Over a year before I even knew Enoch was growing inside of me, God was teaching me a valuable lesson. I had offered to watch my friends children. Isaiah and Xavier came over with great anticipation that we would have some fun adventure while mom and dad were gone, which was typically the case. They weren’t wrong in thinking so, as I loved planning adventures for these two.
When Isaiah arrived he was confident we would be going to the toy store. This was something I would do from time to time. We would go to $5 below and I would let them pick anything in the whole store. They thought this was the best thing ever, and I knew I would never walk out of there spending more than $10 between the two of them.
This particular night, I didn’t anticipate taking them to the store, and I communicated that to Isaiah. This poor little five year old thought his world fell apart as he sat on my kitchen floor crying and desperately pleading for me to change my mind. As he was crying I continued to tell him to trust me and that I had planned a fun adventure. It took a while, but I eventually calmed him down. We in fact had a great night at the park and eating pizza. It was a blast.
That night was a good reminder to me about how God interacts with me. There are days I am pleading with God to do things in a particular fashion (confident the toy store is the only way to have fun), and He’s telling me to trust him. I remember in the moment how much this situation stood out to me. From that day forward it sincerely changed my interactions with God. God used that time with Isaiah to teach me to trust Him, even when it didn’t make sense.
Fast forward six months after Enoch has been born and died. As I was in the car with Isaiah and Xavier’s mom, she asked me why I wasn’t angry at God. This question was valid as anger is an emotion I am all too familiar with. In fact I have a shirt that says “I cycle because punching people is frowned upon.” So why wasn’t anger an emotion that had been directed at God during this season? I told her about this story of Isaiah sitting on my floor, one I had never told her about until this day.
Don’t get me wrong, there have been moments in this season of grief that I have been sad and frustrated feeling like I did know a better plan. In my human understanding it doesn’t make any sense that Enoch dying was somehow the better plan. But through these past eight months, the days I start to pout and get angry (and sit on my kitchen floor), I continue to sense God saying He is in control. Trust Him. And so, I do.
I still mourn and grieve and wish with all of my being that Enoch was here.
And equally I trust God’s infinite wisdom and plan.