The Rebreaking

When Colin was about nine months old, we found out that we were expecting again.  After the initial shock wore off, I was thrilled.  No, I take that back... I was thrilled from the very moment I suspected something might be off.  Although we weren't planning to have another baby so soon, I was very excited at the idea of having two little Colins running around the house.

When I was younger, I wanted several children.  Eleven to be exact.  I was going to have four girls and seven boys.  The girls were to be named Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter and I'd name the boys Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Bob.  Yes, I had it all planned out.
Then, I saw the news of the Dilley Sextuplets.  I was so excited about that possibility that I determined I'd be the first woman to have seven babies at once.  If you asked me what I wanted to be, I'd tell you I wanted to be an astronaut.  Clearly, I was a bit delusional as a child.

But, as I grew, my hopes for the future matured.  I wanted 5-8 children and had dreams of our family playing outside and the older children helping with the younger children.  If you asked me what I wanted to be, I'd say I wanted to be a mom.  That was my new dream.

Eventually, my dream grew to include teaching.  So, here I was, as a teacher, expecting my second child.  The best part of it was that all four of my closest friends were pregnant at the same time.  Two of them had just found out, so we'd go through pregnancy together.  The other two were farther along and were getting to their baby shower stage.  It was amazingly exciting.

We went to the doctor to hear the heartbeat of our baby and were so excited as the nurse pulled out the doppler.  I rested on the table at 6 weeks pregnant and was anxious to hear the little horse-galloping sound of the baby's heart.  The doctor warned me that it was still early and sometimes you just couldn't hear the heartbeat at this stage, but I knew we'd hear it.  Sure enough, as soon as they put the doppler to my abdomen, we could hear the amazing sound of a living being inside me.  I was thrilled.  The baby was progressing well and I was on my way to baby number two.

I remember telling my mom.  I'd put together a photo album of Colin for them.  On the last page, there was a picture of me holding Colin, with the caption "I have a secret!"  On Colin's shirt, it read, "Big Brother".  My parents were thrilled.

At 10 weeks, I went back in for my next appointment.  I was an old pro by this time and knew exactly what to expect.  They grabbed the doppler and we all listened.  Nothing.  My OB moved it around and we still heard nothing.  He gave it to his nurse and she tried.  No heartbeat.  He sent me over to the ultrasound room, but I knew what was going to happen.  Alone in the ultrasound room, I found out that my baby was not going to make it.  I was advised to go home and miscarry naturally.  Two and a half weeks later, I still hadn't miscarried, so they scheduled me for a D&E.  Seeing those letters in writing doesn't seem like a big deal, but this is the same process as abortion.  They literally rip the baby out in pieces.  It was a very emotional experience and I got no closure.  Up to this point in my life, this was the most traumatic experience that had ever happened to me.  My heart was broken.

They say that once you've lost a baby, all your future pregnancies are ruined because you've lost the innocence and wonder.  This certainly happened with me.  My first pregnancy had finally and officially ended just before the end of the first trimester, so when I got pregnant again, the first trimester was a very scary time.  I was monitored a little more closely, but things were going pretty smoothly.  I actually reached the second trimester at the same time my miscarried baby would have been born.  But I was finally in the second trimester and things were going great.  I had a very pronounced baby bump and was enjoying my trips to Babies R Us.  I was scouring the internet for baby names and looking at magazines for nursery ideas.  I was going to be a mom of two!  This time, I rented a doppler to keep at home and listened to the baby's heartbeat whenever I got nervous.  It was so reassuring to know that things were going smoothly.

I remember one Sunday morning just before 16 weeks.  I was sitting in church and felt the baby kick for the first time.  There was no mistaking it.  It was no flutter.  It was a good solid kick in my gut.  It made me jump!  This was the stage I'd been waiting for.  Feeling the baby would be so much more reassuring!  That afternoon, my ex was leaving for training, so I grabbed the doppler so he could hear the heartbeat one more time.  I couldn't find it.  My ex brushed it off as no big deal, but I knew something was wrong.  That night, after he left, I tried again.  Nothing.  I tried a few times a day until Tuesday morning, when I made an appointment for that afternoon.  Again, I was by myself when the OB told me that the baby had no heartbeat.  I'd lost another one.

