It was exactly 3 years ago last Friday, April 20th, that our world swiftly tilted. 

So last Thursday, April 19th, I paused.

I tried to recollect how I was (who I was?) before April 20th happened. I imagined myself going about my day that was probably nothing far from ordinary. Was I happier? Smile more? Worry less? Calmer? Because that was all before. Before the madness. Before the shatter. Before I ceased to be who I was and started to become who I am now. 

And I think about God, the God of April 19th, and who I thought He was. 

Or more like, who I had made Him out to be.

The God of April 19th looked something like this: He would allow bad things to happen to good people, but not super-terribly-crazy-bad things to happen to anything-above-lukewarm-Christians. Crazy, I know. I probably would not have admitted to believing that, but reaction to circumstance is pretty indicative of what I (and people in general) believe. He was kind and good and somehow it was so much easier to believe because the really ugly-gives-you-goosebumps-nightmares only happened to "other people".

Until they didn't.

And then I was "other people".

And I have come to realize, among many other things over the last three years, that the God of April 19th not only doesn't exist, He never did. I had made for myself a graven image, God as I know Him, instead of the true God that He really is, despite what I want to believe Him to be. And since then, my relationship with Him has become much richer, deeper, and more intimate than I could have ever thought. Suffering takes your heart to places with God that can not be reached in any other way. 

I remember a phrase that I somehow repeated to myself in that ultrasound room when I thought I would die right there of a broken heart: He is still the same...He is still the same...He is still the same. 

And He still is.
 
 

Do you know?

Do you know?

Do you know, little fuzzy-haired boy, how loved you are by me who shares no DNA?

Do you know, boy with curious eyebrows, how curious I am at what your future holds, wondering if this time will be the last time I see you, begging God to find you and fill you?

Do you know, small child, of the prayers that I have said on your behalf, off-and-on for the last 10 months since we first met, of protection and hope, of miracles for your earthly Mama so that your life might not be so stinkin' hard?

Do you know, energetic little sprite, how tiring it can be to take care of you and thankless too, the pouring in, the kisses, the wrestles, the heart-love, knowing that there will likely be no earthly return on my investment?

Do you know, happy toddler, of all the memories we have made together, of crawling, and walks in the stroller, of screams I could not comfort, of laughing til you grew hoarse, of first steps and haircuts, of photos snapping instants in time, watching you grow?

Do you know, momentary son, how you turn our lives upside-down while you are here, but leave us with hearts gaping when you leave?

Do you know, innocent one, of the loss in this Mama's heart, so big and pervasive that it is a true miracle that I can even do this thing, this loving and letting go?

No, you could not possibly know. And I realize that you might never. But your knowing is not necessary. Your thanks is not needed. I know that He knows, even if you won't. And He is the reason, His beckoning to help little ones and Mamas who don't know about the light yoke.

And I am so glad that you came in time to remind me of this, that all that I do should be for His glory and fame. You give my heart perspective during this season, even if you will never know it.

Carried

The other night, I looked on as my husband tenderly hoisted my sleeping son out of our bed to carry him back to his own room. I watched as my little boy tensed up at first, but then completely relaxed as he realized that his daddy was carrying him. It reminded me of my own childhood, when I would fall asleep in the car coming home from somewhere and my mom or my dad would carry me inside and tuck me into bed. Even when I was probably awake enough to walk, I loved the feeling of being carried. I felt safe because I trusted the one carrying me.

And just watching my three year old softly curled up in my strong Husband's arms made me think about being carried. Moments of struggle throughout my life slowly drifted through my memory. Heartache. Brokenness. Grief. Even now, looking back, I seriously wonder how I ever survived some of these things without dying of a broken heart. And I believe the answer is...carried. 

The thing about being carried though, is that we must allow it. We must depend on the person carrying us. It will do no good to thrash and struggle, to demand that we get through it on our own strength, to resist it because we have something to prove. We can feel safe in the arms of the One who knows the valleys, who intimately knows our hearts, who loves us enough to carry us if only we will let Him. The world is so broken and I am so thankful for the times when I didn't have to walk through it.

