So This is Christmas

It's amazing how radically different this Christmas has proven to be from what I had expected and anticipated.

First of all, this is my first-ever blog post on my new iPad(!!). My husband teamed up with my parents on a gift that has absolutely blown my mind. The cool part about the gift is the affirmation that came with it in regards to my writing. Their intention with this gift is not just that I could have an awesome toy (even though it is!) but that it would be stewarded in a way that allowed me to blog more easily and more often, to write at times that would otherwise be more difficult without the technology. It's no secret that to those who know me that blogging has been a window into my mostly-secret thoughts. Thoughts that in the past I have guarded very carefully, even from those whom I love and trust. Sometimes it's hard for me to verbalize those thoughts - either for fear of judgment or just because I can conceptualize the difficulty and time it would take to work through an idea with someone, and that length of time just does not practically exist at that particular moment. I have blogged many, many late nights when the house is quiet enough for me to work through the maze of my complicated thoughts and ideas. My husband and I have a running joke that sometimes others know me better than he does simply because they read my blog posts before he is able to get to them. And I have to admit that to some degree and on some days, that is probably true. Words just seem to organize in my head and flow onto paper more easily than out of my mouth. And I have the added bonus of the "delete" button when I write something I decide I didn't really mean or that doesn't truly reflect my heart or God's Word accurately. Can't do that in conversation...if you could, I would probably have more friends. ;) Anyhow, as excited as I truly am about this gift, I feel quite impressed upon to steward it well - not just as a toy, but as a way to honor God more fully in my life. I pray that I am able to do that.

Secondly, there is of course the great sadness that ebbs and flows with the desire to be nurturing life within my womb this Christmas season. The great sadness has led, though, to a fuller understanding of the greater JOY that Christ was born to us, that He chose humility and human weakness...that He left the right hand of the Father in search of the hand of His Bride. I know that Jeremiah's life was not only meant to bring me closer to Christ, but it has and for that I am looking forward to one day hugging my son and telling him how much he has affected my life just in the few weeks God allowed him to grow. The picture below is the only piece of a quilt that my sister had finished when we got the news that Jeremiah had passed. For Christmas, she framed it and gave it to us. Every single part of it is divinely inspired, and I am so thankful - once again - for God's tender graces to us through our friends and family.




Thirdly, because of travel plans this year (one of which included me agreeing to allow my parents to fly E to the other side of the continent to visit my brother and his wife in California...still not sure what I was thinking!?), we chose to have Santa bring presents on the morning of Christmas Eve. It was a completely logistical decision, but as I woke up this morning, my mind clear of any notions of presents and video cameras and breakfast preparations, I was able to sit quietly in the early morning and just pray and read the Word and remember and meditate on my Savior and thank Him for choosing us, for choosing me. The divinely-inspired ability to enjoy and celebrate and begin this day focused only on Jesus' birth has compelled me to secretly plan to work out a deal with "Santa" to arrive at our house every Christmas Eve morning from now on. Maybe I can talk him into that - we'll have to see. :)

Getting ready for the big trip to California...

This Cup

One thing that I love about our church is that every Sunday we partake in the Lord's Supper. Some people might argue that in doing so, it will become more commonplace and possibly lose its meaning. Through my experience, I can only argue vehemently against that point. Kneeling before God each week, remembering Who He is and the great sacrifice that He made for me to cover my sin is certainly the way that I need to start my week. One certainly doesn't have to have the bread and the cup to do that, but I am glad that we do.

Today as our pastor led us to pray and prepare for the breaking of the bread, I was crumbling. Coming into church that morning, I was somewhat overtaken by all the children and pregnant ladies around me. This was my first time back at church since our miscarriage, so there were lots of hugs and "I'm sorry's," followed by tears. I must've been holding back a floodgate of tears, because once they started, I just couldn't seem to stop them.

So we're preparing for the Lord's Supper, and I'm praying through some things in my heart, most of which are complicated, opposing thoughts of "Lord, I love you and I trust you and I want what you want for me," and "I do not want to be part of this plan you have for me. Why does she get two precious little girls and I still only have one? Why does she get to still be beautifully pregnant right now and I am not? Why do they get to have six kids? Why? Why? Why?"

