The Promised Child

"Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful." Hebrews 10:23

After writing my previous post on Saturday, the last few words of this verse echoed in my heart--"for He who promised is faithful." Those words continued to resonate in my mind as I went through my day to day all weekend. Sunday night at church they gained a new meaning to me.

I am not sure what the official title of the sermon was on Sunday, but I think it could've easily been called "The Promised Child". Our pastor spoke about the prophecy in Isaiah 11. He started with background of the sad state of affairs Israel was in. Isaiah was called to be a prophet who bore terrible news about the current heart of Israel--the kings they had so desperately pleaded with God for were selfish and power-seeking and had led their nation astray. The people themselves continued the pattern of old, turning from God and turning to idols or other men to lead them. Isaiah was called by God to deliver the tough truth to the Israelites, to point them back toward God. So when Isaiah speaks of the "shoot" that will "spring up from the root of Jesse", he speaks of deliverance to a nation in desperate need of hope.

Isaiah 11 continues on to prophesy the many ways Jesus will offer healing to His people. He will be led by the spirit, He will delight in fear of the Lord, He will see beyond what is seen with His eyes. He will defeat the wicked. He will be clothed in righteousness and faithfulness. He will bring peace. And then verse 6 arrives: "and a little child will lead them". Isaiah is promising deliverance, He is promising hope, He is promising salvation and all of these promises will come through a child.

The pastor then went on to describe the 700 years between this prophecy and the day Jesus was born. Those 700 years were bleak and oftentimes the people of Israel were without any new word from God. They were called to wait, to wait watching for the Promised Child. I just think of how many generations passed with no visible word or sign from God. They looked for signs of who He had promised but they weren't able to find any. They were asked to believe that "He who promised is faithful" because they had seen just that over and over again in their nation's history. They were asked to put faith in the character of God as so clearly demonstrated in the past, not in the seeming absence of God as perceived by the events of the present. Was God absent? Of course not! But the promise was seemingly absent and I can imagine that it would have been diffcult to not feel hopeless in those moments, no, eras, of waiting.

But then, oh then, Jesus arrived in Bethlehem! The Promised Child had come to fulfill each piece of Isaiah's prophecy! After 700 years of waiting, Jesus arrived, the Prince of Peace was here! Rejoice! "Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace among men with whom He is pleased!" The promise was so gloriously, so miraculously fulfilled! He who promised was indeed faithful!

The pastor closed by discussing the importance of the darkness, the 700 years of waiting, in knowing the true hope that was born that day in Bethlehem. What if the Israelites weren't living in captivity? What if the Israelites were thriving and growing with the Lord? Would the need for a savior, for the Promised Child, have been so great? Would the joy of the birth of our Redeemer have been as powerful? What need do we have for Hope--for the anticipation of what is unseen and yet to come--if what we have is perfection? Where is the need for Hope if our life is full of light? It is only in the absence of light, in the anguish of this world, that we know how much we need the Promised Child.

I have drawn many parallels between my life and this sermon over the past few days. Not that Isabelle's birth will ever rival that of Jesus, but she is a promised child. I believed for many years that God had called me to be a mother. I knew this was part of His design for me, and after we lost Hope I began to question that calling. I think about the darkness I wandered in after losing Hope, I think about the captivity that was doubt, I think about the deep reassurance I had that He who promised was faithful. Some days I just had those words--God is faithful--but no more than that. I was asked by God to wait 8 months for fulfillment of His promise, and I am choosing not to dwell on the poor job I did of that when the Israelites were asked to wait 700 years.

Instead I'm choosing to focus on how much joy this promised child is bringing me. I think the anticipation of the arrival of Isablle has opened my eyes to even a glimpse of the anticipation that must have been felt by the Israelites 2000 years ago. The Promised Child brought light into the darkness, redeemed the anguish experienced in the waiting, resonated the faithfulness of the Father. Isabelle certainly resonates the faithfulness of the Father in my life!

So this Christmas season I sing with new understanding of how precious the gift of Jesus was on that night in Bethlehem 2000 years ago. I am so grateful for the promises God fulfills. And yet again, I rejoice and profess my Hope without wavering that "He who promised is faithful."

God's Promise

"Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful." Hebrews 10:23

I think this is one of my new favorite verses! For the last year I have confessed, professed, my Hope in Jesus. My daughter's name was no accident--Hope was named to remind me of the great Hope I have in my heavenly Father. Hope's name proclaimed a virtue I most adamantly hold to and believe in. Hope testified to the great anticipation I have in knowing Jesus, that someday I will meet my Father and someday I will again hold my precious daughter. And I can hold to this hope because "He who promised is faithful."

Herb and I have been asked often what our little girl's name will be. Herb wanted to hold out on sharing her name but has since changed his mind. In his desire to be silent, I would often tell others that I could not share her name, but that I would say her name means "God's promise". Of course, Google being the powerhouse that it is, people would then email me their guesses. I could never confirm or deny, but often they guessed incorrectly.

I am happy to get to share her name with others because it holds to me just as much meaning as Hope's does. Forever this little girl will be a reminder that "He who promised is faithful." She is a fulfillment of God's promised joy amidst our anguishing sorrow. She is a fulfillment of God's promised Hope for the good He had in store. She is a fulfillment of a calling I believed with all my heart God had for Herb and I--to be parents. This little one embodies so many of God's promises and I love that her name reflects just that.

If you've read this far then you definitely deserve to know the name of our daughter. Coming in March we will be welcoming Isabelle Noelle to our little family! She will be a delight and a light to all who know her, and I can't wait to meet her!

Thankful

Cara gave everyone this assignment and since I always complete ALL of my assignments, I decided to post my work for all to see. Happy Thanksgiving! I am one thankful woman--this doesn't even begin to cover it!

Time--I'm grateful that I've had more time this semester with the help of a student-teacher!
Herb--I can't imagine where my life would be without a husband who makes me laugh and lets me cry!
Able--I am thankful for the ways God is able; able to forgive, able to heal, able to redeem, able to love and SO much more!
New--I am thankful for the new experiences and people who come into my life! I am thankful I've been made new!
Kerry and Kevyn and all the Ks in my life--my family enriches each experience I have and holds me through the difficult ones!
Food--I LOVE experiencing food, traditional favorites and new flavors! I think it's one of God's greatest gifts!
Understanding--I am grateful for those who seek to understand my heart and love me unconditionally!
Love--Love, both divine and common, enriches my life so much!

Remembering

I can't explain how thankful I am when others remember Hope. I know it is easy to forget her, after all very few people even met her, but I am so grateful when people remember my precious girl without my prompting.

A most beautiful example of this beauty came from my friend Janell last weekend. We were on our way home from a baby shower, and Janell said she wanted to ask me something. She asked if I wanted Hope honored in some way at my baby shower for this newest little girl. Janell said that she didn't want to forget Hope and her significance, and so her thought had been to make shirts in honor of Hope for my shower. Of course I started to cry and was so overwhelmed with the gentle sweetness of this gesture--so simple yet so profound to my mother's heart. What a perfect representation of God's love for me and for Hope reflected in the heart of my dear friend Janell!

Then just last night my thoughtful sister asked what we were doing to celebrate Hope's birthday. She asked if I wanted to celebrate alone or if I wanted company. Kevyn sweetly remembered that this day is quickly approaching and wanted to make sure that we honored my precious daughter! I love that I didn't even have to ask--Kevyn just made it a point to remember and offer her comfort and her company. What a gift my sister is and how thankful I am for her remembering!

Not everyone will remember and not everyone has to, but I am so grateful for those who do. It is in that remembering that I feel like Hope is valued, like she is a part of my family, that she will never be forgotten. These are things that I very much feel everyday, but I am overwhelmed when others share those feelings with me. What a gift my friends and family are and what a present their remembering is to me! Thank you for those who help me in my remembering, who share in the remembering with me. You lessen my load and lighten my heart.

It's a Girl!

We had our 20 week ultrasound on Wednesday and it was one of the most fun experiences of my life! I barely slept the night before--just imagining getting to see our little one again and finally knowing who we should be expecting in 20 weeks was more than my mind could handle! I tossed and turned and finally just got out of bed at 4:30, mostly because I was starving! The fun part was that our little one was going crazy all morning long; I think she was just as excited as we were!

On my way to the ultrasound I drank some OJ, I've heard that is helpful, and listened to my Hope play list. There were of course many tears as I drove to the ultrasound, missing Hope, wishing I had had this day with Hope, but mostly there were tears of complete joy knowing that God had prepared this way for us. I was completely tear-filled and humbled as I listened to the words:

I believe always, always our Savior never fails
Even when all hope is gone
God knows our pain and His promise remains
He will be with you always

My Savior has not failed me. He has been so incredibly faithful to me that I cannot even begin to articulate the myriad of ways He's comforted me and renewed so many things that were lost. I can see how Jesus fulfilled Isaiah 43:19 in me " See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?" How many new things my Father has done in me! I can't even count them! This joy, this peace in knowing that God is at work, that He never fails, filled me with great tears of joy Wednesday morning.