I was carried.

Lessons from a Horse

The movie Seabiscuit isn't just about a racehorse. It's about being broken and finding healing. It's about the underdog. It's about being down-and-out and someone giving you a chance. It's about loss. It's about optimism when facing an impossible situation. It's about "choosing life". Maybe it's because May has swiftly come and is nearly gone, bringing with it the second anniversary of Olivia's death, that I'm feeling particularly...thoughtful.

When Seabiscuit's owners first find him, they, along with the horse trainer, take him for a run around the track to see how Seabiscuit performs.

"He seems fast."
"In every direction."
"He's so beat up it's hard to tell what he's like."

And sometimes people can be the same way. The are so broken, bruised, and beaten down that it's hard to tell. Hard to tell who they really are underneath the layers of pain. Hard to tell what strength and beauty lies beneath. Hard to tell how wonderful they might be to get to know or to embrace in a relationship because all we see is the hardened, prickly exterior.

"He just needs to learn how to be a horse again."

I think sometimes as people, we need to relearn how to live again, especially after suffering or trials. We need to rediscover joy, remember our blessings, risk love again. Time has been a healer for me, but sometimes we don't allow ourselves the room to mend. We jump right back into life's chaos without stopping long enough to reflect, to bring our wounds to God and soak in His healing salve.

"You know, you don't throw a whole life away just 'cause he's banged up a little."

I am fond of quoting this movie line, time and again, because I don't believe that any person or any circumstance is beyond redemption, even if all seems lost and beyond repair. If there's life, there's hope. It might seem naive to some and foolish to others, but even after all that I have gone through, I still believe in miracles. I believe that He can change anyone and anything. I am willing to look beyond the exterior and see to what could be.

"You know, everybody thinks we found this broken-down horse and fixed him, but we didn't. He fixed us. Every one of us. And I guess in a way we kinda fixed each other too."

A Choice

Friday marked 20 months since we said goodbye to Olivia, our third daughter, our fourth and last child, thusfar. That might seem like a long time to most, but there are moments when it feels like it all happened not that long ago. Time is a good cure, but it does not heal all wounds. After much reflection on the subject, I've come to believe this one simple truth: healing is a choice.


Some physical wounds are shallow and nearly inconsequential, take a paper cut for example. It might hurt for a few seconds, but then you scarcely notice it even happened. Other wounds require more attention, but probably can be handled on your own, like a scraped knee. You wash it up, apply a little antiseptic and a bandage, and you're out riding your bike again in no time. Some injuries require professional help, like broken arms and deep lacerations needing stitches. And other situations, say a severe car accident, might need surgery, a hospital stay, and months of rehab.

I think emotional wounds are somewhat similar. Some are shallow and quickly forgotten. Others might require a little more attention. And still deeper wounds....need work and maybe even professional help.

I've often wondered why some people that I've encountered still seem truly bruised, battered, and broken, even years after their loss. Their personal pain appears raw and fresh. While others, although forever changed by their loss, seem to be working towards healing and reclaiming their joy. I remember feeling angry that after all I had endured, I had to actually work towards mending my heart and spirit. WHAT?! It just doesn't seem fair. But fair or not, I believe it is what is required.

One month after Olivia had died, I remember reading something that convicted me into making a distinct choice: I would focus on Christ instead of on my suffering. And it is a choice I have had to make again and again.  

A choice to heal. 

A choice to live. 

A choice to find joy.

Praying for the choices you face,

the Easy button

Sometimes the only way out is through.

How many times in life do we just wish we had an Easy button? Press it and POOF! You are on the other side of the trial, obstacle, or difficult season. I know I have. I remember early on after losing Olivia and being in constant emotional pain, my mom wanted to do something, anything, just to have me feel better. Something to just stop the torrent of grief and pain. She was even willing to pay my way on a vacation, bless her heart, if it meant that I would feel better. But in grief, just like in many difficulties, the only way out is through.