With my head in my hands, pouring my heart out to the Lord while tears flowed, my thoughts shifted to the communion that was about to take place.  I thought about the cup and remembered a time when Jesus wept as he had prayed for Father to fulfill His will in a way other than what Jesus knew was about to happen. Jesus knew the pain and suffering He was about to step into. He knew that God could deliver him from it if He wanted to. But Jesus had a different heart than I did as He continued in His prayer, "But not My will but Yours be done." Submission in its highest, purest form as Jesus conquered the fleshly desire to just walk away from a Father God who requires everything.

Eyes closed, as I played through that scene, I saw myself kneeling before God, beside Jesus. I saw Jesus wrestle with the emotions that I was wrestling with - knowing the plan God has, but wanting it to be easier. Then He spoke the words, "Not My will but Yours be done." I swallowed hard as everything in the garden stopped. The wind stopped whistling through the trees on that cold night and the grasshoppers and tree frogs stopped their singing as Jesus turned to me and said, "Your turn now, my child. Your turn to pray it too." And with Jesus beckoning me (and with my knowledge that His cross was to be infinitely more cruel than my own will ever be), how could I deny Him my trust? My turn. "Not my will......but Yours be done, God. Whatever it is you have planned for me, I submit to it. I trust You."

And as the scene evaporated, I heard my pastor invite us to drink and eat in remembrance. As I did, I prayed again, thankful this time that Jesus really had submitted to the will of His Father, that He had gone before me to lay down His life in the ultimate sacrifice for me. And that in doing so, He even stopped for a moment to show believers what true obedience to the will of the Father looks like in the midst of the greatest sacrifice one could possibly give - His life.

To Celebrate or Not To Celebrate?

Some days - I'll admit - my heart gets stuck in the expectations that I had going into this Thanksgiving and Christmas season. Many people around me knew I had a countdown going for Nov 1st - the first day of my second trimester, the "magic day" at which point I was hoping to leave morning (evening) sickness behind and begin to climb toward more energy and a healthier appetite. The Thanksgiving/Christmas season has always been a fun - albeit, exhausting! - time of year for L and I (from Nov 14th to the end of the year, our family celebrates my birthday, Thanksgiving, E's birthday, L's birthday, Christmas, our anniversary and New Year's...whew!), and this year we were looking forward to adding some fun baby milestones to the mix, the biggest of which was finding out the sex of the baby. So I had a lot of expectations for these days, and most days I wake up and make a conscious decision to lay those expectations down and ask God for new mercies and the ability to appreciate the days as He planned them, not as I had planned them.

A couple of nights ago, a night when I was really wrestling with some darkness in my heart in regards to some of the trials over the last few weeks, I wandered over to my friend's blog and found this post, inspired to her by this post on her friend's blog. It spoke Truth to me in an instant, refocusing my heart on the joy that is at stake this Christmas season, calling me back to the One this story is all about, reminding me that because He is Savior and the Christ, I have a Burden-Lifter and a Hope that He is making all things new in His time.

Not Celebrate? Your burden is too great to bear?
Your loneliness is intensified during this Christmas season?
Your tears seem to have no end?
Not Celebrate? You should lead the celebration.
You should run through the streets to ring the bell and sing the loudest!
You should fling the tinsel on the tree, and open your house to your neighbors and call them to dance!
For it is you above all others who know the joy of Advent.
It is unto you that a Savior is born this day.
One Who comes to lift your burden from your shoulders, One Who comes to wipe the tears from your eyes.
You are not alone, for He is born this day to you.
Ann Weems, Kneeling in Bethlehem

NOW I Remember Saying That.

It hit me sometime over the past few days that about a month or so ago - during my prayers and conversations with God - I had mentioned to him that I would be willing to go wherever He led our family and that no matter how much He wanted to shift our idea of "normal," I would be okay with that and follow Him. Of course, I was thinking and praying inside a box that meant I would be willing to adapt to changes in zip code or changes in societal comfort levels...NOT even considering for a moment that God would turn life completely upside down in a way that I never even anticipated.

I can't tell you how much I just never, ever, in a million years, expected to be the girl on the ultrasound table who heard the words, "Your baby doesn't have a heartbeat." Never. Ever. Now, don't get me wrong. God provided a supernatural peace throughout the whole experience of that moment. But even now, when I look back on the whole situation, it's still hard to believe that it's actually been me - in MY skin - walking through this whole process. To complicate the reality of it all, I still have memories in my head of the first ultrasound visit for this little baby, at around 10 weeks, when I saw him bouncing all around on the big flat screen, with a heartbeat steady and strong, flexing his long little legs, turning his little head toward me on the screen. In that moment, I loved him. I came home and put pictures of him up on Facebook for the whole world to see. It's been hard to reconcile that that baby is no longer alive on this earth and that he will not one day be the child that E is now. His purpose for existence was very different, and I'm still on a journey to understand what that purpose really was and is.

