Be Near

Do you hang verses around your home in an attempt to be immersed in God's word?

I do. Every other cupboard door, over the stove, on the side of the microwave that faces my so called "office" in the kitchen. My bathroom door, the linen closet door, the kitchen window sill. The verses are all over, and yet, I rarely see them.

(To be fair, I do read the one on the linen closet door, only because the toilet faces that door. So ... yeah. I do read that one.)

Today I've been feeling a bit blue. "I'm blue." --Rachel, from "Friends" (Brittany Miller, name that episode... :) ) I think it's a whole bunch of things. It's the weather, it's some changes in our life, it's contemplating going back to work and all that means for my daily life with two young kids. (Dad, if you're reading this, I like my job and no, I won't quit. I know you need to retire... :P)

It's my perpetual headache, my endless sinus infections, the lack of girl time, the tantrums of my precious two year old. My blue feeling is a product of a whole bunch of things.

So as I sat down to blog, with really nothing in particular to write about--just knowing that writing tends to help me--I paused. My eyes wandered to the pile of random coupons, "to-dos", and hospital bills (ick). My gaze caught a verse that I'd taped to the microwave months ago.  One that is there, in my eyesight every day, that I don't think I've read since I wrote it down.

Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will receive me to glory. Who have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

 I may be blue, but that verse can't NOT lift my spirits. "Nevertheless" -- no matter what. No matter headaches, or monotony of motherhood, or tantrums. "Continually" -- all of the time. Never ending. Never ceasing.

For behold, those who are far from you shall perish; you put an end to everyone who is unfaithful to you. But for me it is good to be near God; I have made the Lord God my refuge that I may tell of all your works. Psalm 73:23-28

"Good to be near" -- close to. Residing with. Snuggled up. I must say, I am not always near God. I have verses plastered around my house in an attempt to stay connected. I spend at least a few minutes most days reading my Bible, trying to journal some thoughts. I make prayer lists, and attempt to lift my voice to the Lord. I play worship music (or Joshua does) as we play and do chores. And yet ... I'm so often not "near" Him. I've put all these things in my life to help me get near, but I rarely actually draw near. Why is that?

If you have an answer, or some experience with a possible answer, please comment. :)

"But for me it is good to be near ..." It's a choice. I guess I just have to choose more often to pause, read those verses on the kitchen window sill, the bathroom door, the microwave side. It's a choice to be near.

 

Totally Worth It

I remember early in my pregnancy with Rebecca, I messaged some friends on Facebook:

Okay, ladies, did you ever have thoughts like this?
"Why in the world am I messing with what I have right now by adding another child??"

Josh plays by himself, he communicates, we have a great family routine ... why in the world am I having another kid??
I just need to know that these thoughts are normal ... and I don't feel like blogging about it right now. :)

They provided me with realistic encouragement, comments about the journeys they've been on, and ultimately helped me realize that I wasn't a bad mom for experiencing some anxiety.

And now, here I am--with one baby eating applesauce, string cheese and milk while watching Curious George, and another baby swaddled up tight to my chest, desperately trying to fall asleep.

Two kids. I have two kids. How crazy is that?

A few lessons I've learned so far in this little-over-three-week journey:

• Mamas weren't lying when they told me to use the Moby wrap. While I still can't stand putting the thing on every time, it sure does help for those late afternoon snoozes Becca needs. 

• A shower really is more compelling than a little more sleep. I never believed my friend Becky when she'd tell me this, but the other morning I chose to shower while Becca and Joshua continued to sleep, even though former-me would have chosen sleep over ANYthing. 

• I'm more able than I realized. Not completely able, not able entirely on my own, but more able than I expected. 

• Second babies really are easier--not because they themselves necessarily are, but because I am less freaked, less anxious, less .... everything. If she sleeps longer than I expected? Great! If she has trouble falling asleep? Great! (Well, not really great at 11:30pm when we've been rocking, bouncing, nursing, swaddling and singing for 90 minutes). But Great! as in, it's okay! Tonight will pass, and tomorrow will come. We'll get through. :) 

• A second child is TOTALLY worth it. It's worth it to see Joshua express affection. It's worth it to see Erik's heart melt at her first coos. It's worth it to feel my naturally selfish heart being chipped away at just a little bit more. It's totally worth it. Totally. 

• Guess what? I do have time for quiet time with God. When Joshua first arrived in my life, I convinced myself that I didn't and that it was okay for the season. It really wasn't. I need that time with God, in His word. Now, am I getting to it every day? No. Is it deep and long and super spiritual feeling? No. Not usually. It's usually to the tune of Sesame Street, interrupted by coos, cries, "please mamas", and diaper changes--size newborn and size 5. But cracking open that Bible, whether on my phone or at my kitchen table amidst the toys, dishes and paperwork, is a crucial step to making it through this stage. And of course, any stage of life. No excuses this time around--God and His word are key in my life, and I will fit it in--it just looks different than before two kids, and before that, one kid. This is my new normal. 

As Becca Boo slumbers and makes me uncomfortably hot, and Joshua buddy excitedly narrates Curious George to me for the 19th time, I am content. I am a mother times two, and wouldn't have it any other way.

Thanks to my friends who encouraged me--you were right on. This is TOTALLY worth it.

Never Woulda Thought

When I woke up on September 21, 2012, I never woulda thought so much would happen in a matter of hours. My life took a major twist. And though we've ended up miraculously straightened back out, my heart will never be the same.