There have been times when I've come along willingly on this journey. There have been other times when I have proverbially kicked and screamed my way through each day. I don't think I will ever learn to embrace suffering or trials, but I do think I can embrace whatever God wants to teach me along the way. Had I pressed that Easy button, I would've missed it. I would've missed my heart becoming more compassionate. I would've missed all the opportunities to share my heart with other broken-hearted people. I would've missed depending on Him like ever before. I would've missed the confidence that comes with knowing that He can get me through.

Because sometimes the only way out is through. And I know that it is just as true for you as it is for me.

I'm Odd.

"A real Christian is an odd number anyway. He feels supreme love for One whom he has never seen, talks familiarly every day to Someone he cannot see, expects to go to heaven on the virtue of Another, empties himself in order to be full, admits he is wrong so he can be declared right, goes down in order to get up, is strongest when he is weakest, riches when he is poorest, and happiest when he feels worst. He dies so he can live, forsakes in order to have, gives away so he can keep, sees the invisible, hears the inaudible, and knows that which passeth knowledge."

-A. W. Tozer

Wanting

I wish I could be the Happy Blog. The one where I get to write about my adventures in home decorating or fabulous dinner parties or the excitement of having beautiful twins. Where I post pictures of extraordinary before/after projects or the latest jaunt to my house on the beach. 

We are experiencing yet another job loss and it leaves me feeling more like the Previously-Creative-Turned-Mildly-Depressing Blog.  It has been about one month (so far) of severe under-employment.

 

*sigh*

Hopefully this explains the blog silence. It just makes it difficult to keep putting on the cheery face and pretend like it's only a bump in the road. When does something cease to be just a season of my life (that will pass) and start becoming just my life? I wonder.

At first, I was admittedly running from God. Maybe not necessarily running from, but definitely not running towards. I've told myself how ridiculous I am to try to run from Him. "To whom else would we go, Lord?" Difficult times can make it hard to keep in conversation with Him, especially knowing that this hard time passed through His hands first.

I read Mark 4:38 yesterday and am crying out the same thing the disciples did:

Jesus Himself was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke Him and said to Him, "Teacher, do You not care that we are perishing?"

My family boat has been swiftly taking on water and it seems that God must be asleep at the wheel. Oh, I know all the right answers. God has a perfect plan for me, to prosper me. God cares for me. God loves me extravagantly. Does anyone else have a hard time taking those things to heart when their circumstances don't seem to fit with His truths??

The following verses reminded me of His sovereignty over all. HE calms the storm. The winds and the seas obey HIM. And tucked into verse 40 are some really crucial questions:

And He said to them, "Why are you afraid? Do you still have no faith?"

It leaves my heart wanting. Wanting to believe. Wanting to trust. Wanting to hope. Even when my head seems to be saying No.

He Carries Me

In Honor of one year without Olivia (05.14.09) ~

There were photographs I wanted to take; things I wanted to show you....

:: my niece and daughters, except for Olivia ::

:: an (almost) family Christmas picture ::

People say that I am brave but I`m not. Truth is I`m barely hanging on.
But there`s a greater story, written long before me, because He loves you like this.

So I will carry you, while your heart beats here.
Long beyond the empty cradle, through the coming years.

I will carry you, all my life.
And I will praise the One who`s chosen me to carry you.

Such a short time, such a long road. 

All this madness, but I know 

 that the silence has brought me to His voice and He says....

I`ve shown her photographs of time beginning, walked her through the parted seas, 

 angel lullabies, no more teary eyes.

Who could love her like this?

P. S. These words are taken from the lyrics of the song "I Will Carry You" by Selah based on Audrey Caroline's story, which you can read about at Bring the Rain. I think these simple words sum up the course of this last year better than any earthly words written by me could.

Super?