They admitted me into Labor and Delivery to deliver the baby.  They put me on some induction medication and tried to encourage labor.  That night, my water broke, but there were no signs of labor.    They tried some heavier drugs to get the process going.  I was going to be able to hold the tiny baby and name it.  They even said they'd get me footprints.  I was going to get the closure that I didn't get the first time.  But after a day of heavy meds, there were still no signs of labor.  My OB said it was time for another D&E.  I burst into tears.  I couldn't go through that again.  I begged and pleaded with him to please try anything else.  He was concerned about infection, but tried everything else he could.  The next morning, there was no progress and they wheeled me away for another D&E.

I went into a very dark place emotionally.  I was angry at God, no question, but I still understood that He could bring good out of my situation.  That didn't make me feel any better, though, and I was sinking fast.  My OB had suggested that I go on some antidepressants for a short time if I needed them.  I started really considering that option.  I confided in a Christian friend who insisted that if I went on antidepressants, I wasn't trusting God enough.  That comment killed me inside.  I knew I needed help.  I'd been closer to God than ever before, but I just needed a little more.  I was teaching at a Christian school at the time and I made an appointment with the Campus Pastor.  He told me that God has gifted everyone differently.  For some, that gift is the ability to create medications.  He asked me if people would have issues if I took medication for an illness.  Obviously, not.  He encouraged me so much that day.  I was grateful for a Christian who chose to build up instead of tear down.

I began seeing a high risk OB, who ran several tests.  There was nothing in the tests or the pathology report from the baby that gave any clues as to why this was happening.  They assured me it was just bad luck and gave us permission to try again.

Our next pregnancy was a long series of confusing appointments.  My numbers were rising well, but the doctor couldn't find a baby in the uterus.  Around 9 weeks, he decided it was probably hiding behind some cysts on my ovary, but recommended another D&E just in case there was something in my uterus that could cause infection.  So, off I went for my third heartless D&E.  At this point, two Christians I worked with began blaming me for my miscarriages.  Again, my support system was tearing me down instead of uplifting me.  Why do we do this to each other?
My next pregnancy was my shortest.  I miscarried naturally just before 5 weeks.  I was barely pregnant.

At this point, my emotions were all over the place.  I knew I could get pregnant, but why wasn't I staying pregnant?  I just didn't understand it.  If I'd just been diagnosed with something, I could be treated with something.  But with no diagnosis, all the doctors could offer was, "Just keep trying."  Oh, and the worst part?  On my charts, I was labeled a "habitual aborter".

I began seeing a Reproductive Endocrinologist and we tried everything from Clomid to injections.  Now, I couldn't even GET pregnant.  It was as if my uterus had waged war against my emotions.
My sixth pregnancy came as I was completely giving up.  My ex husband's very first reaction when I told him was, "I wonder how long THIS one is going to last."

I went in for bloodwork and found out that my estradiol was low, so I was put on supplements.  The supplements made my progesterone drop, so then I was put on supplements for that as well.  Eventually, my numbers balanced out and started looking good.  My OB was concerned about my pregnancy due to the trauma to my uterus from the three prior D&Es.  I had ultrasounds every other week to make sure things were okay.  I had placenta previa, but that usually corrected itself, so I wasn't too worried about that.

But it didn't correct itself.  I was put on modified bed rest and wasn't allowed to lift anything over 10 pounds.  I was having regular contractions and had been hospitalized twice and was put on medication to keep the contractions from causing any trouble.  It was very risky for me to go into labor, so they'd planned a c-section at 38 weeks.

At 36 weeks, I'd gone in to check on Colin sleeping.  I thought my water broke, but quickly realized I was bleeding, so we rushed to Labor and Delivery.  They decided it was a great risk and prepped me for an emergency c-section.  Harper was born and sent to be cleaned up and checked, where she was put on oxygen because she wasn't breathing well on her own.  Meanwhile, in the OR, my uterus wasn't contracting and I was losing a lot of blood.  My OB told me that he'd have to take my uterus out or I'd die from blood loss.  They'd already given me a transfusion.

When I woke up (I'd passed out during the hysterectomy), I asked for my daughter.  The nurse said she'd check and left the room.  I didn't realize she'd been on oxygen.  The pediatric nurses were concerned that she wasn't getting better and were about to send her to another hospital with a NICU when she finally started breathing better on her own.  All of this happened just as I was waking up.  My nurse came back into my room and told me they were preparing to bring my daughter and it would just be a moment.  I remember when I first held her.  She was truly a miracle.