I never woulda thought that I was strangely and strongly led to schedule an induction--even though I'd never considered it before--because of what I now believe was an absolute need to get Rebecca out and into this world by 9:42pm on September 21. Only God knows why, but I am convinced that she needed to be out by that moment so that she could live.

I never woulda thought that my relatively easy,  normal, basically perfect pregnancy would end with such a bang ... and that Rebecca's life would begin with such panic.

I never woulda thought, as we toured the hospital in early August, that I'd know every crack in the floor, every turn in the hall from the parking garage to the NICU.

I never woulda thought that I'd be the one noticing lost, confused people in the hallways of the hospital and stopping to give them directions.

I never woulda thought that I wouldn't get the joy of wheeling through the halls with my brand new baby girl, showing her off to everyone in sight.

I never woulda thought that we would welcome no one but immediate family to meet Rebecca at the hospital, and that we wouldn't even be able to hold her until day four of her life.

I never woulda thought that I'd learn the lingo of the NICU, and be able to converse with other moms with the same experiences.

I remember the moment. The moment I knew something was wrong. She'd come super fast, and I was still reeling with the realization that my delivery was over. The doc pushed her onto my chest, but because she was so limp, her body kinda flopped. That's when I knew--I knew when I couldn't get a grasp of her, I knew when I didn't hear her cry. I knew when I asked, "Why isn't she crying?" and the nurse quickly whisked her away. I knew something was wrong.

And yet, I still can't figure out why I wasn't more upset. I wasn't more concerned. My sister jokes with me now about how I was asking if I could eat something--while my baby girl was barely breathing on her own in the other room. Why wasn't I bawling? Why wasn't I screaming for  her and begging her to be okay? Was I in denial? I know I was being shielded by my husband who didn't want me to know, by my sister who wasn't sure what to say, and by the doctor's who were busy just trying to figure out what went wrong.

I do remember shaking--violently shaking anytime I'd allow my thoughts to drift to her. So I think I just didn't--I just didn't think. I asked for crackers, I talked to the doctor, and did everything I could to just get through.

I don't remember feeling anything when I realized NICU had been called in. I DO remember feeling something when they stopped long enough to let me see her. Her little eyes blinked so slowly, and she took the most labored raspy breath ever. Her head was a funny shape, her color still a little off. Her cheeks were out of this world, and she had the same swatch of dark hair her brother had.

She was alive.

I knew in that moment, when my eyes locked with her, that everything was going to be all right. Even an hour later, when the neonatologist used the words "brain damage" and explained the cooling therapy and the drugs and the risks ... even when my thoughts, my horrible dark selfish thoughts were, "I can't do this. She'll mess up our life. How will her disabilities affect Joshua? And our family? I want to start over!", a sense of peace settled over me. In that moment, I knew--and I never woulda thought--that no matter what, Rebecca Elizabeth, developmental delays, possible brain damage and all, would be and already was a member of this family. No matter what, this little girl would change our lives for the better. No matter what, Joshua would be shaped by his experience as big brother to this little angel. No matter what, Erik would be affected by her sweet presence and her smile. No matter what, this mama's heart would expand to include a little girl, who by no fault of her own, entered this world with a little unnecessary drama.

I never woulda thought we'd walk out of the NICU with a pink bundle of perfection with a clean bill of health.

I never woulda thought that we'd be one of those families with a story of how prayer works, God heals, and Facebook spreads the word. :)

I never woulda thought that I'd be sitting here, 13 days after her birth, and only 3 days after her arrival home, blogging about an experience that I never expected to have, with a tiny little lady with sparkly blue eyes, her brother's nose, her daddy's lips and the worst case of hiccups ever sitting in the bouncer next to me.

My God healed my baby girl. I believe that He knew something would go wrong in the birth canal. He knew that my daughter would not be breathing. He knew her brain would have "unhappy neurons" (I love how the NICU neurologists helps us understand things) and that evidence of seizures would display. He knew that Wednesday afternoon at 3:00 and 3:40, my little girl would stop breathing and need nurses to help her through it.

And oh mind you--I am human. I have yelled a little bit, and asked Him, "If you knew a bad thing was going to happen in there, why didn't you stop it? Why not heal it before the bad thing happened instead of allowing the bad thing to happen? Why allow my baby to come into the world this way? To go through this pain? Why would you have us walk this road?"

But even as I asked, I knew. Because He knew his people would rally to pray. He knew His name would be glorified, and that is why we exist here on earth--to bring glory to His name. And while I wonder why I needed to be the mama who went through this to bring Him glory, I know I am stronger because of it. Not stronger in myself, but stronger in Him. Never before have I been the recipient of such miracles.

I never woulda thought that this would be Rebecca's story. But truly, I can truly say: I'm grateful that it is.

My little miracle baby who didn't cry at birth is starting to cry now--apparently she's hungry again. :) Oh how I love that cry.

38 Weeks: One Day

I woke up this morning, got my buddy breakfast, filled my coffee cup to the brim, and sat down to read my Bible. I started with my Jesus Calling devotional, September 8:  

Accept each day exactly as it comes to you. By that, I mean not only the circumstances of your day but also the condition of your body.