When we arrived at the perinatal center, we had to wait for what seemed like an eternity. The OJ had clearly kicked in right on time; at 9:15 the baby was bouncing away in my uterus, but we had to wait! As we sat there waiting Herb asked how I was feeling, and I said "Excited and nervous!" He said "What's there to be nervous about? It's going to be a baby!" Oh my smart alec husband!

Finally they called us in around 9:45 and sadly we did not get our beloved ultrasound tech, but our new tech was very sweet as well. She also asked about Hope and was very mindful of how tender of an experience this was for me. She began looking around and there was our sweet baby, hiccups and all! The baby was moving around like crazy and was honestly giving the tech a bit of a hard time. But we saw a powerful, steady heart beat with perfect 4 chambers of the heart! The baby's brain looked particularly huge--I think it must be Herb's! And her spine looked perfect!

As we tried to discern the gender we discovered that the baby's legs were crossed! At this point I called the baby a brat! I did, I couldn't help it! Does that make me a bad mother? But the tech navigated around enough to find the ovaries, verifying that our baby was indeed a girl! I didn't completely trust her conclusion, so I was thankful when I asked again about two minutes later if the baby had uncrossed her legs and she had! Yep, she's a girl! I was right, which is mostly only satisfying because I feel like my mother's intuition is spot on! I don't think Herb was too disappointed to be wrong. I'm very much envisioning her to be daddy's little girl about 20 seconds after she's born!

After all of this I slyly mentioned to the tech that the reason I thought the baby was a girl was because of the 3D picture at the previous ultrasound. She either took my hint or was just very gracious because then she tried to get us a 3D picture. But our little girl at this point was tuckered out from all of her squirming around and was now curled up on her arms and legs, butt up in the air with her face pressed firmly against the bottom of my uterus. Because the tech couldn't get a good profile angle we didn't get a 3D picture this time, but that's okay. The pictures we have are wonderful!

As we walked out of the building Herb and I both said our daughter's name; we've had it chosen for quite some time now. It is perfect for her! I've loved calling her by that name since the moment we discovered she is a girl! Herb isn't quite ready to share yet, but it's really only a matter of time before I slip up! And luckily Herb knows this too and is ready for that day!

We went over to my OB for my 20 week appointment and called our moms. Both grandmas are super excited about a healthy baby and about our little girl! Then the texting began! It was so fun to share with everyone our news! I know no one, including us, really cared which gender our baby was, they were more concerned about healthy, but it is SO fun to give a more concrete definition to our little one! My appointment went well and I am so incredibly thankful for Dr. Riley. She acknowledged that this must be a tough time of year for me and a tough time in my pregnancy. Because of this she told me I could come in any day I was feeling concerned or worried and listen to my little one's heartbeat. What a relief to know that if I just need that extra reassurance it is there for me! What a blessing, truly!

After my appointment Herb and I parted ways. Coming to work was a little anticlimactic but there were plenty of excited people there to make me feel loved. I definitely couldn't focus the rest of the day! I spent a great deal of time looking at girly nursery things online and day dreaming about my little girl!

That night Herb brought me pink tulips and told me they were from our daughter! What a precious, sweet thing for my husband to do! I am the luckiest girl in the world to have the people in my life that I do, my husband being at the top of that list!

Herb then took me shopping at Target so that we could buy our first little girl outfit! Herb was humorously enamored with all things boy, and I had to remind him that now we know we're having a girl! I think he'll get used to the idea--he just likes orange and monkeys and sports--all boy things. But he actually picked out the outfit we purchased--it's a little red with pink polka dot footed sleeper that says "Mom and Dad's little cuddle bear"! Adorable! She's going to look wonderful in it :-)

After that I went home and crashed! I was exhausted from the emotions and the events of the day, but I slept easy dreaming of my little girl, the girl I cannot wait to hold in my arms come March! Praise God for this day and the moments He has given me with our beautiful baby! I am blessed beyond all measure!

Here are some pictures from the ultrasound:

This is the ovary shot!

I LOVE this little foot!

She's sucking her thumb!

Dr. Riley asked whose nose this was and I'm sorry to say baby girl that I think it's mine! Hopefully I gave you some of my good traits too ;-)

Grief Moments

I think I'm entering into what will be the hardest weeks of my pregnancy and of my grief process. Everything about this time of year is reminding me of Hope. Leaving on vacation for Fall break was really hard for me; it dredged up a lot of fear about this pregnancy. You see my vacation to Philadelphia last Fall was the last thing I really remember doing with Hope--in some ways it was the beginning of the end. So as I stepped on the plane last Friday I shed many tears of grief and fear. I am having a very hard time believing that I will make it past week 19 of this pregnancy, not for any reason other than 19 weeks of pregnancy is all that I know. And that's been hard too...

There have been moments in these last weeks that have triggered great sadness for me, moments that are glorious and painful all at the same time. These moments are moments I never had the chance to have with Hope; these moments were the moments I was waiting for with such great anticipation last year around this time. Two weeks ago my dear friend had her 20 week ultrasound and found out the sex of her baby. I was SO excited for her but all of the sudden also overwrought with grief remembering how I never really had that moment with Hope. I was so looking forward to that moment with her and it never came. And I think that was just a small piece of the emotions I will feel in two weeks when I get to have my 20 week ultrasound with this baby. Of course I will be thrilled to discover the gender and receive verification that this baby is healthy, but there will be a shade of grief over the moment knowing that I never did have and never will have that experience with Hope.

In that same vein I couldn't help but be thrilled last week when I started to feel this baby move! It is such a delicate and precious feeling; the movement creates such a bond between me and the baby. And yet there are moments when I can't help but cry--I never knew this sensation with Hope. These flutters are all new to me, but I wish they weren't. I wish I could have had these moments with my sweet little girl. Does that diminish the joy I feel with this baby? Not at all, but the longing for my Hope is just the same.

And I wonder, I wonder if I will have these moments every once in a while with huge milestones in this new child's life. Will the milestones trigger what I've missed out on with Hope? Or are these particular milestones more powerful because I was so close to having them with her last year at this time? I'm sure it's a little of both. I'm sure I will always have a hollow ache for my Hope, a tender place that's only hers. But that's okay because it is a reminder of the important role she has in my life; she is my daughter and no future children will change that. There will be missed moments with her, just as there will be moments shared with this new child. That is the reality of my life, my grief.

So as I walk into these next two weeks of pregnancy, the final weeks of pregnancy I'm familiar with, I admit great fear. I actually considered calling my doctor and asking if she would see me weekly between now and 20 weeks, just so that I could have reassurance that everything was still okay. These next weeks will be an exercise in trust and faith in ways that go beyond how this whole pregnancy has been exactly that. I have to dare to believe that this 17th week, this 18th week, this 19th week will be different than the last.

And as I walk into this next month of reminders, this month leading to November 10th, I will be teary, I will have grief moments. These were the last days with my Hope. There will be days, events, happenstances that trigger overwhelming memories and overwhelming grief. This will be a hard month, but again, that's as it should be. I should remember these days and moments because they are a part of my story, of Hope's, and of our story together. These days changed my life forever and I can't change or ignore that. And so I won't ignore them--I will walk through them and I will cry through them and I will end up on the other side of them.

Because although these are grief moments, they are also brief moments. They will not consume me forever, for there is joy coming. "So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy" John 16:22. Oh will there be joy!

Until then bear with my brief moments of grief, walk alongside me, try to understand, and if you don't, just try to trust that I am doing the best that I can with what I have. And know that this is only for a time--this is what I must believe as well, that these grief moments will pass.

Glimpses of Glory

"Once you feel the weight of glory, all your pain will fade to memory" ~"Before the Morning" by Josh Wilson

"All of the sudden I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory" ~"How He Loves Us" by David Crowder Band

I've been trying to think of a way to encapsulate my emotions for the last week, a way to concisely express the roller coaster I have been riding. I am not sure that I will do the last 7 days justice, but I want to try.

As we anticipated our ultrasound last Tuesday, I vacillated between immense excitement and intense fear. I was so excited to see our wee-one again, to see that little baby that I have already fallen for! But I also was fearful--fearful that the ultrasound would show no beating heart or debilitating Down's syndrome. Even as we sat in the waiting room awaiting our appointment, I wasn't sure what to trust, what to believe. But I did know that there were several butterflies flitting in front of the perinatal building when we walked in, which did leave me feeling hopeful.

When they called us back to the ultrasound room, I was thankful to see a familiar face. The same woman who performed our ultrasound at 8 weeks was there again to do this one. She remembered us, remembered our story, and was SO incredibly sweet to us! She explained in great detail what we were looking for and then took a lot of time in showing us the baby. She (I SO wish I could remember her name) excitedly thanked me for having such a full bladder (you know me, always happy to oblige in that area!) and exclaimed that the baby was posing perfectly for the pictures she needed. Then she happily announced that the thickness of the baby's neck was picture perfect--exactly what we would want to see! After she took the pictures she needed, she then just took some time letting us watch our little one! The baby was SO active bouncing around, pulling on the umbilical cord, showing us all angles. What a joy to be able to observe our baby's movements and actions! The tech then offered to take a 3D picture of the baby--this was and is the most precious gift I've received! I love that we can see her/his little face--I'm in love with this face!
The ultrasound tech then checked for the baby's gender, explaining that she would only be able to tell us for certain if it was a boy. There appeared to be nothing there, so she said she was leaning toward girl, but she couldn't say for certain. Daddy Herb claims that this means nothing--he is still sticking with his claims of a boy, but to me this face looks like he might just be wrong...but we'll see!