They say it's easier to remove a bandaid if you just rip it off in one swift motion.  I think it's the same with the heart.  The heart recovers better if you have the pain in one big attack.  It's the constant rebreaking that does the most damage.  Mine had definitely been broken many times over.  But the rebreaking wasn't nearly finished.

Not long after my daughter was born, I found out about my ex husband and the things he'd been doing to hurt me over the years.  What followed was months of discoveries and rebreaking.

My heart has been hurt over and over again in ways I'd never wish on my worst enemy.

But it doesn't matter how badly your heart is hurt or how many times it is broken.  God is the healer.
I will never carry another baby inside, but God can fill that void.  My wonderful husband will never have a child that carries his genes, but he has two step-children who love him and whom he treats as his own.  We may never have a large family or we may give a home to children longing for parents.
Who knows what God has planned for us, but I will stand firm on Romans 8:28.  God works together ALL things for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.
God WILL bring good out of all of this breaking.  Some days that's easier for me to believe than others.  But I have to cling to His word.

And sometimes, that really means CLING!  As Psalm 119:31 says, I cling to your decrees, Lord.  Do not put me to shame.

And so I trust God and His word.  Even when trusting is hard.  Because trusting is all I have left.

What Is Your Center?

"Darkness.  That's the first thing I remember.  It was dark, it was cold and I was scared.  But then... then I saw the Moon.  It was so big and it was so bright.  It seemed to chase the darkness away.  And when it did, I wasn't scared anymore.  Why I was there and what I was meant to do, that I've never known... and a part of me wonders if I ever will."

Rise of the Guardians may be a movie full of childish holiday imagery, but I absolutely love it.  The movie centers around Jack Frost, who knows that he hasn't always been an ice-maker with a freezing cold core.  He longs to find out why he is who he is and why the Man in the Moon called him to be a Guardian.

As I watched this movie with my kids, there were so many things that stuck out to me... so much I identified with.  Jack begged for answers from the Man in the Moon.  "You're the one who put me here!  The least you can do is tell me... tell me why!"  I can't even begin to write how many times I've asked God the same question.  What is it that He wants me to do?  I've tried serving in so many areas in church... I've tried encouraging those around me.  I've shared the gospel with people I meet.  But I still have this emptiness... this feeling that there's more I'm supposed to do.  What is it that God wants me to do with my life?  I've heard so many speakers talk about their journey to discovering God's will for them.  But the common theme is that waiting is hard.  Of course, God realizes this.  The Bible is full of stories of waiting.  The Israelites waited in the wilderness.  David waited for years to become king after he was chosen.  Esther waited for the right moment to approach the king.  In fact, it's interesting to note that the name of God is never mentioned in the book of Esther.  It appears that He was silent, but still He moved on their behalf.  Job waited for answers.  Jeremiah waited for the walls to be built.  Daniel waited in the lions' den.  Jonah waited in the fish's belly.  And that's just a few examples.  "They that wait upon the Lord will renew their strength." (Isaiah 40:31)
But how?  How will we continue to have strength while we wait?  I think we see the answer to that question by looking more closely at the verses leading up to verse 31.

Why do you complain, Jacob?  Why do you say, Israel, "My way is hidden from the Lord; my cause is disregarded by my God"?  Do you not know?  Have you not heard?  The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.  He will not grow tired or weary, and His understanding no one can fathom.  He gives strength to the weary  and increases the power of the weak.  Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

Did you see it?  He will not grow tired or weary.  The Message puts it this way: "God lasts."  We won't lose our strength because HE doesn't lose His strength.  He'll give us the ability to wait until He decides it's time to reveal His will to us.

In the movie, Jack didn't just sit around and wait to discover his purpose.  He spends time with the rest of the Guardians and talks with them about his questions.  In a conversation with Nicholas St. North, it's discovers that his purpose is based on his center.  St. North asks him, "Who are you, Jack Frost?  What is your center?  If Man in Moon chose you, you must have something very special inside."  I think, too often, I disregard the fact that God chose me.  Long before He laid the earth's foundations, He had us in mind.  I am hand picked and hand made by God.  If He made and chose me, do I really believe He'd abandon me here?  Of course not.

