When I was just shy of 20 weeks pregnant with Karis, my water broke. I wrote that story in more detail here, but all you need to know is that I was on bedrest and we were desperately asking God to spare her life.

During this time, people from our church showed us love like they never had before. Texts, calls, cards, meals, gifts, cleaning, helping with our 3 children (ages 2, 4, and 6)…they served us well.

They especially served us in their cooking. Nothing nixes someone’s ability to meal prep like bedrest. We appreciated each and every meal—the fried chicken take-out from an older lady who didn’t care to cook, the tater tot casserole from a family who had just recently joined the church, the pizza casserole from my friend who was nervous to make something, the large box of fruit snacks brought over for my kids (they were thrilled!), and the large salad a friend brought over because she knew I was craving it.

One meal stands out in my memory, not necessarily because of the food, but because of the way it made me feel.

Judy called me before she came over and told me she was going to make everything either pink or tiny in honor of our sweet Karis. There were tiny hot dogs and tiny pickles. (I know there was other food, but it has escaped my memory in the past 3 years.) But she also brought a pink tablecloth, pink cups, pink plates, and tiny pink cupcakes. It was like a baby shower meal in our own home.

I think the reason this stands out in my memory is because she gave us all the things for a party at a time when we were scared to celebrate. We didn’t know if our little girl was going to survive; it seemed risky to party.

But Judy helped us hope. She couldn’t promise that Karis would be born safely, though we prayed for that. But she gave us the tools to celebrate in the waiting, even though we didn’t know the final diagnosis.

I think that’s what Christians are supposed to do for each other. We’re here to help each other hope, right smack in the middle of the scary waiting. We’re here to remind each other where true hope is found. It’s not in a healthy diagnosis or safe delivery. Our hope is in who Jesus is and who he’s making us to be.

“For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him.”
Psalm 62:5