After the ultrasound the tech took me back to get my blood drawn. As I settled into my chair I looked up to the wall and found the most beautiful picture of a monarch butterfly gracing my eyes! This baby, this experience was blessed with the hope of a butterfly, a big, faith-filled butterfly!

While I cried many tears of joy, I realized I was getting a glimpse of glory, a glimpse of God's presence in my life. So many songs, so many verses promise that when we are eclipsed by God's glory all pain will fade. I was by no means eclipsed, or immersed in glory, but I did get a peek, a precious, life-giving peek. God's glory allowed me such joy, such immense joy in those moments, that my pain was standing in the background. It hadn't disappeared, in fact it absolutely colored my experience, but it colored my experience in a true way--the glory was greater because I knew the pain. The pain did become more memory than reality in those moments. God showed me His glory, in a gracious hope-giving blessing that I am so grateful for!

In the days following I must have glowed like Moses after his mountain top glimpse of glory! But quickly the glimpse of glory slipped from my mind because of fear. Friday morning I was unplugging my charger from an outlet and I shocked my hand pretty badly. Instantly I was overwhelmed by fear--fear that I had just killed this baby. I couldn't shake the overwhelming sadness and trepidation that came from the what ifs. I called the doctor and initially the receptionist said that I would have to go to triage to make sure everything was okay. I was terrified because it was in that very triage that I found out Hope was dead. After the receptionist spoke with the doctor, the doctor reassured me that everything was perfectly fine--there was nothing to fear. While I struggled to believe that I couldn't help but notice how God cared for me.

Butterflies, butterflies everywhere. All weekend long I constantly encountered butterflies. I even found a set of butterfly pins at Disneyland! God is so good to have reassured me, comforted me with this symbol of hope that is mine, my gift from my heavenly Father! I have come to realize that butterflies are another glimpse I get of God's glory, God's magnificence. Because when I see these butterflies I am overwhelmed with the love of my Father, the gentle way that He cares for me. I am radiant after seeing these peeps at butterflies because I know my God is good; He sees my need and meets me in that place.

I cannot wait until I am able to be washed over by God's glory, until all my pain will fade to memory, until I can no longer see my afflictions. I cannot wait to move beyond small glimmers of glory and bask in the the warmth of it all. But until then, oh am I thankful for my glimpses of glory, for the moments when I am reminded of who God is and how overwhelmingly magnificent He is! And I am grateful for my little ones--this baby growing inside of me and my Hope and Joseph revisiting me with their butterflies--and how they enable me to see the glory of my gracious God!

Butterflies

Butterflies are a beautiful symbol in my family. They represent hope, the presence of loved ones and comfort. In some ways they represent new life. Their symbolism began the day of my Grandma Pat's memorial service. As my Grandpa stood before her dearest friends and family a precious black and orange butterfly gracefully landed on the podium next to him. This beautiful butterfly stayed with him as he spoke and followed him right to his seat when he was finished. From that day forward our family came to cherish the butterfly as a simple reminder that our Grandma would always be with us.

3 years later my Aunt Kelly stood before a gathering of our dearest family and friends to share words of remembrance for my Grandpa Read. As she stood in the same spot my Grandpa had stood just years before, two butterflies flitted to the podium and danced above her head. God sent us a reminder that Grandma and Grandpa were never far from us--their memory and presence were felt in the flitting of wings and the vibrancy of color.

12 years later I found myself looking for a renewed sense of hope after the loss of my Hope. I was reminded of the butterfly, of the beautiful picture of hope it unveils. The butterfly must struggle for what seems an eternity in order to emerge as something more breath-taking and glorious. She breaks free from the bondage of her struggle to find that she can fly and experience life in a way she never knew before. The butterfly was to be my new symbol of hope, and my mom graciously gave me a necklace to signify this new emblem. I wear my butterfly necklace with anticipation of the glory God might reveal in me.

It was two weeks after I placed this necklace on my neck that I found myself in Ohio visiting Lindsay. On July 3, Aunt Kelly's birthday, we took a pregnancy test and discovered the great joy of baby number 3! What excitement but oh what fear Herb and I experienced in those next days! But God is gracious--a white butterfly came to visit me every day that I was in Ohio, no matter which city we were in. Hope, my precious girl, and Jesus, my precious Savior, brought me a reminder that there is hope. I felt like God was reminding me that it was okay, it was good, to believe in the plans that He has for me. And I felt as though Hope was urging me to believe it was okay for me to move forward. I felt Hope allowing me to welcome this new life into our lives, in fact modeling for me how important and easy it was to embrace this new little one.

I thought for sure that the butterflies would not appear once we left Ohio. After all Ohio is green and lush and I couldn't remember the last time I saw a butterfly in Arizona. But not one day have I been left alone. Each morning when I back out of my driveway or walk onto school's campus or drive to the grocery store, there she is, my precious Butterfly! I have not been left alone in my fear but instead have been surrounded by my Hope. I have to believe that these butterflies represent not only the new life growing within me, but the new life God has cultivated in my heart as a result of Hope's life.

So while I certainly have butterflies about this new pregnancy, I also have Butterflies to remind me that I walk this journey with Hope! Thank you Jesus for the Butterflies!

My Name

I wrote this as an example assignment for my students this week, but I'm really quite fond of it. So I thought I'd post it here. Nothing enlightening or thought-provoking, just a little bit of me on paper!

My Name

My name is the sound of a girl in tattered jeans and a dirty shirt with scraped up knees running into her mother’s kitchen. My name is short and sweet like the dips of my fingers in the cookie batter. It is friendly and gentle. It is too young. It means pure, it means set apart. My name is the sound of a light tune being sung while you work.

I am named for Katherine Hepburn, an old actress my mother loved. She wasn’t beautiful or graceful, but she was classy and tough, just like me. My father made her promise I would be called Katie—a short, childlike name that I would want to shed as an adultlike child. But I’ve grown into the childishness of my name just like a teenage girl who finally grows into her nose.

My middle name, Suzanne, is my grandmother’s middle name. I like to think that I carry a piece of her feistiness with me. I know I carry her love for writing, reading and politics, but she had a wild card quality that I hope I embody. She used to sit and argue with my grandpa as they raced through an intense game of Dr. Mario on their Nintendo—I know I have that fierce competitiveness with my husband!

There have been moments when I wanted to shed my name, to find a name more unique like that of my sister. Everyone always remembered a Kevyn, but the taller girl standing next to her became “what was your name again?” I wanted a memorable name, one that meant something. But now my name does mean something—it means me. Katie Sue is the fun-loving, tender hearted, pure woman of her name. No other name will do!

It's not fair!

I've been pondering this blog topic for quite some time now, but haven't really felt that I was in the right place to write it. But I finally decided that I should try to write it despite where I am in life...that's what my blog is all about...honesty.

I've been plagued a lot recently with the "It's not fair"s. I am overwhelmed at times with how easy it is for others to conceive. I am in awe that some people can just decide to get pregnant and viola! they are. I often look at the lives of others and think, wow, their lives are going according to plan, no disasters, no broken hearts, just joy. How is this fair? The truth is that it is not.

Life can't be fair. If life were truly fair, if we were given what we think we deserve, then we would also be given what we truly deserve as sinners. We would be punished severely for our sins, we would be separated from our Father, we would be living in lives that were unredeemed. We aren't given what we deserve, good or bad, and thus life is not fair.

I really struggle with this because I am arrogant and I look around and think "But look at what they're doing with their lives and yet they have a child!" or "I did exactly what I was supposed to and I don't have one!" I have lived my entire life trying to do as I was supposed to so I could be equally rewarded. I've tried so hard to be the perfect child, to be the perfect Christ follower, in attempts to protect myself from evil and guarantee a life with minimal pain and suffering. To my surprise, that doesn't work.

No matter how perfect I try to be, I live in a fallen world. No matter how much I try to do exactly what I'm told, I am truly imperfect. When I really think about it, I'm thankful to not get what I deserve because it would be so much worse than what I'm living now. But how do we shake that mindset? How do we abandon the idea that we are living our lives for God's glory only and NOT for our own good benefit? How do we shake the illusion that we need a fair life? How do we recognize that God is telling our individual story and it has nothing to do with the story next to us?

This is where I get stuck. This is where I don't have an answer, where I can't complete my thought. Perhaps the answer is in knowing that each one of our stories will bring God an individual and unique glory. Perhaps the answer is in knowing that we are sinful and fallen and we aren't getting what we truly deserve. Perhaps the answer is to stop gazing at others and focus more on Jesus.

But how do we abandon the belief that our good deeds should equal earthly blessings? Perhaps the answer is this: "But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." Matthew 6:20-21 Earthly blessings won't matter much when we reach eternity, so perhaps we need to fix our eyes on the heavenly.

I don't know the answer, I just know that the two year old is right, "It's not fair!" But thank goodness it isn't! Because life is not fair we are spared from the awful fate of our sin; because life is not fair we get a second chance; because life is not fair we are all redeemed.