Nicholas St. North hands Jack a nesting doll.  As Jack opens each figure, he sees another aspect of St. North.  At the center, he finds a wooden baby with large eyes.  St. North responds: "Yes!  Big eyes, VERY BIG, because they are full of wonder.  That is my center.  It is what I was born with, eyes that have only seen the wonder in everything!  Eyes that see lights in the trees and magic in the air.  This wonder is what I put into the world, and what I protect in children.  It is what makes me a guardian.  It is my center.  What is yours?"  God has made me different than every other person in this world.  He has given us all special and unique gifts that He wants us to use to fulfill our purpose.  But those gifts are not our center.  Our center is the gift-giver.  We're born longing to learn about Him, but not everyone chooses to know Him.  He is the only center that can give us the fulfillment we long for, but we often try to fill that void with other people or things.  I know I have even attempted to fill that void with church and ministry.  But it never completely fills the emptiness. I was born to carry out His will for my life.  And until He tells me what He wants me to do next, I should serve Him using the gifts, talents and interests that He has given me.

There are times when I feel that this is not enough.  Satan knows this and he uses it against me.  He loves to throw doubt in my path and make me feel that there's nothing I can do now.  In the movie, the enemy is Pitch Black.  At one point, Jack ends up in a conversation with him.  Jack insists that he's not afraid of Pitch and Pitch tells Jack that he IS afraid of something.  "It's the one thing I always know: people's greatest fears.  Yours is that no one will ever believe in you.  And worst of all, you're afraid you'll never know why.  Why you?  Why were you chosen?"  I believe that Satan's two greatest weapons, at least in my life, are doubt and delay.

"How can God really love you if He allowed this to happen?"   

"Do you really think that God has a plan for YOU?"

"You aren't ready to serve God now.  Maybe after you've learned more."

"Are you sure you have the talent to serve God?"

Some days, I listen to him.  I doubt God's goodness and the gifts He's given to me.  Other days, I sense the urgency.  We have very little time to do what God has placed us on this earth to do.  We don't have the liberty to doubt God's plan or presence.  He IS with us.  He DOES have a plan for us.  He HAS equipped us.  And while we may not know the specifics of how He wants us to fulfill our purpose, we do know one purpose: go and make disciples.  So, while I wait, I'll go.  I'll share the gospel.  I'll encourage my fellow Christians.  And I'll use my talents in ministry.  And who knows?  Maybe that has been God's plan for me all along.

Cracked Pots and Broken Vessels

I was once told that I'm incapable of love.  I laughed it off on the outside, but on the inside it really hurt.  My friends and I joked about it, but every time we joked, I worried.  What if it was true?  What if my ex had really stolen my ability to love again?  I knew I was hurt, but what if the hurt was permanent?  What if my heart had been permanently broken?

Most days, I do feel like a cracked pot.  My heart just doesn't work right.  I want to love completely and wholly again.  To love without fear or reservation.  But it's just so scary.  I think of my children, when they were small.  I'd be cooking and they would want to help.  When I would open the oven, they would be so curious, but I'd keep them back, warning that it was hot.  Sometimes, they'd try to come closer and feel the oven's warmth.  They'd get just a hint of what I'd tried to tell them and they'd back up.  I know that if they'd come closer, they'd have been burnt and would have clearly learned their lesson.  It would have only taken one time, but I wanted to protect them from even that.

Unfortunately, I was burned.  I loved deeply and vulnerably and was completely betrayed.  And I learned a lesson.  I learned that when you give your heart completely, you get hurt.  I know that's not the lesson God wants for me, but it's hard to unlearn.  Right now, my heart is in pieces inside my chest.

I met my husband in a most unique way.  My friend Megan had flown from Florida to California to help her friend, Leona, move.  Leona was in the Navy and knew someone with a truck, so he was there to help.  As Megan talked to him, she thought of me.  She asked me if she could give him my number.  Jeremiah texted me a day or two later and we texted for hours.  We had so much in common in terms of our hopes and dreams for the future.  Instead of hesitating because of my kids, he was excited about getting to know them.  We spent weeks talking on the phone and texting before he decided to come out and meet me.  I do believe I loved him quickly, but it's hard to love when your heart is in pieces.

He is the most Christ-like man I know and he is so loving toward me.  I love him as much as I can, but I can feel that I'm holding back.  We've talked about this and he is patient and understanding.  He knows how hurt I was and he insists that he'll keep loving me to show me what real love looks like.  This man is so amazingly caring that I'm often in awe of how much he loves me and I want to reciprocate.