 I came across this comparison on another blog recently and have really enjoyed reading through it. Not only enjoyed it, but have been blessed by it. There are some areas where I am, in fact, super. And many areas where, praise the Lord, I am abiding in Him. I am going through this chart in during my quiet times and am sure I will refer to it again and again. I find it especially fitting as today is my first day back on the job as a full-time Mom ( I think Mom deserves a capital "m", don't you?), as the Husband returns to full-time work. So just for today, I am focusing on 'pleasing the Lord' and 'finding peace through Jesus in the midst of any storm'.

If you visit the original posting, there is a downloadable version for you to print as well.

If just for today, which abiding quality would you pick to focus on?

He Provides: Undeserved

I was feeling desperate. Again. I was driving home from somewhere and crying out to God. Again. Where will the money come from now, Lord? Where? December was beautifully snowy, granting the Husband lots of work removing it. January was...nada. My finite mind reviewed all the possibilities, carefully calculating dollar amounts and potential sources.  Wasn't I just saying the day before that sometimes God has a plan, has an option that we've never even thought of yet? That He always provides. Silly, silly girl. I felt the movement in my Spirit urging me on and with five little letters He provided in an enormously unexpected way.

Taxes.

I expected something. But this? THIS was beyond my wildest expectations. And honestly, I felt like there must be some mistake because good things just don't happen to me.  

Anymore.  

I know, in my mind, that God is good. That He hasn't changed. But I think after living with struggle and then the pain of grief for so long, my heart began to wonder.

I feel so undeserving. Undeserving of outrageous kindness; of over-abundant provision. After much thought, I just keep coming back to the same notion. If I feel totally undeserving of His choice in abundant provision, how much more undeserving I am for the work He has done for me on the cross, for His immense love, for the hope I have in Him, for the riches of His grace.

Be blessed,

One.

When the calendar turns over, we start thinking about what we can do differently. Or what we need to do. Period. I usually lean towards more open-ended resolutions that allow me to consider them complete, as long as progress was made. For several years, my resolution was simply to not put undue burden on the family budget. So to consider that a success, I could clip coupons, shop at thrift stores, find ways to earn extra money, go without, look for sales, reuse and so on. This year, however, I am straying from my past tendency and chose something much more finite.

I have just one resolution for 2010: to finish my Hope devotional. 

Oh, there are other things I hope to accomplish. Getting my recipes and my basement in order for starters. But I don't think any one thing can really impact my life as much as spending more time in God's Word. I heard a sermon recently that said if we place our time with God in a position of high priority in our lives, that will activate all the other areas in which we need help (or blessing)! The filling up of my spiritual cup will overflow into the rest of my life.

At least, I hope it will.

I have 35 weeks left of devotions in the Hope book. Each day there are additional Scripture readings as well. I have also been memorizing Scripture to build my reservoir. Even plugging along without missing a day will take me through 3/4 of the year. I'm not going to be legalistic about my schedule or beat myself up about skipping a day, but I am going to just try to stay focused.

So, I'm keeping it simple by just making one single resolution. I think it's the most important one I could make.

Got goals?

Free Gifts

These all came together in my mind and heart yesterday and I thought I'd share them with all of you. I've been thinking about things I can give that don't cost anything and this is what God brought to mind. So here are four gifts that can be given this holiday season (and beyond!) and you don't even need your debit card.

The Gift of Grace

For yourself. For others. I think I am hardest on myself and expect more out of myself than maybe I should sometimes. Maybe you are the other way around. Whichever is the case, we all could use a little more grace. Yelling less. Loving more. Encouraging your husband. Appreciating your wife. Focusing on your families good qualities instead of the annoyances. We all have been extended more grace than we deserve.

The Gift of Peace

Ya know that grudge that you've been holding onto for far too long? That fractured relationship that could use some mending? The seed of bitterness that has started to take root? This gift is so easy to imagine, but so difficult to execute. Maybe it can start with just a turn of the heart; going to that family gathering planning to be peaceful despite what comes your way. I am working on this gift myself. 

