Called from the Sorrow - Unraveling My Story to Pastoral Ministry {{ part three }}

 "15 Years. God Is Good."

A dear friend texted me that dual truth the morning of April 15, 2025. It compelled me. Fifteen years ago, I held our daughter in my hands, born still. The ache of that moment has never entirely left me. It reshaped me. I’ve returned to that holy, heartbroken space each April 15 with different eyes, different prayers, and—if I’m honest—sometimes different levels of faith.

In 2010, I wrote a year’s worth of blog posts amid fresh grief—raw, confused, and desperately aching for something redemptive to rise from the ashes.

Today, fifteen years later, I continue to share. Because April’s story still speaks. It reminds me that grief can echo across time, especially when new disappointments and trials bear the familiar weight of loss. Grief impacts. It marks us. And it rises anew when fresh hopes are dashed or delayed.

But maybe more importantly, I write today because those whom the Lord has redeemed are called to speak out—to say so—as Psalm 107:2 reminds us.

A Prayer In The Night

At 4:12 a.m. on April 15, 2010, I delivered our daughter. In the dark and quiet hours leading up to her birth, I prayed a desperate prayer in that corner hospital room surrounded by dim lights and fear:

"God, give me the strength to walk this road. Give me a testimony to share of your goodness and healing. Give meaning to this loss."

Fifteen years later, I can say with certainty: He has. Not all at once, and not without continued sorrow. But I have seen God's good—for my life and to His glory.

A Story Still Unfolding

This post is also part of an ongoing series that traces the story of my call to ministry—a calling I believe was formed through a lifetime of God's providential work, but especially shaped in the crucible of grief. You can catch up on the first two chapters here:

[Called From the Cradle]

[Called From the Pews]

So today, I reflect on how the loss of my daughter became a turning point in discerning my vocation. The pain carved space for compassion. The silence invited deep listening. The unanswered questions drew me closer to the wounded, the weary, the ones still waiting for redemption.

It was not the story I would have chosen, but it is the story God is redeeming. I need to remind myself of this more often these days as current sorrows and sea billows roll. 

Still Becoming

I am a person who longs for redemption and reconciliation stories—for all that is broken to be healed. And I am learning that healing is not the same as forgetting or being finished with grief. Some losses never leave us. They shape who we are becoming. In faith, I seek to understand my experiences as held within the omniscient and sovereign hands of my Maker, who orchestrates all things as part of His redemptive, sanctifying work.

Who has Christ redeemed me to be?

Answering that question is a sacred act of obedience—one every follower of Jesus must face and faithfully live out. I was challenged to explore that answer during my years at Calvin Seminary, and I’ve come to see it as one that will continue to unfold throughout my life.

Thanks for reading and hearing my attempt to "say so."

With gratitude and hope in my heart,

Michelle