God is slowly putting the pieces of my heart back together, but there are cracks.  There are gaps and holes that I'm not sure will ever be replaced or healed.  But I think that's the part that makes my heart so special.  You see, the gaps of my heart are being filled by God's heart.  And His heart loves so much more deeply than mine ever could.  I helped my mom once with a lesson idea she got from Angie Smith.  She took a clay pitcher and broke it into several pieces.  I remember sitting at our kitchen table with my mom and dad as we took the broken pieces and glued them back together.  In my mind, I kept thinking that it was going to look terrible.  There was no way this pitcher would ever be whole again.  It would be ugly and misshapen. It would never be normal.

I was right.  It was ugly.  Abnormal.  There were cracks and holes everywhere.  I could see the lesson... that once a heart was broken, it could never be completely mended.

But that wasn't the lesson.  After we'd glued the pieces back together, my mom put a light inside.  Not only did the light shine out from the top of the pitcher, but brilliant light came through every crack and hole.  The pitcher would never have lit up like it did if it hadn't been broken.

That's how I see my heart.  It's broken.  Cracked.  Ugly.  But God's love is shining through every crack and hole.  I'm learning to love because God loves.  I'm learning to let Him love through me.  And that's exactly the kind of love my husband needs from me.  Not my broken, heart-hurt love, but God's complete and unconditional love.

And that was God's design all along.  "Love one another as I have loved you."  His love does more than heal.  It shines through the broken places.  And finally, I see purpose in the pain.

The Father's Heart

My daughter has a superhero's heart.  She calls herself "Puncher" and always wants to fight the bad guys to protect the good guys.  She's not a bow or dress wearing girl.  She's a rough and tumble girl.  But she has a good heart.

My son has a very tender heart.  He gets excited when we rescue bugs or frogs that have mistakenly found their way inside.  He hurts when others hurt.  He and his sister are so different, but so loveable in their own way.

I would love to look at them and say, "They have their mom's heart," but that's not really true.  Sometimes, I'm a coward.  I'm afraid to love deeply.  There are even times when I wish certain people would "get what's coming to them."  My heart is not nearly as caring and loving as their hearts.  No, they don't have their mother's heart.  They have their Father's heart.

They love me even when I'm angry with them.  They hug and kiss me when I'm crying.  They love to excite me.  They enjoy making things.  God has given me a glimpse of who He is through my children.  

And I know that this is God, because it says so in His word.

I know that God loves us when we've hurt him because God showed us that love in His story of the prodigal son.  Not only did the father accept his remorseful son, but he ran to his son when he saw his son coming... he was watching for his son.

I know that God cares about us when we cry because His scripture says to cast our cares on Him because he cares for us

I know that He loves to excite me because of His response to Job.  He amazed and impressed Job with everything He had done to show Job that He was God and Job was just man and there IS a difference.

I know that God enjoys making things because it's part of who He is... in the beginning, God created.  And with everything He created, He looked back and said that it was good.  He was pleased with what He made.

I'm thankful that God shows us so much through our children.  I'm not saying my children are perfect.  There are some days when God teaches me patience through my children!  

But evidence of God's love is all around.  I can see it everywhere.  God loves me.  I know this is true. But how can I open my heart to truly love Him?

From Misery to Anger

There are some days when I just don't know how I'm going to make it.  I feel so broken, so messed up.  I feel like a mistake.
Today has been one of those days, but you wouldn't know it.  If you peeked into my house, you'd see me relaxing with the kids and disassembling my daughter's old crib for the move.
But I feel it.  The sadness permeates my soul and I feel like I'm sinking.
Have you ever heard a song at just the right moment and felt as though the song was written just for you?  Maybe not even an entire song, but a piece of the lyrics?  This happened to me last night.  It's just a small clip of the song, but it cut me to the core and I saw myself in the words... "I'm not a stranger.  No, I am Yours.  With crippled anger and tears that still drip sore."
Crippled anger.  No strength for even fiery, burning anger, but broken anger.  Hurting tears.  If You really loved me, God, why would you have let these things happen to me?
Then, I feel guilty.  There are people who have it worse than me.  What right do I have to complain?  To ache, even?  My agony is nothing compared to what some have endured.  I've suffered the distresses of a broken marriage and multiple miscarriages.  I carry the burden of infertility.  But there are people who are burying their children... fighting cancer.  Surely, my problems must seem minor in comparison.
And yet, I cry out to God anyway.  I shake my fist.  Why?
Is it okay to be angry at God?
I'm reminded of Job and his many losses.  His friends were telling him to just curse God and die.  His situation was hopeless.   He never cursed God, but he did get angry.  He wanted an answer for his suffering... a reason.  People love to tell us, "Everything happens for a reason," but they can rarely suggest what that reason might be.  One of my biggest pet peeves is when people misuse Romans 8:28.  I've had people tell me that what happened to me was good, because everything God does is good.  While I agree that everything God does is good, I strongly disagree with that sentiment. God has allowed free will and there is evil in this world.  Sometimes, truly terrible things happen to us.  But Romans 8:28 tells us that when we love God and are called according to HIS purpose, He works everything together for good.  He brings good out of it.
I don't know what good God is going to bring out of my past, but I trust God enough to let Him do it.  Job trusted God too, but he had reached his limit.  I can picture him just groaning in misery and shouting to heaven:

If my misery could be weighed,
    if you could pile the whole bitter load on the scales,
It would be heavier than all the sand of the sea!
    Is it any wonder that I’m screaming like a caged cat?
The arrows of God Almighty are in me,
    poison arrows—and I’m poisoned all through!
    God has dumped the whole works on me.

He didn't understand and he blamed God.  In fact, he went on and on and on about it.  It was as though he'd held it in for as long as he could stand and he just exploded.  He found himself wishing he could take God to court.  If he could JUST plead his case, things would be better.  I certainly find myself blaming God.  He could have intervened.  Everything COULD be different.  I cry out to Him and ask why.  I plead for answers and I hear nothing.  Nothing but silence.

Job heard silence for a while before God answered him.  We read all the way to chapter 28 before we see, "And now, finally, God answered Job from the eye of a violent storm."  A storm.  He didn't come to Job in peace, but in a storm.  Isn't that typical?  God didn't bring immediate peace to Job, but came to him IN a storm... in the midst of a fierce storm.  And right away, God starts questioning Job. "Why do you talk without knowing what you're talking about?"  He goes into a long list of Job's LACK of qualifications.  Of course Job doesn't understand.  Job isn't God.

It's interesting to me that Job never does get an answer to his questions.  But he learns a very important lesson.  He learns to trust God and His goodness.  I am beginning to do the same.  To trust that God knows what He's doing, even though I have no clue.

He IS God, after all.

Who am I?

Really? That's the Prize??

I don't know how you feel about the musical Les Miserables, but I just love it.  It's such a classic tale of repentance and the good that one person can do in a truly destitute world.  Unfortunately, I've never seen it on Broadway.  It's on my bucket list to actually see the production one day, but for now, I've been settling for the anniversary videos and the soundtrack. 

So clearly, I was excited when I heard that they were going to do a movie of the musical.  I scoured the web for information and anxiously awaited the trailers.  This was going to be a big deal.  With hundreds (and probably thousands) of other people, I was eagerly on the lookout for the announcement of the cast.  Would Alfie Boe bring his role to the big screen?  Who would play Fantine?  What about Marius?  They needed GREAT actors and actresses.  Good just wouldn't do.  When I finally found out about the casting, I was amazingly discouraged.  Anne Hathaway?  Hugh Jackman?  It must be a joke.  Sure, they could sing okay, but we needed MORE from these roles and I didn't think much of those choices. 

But then I saw the film.  I was blown away by the adaptation to screen.  These people really could act!  While I still thought the roles of the Thenardiers were miscast, I'd been completely won over by Anne Hathaway.  Her performance brought me to tears.  I immediately decided that she needed an Oscar for that performance.  When she won that coveted award, I couldn't have been more pleased.  You'd have thought for a moment that *I* won the Oscar!  But no, that is one award that will never be placed on my shelf. 

When you think of an award, you think of a prize that is desirable... something you want.  Who wants to fight to win a box of earthworms?  No, we want something special.  Something appealing.

When I was at a recent women's conference, we sang a worship song that had me very puzzled and uncomfortable.  We sang, "Jesus, you have won me!  You have broken every chain with love and mercy."

Wait a minute.  He won ME?  Me??  Really?  That's His prize?  After everything He went through, surely there would be a better prize. 

I didn't like the song.  I even felt like it was sacrilegious!  It was obscene to put ourselves up on a pedestal as a prize for the Maker of the universe... the Savior of the world.

I am not a prize.

But isn't that the point?  Jesus endured the cross for one reason.  To win us.  To win me.  He looked down the track at that finish line and saw me.  Surely, He second guessed Himself, right?  He must have been disappointed to see what He was struggling so hard to win.  But that's not what Scripture tells us.  In Hebrews 12:2, we see that He endured the cross for the JOY that was set before Him.  Joy.