New Prayer

"Do you want to learn the lessons only suffering can teach you? Would you say to God even now, 'If I have to go through this, then give me everything. Teach me everything you want to teach me through this. Don't let this incredible pain be wasted in my life'?" (The One Year Book of Hope by Nancy Guthrie).

I've been asking God for a while now to give me something or other. I've been begging God to give me joy again, to give me peace, to give me a child. God says that "all of the things [I] ask in prayer, believing, [I] will receive" (Matthew 21:22). So why hasn't He given me these things? One possibility is certainly unbelief. Pretty much on a daily basis I utter "I believe, help me in my unbelief" (Mark 9:24). I want to believe, I want to trust, I want to abandon my doubt, but I don't think that is something I can really do on my own, in my weakened human state. So one possibility for unanswered prayers could certainly be lack of belief. But I'm beginning to wonder if I am asking for the wrong thing.

Is it possible? Is it possible to be asking for the wrong thing? I think it really depends on where your heart is. After all the first part of Psalm 37:4 "Delight yourself in the Lord" is crucial to understanding why "He will give you the desire of your heart." If we truly delight in the Lord, if we dwell with Him, know Him, then our desires will echo His. I actually do not think that the prayers I have been praying, prayers for joy, peace, for a child, are not desires of God's heart, but maybe they aren't the desire of His heart right now. Maybe He has a greater desire in this time, maybe He has something for me that can only be learned from suffering.

Let me tell you, I hate that. It sucks. Our God is the God of the universe, if He has something to teach me aren't there a million ways He could accomplish that knowledge in me? Doesn't He have techniques and tactics that would accomplish the same purposes? I don't know for sure, but those questions presuppose that God orchestrated my suffering. Maybe my suffering is a product of a fallen world, maybe my suffering is a product of Satan's manipulation. Maybe, just maybe, God knew this was coming but in living in a free-will-world nothing could be done to prevent it. But now it's here, it is a reality, and regardless of why or how it came about, I have a choice.

I'm beginning to realize that I always have a choice, a choice in how to respond, how to act, what to say, what to do. I don't really like the choice; I often wish the choice was made for me. Because inevitably I have to choose the harder road, the more difficult path, the challenging interaction. Rarely when faced with a choice do I get to say "Ah, this will make life so much easier..." Instead I walk face first into difficulty, and now is no different.

I have to choose a different prayer right now. I have to choose instead of (or maybe in addition to) begging for deliverance from my suffering to beg for God to give me everything, everything that this experience of suffering has to offer. I need to ask for God to use these moments to mold me and shape me in ways that He maybe would not without the suffering. I have to ask for a softer heart to experience more of the pain that I might know more of the glory, rather than hardening my heart to the pain and cutting off all available growth. Essentially I must ask for more suffering, more pruning in the midst of my sorrow because otherwise these moments would be wasted.

So I have a new prayer: "'If I have to go through this, then give me everything. Teach me everything you want to teach me through this. Don't let this incredible pain be wasted in my life'". Amen.

Family

In recent months I have discovered something about myself: I desperately desire to belong somewhere. Apparently there are three aspects of self esteem: sense of accomplishment, sense of belonging and sense of self-worth. When asked to pinpoint which one I struggle with most, I hands down was able to answer "sense of belonging".

I've never ever felt like I fit anywhere. When I was younger I was more mature and wanted to hang out with adults. When I went to college I became the married one and didn't really have a place with the single college-aged folks. When I'm with my family I'm the older, married cousin who has to sleep in another room so I don't get sick; I lack the coolness factor to connect me to the teenage cousins. In the world of my adult friends I'm either the married one to the singles or the childless one to the mothers. I'm the sober one to the drinkers and the prude one in the middle of crude jokes. Even within the church I feel out of place; I constantly feel like while speaking truth I am outcast from the believers who soften scripture or who fear offending others. I just feel like an awkward round peg trying to fit into a square hole.

I really think that this loneliness, this longing to belong, really plays into the grief I continue to experience over the loss of Hope and Joseph. In no way is this the bulk of the grief, but both with Hope and with Joseph there was a sense that I was finally going to belong to the group of mothers. I was going to be able to join in on the endless conversations about pregnancy, childbirth, nursing, child-rearing, kid stories. I was going to fit, and now I am back to being on the outside again. This loss creates a great ache in my heart.

I know, of course, that where I am to belong is in Christ; He gives me my sense of belonging. I have been adopted into His family. "Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow citizens with God's people and members of God's household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone" (Ephesians 2:19-20). Or in the words of Sanctus Real "When I don't fit in, when I don't feel like I belong anywhere, when I don't measure up to much in this life, I'm a treasure in the arms of Christ." I belong in God's family, I am a treasure to God, even if it's just the two of us there. But I struggle, how do we feel a sense of belonging in a place that is not God's home? How do I feel like I belong in Him in a world that is surrounded by those who hates us?

And that may be part of the point. We won't ever truly belong in this world because Christ is in us and the world hates Christ (John 15:18-19). We won't ever belong or be fully accepted in this world, but perhaps that is designed to draw us closer to Him, and remind us that His adoption is enough.

I know that the only place I will truly belong is in Christ, but it occurred to me a couple of weeks ago that I feel a sense of belonging in a different family, one that I wouldn't ever expect. I belong to the family of sufferers.

When I first lost Hope, I became very mired in the idea that no one truly understood my pain. People could come close or people could pretend to come close, but really I felt my pain was unique and beyond the understanding of others. And to an extent that is absolutely true; there is no way I could ever specifically understand the pain of someone else and equally he or she could never specifically understand my pain. But the truth of the matter is that we live in a world that knows pain, that knows truly the consequences and aches of the fall. And so we become part of a family of those who have suffered.

It is in essence a family all our own, one not created by birth but one created by being delivered into suffering. This family is a strongly bonded family, especially when we have walked the journey of suffering together. As we watch others grieve, as we walk alongside them in their sorrow, as we hear their heartfelt cries we grow closer to their hearts. We are bound together in our suffering and I believe that there is very little that can break the bond that is created by pain. I have come to believe that this is why Christ came...

Christ came for a myriad of reasons, first and foremost to save each of us from the fate of hell. But the reason He could save us, the reason the cross works, is because Jesus lived the life of a man. Jesus suffered temptation at the hands of Satan, Jesus suffered the pain of loss of loved ones, Jesus suffered betrayal of friends, Jesus suffered shame and humiliation at the hands of His enemies, and Jesus suffered the death of millions of sins. Our Jesus knows suffering and that is why He could save us and that is why He can walk alongside us and that is why we can be adopted into His family.

In joining the family of sufferers I have joined Christ. To know suffering is to know why Jesus had to come. To know suffering is to know why eternal life is so precious. To know suffering is to know longing for a world to come. To know suffering is to know that I have a savior who knows me, truly and intimately. To know suffering is to know that my God understands me.

I have come to be thankful that I belong to a family of sufferers. It is much larger than the family of pregnant women and mothers that seem to swarm around me. I belong to Christ. I have been adopted by a Father who knows my anguish, and because He knows my anguish He weeps right along with me. I have a Father who is more deeply grieved for my sorrow than I am. And with Him as my Father I have joined a family that knows what the sorrows of this world are like.

It turns out I do belong somewhere; it is just not anywhere I would have ever expected.

Love them like Jesus...

I've got a few other post ideas stored up for the day when I'm not grading until my eyes bleed, but until then I wanted to share the lyrics to this song I re-stumbled upon on my iPod today. I've been more than saddened and frustrated as people have tried to "fix" me in the last six months, but I've also really struggled to articulate what it is I want them to do. I know very much how difficult it is to watch someone you love suffer. I know that it would be so much easier if her pain were gone because then we wouldn't struggle so much to understand why or try to help. I know sadness is wearying. This song seems to best portray the struggle from the observer's point of view and the griever's. It is my prayer that you feel the same comfort I felt in hearing it as you read it. I know for many of you I have looked at you with the look described, with darkness clouding my view and desperate for hope. I also know that many of you have offered this very service that the song suggests--you have loved me like Jesus. Thank you for that, thank you for those moments. It is my prayer that I offer this same love to others as they grieve and suffer.

Love Them Like Jesus
By Casting Crowns

The love of her life is drifting away
They’re losing the fight for another day
The life that she’s known is falling apart
A fatherless home, a child’s broken heart

You’re holding her hand, you’re straining for words
You’re trying to make sense of it all
She's desperate for hope, darkness clouding her view
She's looking to you

Just love her like Jesus, carry her to Him
His yoke is easy, His burden is light
You don’t need the answers to all of life’s questions
Just know that He loves her and stay by her side
Love her like Jesus
Love her like Jesus

The gifts lie in wait, in a room painted blue
Little blessing from Heaven would be there soon
Hope fades in the night, blue skies turn to grey
As the little one slips away

You’re holding their hand, you’re straining for words
You’re trying to make sense of it all
They’re desperate for hope, darkness clouding their view
They’re looking to you

Just love them like Jesus, carry them to Him
His yoke is easy, His burden is light
You don’t need the answers to all of life’s questions
Just know that He loves them and stay by their side
Love them like Jesus

Lord of all creation holds our lives in His hands
The God of all the nations holds our lives in His hands
The Rock of our salvation holds our lives in His hands
He cares for them just as He cares for you

So love them like Jesus, love them like Jesus
You don’t need the answers to all of life’s questions
Just know that He loves them and stay by their side
Love them like Jesus
Love them like Jesus

Treasuring and Pondering

"But Mary treasured up all these things pondering them in her heart." Luke 2:19

The word ponder in this verse means to "weigh heavy". I don't think that it is any coincidence that I read this verse in my devotional today, the day I was to become a mother. I have been treasuring up precious moments for the last 10 months, the last 5 months, the last week, taking notice of the little glimpses of my God. I have been treasuring up pieces of God's word (Psalm 119:11) and treasuring up pieces of my journey, relics of what was lost. And today I am left to ponder...