I laughed out loud! Today I am 38 weeks, 1 day pregnant. When I was pregnant with Joshua, my water broke on the first day of my 38th week. It feels weird to reach this point, and to have a very strong sense that this time around, I'm going to be pregnant much longer. (Hopefully only like a week or so, but who knows!?)

Your assignment is to trust Me absolutely, resting in my sovereignty and faithfulness.

This opening paragraph fits PERFECTLY! It's funny, for all my "whining", I'm really not that uncomfortable, and I'm doing quite fine enjoying my sleep, time with Joshua, and relatively "easy" life. The addition of a squirming newborn will be so exciting ... but really, I'm cool if she wants to wait a week. 39 weeks and 1 day seems just fine .... :)

On some days, your circumstances and your physical condition feel out of balance: The demands on you seem far greater than your strength. Days like that present a choice between two alternatives--giving up or relying one Me.

I want Baby Boo to come when Baby Boo is supposed to come. And if it means getting uncomfortable and battling some intense impatience? Then so be it. On some days, yes--mother of two, Joshua and Boo, is a demanding role. But since I can't really give up, I just have to rely on Him.

...I will infuse My strength into you moment by moment, giving you all that you need for this day. Trust Me, by relying on My empowering Presence.

 

25 Weeks: The Gift of Infertility

There I was, kissing my two year old angel goodbye, and struggling to climb semi gracefully out of the car. At 25 weeks pregnant, "graceful" is quickly becoming a thing of the past. I balanced a handful of trash, my water bottle and my purse, and walked quickly toward the park.

As I tried to contain the prego-waddle while shuffling toward the bridge, I saw the person I was meeting.

Today, I met with a young woman struggling with infertility.

 

Today, I met myself. 

As we walked the lake a few times, it was like looking in a mirror. The questions she asked, the emotions she expressed, the tears she shed ... It was like stepping into my own past.

It hasn't been that long, and yet it has. As infertility consumes and defines you, so does pregnancy and motherhood. 25 weeks into my second successful pregnancy, and I am surprised at how infrequently I remember the infertility. Even with a miscarriage less than a year ago, I am much more "mother of toddler" and "pregnancy guru" than I am the "infertility voice" that I was.

And yet, it's all still there. All I had to do was hear this young woman ask me questions like:

Were you able to still enjoy life in the midst of trying to conceive? 

How did you connect with your husband in the midst of the pain? 

Were there days you were just sad? 

Was there ever a time you just didn't think you could ever hope again?

Is there any way to not be consumed by it? 

I remember. I remember the darkness. I remember the pain. I remember the desperation, the inability to pray, the discouraging moments when you realize you might not have any more capacity for the disappointment that follows high hopes. I remember the tears. I remember the bitterness. I remember the guilt, the desire to show excitement for friends, the horrifying days when you recognize your lack of trust in the Lord.

I remember.

And as I told this young woman today, as we exchanged tissues and tears, I am so incredibly grateful that God has redeemed our pain. He has and continues to use our journey of infertility to minister to others. And not only does He use it now--He used it during the pain.

And that's my hope is that we can all realize that God doesn't wait for our pain to pass, for us to come up from under the darkness to use it all for good. If we allow Him to, He can and will start now. 

So if you are in the midst of pain, as many of us are--in some way or another--ask God to use it, redeem it, work through it NOW. Don't wait for later, when it's over and in the past. Might as well start using it for good.

What an incredible gift those almost three years were--those years of crying, beseeching, shouting, stonewalling, learning, grieving, growing, hoping, stretching. And now, 25 weeks pregnant with Baby Boo, God allowed me the incredible honor of reaching back into my not so distant past to help encourage another woman, desperate to be a mother, and aching with the pain of unfulfilled hopes.

I hope I never forget. Ever. The pain of infertility continues to shape my path, and makes me who I am--and I am so grateful for it.

The Start of Something: Sifted

I attended my first church planter's conference this week. And I'm shaking my head, thinking about how just over a year ago, I had NO IDEA I was going to add "church planter's wife" to my list of roles. What a crazy ride we've been on!

This week has caused a lot of emotions to rise within me. I think a lot of the questions, doubts, fears, whatever you call them, have been simmering beneath the surface of my soul for a while, and I think two things caused them to finally boil: a week away at a conference titled "Sifted", and the approaching reality of Baby L's arrival.

The theme of the conference was "Sifted", based on Luke 22:31-32:

"Simon, Simon, behold, Satan demanded to have you, that he might sift you like wheat, but I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail."

I kept thinking about how relatively easy the move to Madison was for us. And how smoothly we settled into a new life, a new routine. But then I thought, "Has it really been that smooth? Or have I just been 'gettin' it done'?" Moving forward, accomplishing, driving, settling, "succeeding" ... have I really stopped to allow myself the emotion of moving across the country? Or of taking such a huge step of faith? I think at times I had, early on, so I just assumed I was okay by now.

Well here's the thing: I think I'm being or about to be sifted.

My fears of being a mother of two, my anxieties of the "7 year itch" in marriage, my constant voice of discouragement in my head about my job and ambitions (or lack there of) in my field, my insecurities about my ability to support my husband and help lead a church ... these things are all coming to a head, and honestly?

I WANT to be sifted. I WANT to face some (or all) of this junk head on, dig to the root of it, and figure out a way to come out on the other side, not unscathed, but stronger because of my battle. I'm sick of running, hiding, denying, ignoring. 