I am His prize.  He HAS won me.  Surely there is love in that.

The Heart Mending

Al Green sang it best:

I can think of younger daysWhen living for my life was everything a man could want to doI could never see tomorrowI was never told about the sorrow
And how can you mend a broken heart?How can you stop the rain falling down?Tell me how can you stop the sun from shining?What makes the world go 'round?

Moving on from a broken heart seems daunting, impossible.

I have a beautiful four year old daughter who is rougher and tougher than any four year old boy I know.  She runs, climbs and wrestles with her brother.  She gets bumps, bruises and scrapes.   She is so unlike me in many ways.  But there's one interesting similarity.  She thinks a band-aid can cure any ache or pain.

I remember believing that when I was young.  Bug bite?  Band-aid.  Scratch?  Band-aid.  Broken arm?  Band-aid.  They were the fix-all and I collected them.  I had band-aids of all sorts of patterns and designs.

But one day, I had a mildly traumatic experience that a band-aid didn't help.  It wasn't traumatic by most standards, but as a little girl, it felt like nothing could be worse.  I'd been getting regular blood tests for a little while, but this day was different.  The doctor tried getting blood from my left arm several times.  Then, he tried my right arm.  Finally, he had to draw blood from my hand.  I was distressed.  For years after that, I was terrified of needles.

There are so many phobias in society that the mental health community is struggling to keep naming them.  Fear can be mild enough to just cause a slightly elevated heart rate or severe enough to be debilitating.  But fear is not a new concept.

The very first mention of an emotion in scripture is found in Genesis 3:10.  Adam and Eve had eaten the only fruit in the Garden of Eden that was off limits.  They knew they'd done wrong and they hid. In verse 9, God asks Adam why he was hiding.  Adam responded: "I heard you in the garden and I was afraid because I was naked, so I hid."

Isn't that really the root of all fear?  That we would be seen in our nakedness?  Our weakness?  Our vulnerability?

When I had to get more blood drawn, I was afraid because I lacked protection.  I knew that in the past, my weakness had allowed for pain and I didn't want to experience that again.  But I sat there.  I clenched my teeth and bore the pain.  And it hurt.  But I felt stronger, because I allowed myself to experience something that I knew would cause me pain.  I pushed through and I survived.

The next time I had blood drawn, it was a little easier.  Several years later, I became a mom.  If you've ever been pregnant, you know that bloodwork is a common occurrence.  Needles don't bother me anymore.  Psychologists call this exposure therapy.

The more you experience something, the less it terrifies you.  We know that God is all-knowing, so of course He'd know this concept.  I believe He utilizes this in His four gospels.  A quick search of the word "love" in the New International Version shows almost 700 uses.  When we look closer at some of these uses, we see something really interesting.

In Matthew, the first use of the word "love" is found in chapter 3, verse 17:

And behold a voice from Heaven that said, "This is my Son, The Beloved, in whom I am delighted." 

In Mark, it's chapter 1, verse 11:

And there was a voice from the heavens: "You are my Son, The Beloved; with you I am delighted."

In Luke, we find the word love in chapter 9, verse 35:

And there was a voice from the cloud that said, "This is my Son, The Beloved; hear him."

But when we get to John, we see the word "love" used differently.  The first time we see that word in John's book is in John 3:16:

For God loved the world in this way: so much that he would give up his Son, The Only One, so that everyone who trusts in him shall not be lost, but he shall have eternal life.

I think this is intentional.  It's easy to understand that God loved His Son.  Jesus was perfect.  Jesus never disappointed.  Jesus was the ideal child.  Anyone could love Him.  But us?  God wants us to know that His love for us is just as His love for His Son.  We are His children, after all.

God is working to mend my broken heart... to soothe my fear of love with a gradual introduction of the way He loves me.  He isn't throwing me into the deep end of the pool.  He's walking me down the steps into the shallow end first.  He loves His Son.  Of course He does.  But He's telling me that He loves me too... a much harder concept for me to grasp.  But I know that if it is in His word, it is a strong, powerful and true statement.

And I don't want to be afraid anymore.

 

The Bummer Lamb

I believe that God has gifted Ann Voskamp with an amazing way of words.  Her ability to touch the heart is almost unsettling sometimes.  Today, however, I was truly touched by words she shared from another woman of faith.