The Gift of Joy

There has been so much recent pain in the lives of people I know. Grief that I know all too well. One of my favorite verses has been Deuteronomy 30:19 where we are told to 'choose life' and I suppose I kind of equate that 'choosing joy' since the word life feels so arbitrary to me. This could be simply getting out of bed and getting dressed. It could be deciding to smile more. Dusting off His Word that has been laid aside for far too long. Choosing to focus on 'life' instead of on 'death' or whatever has been lost. Joy is a gift that we must choose to give ourselves and will overflow into the lives of others. (In other words, if Mama ain't happy, nobody ain't happy!)

And last but not least....

The Gift of Hope

Hope is such a powerful thing. I know I've said this before, but I just like to say it a lot: As long as there is life, there is hope. Don't give up, look up. Whatever it is you are facing: an unhappy marriage, a desperate job situation, the loss of the life you thought you'd have, a broken spirit, God is our hope and with Him all things are possible.

I don't say it often enough, but you are all gifts to me. Your friendships. Your comments. Your companionship along the road of life.

Thank you.

Which gift do you need the most? I think, for me, it's hope.

What DOES he do, anyway?

Whenever someone asks what my husband 'does', as in, what job he holds, I laugh. We both do, actually. It happened again last night, as it is an inevitable question when meeting new people. I usually say, "That's a very good question." Maybe when the next person asks what he 'does', I should say, "Whatever it takes."

So, for any inquiring minds out there, I want to answer that question and also update our situation. The simple answer is that the Husband has his own business (corporation). The business would fall under the broad category of 'logistics'. That has included dump truck dispatching, dump truck driving, and most recently, heavy machinery staffing. He has also looked for side jobs, donated his plasma for money, and previously worked overnights for my step-dad driving a sweeper-truck. We have just been going where God directs and pleading that we would hear His voice, that He would make our paths straight, that we would plan, but that ultimately He would guide. It is a really rewarding, yet difficult place to be. The Husband has applied for 'regular' jobs both out of fear and out of faith. We continually ask ourselves the question, "Is having our own business what God wants for us right now?" And even though I dislike the answer many times, we have both felt Him repeatedly say 'Yes'.

Of course this all could change as He sees fit. I have learned to let go of the notion that if the Husband had a regular, full-time, ample money-making job, that my life would then be perfect. Easier? Maybe. We would have missed out on so much quality time together, especially in this last year, when He knew exactly what we needed. As of late, I tell the Husband that I wish we were independently wealthy so that we could just live life together on a daily basis. Because we just love being together. I am not a wife who is chronically annoyed from having her husband underfoot. I have adjusted to having him around and I love it.

All that to say that this last contract our business had (which was also our first BIG one) has just finished up and lo-and-behold, God has provided a temporary driving job for the Husband, which is to last for the next five weeks. He started on Monday! As I was talking to God & saying my 'Amens!' and 'Hallelujahs!', He impressed something specific on my heart: I should not feel relieved.

Yes.  

Not relieved.

Becuase if I really believe that 'it all comes from Him' then this temporary job is just another form of His provision. I shouldn't be trusting in the duration of the job, but in the One who supplied it. My faith should not be in the author of a paycheck, but in the Author of Life.

I do admit that I am breathing a little easier. I will miss not having Hubs around as much and having to manage the household and my three blessings mostly on my own. But I'm sure I'll get used to it. Those first few corkscrew turns and plummeting dives that this employment roller coaster has taken were totally unpleasant and downright scary. After being on this ride for some time though, I am learning that I am safe inside my coaster car and that I can trust the track.

Because as topsy-turvy as this track can be, I know the One who designed it.

More blessed than I deserve,

Just In Case

It was a Thursday and my brother was visiting. He rarely ever visits. Holidays mostly. But he had some things to bring me on behalf of my grandma, so he was spending part of the morning with us. I put our homeschool lessons on hold, just so that we could visit and enjoy each other's company. My brother, like me, has had a rough year. We both were in need of our faith to be strengthened, I just never thought that the strength God would send was coming via the United States Postal Service.

