Silent Sanctuary + Womb of Mercy

Hi friends!

It’s been exactly one year since I last blogged! Can you believe it? I know—I can’t either. Today’s post is very special because it’s the first time I’m sharing this. I’ve been holding onto it for a few months, and I finally knew it was time.

This past spring, I took a Christian History course, and one assignment deeply moved me. I was asked to come up with two metaphors that reflected God’s presence and character in the midst of suffering and grief. I approached this through my journey with infertility and miscarriage—an incredibly difficult season, especially after several IVF attempts ended in loss. Yet, even through the pain and mourning, I discovered ways to praise God and sense His presence more intimately than ever before.

This experience became the heart of my book Silent Cries, where I reflect on that journey. The two metaphors I came up with were Silent Sanctuary and Womb of Mercy. Sharing them with my classmates was a moving moment, and experiencing their metaphors in return was equally powerful. I knew immediately that I wanted to share this today, and later you’ll see why. For this version, I’ve made a few adjustments and added a devotional, reflection, poem, and prayer. Today’s blog is very special to me, and I pray it enriches you as much as it has blessed me. Thank you for taking the time to read, and I look forward to seeing you in the comments!

Even when life seemed uncertain

and the loss felt too great, You held me like a newborn, in the hidden, sacred place of Your grace.

Devotional

In the quietest moments of my grief, I have discovered that You are a Silent Sanctuary; where my broken heart finds refuge. When the world around me was filled with noise and confusion, You held me in the stillness of Your presence. As the psalmist says, "The Lord is near to the brokenhearted" (Psalm 34:18), I felt Your nearness, even when words could not come. In the midst of my deepest sorrow, I found comfort not in explanations, but in the calm embrace of Your love that speaks in silence.

You, O God, are the Womb of Mercy; like a mother who tenderly cares for her child, You have wrapped me in Your comfort and compassion (Isaiah 66:13). Even when life seemed uncertain and the loss felt too great, You held me like a newborn. You held me in the hidden, sacred place of Your grace. You were there, forming and nurturing me, even when I could not see or understand Your work. Even in the depths of loss, Your mercy surrounded me, and Your love was the unwavering strength that carried me through. I know now that the silence of my grief was not emptiness but a sacred space where You, my tender merciful Father, were at work. And though I felt the sting of sorrow, I also felt Your presence deeper than ever before. You were with me in the waiting, in the longing, and in the pain. You were not distant, but intimately near, like a womb that shields, nurtures, and restores. Thank You for being my Silent Sanctuary, for offering me peace in my pain. Thank You for being my Womb of Mercy, where healing and new life begin, even in the darkest moments. May Your tender love continue to guide me through this journey, for You are with me always, and in You, all things are made new.

Reflection
Grief never truly leaves us. Milestones, like birthdays, awaken the ache of what could have been. Today, on my baby’s 6th birthday, I am reminded of both the deep pain of loss and the deeper goodness of God.

If you are walking a similar path; whether through miscarriage, the loss of a child, or any form of grief and pain, you are not alone. The same God who has carried me through the valley of sorrow is with you too. He is our Silent Sanctuary; a refuge for the brokenhearted. He is also our Womb of Mercy; a place where His tender compassion surrounds us like a mother’s embrace. Even in silence, His presence is real. Even in loss, His love does not let go. And even in the empty places, He is faithful to bring comfort and new life.

Poem
(In Memory of My Baby on Their 6th Birthday)
Today whispers of a birthday;
six candles that will never glow,
six years of laughter I will never hear,
six years of moments I will never hold.

Instead, I hold you in my heart.
The silence of the womb felt like loss,
but it became a sanctuary.
There, the Lord drew near to me,
not with explanations,
but with His presence.

He became my Silent Sanctuary,
where grief rested in His embrace.
He became my Womb of Mercy,
cradling me as I longed to cradle you.
His compassion wrapped me,
His love sustained me.

Six years later, the ache remains,
but so does His goodness.
Grief and grace now walk together,
teaching me that silence is not emptiness,
but sacred ground where mercy blooms.

So today I whisper heavenward:
Happy birthday, my little one.
Though my arms are empty,
my soul is full of hope.
For the God who held you first
is the God who still holds me.

Prayer
Father, thank You for being our Silent Sanctuary and Womb of Mercy. In You, we find rest, renewal, and hope that never fades. For anyone walking through grief or hardship today, may they discover Your nearness in the quiet places and Your strength in the unseen moments. Remind us that You are not distant, but closer than we can imagine—guiding, comforting, and restoring. May Your goodness continue to lead us, and may we always lean on You, our unshakable refuge. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

“As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you.” – Isaiah 66:13

May you find in God the Silent Sanctuary your heart longs for, and the Womb of Mercy that carries you forward in hope. May His nearness be your comfort, His love your healing, and His goodness your song—today and always.

If the words shared in this post resonate with you, I’d love for you to share your thoughts in the comments. If this blog has encouraged or blessed you in any way, I would be grateful to hear about it. Feel free to share this with someone who might also benefit from it. Thank you!

Be Encouraged, Be Blessed!

~landypf