Daryl and I have talked about how it seems like even in the situation we're in we've been learning how to extend grace to people. Sometimes I think, "they don't know what to say and that just came out awkwardly" or, "maybe those words seem helpful to them" or, "they really don't know what we're experiencing, how can they know what to say?" Most of the time I can easily let go of the words and hang on to the sentiment behind them.

But not tonight.

Tonight there is no grace inside me to extend. And even if God were to pour oceans of grace into my heart tonight I would dam it up watertight so not even a drop could escape.

Tonight we were invited out for coffee by people we don't spend a lot of time with and I was already having a hard time knowing what we would talk about, how the conversation would flow, how early would be too early to beg off and leave. Tonight I couldn't meet their eyes and didn't know if I could talk about something unrelated to the searing pain that won't seem to quit.

And tonight they thought it would be the perfect time to tell us she is pregnant.

I sat across from her. Thinking about how three weeks ago tonight we had just come home from the hospital and I was laying in bed recovering from the delivery of our precious baby. Thinking about how every time I think of him I can still smell the blood of childbirth in my nostrils and how I can't get rid of the feeling of his limp body slipping out of mine. Thinking about how they didn't even acknowledge what we're going through or offer us words of condolence. And she dared to sit across from me, a beatific little smile on her face, just begging me to remark on how glowing she was.

And her pregnancy will probably be perfect, and her baby, too.

I just can't find any forgiveness in my heart. There is no grace to cover over these wrongs. Because they should have known better, and they shouldn't have been that selfish, and it was a cruel thing to do.

And maybe those things will come. Maybe God will ease them into my heart and I won't even recognize when the sea change takes place and I'll find that I'm able to extend my hand in warmth and kindness.

But not tonight.