I'm sure this story began several years ago, although I'm not exactly sure when. A young couple out West purchased a supplemental medical insurance policy. You know, just in case. {I don't think we ever plan on using just in case, do we?} Fast forward to this summer and you will find that their firstborn daughter was born too early. At a little over one pound, she spent many days in the NICU. And that just in case insurance policy came into effect. They actually were paid money for every day that their daughter spent in the hospital.

I had followed their journey through the NICU, encouraging them as I could. I don't actually remember who found who, but we stumbled upon each other, nonetheless. I now realize that it was God, writing our stories so that our chapters would overlap. My anonymous friend had wanted to do something with the extra funds they had accumulated from their daughter's hospital stay, she just didn't know who to give it to, until she read my recent post on my family's financial struggles and God spoke to her. She then asked if she could send me something.

Please God, let that something not be money. I mean, receiving graciously when you are in need is one thing. But money from a perfect stranger?

I steeled myself against the thought that maybe my friend would send me $25 or $50. I felt humbled at the mere thought. And then came that Thursday, I opened the package in front of my brother; a journal was inside. Phew. And then, there it was. A check, paper-clipped to the inside of the journal. As I quickly scanned it, I could see that the amount is was written for included a comma. What?! The actual amount really doesn't matter; suffice it say that it was for considerably more than the $25 I was feeling humbled about. I could not contain my shock and had to read the letter she had written out loud to my brother, the rest of the mail on the floor in the middle of my living room.

I am still shaking my head. 

The part that stands out is when she says that she thinks God gave my portion to her, so that she could deliver it to me and that she and her husband were faithful to do as God prompted them. At the end of the note, my brother pumps his fist in the air and declares, "See! God provides!" I'm not sure any eloquent explanation could say it any better than that.

Although I have said it on many occasions, both to myself and to others, that "It all belongs to and comes from Him", I fail to actually believe it sometimes. And so He chooses to use some amazing circumstances to remind me and hopefully, to remind anyone else who reads this. How intricate His plan is. How extraordinary it feels to be a part of His story. How it really does all come from Him.

How many of next month's bills will be paid because of an insurance policy that was purchased years ago, just in case.

Amazed,

Life Lessons from the Veggies

While driving home from a friend's house the other night, our family began to break into song. This happens more than you might think around here, especially with worship songs and tunes on Christian radio. The girls started it and the parents just kinda jumped right in. It's a tune from a Veggie video called, "Where is God when I'm scared?" The part that we belted out was the chorus of song, which went like this:

God is bigger than the Boogie Man.
He's bigger than Godzilla or the monsters on TV.
Oh, God is bigger than the Boogie Man
And He's watching out for you and me.

I turned to the Husband and said, God is bigger than death {meaning Olivia's} and bigger than unemployment. After a moment of quiet I asked, Could it really be that simple? The Husband said, I think it really is THAT simple. Maybe that's what 'faith like a child' is all about. That we just take what our Father tells us and believe it 100%.

The next morning, Sunday, Hubs went for a run and after coming home said that he had a song stuck in his head the entire time. What song? God is bigger than the Boogie Man....

So, if you were a singing vegetable, how would YOUR song go? "God is bigger than _________."

Trusting the Truth that God is Bigger,

The Gathering

I just finished reading another novel. I guess I might officially be considered a bookworm. I read The Memory Keeper's Daughter; a book about a choice a man made which altered the course of his life and many of the lives around him.

The year was 1964. A surgeon and his wife were pregnant with their first child. There was a snowstorm and no time to make it to the hospital. The baby, a son, was delivered in his medical office by the surgeon and his nurse. They used gas to make laboring women unconscious in those days. There was a second baby. Unexpected twins. But something wasn't quite right. A daughter. With Down's Syndrome. This father made a choice. To send the baby to an institution. Not totally uncommon in those days. It was all in the nurse's hands now. He was trying to spare his wife some grief, but he didn't realize the ripple effect that his choice would create. 

