Hello dear readers, and apologies for the radio silence. We’ve been having some technical issues over here (don’t ask me what; I leave the complicated techie things to people who know more about them than me). There’s good news and bad news. The first is, you had a bit of an enforced break from my ramblings. The second is, I’m back now. I’ll let you decide which is the good and which is the bad. Please, don’t feel obliged to let me know.
Unfortunately, the timing of our technical issues meant the anniversary of the launch of For the Love of Lentil passed by unmarked, which was a shame. But we’ve only just had this year’s Keswick Convention, which provided a chance to reflect on introducing the book there last year and having the opportunity to support Keswick Ministries’ Derwent Project, so now seems as good a time as any to reflect on the year-and-a-bit just gone and celebrate Lentil’s continuing legacy.
I’ve said it before, I know, but when we published For the Love of Lentil we had no idea what impact it would have, how many people it would touch or how. We still have no way of knowing the full picture of its impact, and probably won’t do in this life, but we have been humbled and encouraged by what some of you have shared with us.
Back then – as the book itself says – we didn’t know whether God would bless us with another child. Now we are a few short (or maybe not-so-short) weeks away from the anticipated arrival of our little Rainbow. It’s a fact I cannot escape from as I sit here trying to balance a laptop on an ever-diminishing space while seeking to avoid being kicked out of the way by someone who ironically thinks I’m invading his or her personal space (this kid has attitude and s/he hasn’t even been born yet).
While we know better than to count the arrival of a healthy baby a done deal (we know there is no point in pregnancy that is immune from risk), we are hopeful that, not long from now, we will be granted the chance to live as an earthly family of three. But we are also mindful that there are plenty of families out there who won’t have a “happy ending” by then, and many who never will.
So, while we await Rainbow’s impending arrival with excitement (and a good deal of trepidation), we are conscious that it shouldn’t overshadow Lentil’s life or legacy. His life is of no less significance as one of two. Yes, he’s now a big brother – and one who we hope will, in due time – but not for a long time, eventually get to meet his little brother or sister – but Rainbow will never replace him in our hearts or lives, and his legacy deserves to continue.
We hope and trust that in time Rainbow will go on to have a meaningful legacy of his or her own, whatever that may look like in God’s perfect plan. But Lentil’s legacy is unique and, as such, we are keen to ensure it is not forgotten.
One of the most humbling things about volunteering at Keswick Convention this year was the number of people who had heard me speak last year, saw my bump this year, said how pleased they were for us and offered us their best wishes. To know that virtual strangers had been praying for us was immense. Rainbow even came home at the end of our week with presents from both fellow volunteers and convention visitors, for which we were very grateful. But amid that joy there were equally heart-wrenching encounters, like a woman who shared with me that she had read my book last year not knowing at the time that she was pregnant and had sadly gone on to lose her baby. In her circumstances, she told me, the timing of picking up that newly-published book had been just right.
That lady’s story is, sadly, just one of many. I have been honoured over the past year and a bit that numerous readers have shared with me their own experiences and how they have been touched, and in some cases helped, by Lentil’s story. We are unlikely to ever know in this life the full impact that Lentil’s legacy has had and continues to have. All we can do is trust God to put it in the right place at the right time for the right people, and play our part in facilitating that (not that God needs us to facilitate it). As Colossians 3:23 tells us, “Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men.”
And that is precisely why we cannot let Rainbow’s eventual arrival overshadow Lentil’s short life and more far-reaching legacy. We truly believe that Lentil’s story has more hearts yet to touch, and we don’t want anything to act as a barrier to that.
So, as we prepare for the massive changes that lie ahead for us, from sleep deprivation to getting to grips with every change parenthood will bring to our lives, not least all the anticipated nappies, we’ll do our best to keep Lentil’s legacy going online, and we’d love you to help us in doing that, whether it’s by ordering a copy of the book for someone you know who might find comfort in it, or sharing our blog posts and other news to help keep friends and family updated.
For the Love of Lentil is not going to make us rich, and was never intended to; we’re not here to store up treasures on Earth. But from its sales we fund this website and its associated costs. So if you buy a copy you will not only have the chance to help the person or people you share it with, but also help us reach more and more people in the long run.
And, because we want to do our bit to help, and it’s high time we marked the anniversary of the book’s launch, we’re throwing a little anniversary/summer sale and giving you the chance to get copies of the book for half price until the end of August. So that’s £3.49 for the book on its own (RRP £6.99) or £4.49 for the book with a Baby Lifeline pin badge. Can’t say fairer than that, right?
Sarah Moore is the author of For the Love of Lentil, A journey of longing, loss and abundant grace, which tells the story of her experience of pregnancy and miscarriage. Copies of the book, along with baby loss awareness badges which are sold in aid of Baby Lifeline, are available here.