I have spent much of my week and much of today pondering what my life would have been like in these moments if Hope were still here. I "weighed heavy" the dreams lost of: putting the final touches on the baby room, packing a bag for the hospital, sleeping uncomfortably under the weight of my huge belly, holding my precious Hope in my arms, breastfeeding her for the first time, holding her close to my heart as I sang her first lullaby. These lost dreams have weighed heavy on me; they have caused my body to ache and my heart to break; they have caused tears and unbearable sobs. There is no lightness to the path I've walked these last few days. I have certainly had no loss at pondering these things...

I have spent much time pondering my dreams, pondering what it is I hope for in this life and what I hope to achieve. I have weighed this heavy as well as I even struggle to articulate what my hopes are--so many of my dreams are centered around being a mom, having a family, caring for others. Without these ambitions I begin to feel lost. And so I ponder who I am...

I weigh heavy who I am called to be right now if not a mom. A teacher, a wife, a sister, a daughter, a friend. I don't feel particularly successful at any of these roles right now. But the biggest identity that weighs heavy on my heart, the me I feel most centered around is daughter of God.

Today specifically as I prayed, God weighed heavy on my heart my place in His arms, on His lap, in His kingdom. He is just, He is faithful, He is compassionate, and He is mine. Of all of my failures and brokenness, I can still come sit at His feet and praise Him. He is my portion, and if nothing else I am His prize.

Which leads me to my greatest pondering of this last week. My counselor said last Saturday "I want you to recognize that life would not be any better right now if Hope were coming this week." I initially told him he was wrong. He said that if Hope coming was God's plan, it would have been good, but God purposed her not to arrive this week and since it is part of His plan, this is also good. I still said he was wrong, and yet his words have nagged at me all week. It certainly feels like life would be better if Hope were coming to join us today--the gift of my little one in my arms seems like the best that life has to offer. But I've been pondering this earthly wisdom of mine ever since.

This idea of "better" has been weighing heavy on my heart. What do I consider better or best for my life? I certainly would have chosen to have Hope join our family this week, no doubt in my mind. But God chose differently. I most definitely would not have selected to walk the road I have been walking the last 5 months and yet God called me to this road.

I pondered these things all week and then my devotional, Hope for Everyday, challenged the very core of my pondering this afternoon: "Are you willing to admit that your understanding is limited and say to God even now, 'You are right'? Will you trust that God will always do what is right with you and your life and those you love?" (Guthrie). I think I have to trust that this road is right, that there is no other road I am to be on. I think I have to trust that this road is no better than the road that would have lead Hope to my arms today. But I think the key word is trust, believing that this is an equally good road.

I think I can ponder all I want and I do think the pondering can lead me to trust God's orchestration in my life. But I am also going to continue to do what Mary first did, I am going to "treasure". I think treasuring involves living and grieving in these moments. I think treasuring involves missing my daughter and what might have been this week. I think treasuring means sitting in my rocking chair crying over my empty arms tonight. Because it is in the treasuring, in the emotional journey, that I can then ponder and trust. Very little trust is required if the road is easy and the charge light. How can we "weigh heavy" those things that don't weigh heavily? We absolutely still can, but I don't think we treasure or ponder or trust in the same way.

So today I will treasure both what is lost and what is found. Today as I miss my little girl so much I can't breathe I will trust in the God who is guiding my path. And I will ponder the "better" path on this day, April 7th, 2010, a day full of nothing I could have planned.

Anger and Thanks

I promised an honest heart, so here it is, once again...

It was bound to happen. I've experienced a gamut of emotions through these last 6 months, sadness, loneliness, denial, acceptance, but not until these past few days, anger. But I have arrived at the anger station and today especially I have found myself having it out with God. I think the bulk of my anger stemmed from watching several friends of mine in the last week have babies or announce pregnancies. I am truly happy for each one of them, but so incredibly grieved for myself at the same time, and I have come to the place where I couldn't help but ask "Why me? Why is this so difficult for me?" I asked the dreaded why, the word I have so carefully been guarded from in the last 6 months. Yet here it was, the why, and the answers are of course absent. There isn't a clear why, at least not one I can define, so what do I do with this question? What do I do with this observation of the blessings that others seems to be so richly receiving? What do I do when I continue to live without this blessing? My heart's response is to get angry.

It's funny because I've preached often about how okay it is to be angry with God, how He can take it, and how when you enter into that argument with Him you open yourself up to the opportunity to be changed, to be enlightened to His purposes, and yet, I found myself ashamed of my anger; I thought it wasn't my place to be angry with God, He obviously had a purpose. So I tried to cover my anger, to conceal it, which is just pure foolishness. God of course can see my heart and hear my thoughts; He knew I was angry, and He was waiting patiently for me to tell Him so we could engage in a conversation about my frustrations. This morning in the car I finally owned up to my anger; I was honest with myself and God about my disappointments and heartache and anger. And it is no surprise that He heard me out, He let me speak my peace, but then of course He slammed me with truth. (This post will just serve as a reminder that when you get into an argument with God, you should prepare to lose, knowing that it will eventually lead to you winning, but in the moment you will feel like you've lost.)

It turns out that the solution to my anger is gratitude, an ability to be grateful for what He has given me, the blessings He has bestowed on me. This truth hurt because it revealed my heart, my unwillingness to be grateful. I've grown comfortable in my "woe is me" mentality, and believe me there is plenty to bemoan, but my groanings have left little room for my praise. I'm reminded of the song "Held" in which "this hand is bitterness, we want to taste it, let the hatred numb our sorrows." The bitterness I was so careful to avoid when losing Hope has crept its way into my heart in these last weeks. I allowed my sadness to turn to bitterness, hatred for my situation and the pain it brought with it. No wonder I found myself angry.

I think in large part my anger and bitterness can be attributed to my loss of hope in these last weeks. When the doctor told us to wait, I felt as if she told us there would be no hope for months on end. Without hope, without the anticipation of what could be, there is only sadness and bitterness. But the truth this, there is hope, it is just not the kind I'm looking for or necessarily wanting in my earthly self. There is hope that God will work His purposes, there is hope that God has a greater plan in mind, there is hope that God will bless me in the midst, there is hope of salvation that will reunite me with my babies someday. There is hope, it is just far less tangible than a child.

When we lost Hope, I asked people to come and visit me so that I would be reminded of the blessings I do have as opposed to focusing on the blessing I lost. I have failed to have that mindset in these past weeks; I have failed to focus on my blessings and have grown bitter and angry instead. So I do believe that it is time to be grateful, to show gratitude, to focus on my blessings.

I was reading the Psalms tonight and stumbled on Psalm 109. It begins with David's frustrated cry to God "O God of my praise, Do not be silent!" He goes on to frustratedly list the trials he is facing and the ways in which he is oppressed. But then he ends the Psalm with this "With my mouth I will give thanks abundantly to the Lord; and in the midst of many I will praise Him. For He stands at the right hand of the needy, to save him from those who judge his soul" (Psalm 109:30-31). David's response to his anger and frustration with the Lord is to give thanks, and as I am trying to follow his authentic example I hope to do the same.

I will offer praise for my blessings, I will seek to identify my blessings, my starfish, in my days. And yet I know that there is still a large struggle ahead of me. Because of where I am in my life I will continue to be inundated with the blessings of others, specifically in the area of children. It is so difficult for us as fallible humans to avoid comparison, to not hold what we have up to the mirror of what others have. I find it ironic that I am not usually one to do this with material goods, but I cannot step away from it in this realm. All I can do is pray that God helps me endure the absence of this blessing in my life, that He comforts me as my heart aches with its absence, that He protects my heart from growing bitter out of this anguish. And I have to pray because quite honestly I'm not sure that enduring this is something I can humanly do; I believe it must be something Someone greater than me must accomplish. But I can hope that if I seek to have a grateful attitude, God will not fail to help me along in this area of weakness.

So feel free to ask me how I'm blessed each day, and don't be afraid to make me stand there until I can tell you! Because I am blessed and I need to make a point to remember that truth, lest I find myself bitter and angry again. Thus "With my mouth I will give thanks abundantly to the Lord"!

