Community—especially in the wearying, isolating years of young motherhood—is a gift from God for our mutual strengthening and encouragement.

In our creativity and our motherhood, community is God’s gracious gift to us—to support and strengthen us along the way.

When we feel the loneliness and uncertainty of being a newcomer, the gospel reminds us that friendship is a good gift—created, redeemed, and restored by our God.

As we connect with others in gospel friendship, we reflect the love of the triune God who made us for relationship.

When we’re willing to make the first move in friendship, we can reflect the love and pursuit of our ultimate friend, Jesus.

Instead of discouraging us, comparison can be a means of God’s grace at work in our lives transforming us more into the image of Christ.

Here are three of the most effective expressions of care that you can offer a friend in the wake of pregnancy loss.

Caring for our children often leaves us with little time to care for our friends. But with a little creativity, we can be a friend at all times, even when we don’t have time.

If you’ve ever read passages like 1 Peter 4:9—“Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling”—with a pang of guilt, you’re not alone.

You need friends who are struggling with infertility and they need you too. In Christ, we can offer true fellowship to any sister-in-Christ, no matter their stage.

Infertility is painful for countless reasons, but one reason is women can feel isolated from or misunderstood by their loved ones.

I know this struggle all too well.

Now that I’m in my early 30’s, I’m the only woman in my circle of friends who does not have children. I respect and admire their commitment to their families, for that is a good, godly calling! However, the natural result tends to leave me, a childless woman, feeling removed or not properly cared for.

How, then, should you love your friend suffering through infertility?

There isn’t one ideal approach, and every woman is different but here’s what I’ve learned. By leaning into Christ, you can love and serve her well through these three Gospel-centered ways:

(1) Mourn with her.

(2) Remind of her of her identity in Christ.

(3) Speak truth, not fluff.

There is unending grace for you and your friend as you navigate this trial together. Be committed, be bound, be unshakable.

“When my oldest was three, we had a small concrete pad poured to host our trash and recycling bins. Just as the workers were finishing up, she and my husband, David, went outside to check on the progress, see if they needed anything, and admire their work from a safe distance.

Five seconds of small talk later, the three-year-old looked up at him, looked up at the workers, and took off in a sprint. I need not tell you in which direction.

David reports she ran full-tilt and leaped, arms and fingers splayed, with the slow-mo perfect form angle of an Olympic long jumper, landing three-year-old feet, hands, and booty into freshly-poured concrete.

Now, it’s easy to tell David’s funny story here. It’s easy to laugh, because I wasn’t in it.

But the truth is I’m “in it” a hundred times in a normal day. And I’m rarely laughing. Because I can rarely see in the moment anything beyond the loads of laundry or how many Brawneys it’s going to take to clean this up or whether or not this is going to make us late for school.

Which is why I’m so thankful for my sisterfriends—the women who are also “in it” every day, who still take the time to remind me to laugh and lean into the crazy and not get swallowed up by it.

They remind me that God—not me—is responsible for setting concrete and growing babies, and perhaps I’m freer to laugh than I realized, particularly when my daughter reports she just successfully flushed the potty with her mouth.

When you put your trust in his son Jesus, you find he’s had his arms wrapped around you all along. And just as we whisper into the ears of a tearful child, “I’ve got you,” God’s promises ring true in scripture to remind us of his sovereignty and grace in our lives.

God has us, even in the hard, even in the ridiculous.

So laugh, my friend. Laugh with the abandon of your head tossed back and loud enough for others to hear and with the delight of a daughter.”