I won't divulge any more to you, in case you decide to read it. I guess it was particularly moving for me because I could relate to the way that some of the characters behaved because of their grief. Near the beginning of the book I found myself wondering if I could continue reading it. It was as if the author was explaining the innermost workings of grief that I didn't want displayed in writing for all the world to read. One of the lines the author uses, when referring to the choice the surgeon makes at the time of delivery, is that it was "the moment around which all others would gather". I think I read and reread that line many times. That just makes a world of sense to me. It's almost as if that powerful life moment is magnetic; everything happening beyond that time drawn in around it. I wonder if that is what Olivia's life and death will be for me. A defining moment. A lens through which I view everything else that happens from this point forward. A moment around which all would others will gather. It has irreversibly shaped me, for sure. But then I got to thinking about another moment.

The year was 1993. A fifteen year old girl sits in the middle of simple church somewhere over-the-border in Mexico. She is on a missions trip, planning to evangelize and help with house building in the barrios. She knew God and thought she was going to Heaven. After all, she was a 'good' girl and had heard about Jesus. Why wouldn't He let her in? At one of their first nightly sessions, a pastor and a musician gave an altar call. If you choose to believe in Him, give your life over to Him, and to live for Him, please come forward. Every other student in attendance flocked to the front in reply. Every single one. But not this girl. She somehow understood the gravity of the moment, the seriousness of this decision, one that would change her life forever and seal her eternal destination. She wasn't moved by emotion, but sat in deep contemplation, counting the cost of what this decision would mean. Finally, after many tears and much thought and prayer, she went forward. I believe, in that moment, the angels sang a little louder. A moment around which all others would gather.

Two completely different moments. That second one making the first one more bearable. Both, I believe, meant for the same purpose. To draw me to Jesus.

Same Question...Different Answer

I have developed the habit of asking myself a very pointed question. The same question. Over and over again. Sometimes I ask it in frustration, sometimes in desperation, sometimes in joyful anticipation. But I frequently ask it, especially these days.



What does God want from me?



Six simple words. Always the same question, rarely the same answer. Sometimes He speaks just one word: trust, obey, believe, wait, pray. Other times, it's things like, "Speak my Name while you're visiting so-and-so", "Be still and know that I am God", "Spend more time in My Presence", "Give grace" and so on.

The question is fairly easy to remember and ask, but often more difficult to listen and obey. Then again, no one ever said this was gonna be easy.

Please do let me know if you already have or decide to cultivate the same question asking habit. I'd love for you to share how He answers as well.

Pondering,

On Sunday Morning

I had to leave the room.

I'm not exactly sure why. Everyone around me was worshiping and praising. I was just crying. I thought it best to just excuse myself before I really started sobbing and began to distract other people. The songs were, I would say, more devotional than they were uplifting. {What's the opposite of uplift??}

You know how 'they' say that your greatest strength can also be your greatest weakness? Well, sometimes when I start thinking along a certain track, it is very difficult to switch tracks. Sometimes this is a great asset for those tasks that require a lot of focus. Sometimes it is just inconvenient and difficult when the timing is wrong. It's especially difficult to 'change lanes' when that line of thinking involves Olivia. Now, back to my story.

So there I was, already on the Olivia track, with these emotionally intense songs offered for worship, and it was. Just. Too. Much. I quietly left the room and headed for the car. I do have to mention that the Husband, much to his credit, did come after me to make sure I was okay. I wish I could've had better reasons for him, but I could hardly understand myself at the moment.

The weather was so perfect. There was a really big tree in front of me that was somehow calming to look at and I could hear the birds singing. Little did I know that as I appreciated the serene surroundings, He was setting the stage for my own personal time of worship. I opened my Bible to make sure the verse I have come to love was still there. Yep. It was.

