him.

“The grief within me has its own heartbeat. It has its own life, its own song. Part of me wants to resist the rhythms of my grief, yet as I surrender to the song, I learn to listen deep within myself” ~ Alan Wolfelt

2. Grieving takes time. It can’t be rushed, can’t be hurried, can’t be forced. The Bible tells of individuals–and sometimes the whole nation of Israel–stopping everything to mourn a lost loved one together (Abraham mourned Sarah, Joseph mourned Jacob, the Israelites mourned Aaron and then Moses, the church mourned Stephen).

A beautiful song by Catherine Prewitt (and discovered via Micha Boyett), says,

“This won’t take a little time; you will have to rest awhile 
Broken bird, you aren’t strong. 
In the waiting He draws near; says, Beloved do not fear, 
I will bear all that went wrong.”

3. The biblical image of rest is one of security–we find our rest in the fortress of strength and love that is our God (Psalm 62:1-2). So much can feel uncertain when death occurs. I found it helpful when I struggled with the questions to hold on to those things I could trust in–that God loves me, that this death was in no way a punishment from God, that my sorrow will not be wasted. In the security of these truths I found rest.

4. Matthew 5:4 says, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Another blogger wrote “It’s like a great big sign at the foot of the Cross that says: “You Belong Here.”” Jesus understood grief, he understood mourning. He too wept for a lost loved one. When you feel like no one understands this, or your can’t express it, know that God knows. God understands. God will rest in this place with you until you’re ready to get up and walk on.


My dear SheLoves sisters, I’d love to hear:

  • Have you walked here in your life?
  • Most of us have walked in grief at one point, what do remember being a turning point in your walk?
  • Did you hear from God in your grief?


About Fiona: 

I am an event planner, living in Luxembourg with my Danish husband. I love throwing parties and dinners, gathering people together, seeing the new friendships and plans that emerge. I love seeing people find their role in God’s big story. I like to bake and travel and pick up new traditions.

My word for the year is “brave,” because I don’t want to let fear be the reason I miss out on all God has for me. I blog at fionalynne.com/blog and tweet at @fiona_lynne.

Image credit: Jeff Ruane on flickr