Letter from Abby Fredrickson

Dear Sisters,

We all are in need of healing.

I want to tell you a story of suffering and healing; a story of how Scripture brought me back to God.

Two years ago, my husband and I journeyed towards first-time parenthood blissfully unaware of the challenges bringing a child into the world could hold. As we drove to the hospital for my induction, we were nervous, but mostly so excited to meet our son.

26 hours later, we would be in shock after a traumatic labor and birth.

I had joyfully given my body to this sweet baby for the past nine months; invited him to stretch it out and make his home there. I had accepted (though often begrudgingly) feeling sick, getting no sleep, all the aches and pains. And then, I accepted labor with open arms - each contraction bringing him closer to the world. I had prepared for that.

What I had not prepared for were several medical interventions that led to stalled labor and a c-section. I had not prepared to give birth alone when the doctor forgot to bring my husband into the operating room. And I never could have imagined that I would feel every part of the surgery after the anesthesia didn’t work. How could I? “This never happens,” they told me after. I had cried out to God on the operating table but was met only with pain.

In a perfect story, this is where I would write that this experience instantly made me realize that when I had said I was willing to suffer, I really only had meant I was willing to undergo the pain I knew was coming. That, by experiencing suffering beyond anything I could imagine, I had come closer to Jesus’ own passion and death. Through suffering, we are invited to join in His suffering, right? But instead, I only felt abandoned by God.

My son was healthy and perfect, I was slowly recovering, and my husband and I were closer than ever, but I couldn’t shake that when I had needed God, when I had called out for Him, I only found silence. This experience opened a floodgate of doubts in me, and as a result, I simply stopped praying.

However (and thankfully), my job didn’t allow me to cut God out completely: I’m the Head of Content for Hallow, a Catholic prayer and meditation app. When I returned to work after my son’s birth, my task was to write a prayer challenge walking through the Gospel of Matthew. Although I was privately wrestling with God, I figured I could hide my fractured faith, put my head down, and get my work done. Looking back, I have to laugh at how I thought I could keep God at arm’s length while reading His Word.

As I worked my way through the Gospel of Matthew, I began to notice a theme: God with us. Emmanuel. The humanity of Jesus alongside his divinity. Jesus as a gentle healer, a stern but loving teacher, a servant leader. Jesus feeding, encouraging, challenging. And always with us, beside us, carrying our yokes and crosses upon His own shoulders. As I read and reflected, wrote and rewrote, studied Bible commentaries, and said aloud each sentence to hear how it sounded, I found myself captivated by this God with us. And when I witnessed Jesus call out for God in the same way I had on the surgery table, I knew that Jesus understood how I felt. In His suffering, I saw my own, and I no longer felt alone.

Through Scripture, God led me back to Himself, and He did it the only way I could handle: slowly, gently, and mercifully. It wasn’t as though a switch went on, and suddenly I was completely better. But instead of aching alone, I began to see that God was there, suffering with me. I gradually started to understand that though God doesn’t always stop suffering from happening, He does not abandon us in it. What I couldn’t see in the immediate aftermath of my son’s birth were the ways God was present: in the kind Labor and Delivery nurse who wept with me, in my incredible husband who carried this cross with me, in the compassion of our family and friends who cared for us, and of course, in the miracle of our sweet son.

After two years of struggling, prayer, and therapy, I still ask God why and find it hard to always trust in Him. But the other thing reading Scripture has done for me? It has humbled me. It’s helped me realize that I’m never going to fully understand God. I’m not called to be God’s equal, but instead his child. Faith requires us to step out onto the waves like Peter in Matthew’s Gospel, trusting in Jesus, trusting that though we may experience suffering in this life, we are never alone in it, and He will be there at the end to welcome us home.

For most of you, diving into Scripture is not part of your day job. I know I’m so lucky in that regard. But you don’t need to work in ministry or study theology to read the Bible. If you find yourself avoiding or wrestling with God; if you’re suffering, doubting, deeply hurt, lost or feel alone, pick up a Bible. Start with the Psalms or the Gospels. Ask the Holy Spirit to guide you. Keep opening yourself up to God, and keep your eyes on Jesus no matter how many waves surround you. I promise you He will not let you fall.

We are all in need of healing. We are all in need of God’s saving, merciful love. He doesn’t always speak to us or answer us in the way that we might want, but by reading His Word we are constantly reminded, over and over again: God is with us. Be not afraid.

In Christ,

Abby

Photo of Abby

About the Writer: Abby Fredrickson studied English and Theology at Notre Dame, and is grateful for a job in which she can use both. She works from home alongside her husband and toddler, and loves going back and forth between writing and taking dance breaks to Disney songs. Her favorite things include sunny days, telling bad jokes, and hearing people’s life stories. She’s convinced she has the best friends in the world, and has a secret dream to one day all live on the same street. You can reach her at abby@hallow.app.