Dwelling

One thing I have asked from the LORD, that I shall seek:
That I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life,
To behold the beauty of the LORD
And to meditate in His temple.
For in the day of trouble He will conceal me in His tabernacle;
In the secret place of His tent He will hide me;
He will lift me up on a rock.
And now my head will be lifted up above my enemies around me,
And I will offer in His tent sacrifices with shouts of joy;
I will sing, yes, I will sing praises to the LORD.
Psalm 27:4-6

I was standing in church tonight renewing my commitment to walk with the Lord, standing with my fellow believers vowing to God that I am willing to do what He asks of me, willing to let go of myself and hang on to His calling. As I spoke aloud my allegiance to my God, He brought a verse to my heart, Psalm 27:4, specifically the words "that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life." I have loved this verse for a very long time; the idea of sanctuary it conjures for me is majestic and comforting. But tonight new words jumped out of this verse into my heart--all the days of my life. Not just the good days, not just the awful days, all of my days. I get to dwell with God all of my days--the days when I am angry with Him, the days I am disappointed in this seemingly unclear plan, the days where my heart aches so much I cannot breathe. All of my days I am invited to dwell, to dwell with Him.

After this revelation I searched back through scripture for the verse and found the context. Not only do I get to dwell with Him, He will hide me in His most secret place, especially in those days of trouble. God does not look at me, broken, weary, frustrated, sad me and ask me to leave, instead in those moments He invites me deeper, further into dwelling with Him. He escorts me past the palace guards, past the throngs of people begging for moments of His time, into His most secret, His most intimate of places and just allows me to be, allows me to hide from the world that is so torturing me. I am invited to dwell, just to be, with Him, even and especially in my most broken of moments. It is no wonder that in the Lord's house we are able to behold His beauty--how can it be anything but beautiful to have someone love you and invite you deeper into His world in your most bedraggled of states?

So this is one thing that I will ask and seek: that I may dwell, dwell with Him, in His most secret of places, where He invites me to go. And then "surely goodness and lovingkindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever" (Psalm 23:6).

Intentional Living

This sucks. It is total crap. There are very few things about our situation that I don't hate. But this is my bummer of a life, I've only been given one. These days, these moments are mine and once they are gone they cannot be recaptured. So no matter how awful my circumstances may be at the moment, no matter how steeped in anguish these next few months might be, I want to live my life.

I do not want to look back and see these few months wasted in waiting for something that I cannot have at the moment. I do not want to trudge through these days wishing them away. These are my days, my months, or rather God's days and God's months, and I want them to have meaning, to have purpose. After all Jesus came that I may have life and have it abundantly (John 10:10).

So how do I find this abundant life amidst what feels like a hole of sorrow? One thought I have is that "whoever loses his life for My sake will find it" (Matthew 16:25). I should let go of what I've been holding on to in search of something greater. I don't know exactly what this something greater is. I do not know what specifically can fill my days with purpose. I KNOW for certain that getting up daily and following the Lord is my purpose and He is what motivates this desire of mine to live intentionally.

But what can I DO with my days to live intentionally? How can I make these months memorable for something other than the painful waiting that is upon me? How can I live out the greatest commandments: "'And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.' The second is this, 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself' There is no other commandment greater than these" (Mark 12:30-31)?

What ideas do you have? I'd love to hear them!

I know intentional living should stretch far beyond these three months, every day of our lives should be intentional, purposeful. So I am looking at this as the beginning of a journey to purposeful living, the first planks in a bridge to an intentional walk with Jesus. These next months are about my pruning, about God working, about opportunity for God to work in my heart. I do not want to be closed off to His purposes but rather open to His work, moldable and teachable. Thus I want to seek to live with purpose, with intention.

How can I practically live with purpose? I look forward to your thoughts on intentional living.

An Honest Heart

How long, O LORD? Will You forget me forever?
How long will You hide Your face from me?

How long shall I take counsel in my soul,
Having sorrow in my heart all the day?
How long will my enemy be exalted over me?

Consider and answer me, O LORD my God;
Enlighten my eyes, or I will sleep the sleep of death,

And my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,”
And my adversaries will rejoice when I am shaken.

But I have trusted in Your lovingkindness;
My heart shall rejoice in Your salvation.

I will sing to the LORD,
Because He has dealt bountifully with me.
Psalm 13: 1-6

One of the things I love about David is his honest heart. There is no sugar coating his emotions, there is no desire on his part to hide his struggles with God. But perhaps the most amazing thing about David is that he always arrives back at truth. This post is dedicated to David because I will bear my honest heart, yet I will remember God's words to me.

This Psalm above has been resonating in my heart the last 24 hours. How long O Lord? Yesterday the doctor suggested that we cease trying to conceive for a while until my body heals appropriately. The time frame she gave us, only a matter of months, feels like an eternity. My heart is screaming out that I have waited on the Lord long enough. Haven't Herb and I waited plenty? We were married almost seven years ago and we patiently waited for me to finish college, for Herb to finish law school, for us to find a house, for Herb to find a job. We've waited, we've waited plenty, and yet now we are being asked to wait some more. And so I cry out "How long O Lord" must we wait for your purposes to be accomplished? "How long O Lord" must we suffer for your glory? "How long O Lord" must we watch you fulfill your promises for others while we wait for you to fulfill your promises to us? How long?

I am aching so deeply that I am even struggling for words. I feel roadblocks where I feel like God should be throwing up green lights. I can barely breathe through the anguish of another lost piece of my hope. I sob as I imagine more time passing without children in our home. I ache as I think about how many months even after we try again it might take to conceive, and my stomach turns knowing that God could bring even more miscarriages in our future. I am saddened that this process, the one that is supposed to be so beautiful and breathtaking, has become so tortured and anguished. There are so many unknowns, so much out of my control.

And yet I am reminded of my God...my God who provided Abraham with a son who was to bring forth a great nation, even when it appeared Abraham could have no children at all. God promised it and so Abraham believed. "In hope against hope he believed, in order that he might become a father of many nations, according to that which had been spoken, 'So shall your descendants be.' And yet without becoming weak in faith he contemplated his own body, now as good as dead since he was about a hundred years old, and the deadness of Sarah's womb; yet with respect to the promise of God, he did not waver in unbelief, but grew strong in faith, giving glory to God, and being fully assured that what He had promised, He was able also to perform" (Romans 4:18-21). I can imagine the incredulity that Abraham experienced--I know first hand the doubt that God will bring you a child. I can see that as the years passed Abraham questioned "How long O Lord" before You provide a child? But God did provide for Abraham as He had promised because Abraham did not move from his belief; he instead gave glory to God and walked assuredly in God's promise.

I am also reminded of my God...my God who in the last moments before Abraham was to take Isaac's life, the very life God had promised him, spared Abraham's son and provided a different sacrifice. I can imagine that as Abraham was walking with Isaac to the place of sacrifice he was anguished at what the Lord was doing. I can imagine that He internally battled the whole march there asking "How long O Lord" must he suffer at the hands of obedience. But in those last moments, God did provide. "And Abraham called the name of that place The Lord Will Provide, as it is said to this day, 'In the mount of the Lord it will be provided'" (Genesis 22:14).

I have begun to recognize that God doesn't get much glory in the ease of our lives. It is not in the moments of peace and tranquility that people are in greatest awe of the way God works. It is in the sorrow, in the anguish. It is in the moments when Mary and Martha are questioning why Jesus did not come sooner to spare Lazurus that we see the heart of Jesus as He wept. It is also in those moments that follow, in the moments that seemed like they were too late, that Jesus resurrected Lazurus and brought so much glory and renown to His name.

Jesus doesn't work on our time frame, ever. There may be times that He appears to, but it really is about His glory. I'm not really sure what His time frame is for us to conceive, to actually carry a child to full term, and then miraculously to welcome that child into our lives. I know that I am not particularly fond of what seems to be His time frame right now and that I will continue to ask "How long O Lord". But I am blessed enough to know that my God does have a time frame and He will provide, even if at the last moment or when it seems like He is too late.

In the meantime, I will still despair over what seems to be lost, over what seems to be an unjust time frame, because I think that is real and honest. David was unafraid to ask God "How long O Lord?" and I will not fear that either. Yet I will do so knowing that I live in the Hope of a God who provides, a God who will show Himself in His perfect timing.

Peace that surpasses understanding

"Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Phillipians 4:6-7

These last few days I've been at peace, not striving, not anxious, just at peace. The doubts I have had over the last few months about not ever being a mom have been quelled. I have been saying to others that I'm not sure if it is a peace that God will eventually grant me the gift of being a mom or if it is a peace that God is going to do whatever He sees fit for my life, it is just an undefined peace. My friend Lori said that maybe I've just been granted a "peace that surpasses all understanding." God has granted me peace, peace that I can't explain or comprehend, peace that doesn't make sense despite my circumstances. This peace seems fitting because I know many have been covering me with prayers for that exact thing--they have laid their requests before God on my behalf. And I have found myself in the middle of answered prayers, in the center of unexplainable peace. I love to see how prayer and scripture move in my life, and I am grateful for the ways God has allowed them to move in my life. I am thankful for the peace which surpasses understanding because without it I'm not sure how I would get through each of these days.

Something's Changed

I had a few hours today to just be, by myself, outside, just me and God. I brought my devotional and my Bible and sat outside with my Creator. I read scripture and prayed and praised. This last word is an indication of how my heart has been changed.