So now I remember telling God that I was ready for him to change our lives. And now I understand that I was only ready because He had begun prompting me and prompting my heart to accept the trials He was planning for me. And though I certainly never anticipated the kind of changes He was about to make in our lives, I rest in the fact that God has a purpose and a plan. In fact, I have found myself saying over and over again recently to those around me that the only thing that holds me together some moments is the overwhelming truth and persuasion that God has great purpose in all these things to bring glory to His Name through demonstrating His goodness in all circumstances. It doesn't take away the hurt all the time, but it does give unexplainable peace that resonates deep within my soul.

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

-Horatio Spafford, 1873

P.S. If you've never read the story behind these words, it's worth your time.

How Are You Doing?

This is probably one of the worst questions ever.

Now, I know that this is more than just a journal - it's a public blog too. And I've probably already offended someone or made someone feel uncomfortable, or something worse...but hear me out.

It's one of the worst questions ever because it's one of those questions that forces you to make eye contact with the person if you want to know if they really care what your answer is. Then when you make that eye contact and you find out they really do care, well...for me, that's when the tears start flowing. And I've cried a LOT of tears over the past few weeks. Because, you know what? There are actually a LOT of people in this world who have asked that question with eyes and hearts full of love and concern for me and my family. It's humbling. It has affected me and changed me deeply as a person.

The other reason I hate the question is because I always wonder if those people ever talk amongst themselves about the answers I gave them. Not in a gossipy kind of way, just more along the lines of "Hey, sounds like J is doing well." Or, "Wow, J's having a really rough day." Because if they did, what they would more than likely find is that at 9:30am on a Wednesday, I was having a really awesome day, then for reasons I couldn't even explain, at 4:30pm on that same day, I laid down in the middle of the floor in the fetal position and cried like a baby. And then at 1:30am in the middle of the following night, I sat wide awake on the couch wondering if I would ever be able to sleep normally again. The reason I wonder if these people talk amongst themselves is because when I look back at the day and remember the things I said to someone at one moment and then remember the way I felt at another moment, it's apparent that those two things were completely different, though - in their respective moments - completely accurate. Taken as a whole, I look (and feel) completely bipolar, and a total hypocrite. It's not really plausible to offer someone the whole picture every time they ask, but a snapshot really isn't a good gauge for how I really am either. 

Thirdly, though I feel in NO way worthy to compare myself to David, I have had a few 'kindred moments' while reading through some of his writings and songs, with his manic-depressive way of boasting proudly in a mighty God one moment, and then begging God humbly for new mercies the next. Psalm 89 is a classic example of David's "rebounding" - and is a great portrait of my days right now. I believe God is faithful and has a purpose for our loss. (How unbelievably depressing would it be if I didn't think God had a great purpose in that!?) However, even though I believe in my heart, and in my mind, and have spoken that belief over and over with my words, I still feel like David in vs. 46-49, and I have begged God many, many times to just allow my heart to move forward out of this valley. My mind seems eager to move on: to get back into a workout routine, or to get back into the pace of work or just daily living. But it's as if God has not fully released me from this trial for some reason, and I still have lessons yet to learn.

Now that's a lot to unpack for a sweet friend who is just meaning to check my vitals and hug my neck. Hence the reason I don't usually give the full-length version when someone pops the dreaded question. And, deep inside, I do understand and appreciate that those around me - as I said before - really care deeply, even when they aren't asking for the full commentary on my life over the past two weeks.

Since this IS a public blog, it must be said that I am not keeping a secret list of those who have asked this question of me. To be honest, so much of these days has been a fog that I couldn't tell you half of the things that have been said to me, unless they were written down. So if you have found or if you do find yourself wanting to ask this question of me, please don't hesitate. Just know two things: 1) I will be looking in your eyes to find comfort in your genuine concern, at which point you might witness a few of my tears; and 2) Whatever it is that I tell you could very possibly be null and void 30 minutes later. This is just a journey with lots of ups and downs, and bumps and bruises. And you are welcome to walk a portion of it with me at anytime.