One of the workshop leaders encouraged me to read this psalm, and I'm in love with it. :)

"Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand.
You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will receive me to glory.
Who have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.
For behold, those who are far from you shall perish;
you put an end to everyone who is unfaithful to you.
But for me it is good to be near God;
I have made the Lord God my refuge, that I may tell of all your works."
Psalm 73:23-28

Sure, Steadfast Anchor of my Soul

Hebrews 6: 18b-19a: ... have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul ...

I was home this weekend sort of by accident. My flight out of Sacramento was delayed 2.5 hours, causing me to miss my connection in Denver. So, I was pushed to a 10pm flight, and got to spend my 10 hour layover with my family. What a blessing in MAJOR disguise! 

Except that I miss my family. And lately, I just miss being home. Not that Wisconsin isn't home--of course it is because Erik and Joshua are there. But really, Colorado is home. That's where I've lived for over half my life. It's where I spent all of my marriage until now. It's where I built community, it's where my family is. 

It's home and I miss it. 

But, God has called me to be away from my home. Which, really, as a Christian, I should be used to anyway, as we are all longing for our eternal home, away from this world. (Though Colorado Rocky Mountains in the summer are pretty close to that eternal home, I think ...)

This verse struck me this morning. Home is not my sure steadfast anchor. Neither is family. HOPE is. Hope in Christ is my sure, steadfast, anchor of my soul. 

And for that I'm very thankful, because without that, it'd be super hard to be this far away from home.

S.O.A.P

I must admit, I was out of the habit of soaking in the Word.

In college, almost every night before bed, my roommate Cora and I would lay in our separate beds with our separate Bibles and end our days with God. I have such great memories--and journal entries--of this time where I would close my day with my Lord, reading His Word, journaling my thoughts, and lifting up praise and requests to Him.

Seriously, for some reason, this became harder to do once married. I'm NOT a morning person, so it's very difficult for me to get up in the morning and have enough mental juice to actually sit and read--and process and apply--the Word. Bedtime devotions didn't seem to work anymore; Erik is a night owl, and I'd stay up later and later to connect with him and then crash into bed.

So, for 6 years, it has been a struggle to find consistent time in the Word. I've had my times--when I worked at DeVry, I'd always make my coffee, and sit in my favorite chair and read a little. When pregnant with Joshua, I'd always carve out a time to take a few minutes and read a little something.

Enter a child, sleepless nights, a dry stage in my faith .... and well, let's just say I lost my enthusiasm a little. And the journaling specific verses and my thoughts on them slowly went out the window.

I'd read bits here and there, and I had a trusty devotional that helped me get what little I could to help me focus on God. But it was rough there for a while.

Then God moved us to Madison. And my oh my, do I need to be in the Word. I mean, need.

And then Dave, our lead pastor, gave a sermon that got me back into journaling about the Word. Not just reading aimlessly and thinking, "Hm, that's good stuff." but then forgetting it 10 minutes later. YES! Why did I ever stop doing this?? Pure laziness I tell you. A theme in my life.

He taught on the acronym S.O.A.P (Scripture, Observation, Application, Prayer)

There are still days where I don't want to do it. Or I do, but I start to feel like I'm only doing it to say I did it, and then I revolt a little bit because I don't want to do it just to say I did it ... blah blah blah.

But I sure am loving being in the Word, and forcing myself to observe it, apply it, and pray about it. LOVING IT.

So, here's an entry for you:

S: 1 Corinthians 2:1-2
¹And I [Paul], when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom. ² For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.

(Love how the Message portrays this too: ^1-2You'll remember, friends, that when I first came to you to let you in on God's master stroke, I didn't try to impress you with polished speeches and the latest philosophy. I deliberately kept it plain and simple: first Jesus and who he is; then Jesus and what he did—Jesus crucified.)

O: Paul kept it so simple here! I love how the Message says "first, Jesus and who he is; then Jesus and what he did." Erik and I often say we Christians too often focus and allow others to focus on all the other stuff--the controversial, theological, social, relational stuff--that keeps people from Jesus. Here's the deal--cut through it all. Figure out A) Who is Jesus? Liar, Lunatic, or Lord? B) What's your decision about Him? The rest will follow. First, Jesus and who he is and what he did. Then we'll sort through your life.

I also love the next part in the Message:
 ^3-5I was unsure of how to go about this, and felt totally inadequate—I was scared to death, if you want the truth of it—and so nothing I said could have impressed you or anyone else. But the Message came through anyway. God's Spirit and God's power did it, which made it clear that your life of faith is a response to God's power, not to some fancy mental or emotional footwork by me or anyone else.

I LOVE that the Apostle Paul was scared! Yippee! I'm not the only one! And yet, the message comes through.

A: We all have our issues. And when we're sharing the Gospel, so often we Christians complicate it SO MUCH! We need to set aside everything else and help people see and decide about Jesus. We need to be in relationship with people, not just yell at them from the streetcorner, or from some blog on the internet. We need to go to them, get to know their lives, hear their stories, get in their mess, and show them the One who can rescue them. We need to get ourselves out of the way, so the message can be loud and clear. 

P: God, give me--and all believers--opportunities to talk about you--and keep it simple! 

What Do I Know?

I had the honor of leading worship for our church this past Sunday. It was so much fun! Not only did I have a great band backing me, I got to sing some of my favorite songs.