There are marked differences between losing Joseph and losing Hope. There were different expectations, different lengths of time, different emotions altogether. But the most evident difference is in my heart; I am not the same woman I was 5 months ago.

As I sat with Jesus today, talking, sharing my heart, I had a new peace, an ability to be thankful. I could rest in His purposes, I could trust in His goodness in a far deeper and richer way than I was able to before. I did not need to question why, instead I just knew there was a reason and that God was working on it and through it and in me. I found myself not having to try to be thankful, but just being thankful--thankful for my Father who loves me, my Holy Spirit who comforts me, and the Son who walks alongside me.

Then I went to my counseling appointment and my counselor reminded me of a quote we talked about almost a year ago by Eugene Peterson:

"The assumption of spirituality is that always God is doing something before I know it. So the task is not to get God to do something I think needs to be done, but to become aware of what God is doing so that I can respond to it and participate and take delight in it."

My counselor asked me to focus on that last portion, taking delight in what God is doing. How do we take delight in such horrible occurrences? How do we delight in what God is doing when it causes so much pain?

So I asked, can we feel both sorrow for our circumstances and yet delight in what God will do in and through them? I think, and my counselor thinks, yes, we can. We can experience great sorrow as we grieve and yet find joy in the knowledge that God is doing something, something good, always. Even in the bad, God is working good, and we get to participate in it and take delight in it. And so somehow tonight, I have some joy, amidst my tears and my brokenness, I have some joy.

I truly believe God has a purpose for Hope's life, for Joseph's life; He is creating something beautiful. And do you know how I know? Do you know how I can believe in God's purpose and beauty? Because something has changed in my heart, I am not the same; there is new beauty in my heart as a result of Hope and of Joseph. His purpose for my heart was partially fulfilled as a result of these losses. This is how I can find peace, find joy, amidst my unspeakable sorrow. This is how I am changed.

Baby Number 2

Herb and I lost Baby number 2 yesterday morning. Just one week ago, last Saturday, I took a pregnancy test and found out we were pregnant! I had early symptoms, but we weren't sure until last Saturday. Of course we were excited, and scared; Herb prayed over me and the baby and this time there were bittersweet tears as we remembered Hope and looked forward to this new baby. I was so hesitant to believe that this baby was coming, that he would be here. He was to be due on November 11th, just one day after Hope's birthday and I couldn't help marvel at God's timing. It, of course, did not escape His notice that this baby was due so near my first. I believed so clearly that God had a purpose for this baby. My first prayers over him were so different than my first prayers over Hope. These prayers were for this baby to be for God's glory; I recognized so clearly that God was in control of this baby and this pregnancy. That knowledge allowed me to begin to rest in God's plan.

We headed to Disneyland on Thursday, and Friday I was so happy, I was so at peace. I was able to enjoy those rides I could ride and meander through shops as Herb, Tedd and Lori rode the rides I couldn't. I was able again to dream of bringing our child there, this child there; I was able to see pregnant women and imagine that I might get to have that experience. I smiled and laughed during the fireworks. I ate yummy food to appease my hungry baby. I enjoyed wearing my "I'm Celebrating" button, and answering that we were expecting when Cast Members asked what we were celebrating. I was so excited, so at peace.

I awoke Saturday morning early to pee, again, and eat, and as I was lying there in bed I kept thinking how amazing it was that my perspective had so changed. The symptoms that once nagged me, I was now thankful for; I was thankful for them because they meant the baby was growing inside me. Again I prayed for the amazing purpose this baby would serve.

A few hours later I got up to use the restroom and shower for our next day at Disneyland, and I saw that I had started spotting. I called Herb in and he prayed, he told God that he wasn't sure our hearts could handle another miscarriage. He asked for healing. I called the doctor, but unfortunately my doctor wasn't on call. So I spoke to the on-call doctor and he told me it could be a number of things, but that we wouldn't be able to do any tests until Monday. He said as long as there wasn't cramping or tissue loss, things were fine, just take it easy and rest.

Shortly after that the cramping began and about an hour later I passed the baby. It was gruesome and horrible, and all I could do was sob. Losing this child was horrifying, horrifying in a different way than losing Hope was. There's nothing official about sitting in a hotel room having a miscarriage; there are no trappings of a hospital to validate your loss; there are no nurses to talk you through what is happening; there's just the knowledge that your world is crashing all around you. My loss of hope was familiar and my grief also well-known. In some ways I knew what gamut of emotions to expect. But this loss was also less public; very few people knew I was pregnant. I was grieving but no one else would know why. That was more horrible, the feeling that I had to try and hide my sadness.

I spent the day curled up in pain and sorrow on a hotel bed. Herb is at such a loss for words as he watches me suffer again and suffers so deeply himself. There just aren't any words left.

I decided that this baby needed a name; he was a real and valuable life to me and I needed to be able to recognize him as such. Even at only 5 and half weeks he had become part of our lives, part of our dreams. I have referred to him as a boy because I thought he was, unlike Hope we'll never know for sure. But I had spent most of the week thinking about Joseph, the way in which he believed and trusted God's purposes even when it looked as if nothing good could come of his situation, the way he never became bitter but with each step accepted God's desires for him. I was thinking so much about Joseph, and I love the name, so this baby, our second child, is Joseph. He will continue to represent our softened hearts towards God's purposes for our lives.

This morning I was just so overwhelmed with grief and it hit me: I am now grieving the loss of two children at the same time. How do I do this? How can I possibly withstand this much sadness all at once? What foolishness led me to believe that I could handle even the possibility of another loss? And I know, I know I trusted God with the timing of another pregnancy. I know that His timing, and this baby are a part of his plan, but I'm just not sure how to stand through the pain of this plan. I'm grieving Hope, I'm grieving Joseph and my heart is shattered into a million pieces.

I also know this: my God is good, I am under His loving protection, I asked God to use Joseph's life for His purposes, God has promised me many great things, God keeps His promises. As I ache, I do know these things, I know them with my head, now someone just needs to remind my heart.

I am asking for prayer, prayer as we grieve again. Prayer as we miss, and long and hope and dream. Prayer for continued and renewed hope. Prayer for peace in God's purposes. Prayer for God to come and hold Herb's heart and hold my heart. Prayer that we would continue to trust in God's goodness. Please just cover us, we need it.

This post is in memory of my little one Joseph Garcia.

Should Have

These past months I have found myself thinking "This week I should have..." Thoughts of the baby showers I "should have" had, or the baby's room I "should have" set up, or the belly I "should have" been sporting flood my mind on a regular basis. But I have been thinking about the phrase "should have"; it implies what was supposed to be. In other words, the words "should have" reflect a plan gone awry. In many ways, they are fitting. Our dreams and plans for Hope were taken away. What was "supposed to be" no longer is. I have been working diligently to replace my "should haves" to "would haves" because I am beginning to recognize that having Hope come April 7th was not what was "supposed to be."

This is hard to say and difficult to swallow, especially if you struggle to believe in God's plans. It is hard to admit that having Hope in our daily lives is not what God intended for us. It is hard to understand that having Hope here on earth was not God's greater purpose for her existence. But the truth is that Hope is exactly where she is "supposed to be". She shouldn't be coming to greet us on April 7th because she was meant to greet her Heavenly Father on November 10th. There is no "should have" for her life or for ours because we are living exactly in the middle of God's purposes for us.

While it is true that this month we "would have" been preparing for little Hope to arrive, we instead are walking with a deeper faith than we once had 4 months ago. Though we "would have" been waiting with great anticipation to meet our precious girl and see her smiling face, we now wait with greater anticipation of the day we arrive in Heaven and get to embrace her for the first time. And even though we "would have" loved having her physically near, we are overjoyed by the precious presence she has left behind in her wake, the unspeakable impact we see in her short little life.

I will still have those "should have" thoughts, they will creep in ever so slowly as a walk through every difficult day of this next month. But instead of being grieved over what "should have" been, I will smile with sweet sorrow over what is and what will be. I, of course, would love to have her here with me, but I know that she is exactly where she "should" be, in the embrace of her loving Heavenly Father.

"I have to believe..."

I've always loved the Avalon song "Dreams I Dream for You". There are so many amazing words of truth in the verses, but the chorus has continued to resonate in my heart for years.

The dreams I dream for you
Are deeper than the ones you're clinging to
More precious than the finest things you knew
Truer than the treasures you pursue
Let your old dreams die like stars that fade from view
And take the cup I offer and drink deeply of
The dreams I dream for you

As I've listened to the words in the past I have tried to recognize that the plans I have for my life are not always as beautiful as those that God has. I have tried to remember that He has a richness that He desires for my life that is not always the treasure I seek. But I do not think I have ever really understood these words. I do not believe that my depth of faith has ever truly run this deep.

Since we lost Hope three months ago, my heart has been grieved with the possibility that God may not have called me to be a mom, to have the experience of carrying a child to full term and raise him or her. The sadness of that truth resonates deep within me. And each time I expressed my sadness, confessed my doubt about my calling to be a mom, I have been reassured with "I have to believe that being a mom is what God wants for you." Many people who love me dearly have told me that they believe God wants me to be a mom. Herb has said he has to believe that God wants us to be parents. But what is it about me that sets me apart from other women who are unable to conceive and carry to full term? I in no way believe that I am more capable or able than others to be a good mom.