I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living! Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord! (Ps. 27:13-14)

I love to personalize that Scripture for myself, praying it back to Him and did so that morning as well. HE then led me to 1 Corinthians 15.

...You foolish person! What you sow does not come to life unless it dies. And what you sow is not the body that is to be, but a bare kernel, perhaps of wheat or of some other grain. But God gives it a body as He has chosen, and to each kind of seed it's own body....There are heavenly bodies and earthly bodies, but the glory of the heavenly is of one kind, and the glory of the earthly is of another...So it is with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable; what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power.

Even now, as I type, my eyes are flooded with tears at these thoughts. I sat there, riveted, imagining Olivia. Coming to life because of her death. My bare kernel. If you could have seen how broken her little body was, you would be able to truly understand how much these verses mean to me. Her body which perished in my womb...now imperishable. Sown in the ground in weakness. Raised to heaven in power. A glorious heavenly body.

And I received comfort there. Reading and rereading. Immense comfort. When I left for church that morning, I never expected Him to meet me there. But He found me. Sitting quietly in the front seat of a rusty mini-van.

The Ugly

As in, the trio, along with the good and the bad. I know I've been MIA. And now you'll know why. Since the ground beneath me keeps threatening to open up and swallow me whole, I didn't really think you'd want to hear about it. I don't want pity, but judging from some of the kind emails I've been getting {sorry about not responding to those!} I figured that ya'll still care about little 'ole me.

The Vehicles
They have all broken down. On the same day. To pretty much un-driveable status. One has been repaired and cost more to fix than my mortgage payment. The other one, well, it's turned into a three-ring-circus. We thought it was fixed. Then it wasn't. Then it was. Now, it isn't. Catch all that? It is still at the repair shop awaiting some details to be worked out. I guess one working vehicle is better than none. My lawnmower broke last week as well. That was the back-up lawnmower. The first one hasn't been working for some time now. I might really have to buy that goat I've been thinking about.

The Loo
That's bathroom, in case you aren't familiar with UK-speak. It flooded last week. You know that little hole in the sink that's supposed to drain out the excess water if you fill the sink too much? Well, apparently mine doesn't work. A small child brushed their teeth, left the water running a bit, turned off the light and closed the door. Thankfully I was staying up late, but didn't realize the situation until several hours later, after the whole floor, cabinet and drawers underneath, and most of the hallway outside the bathroom door were converted into our own personal indoor pool. I've always wanted one of those. Just not this poor man's version.

The Job
There isn't one. Again. The owner of the dump truck Hubs was driving decided to sell it. I can either consider it depressing or encouraging that I didn't even really cry over this or barely even panic. My honest thoughts were, "Great. Here we go again." I guess when you've been through what I've been through the last few months, being unemployed {with no unemployment check} doesn't seem so daunting. HE has sustained us for the last six months, has carried us through losing our daughter, and I'm sure HE will still be here for wherever this road goes. I am honestly so sick & tired of this specific roller coaster. It is just beyond frustrating.

The Vacay
So considering all that, we did what any already grieving people should do...we took a vacation. That probably sounds totally ridiculous, but it was just what we needed. Not financially, mind you, but spiritually and emotionally. I didn't think I would actually enjoy myself, but there were several times when I was startled by the sound of my own laughter. That hasn't happened in a long time. The kids were in good hands, the scenery was wonderful, the quality time with my husband was even better. We talked. I cried. We gained perspective. We came home ready to face the world again.

So there you have it. Some of the time I am trying not to focus on what I am actually having to walk through. Some of the time I either want to laugh hysterically or cry uncontrollably. Typing all that out just now, it seems like my life is more like the plot to some sordid comedy movie, where a poor bloke who's totally down on his luck ends up seeing his fortune totally reversed. Well, that's what I'm praying for myself anyways {Ps. 126}.

If you've made it this far through my post, you must really love me :>)