One of my absolute favorite songs, What Do I Know of Holy--Addison Road.

I remember the first time I listened to this song. I was in my car, and I had just bought the album. This is the last track, so it took me a while to get to it. But when I did ...

Blown away.

"I've made You promises a thousand times ..."

"Tried to hear from heaven, but I talked the whole time..." 

"I think I've made You too small ...."

"If You touched my face, would I know You. Looked into my eyes, could I behold You?"

"What do I know of You, who spoke me into motion? 

Where have I even stood, but the shore along Your oceans? Are You fire, are You fury? 

Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?"

How many times has I made promises to God, to try harder, to surrender more, to love more deeply. Only to find myself worn out, embittered, eating cookies on the couch watching Nefllix instead of soaking in the Word. (That's just an example. I'm not eating cookies. Though I was about to watch something on Netflix...)

"I guess I thought that I had figured You out..."

"I knew all the stories ... and I learned to talk about, how You were mighty to save...."

"But those were only empty words on a page..."

It's so easy to think, "All right--I've got it! If I just do A, B, and C, and then pray a little bit more each day, it'll all work out. God and I are golden." But that's just not how it works. I do know all the stories ... but guess what--they lose their meaning if I'm not connected to the Storyteller. Those wonderful felt-board stories from Sunday School way back when are just shadows in my mind if I'm not daily walking with the One who dictated those stories, and caused them to be.

"Then I caught a glimpse of who You might be ..." 

"The slightest hint of You, brought me down to my knees...."

"What do I know of You, who spoke me into motion? Where have I even stood, but the shore along Your oceans? Are You fire, are You fury? Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?"

"What do I know of holy? What do I know of wounds that will heal my shame? And a God who gives life its name.  What do I know of holy? Of the One who the angels praise? All creation knows Your name. On earth and heaven above, what do I know of this love ... ?"

"So what do I know of You? Who spoke me into motion. Where have I even stood? But the shore along Your oceans ... are You fire are You fury? Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?" 

What do I know? What do I know of holy? 

So very very little. And I need that reminder every day, because I get up on my high horse and think I've got it all figured out. And I truly, truly don't.

11 Weeks: Taco Bell & Pizza Pit

What is up with pregnancy making me want the nastiet food EV-ER?! It's ridiculous really. When I should be eating the best foods ever, to assist in my health as well as my growing baby's, I want Taco Bell and Pizza Pit. Both of which caused me such indigestion and, ahem, digestion issues (to put it nicely) I half thought I was miscarrying and have now determined I will never EVER eat those things again!

(Well, Pizza Pit I'll probably give another chance. But considering I vowed off Taco Bell 4 years ago, and only gave in recently due to a prego craving, I'm back on my vow. That stuff is NAS-TY. Gross.)

On another note ...

I pulled out all of my maternity clothes this week. A few weeks ago, I panicked because I thought I'd lost them all in our move. But fortunately, we found them! I ran 'em all through the dryer to shake out the wrinkles, and made space for them in my closet. A few times I caught myself thinking, "Man, it sure would suck if I lost this baby cuz I'd have to pack all these clothes back up and that'd be hard. Maybe I should just keep them packed away instead of being hopeful..."

Funny how the brain works, isn't it? I have no reason to believe this pregnancy isn't going just fine. I have no reason, other than random statistics on the web that I refuse to read, to think that anything will go wrong. And yet, in a perfectly normal moment, fear of loss tries to break through.

Even at 11 1/2 weeks, it's a daily battle to surrender every twinge, every passing cramp, every thoughtless worry. You think seeing the ultrasound, or hearing the heartbeat, or getting strong blood results will make everything okay. But that reassurance wears off, and the weeks until the next appointment seem long, and so you trust. And waver, and trust and waver and trust .... and on and on it goes until that little baby is delivered into your arms.

Having been through a whole pregnancy and birth and now two years of motherhood, I of course now truly understand how it's a never-ending act of surrender. Every day, my little boy--my joy, my love, my life--has to be surrendered to God--who is my Joy, my Love, my Life.

Surrender. Who woulda thought I'd get from Taco Bell & Pizza Pit to Surrender?

Not I, I tell you. Not I.

What do you need to surrender today?

Trusting in the Midst of Grief

These past two weeks have been a roller coaster.

We found out we were pregnant on January 5, much to our surprise considering our history of struggling to conceive. And thus we began the wonderful journey of early pregnancy--cautious hope, hesitant excitement, all with a dash of anxiety and a base of trust.

Unlike my three pregnancies that ended in miscarriage, I had an incredible sense of peace that this one was going to work. Even when I would wonder and slip into doubt, I could honestly say that it felt like we were definitely going to have a baby in September. I just had peace.

By the time I was 6 weeks along, we were feeling pretty good. And then we received some fun news that a friend was pregnant as well! How fun that she and I would get to experience this joy together.

Then I started bleeding. And I must say, I just lost it. I ignored the peace that I had, and I sobbed. And sobbed. And sobbed. I was so hurt, and scared, and confused. I just couldn't understand why God gives, and takes away. (Even though I recognize He doesn't necessarily cause miscarriages, in my sorrow, I was upset that He hadn't prevented it.) We began to prepare our hearts for the journey we know all too well--recovering from the grief and heartache of early miscarriage.