For a while now I have been repeating the phrase that I heard so often "I have to believe..." and I began to take it as a demonstration of hope in my life, that I believed that God would make me a mom. But in that version of hope, I struggle for control. I grieve over the many things my body does or the aspects of life circumstances that are out of control and "prevent" me from hoping. So I've been beginning to wonder if I have the wrong kind of hope, if I have been finishing the "I have to believe" phrase with the wrong words.

What if instead of saying, "I have to believe I will be a mom. I have to believe that God wants us to have children," I am supposed to be saying, "I have to believe that the life God has in store for me is good. I have to believe that the dreams He dreams for me are precious and beautiful"? The truth in this second statement reflects a far greater Hope; it reflects a Hope beyond my circumstances. It reflects a Hope that echoes the character of God rather than the characters in my life. But this breed of Hope, this second "I believe" statement, is so much harder and creates a much deeper ache in my heart.

To say the second "I believe" statement requires me to die to my own dreams. It requires me to let go of the visions I have for my life and redefine my visions to align with God's. It goes beyond saying "Bring me anything that brings You glory". It says "The things that You bring me will bring You glory, AND they will be exactly what I need." I think the second "I believe" statement requires a large magnitude of faith; it requires a faith that moves the mountain of my will out of my line of sight. This faith requires complete absence of control and thus complete faith in the things God will bring. And this faith requires that in the midst of the hard things, the excruciating things He brings us, we will be able to say "I know that you work things together for my good."

It is so hard for me to say that I am willing to not be a mom if God has something better in store for me. I believe that being a mom is one of the richest experiences life can offer. But what if that is my dream, my belief? What if God has far richer experiences to offer me, experiences I can't even imagine? Don't I trust Him enough to believe that He wants to give me abundant life? Don't I trust Him enough to define what abundant life looks like without having to add my own addendum?

But the question is can I relinquish my dreams? And how do I do that without taking away the beauty of Hope that comes with the anticipation and joy of trying to conceive and have a child? How do I accept God's dreams fully, in all of their richness, when I don't know what they are? Recently I have been praying that God would show me the good He has in store for me, but more than just show me, enable me to believe those truths. I have been praying that He would align the desires of my heart with the desires of His. If He doesn't want me to be a mom, even just at this point in time, what does He have for me? I know we don't always get to know His plan, after all we "see [y]our yesterdays", He "see[s] tomorrows". But I think it's worth asking, worth asking for glimpses of His good for my life. And I think in the asking we are able to know Him more intimately, more deeply--truly an aspect of the good He has in store.

I still have unanswered pieces of this puzzle. I still lack the wisdom to know what this "I believe" statement looks like when lived out. But I do think that a big aspect of this "I believe" statement is just believing, just believing in the good God has for me regardless of my circumstances, believing in the fullness of life despite hardship. I say "just believing" but I know there is nothing simple about this kind of belief. I must still grieve the death of my dreams, but look forward, with great Hope, to the dreams God has for me. For "he who has lost his life for My sake will find it." God has abundant life for me to discover, it will just come at the cost of my ideas of what abundant life looks like.

Bring You Glory

I know this is an older song, but I heard it on the radio Friday night and am just touched by the lyrics. My prayer is that my heart would truly echo these lyrics, that I can truly say "Bring me anything that brings You glory" without adding an addendum like "but if you could bring me this that would be better" or "if you could spare me that I'd appreciate it". I want my heart to say "Jesus, I'll take whatever You give me that You might be glorified." (Talk about needing the help of the Holy Spirit for this ambition! But that's why God gave us the Holy Spirit, to be our Helper, and Help I will need!)

Bring the Rain
by Mercy Me

I can count a million times
People asking me how I
Can praise You with all that I've gone through
The question just amazes me
Can circumstances possibly
Change who I forever am in You

Maybe since my life was changed
Long before these rainy days
It's never really ever crossed my mind
To turn my back on you, oh Lord
My only shelter from the storm
But instead I draw closer through these times

So I pray

Bring me joy, bring me peace
Bring the chance to be free
Bring me anything that brings You glory
And I know there'll be days
When this life brings me pain
But if that's what it takes to praise You
Jesus, bring the rain

I am Yours regardless of
The dark clouds that may loom above
Because You are much greater than my pain
You who made a way for me
By suffering Your destiny
So tell me what's a little rain

So I pray

Bring me joy, bring me peace
Bring the chance to be free
Bring me anything that brings You glory
And I know there'll be days
When this life brings me pain
But if that's what it takes to praise You
Jesus, bring the rain

Holy, holy, holy
Holy, holy, holy
Is the Lord God Almighty
Is the Lord God Almighty

In the garden

"Jesus took Peter and Zebedee's two sons, James and John, and he began to be filled with anguish and deep distress. He told them, 'My soul is crushed with grief to the point of death. Stay here and watch with me.'" Matthew 26:37-38

I've been thinking often about the grief and suffering of Jesus. Part of why He is so capable of walking along beside those who are crushed and brokenhearted is because of His intimacy with those emotions throughout His life. I am grateful to know that although Jesus knew of Lazarus' resurrection, he still wept at the news of his passing. I am comforted to know that Jesus stood in the garden, crying out to the Father, asking to be relieved of walking His journey of suffering. Jesus knows, intimately, the anguish of this world, and in a far greater capacity than I will ever know.

I am particularly drawn to the passage about the Garden of Gethsemane. It holds so many interesting aspects of grieving in a few brief words. For example, Jesus knew God had a plan for His suffering, specifically He KNEW God's plan for His suffering, and yet He still begged for another way. This shows me that even knowing and understanding the plan does not take away from the anguish that we must walk through, that understanding why, no matter how much we want that understanding, doesn't actually ease the pain.

Jesus also openly wrestled with God's plan; He was unafraid to admit His fear and His desire to run from pain. This reveals to me just how human Jesus was in these moments; He, like the rest of us, instinctively wanted to flee from pain. But unlike the rest of us, Jesus was able to take the steps to follow His Father into the raging sea of pain, seeking His Father's ultimate glory. Jesus walked INTO pain, instead of running from it. I want to be like Jesus, willing to walk into pain for God's glory. I want to draw near to the brokenhearted, be unafraid to walk the journey that will bring God the greatest glory. But I also believe that this may be one of the hardest ways for us to be like Jesus; it is so ingrained in our nature to run from pain. I know I had been living in anxiety because I was afraid of what pain I might have to walk through, wondering what circumstances, within my control or outside of it, might inflict great injury to my soul. And yet, here I am walking through them, living through pain, and for God's glory. Am I less anxious, less afraid of pain? Yes, but I still find myself trying to protect, struggling to place a shield around my heart. I think it will be a daily, a momentary relinquishing of my comfort, of my pain-free existence, to God's capable hands for His ultimate glory. For Jesus it was...

In the garden, Jesus went back multiple times before the Lord, persistent in His prayer for God to change His circumstances. Jesus had to let go of His will and take up His Father's over and over again. It took Him three times to finally accept what His Father wanted, to realize that God was not going to change His circumstances, but was instead going to provide Him with the grace and strength to walk through them. God didn't answer Jesus' request to be free of pain because He instead was going to grant the greater desire of Jesus' heart, to draw the people to His Father. God did give Jesus the true desire of His heart, but it came at a cost of His more surface desire--a pain-free existence.

The last piece about the garden that I've been pondering are the verses I listed above, about Peter, James and John. Jesus brought His closest friends with Him to the garden so that He might not grieve alone. Jesus, the Son of God, needed the love and support of friends, but they fell asleep. To be quite honest, in the past, this part of the story always made me so angry. How could they not be there when Jesus needed them? But what I've come to realize is that it was not a lack of desire; they wanted to support Jesus. They just grew weary. It can be exhausting to walk alongside the grieving. It can be exhausting to try and conjure the right words to say, or to avoid saying the wrong words. It can be exhausting to see such sadness in someone who was once filled with such joy. It can be wearying to have no real answers, no real solutions, but to just sit there and be in the midst of such grief. The disciples grew weary, as do we all. I have experienced a myriad of emotions as I've watched people drop away from me through the loss of Hope. I have been angry that people didn't remember, disappointed that they didn't show up, lonely in my tears, but I'm trying to embrace a new emotion, acceptance. Acceptance that my grief is wearying. Acceptance that people cannot meet all of my needs. Only God can, and that is what the garden was really all about.

Jesus came to His Father seeking answers, seeking comfort, and seeking communion. Jesus went to the garden knowing His disciples would fade, knowing God would not. Jesus came to the Father and asked the Father to meet all of His needs, which is what I need to do. Man will always fall short of what God was meant to do. I am never alone when my Father, the Great Comforter, is with me. He will meet me in the garden and He will walk with me as I leave. He will hear my cries, wipe away my tears, and not leave me once in the midst. He will not fall asleep or tire of my grief. He should be my source of strength, comfort and peace.

Because of all of these things I hope to walk regularly into the garden, where my Father waits to draw near to my broken heart.