But I was still pregnant--what?! My hormone levels were rising, my symptoms weren't disappearing ... and lo and behold, a week and a day later, after spotting consistently, I saw a teeny tiny little heartbeat. The peace I had was accurate; in spite of all appearances, there's a little baby growing in there!

The same day, my friend experienced some spotting too. She got an ultrasound, saw a teenier-tinyer little embryo (no heartbeat yet) and felt great! We again were so excited.

But her spotting continued. While mine finally, slowly, went away (it was due to two small clots near the placenta), her's increased. Until, sadly, yesterday she lost the baby.

And thus the blog title: Trusting in the Midst of Grief.

In the midst of heartache and pain, what does it look like to trust? In the midst of the unknown and fear, how do we rest in God's peace? Does trusting mean the absence of all emotion? Does resting mean we never cry out in agony and pain?

NO.

If I learned anything in my journey to conceive Joshua, it's that God is big enough to handle my emotions. And boy am I glad He is, cuz I sure have a lot of them! I remember feeling some guilt after we realized I wasn't miscarrying. I recalled finding the bleeding, and turning my face to the ceiling, asking, "Really God? Really?" In hindsight, I of course felt bad that my first response was the blame Him.

But guess what--He's still God.

In the hours leading up to my ultrasound, where I would discover whether my baby was alive and growing, or about to miscarry, my battle against fear and anxiety was escalating. It took every ounce of my strength--Christ's strength in me--to surrender my fears and TRUST. And if you could have heard me in those moments, you would not have heard anything that sounded like peaceful trust. I was a little bit of a wreck. The unknown--the possibility of having to accept and slog through another miscarriage--was weighing on me like a ball and chain. Did this mean I didn't trust that God is good? Did this mean that I didn't know that His plan is best and miscarriage serves a natural purpose? Did this mean that I wasn't trying to surrender and rest in His peace?

NO.

Trusting in the Midst of Grief is hard. It sucks. It's a roller coaster.

My friend is there right now--and I'm there with her. My heart is breaking for the pain I know she is feeling. The pain I begged God to give me, instead of her, because I at least know from experience how to deal with it. I tear up constantly, my heart physically aches, my stomach just isn't right today. I am asking God "Why?" ... and yet, I trust. I trust that He is good. I trust that He can handle our grief. I trust that He saw that little baby, and He knew the journey my friend would take. And I trust that He will sustain her, and make her stronger, through it.

I remain confident of this:
   I will see the goodness of the LORD
   in the land of the living.
 Wait for the LORD;
   be strong and take heart
   and wait for the LORD. 

Psalm 27: 13-14

I Don't Want to Want It

"I just really don't want to want it again, until I get it, and then I want to want it fully. Make sense?"

I muttered this to my husband as we both attempted to drift to sleep, each battling our own never ending colds and rarely silent thoughts. Fortunately (or unfortunately) he totally understood what I meant.

It's starting. Well, really, it started to start in October, but now it's really starting.

The baby itch.

Sigh. I'm so not ready for this ....

I got great news from two good friends yesterday. One friend is having a girl, and the other is newly pregnant. I'm so excited for them both! And then it hit me .... I want to announce a pregnancy. But I don't want to start the process that is most likely inevitably our path to conception and pregnancy. I don't want to chart, I don't want to give myself shots, I don't want to "try" and "try" and "try" .... I don't want to want it, until I get it, and then I want to want it fully.

Make sense?

I'd like another child ... perhaps even another after that. But the memory that is not far from my mind and my heart of the yearning and longing and painful waiting makes my stomach twist in knots. The fear of more miscarriages, later term miscarriages, gobs and gobs of money, days and days of charting ... it's almost enough to make me not want to try.

The thought of wanting to be pregnant, longing for it, yearning for it--it drains me. It scares me.

I don't want to want it until I get it. If only we had the luxury of an "oops".

As I told a good friend this morning, our journey to Joshua has touched so many others who have had similar struggles. I guess I can get behind another tough journey if it means we can touch more lives. But sometimes, often times, in my most genuine moments, I just want to be "that woman" who gets pregnant just by looking at her husband and carries easily to term. Sometimes, often times, I don't want to be "that woman" who God works through in her pain and sadness to minister to others.

Of course, though, if this is our path--to struggle in this life to conceive our children and use that pain to touch others--then we are honored that God would redeem our pain, redeem our sadness, redeem our struggle for His good purpose.

It'd just be really great to not want it until we got it, but I'm guessing that's not how this is going to go .... So, let's get on with it!

How'd I miss that?

We've all heard about peace. The peace that passes understanding, the peace of Christ, wonderful glorious peace in the midst of any and all circumstances.

Have you, like me, ever had a hard time finding and sustaining said peace?

I've read this verse a hundred times (I almost said a thousand, but that would be exaggerating. But a hundred ... well, it's possible. Perhaps more like 63 but that doesn't flow as well.)

I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world. John 16:33

I'm one of those Christians who struggles to read the Word, simply because I feel like every passage I read, I've read before. It's hard for me to take the time and mental energy to discover what is fresh, alive and active in the pages of God's Word. It's a struggle I know many long term believers face; I am no different. 

So today I sat down to check my devotions off my list; but even with my slightly religious heart, doing it pretty much just to say I did it, the Spirit blessed me with a small revelation. 

How could I have never noticed this before? Well, I probably never took the time, because I read quickly, feeling like I've heard it all before. 

Let's look at that verse again: 

 I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world. John 16:33

What?! How could I have never noticed this before? I immediately wanted to blame it on my NIV translation. I spent my whole life in the NIV and only recently, in order to attempt to find fresh stimulation from the Word, switched to the ESV. So I pulled up the NIV version ... What?! It says it too? So I pulled up the NLT .... same thing. So I pulled up the Message ... well, we all know it's not the same thing, but still a pretty cool translation: 

... I've told you all this so that trusting me, you will be unshakable and assured, deeply at peace. In this godless world you will continue to experience difficulties. But take heart! I've conquered the world.

 So, it wasn't the translation ... it wasn't that I've never read the verse ... it wasn't that I've never studied it (I mean, for goodness sakes, I took a whole class on John in college.)

Here's what it was: I'd forgotten. I'd forgotten the importance of each and every part of each and every verse in the Bible. I'd forgotten how important it is to read and read and read again, but although I may have at one time noticed this phrase "in me" and the implications of it .... I had forgotten.

How can I be "in Him" in the midst of a tired morning, diaper changing tantrums, tense moments in business and family, lonely moments in a new city, phases of indecision and self doubt, long afternoons, and sleepless nights if I'm not reading? Sitting? Listening? Praying? How can I be "in Him" if I think I've heard it all before, and I sit to do devotions simply so I can say I did them?

Being "in Him" is a whole lot more. And that is where I will find unshakable assurance of His deep peace.

My Life Lately

Life is a little bit of a blur lately. I remember the beginning of August ... but I'm not quite sure when and how it became August 25th. I remember saying that I wanted August to be over ... and here it is almost over and I'm not sure how I feel about that!

I'm excited to move and start this adventure--an adventure we've been talking about and planning for since April. 

I'm scared silly to do every day life without our amazing support network of family and friends.

I'm anticipating the joy of discovering a new life and new friendships. 

I'm nervous for the meltdown that I know will come once I've used up all the adrenaline from moving.

I'm counting on the growth that will be forced upon me in new situations and life experiences.

I'm grieving the inevitable fade of friendships and loss of connection--Facebook is incredible, but there's nothing like a real live squishy human hug.

I'm in awe of how quickly this has happened ... and shocked at how slow these months have seemed. 

I'm proud of us for doing this ... and nostalgic already for "the good ole days" in Colorado. 

I'm looking forward to doing life in Sun Prairie ... and I'm already tired of saying goodbye in Colorado. And it has truly barely begun .... 

Awareness and articulation--these are two words that have stuck out to me lately. I, increasingly every day, become aware  of my feelings, emotions (and hormones I'm sure!) that are swirling around inside of me. And after a bit of processing, it becomes very essential that I be allowed to articulate these feelings and emotions, without fear of rejection, bad consequences, and/or toooooo much sympathy and pity. Aware, articulate, move on. (and sometimes revisit!) That's been my process lately. So, if you run into me, and I randomly blab some form of articulation about how I'm feeling--I'm sorry! If it sounds for a minute like I'm crabby about this move--I'm not! I'm just in the process of processing. The journey of awareness and articulation. It's a rollercoaster, that's for sure.

But let's be very clear about one thing: I am choosing this. Choosing this because God has called us to it, and I choose to be in His will. Because as much as I'd love to be near family, as much as I'd love to stay with friends, as much as I love my view of the mountains .... His place for me is far better than my place for me. So do not be confused. I am not angry, I am not kicking and screaming, I am not fighting. I'm just aware, and articulating. :)

Waterfalls, Dams and Kinkos.

I cry a lot lately.

Just here and there, and everywhere--any random thing can make the waters rise and trickle down my cheeks.

At the local park, as I round the corner of the pond and gaze on the most beautiful mountain range I've ever lived near and realize that I'm leaving my mountains.

At the FedEx/Kinkos office, where James, the most helpful and kindest employee ever, remembers my name, and recalls that my son is about 1 1/2 (Josh is 15 months old--I'd say James was pretty close!)

At the weekly Bible study with ladies I've taken for granted and now realize I will deeply deeply miss ... no explanation needed. The tears flow just writing about it.

At the sound of Joshua squealing and clapping in delight as we make the right turn into my parents' drive. My tears could rival waterfalls in the Amazon.

At the memories in this home, the far off voices in the walls, the images that float through the halls. The dam might break forever if I contemplate what leaving this house will feel like.

At the moment in Denver where I thought I heard someone call our names. No one did, but the fact that I knew we could run into someone we knew was wonderful. Until I remembered we're moving to a place where no one knows us and it'll be rare for many years for us to run into people we know anywhere we go.

At the twists and turns and streets and stoplights that I can navigate in my sleep, and have since high school.

At the reassurance that I always have a place to go when I need a break, a hug or some super super super ridiculously strong coffee. (A.K.A. Mom and Dad's. The coffee is always stronger when Mom makes it though...)

At the truth that explodes in my heart that while this is where I'm known, this is where I reside, this is where I wish I could live forever ... I'm no longer called to be here. The tears that well and gush and flow at that are a mixture of grief and hope. Grief at leaving my home, and hope at the prospect of an adventure. Grief at leaving the known for the unknown, and hope at the blessings of following the call of my Lord. Grief and hope ... tears and more tears.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again--moving is hard.

Unexpected ... Miscarriage

It's amazing how something you weren't expecting and not trying for can change your whole train of thought. Alter your entire way of thinking about the near future. Morph the image in your mind of the next steps.

On July 4th, we were shocked to find out we were pregnant. And this morning, sadly, I am losing the pregnancy.

I'd forgotten how quickly that positive pregnancy test changes your life. I had a inkling I was pregnant. As we traipsed around New York City, and I was extra tired, ridiculously crabby, and quite demanding of food, a small voice in my brain kept taunting me saying, "You're pregnant! You're pregnant!"

And so I was. And the second we saw that test, planned or not, our visualization of our future changed. Suddenly there was a pregnant belly while unpacking our place in Madison. There was a newborn baby early in March, or most likely February.  Joshua would have a baby sister or brother before he was 2--definitely not in our plans, but now our new reality.

This is, was, the first time I've ever been pregnant without trying. I have a whole new understanding for the woman who has an "oops." (Please don't comment and rant about how no baby is an oops and every baby is created by God ... I'm aware. It's a phrase. Thank you.) This was our "oops!" (I like to tack an exclamation point on the end because it sounds like a happy oops then.) And Baby Oops really threw me for a loop. I'd never not planned on a pregnancy before. And this one startled me--and so did my emotions.

I remember laying down with Joshua at my Grandma's house to spend some time with him before nap time. And I cried. Cried with shock, cried with happiness, cried with those crazy pregnant lady hormones. And Joshua laid with me, forehead to forehead. He reached out his chubby little hand and patted my cheek, as if to say, "There there Mommy, we can handle another one like me."

I had thoughts like, I'm not ready. I can't do this. Wait! Maybe I only want Joshua!!!!
But then I had thoughts like, What a miracle. We didn't even have to try!

Then the cramping started, and I couldn't decide what to feel. Sadness? Relief? Fear? A mix of it all. Then the cramping went away ... then it returned ... then it went away .... Ugh--just happen already!

And so now, the answer is clear: no baby in March. No brother or sister for Joshua--not yet anyway.

I've miscarried before. I've sobbed and I've bawled. This one is different. I'm still a mother, so yes I am grieving. I'm heartbroken and sad. But this one is different too. Because this time, I was able to open a door, smile at a little boy, pick him up and receive the biggest most exuberant hug any mommy could ever receive. Having Joshua makes this okay, and trusting God gives me hope.

Me? Insecure? Never! ... Well, maybe ... a smidge ...

I was invited to do one last bible study with Discovery Church women before our big move to Madison, Wisconsin. I waffled on the decision for a while, knowing that this summer would be crazy and also knowing that I would love the time with these ladies. Then I saw the book title they'd chosen: So Long Insecurity by Beth Moore. And I thought, "Nah, I don't need to read that--I'm not insecure!"

Insert laughter here.

Because only a few pages into the book, I realized wow--I am in these pages, in these examples. Insecurity is not just what I tend to picture--a mousy wall flower woman who can't speak her mind and spends 19 hours choosing an outfit just to change it later. No, insecurity can and does look very different from that.

I could quote a dozen lines from this book, and you'd probably think, "Oh my--that's me! She's talking about me!" even if you are like I was and utterly convinced of your security. No matter what, we've all got something that triggers us. Some broken relationship, some failed promise, some shortcoming or fear that paralyzes us and causes us to forget who we are in Christ. For me, I'm realizing a lot of different things about myself. So anyway, I'll just quote a few:

I constantly feel unqualified, inadequate, and out of my league. I realized this morning that I not only lack security, I also lack faith. I don't just doubt myself, I also doubt God about myself. 

Some of us never seek healing from God for our insecurities because we feel like we don't fit the profile. We think insecurity only looks one way--mousy, maybe even inept--and that's not exactly who we see in the mirror ... Insecurity's best cover is perfectionism. That's where it becomes an art form.

The fact that she [an insecure woman] can be a complicated mix of confidence and self-consciousness is the very reason it took me so long to identify it in myself and admit it. 

Those above quotes are all from the first couple chapters of the book. Those are the quotes, just a sampling, that drew me in and helped me realize this book was good for me. This next quote I read just yesterday, and with my life the way it is lately, boy did I need to read it. This section is in the form of a prayer ...

Lord, help me to learn how to hang on tight to You when my life is rocked by dramatic change. Empower me to trust You and not to panic or fight for control. Help me to stop confusing a change in my circumstances with a change in my security status. You are my security, O God. You are the one sure thing. When everything around me shakes, You are unshakeable. Nothing has the propensity to reveal false gods in me like a sudden change in my circumstances. Help me to see them and surrender them instantaneously. Use change to provoke what needs changing in me, Lord, and to increase my appreciation of the only One who is the same yesterday, today, and forever.


I need to print this up and plaster it all over my walls, mirrors, car and laptop. What is it about change that gets me all jittery and insecure?? My God is in control, my God is orchestrating this change, and He is in it all, blessings, challenges, surprises, twists and turns. He is my Rock, my Guide and my Salvation. Whom--and what--shall I fear?

I'll close with this quote:

No, you are no the only one to blame [for your insecurity], but girlfriend, you are the only one you can change. God is willing, God is able. Let Him get to that terrified part of you that devalues the rest of you.

I highly recommend that you--yes you--read this book. :) Even if you think you're totally and completely secure, I promise you--you're not.