I had the pleasure of sitting in a women's conference last weekend.  One of the speakers was Sheila Walsh.  She has definitely had her share of heartache and she had me sobbing when she spoke of God's love for us.  Could it really be true?  Can God love ME?

Here are the words Ann shared from Sheila:

Every now and then, a ewe will give birth to a lamb and immediately reject it. Sometimes the lamb is rejected because they are one of twins and the mother doesn’t have enough milk or she is old and frankly quite tired of the whole business. They call those lambs, bummer lambs. Unless the shepherd intervenes, that lamb will die.

So the shepherd will take that little lost one into his home and hand feed it from a bottle and keep it warm by the fire. He will wrap it up warm and hold it close enough to hear a heart beat. When the lamb is strong the shepherd will place it back in the field with the rest of the flock.

“Off you go now. You. can. do. this. I’m right here.”

The most beautiful sight to see is when the shepherd approaches his flock in the morning and calls them out, “Sheep, sheep, sheep!”

The first to run to him are the bummer lambs because they know his voice.

It’s not that they are more loved — it’s just that they believe it.

They believe it.  They know the shepherd loves them because He cared for them when no one else would.  I know that God has held me through the many heartaches in my life, but still the concept of love seems so out of reach.  I believe God has been kind to me.  I believe He has cared for me.  But can He really love me?  I want to believe it.

For God So Loved?

When I became a Christian almost 22 years ago, I never thought that one of the simplest "God concepts" would be the hardest for me to fully embrace.  I was a young teenager and knew that I wanted my relationship with God to be real and not just a costume I wore on Sunday mornings.

I've always been a good person, by the world's standards.  I've never killed, never done drugs... never even smoked a cigarette.  But as we know, God's standards are much higher.  According to his bullseye of perfection, I had a long way to go and would never reach it on my own.  So, I asked Jesus to be Lord of my life... to help me live a life for God.  A life I'd never be able to live on my own.

But just a few years later, I had forgotten that fact.  I wanted to please God so much that I set up a legalistic standard for myself.  Well, not just myself, but others as well.  Anyone who didn't follow this "God path" just wasn't as strong in their faith as the "remarkable me".  I had decided to let God choose my husband and bring me true love, so I refused to date.  When God brought the right man, he'd talk to my dad and we'd court.  No need to date, because *I* trusted God.  I went to all the conferences (even volunteered at many), where I learned that any time you became emotionally attached to a young man, you gave away a piece of your heart.  It never occurred to me that this was truly flawed thinking.  I didn't love my son less when I had a daughter three years later.  Love doesn't work that way.  But, I was told that if I did a-b-c, my life would result in x-y-z and I definitely wanted what that promised: a perfect marriage.

So, at 24, when I met a young man who had been to seminary and was looking to be the pastor or youth pastor at a church, I thought all my years of hard work and sacrifice were paying off.  He asked my dad for permission to start a relationship pursuing marriage.  My dad agreed and we were engaged two months later.  God had really come through!  He brought me a man at just the right time and everything was moving so quickly and smoothly.  We were married just under a year after we began "courting".  I kept thinking about how MY story would make a great book.  I'd done things the right way.  I was ready for my x-y-z ending.

A few months later, my dream turned into a nightmare.  I wish I could provide you with the context of my pain and heartache, but you really don't need to know.  I was heart hurt in a marriage for six years before we divorced.

That was NOT the x-y-z I'd been promised.  And the worst part?  All the girls who had been in my "no dating" circle turned their backs on me.  I'd done the unthinkable.  I was a divorced woman.  I walked through the halls at church and felt like I might as well have been wearing a scarlet letter.  Why is it that when one of us is weak and hurting, other Christians are quick to judge instead of rebuild?

I began thinking the problem was with me.  My peers were rejecting me.  My husband, who promised to love me forever, couldn't stand to like me.  Surely God, who could see all the sin I'd managed to hide from the world, would deem me unworthy.  I felt unlovable and alone.  I was hurting.

Years have passed since my divorce and I've remarried a wonderful man (I'll write more about him later), but my heart still aches over feelings of unworthiness.  I feel unlovable.  I know that God loves the world.  It says so right at the beginning of one of the first Bible verses I memorized.  So that MUST include me.  I know it does.  But I know it in my head and not in my heart.  In my heart, I'm still searching for that love I was promised.  The love I worked for.  My husband of a year and a half has tried so hard to provide me with the love I need, but that's just it.  The hole in my heart can't be filled by a person.  It HAS to be filled with GOD'S love.

So, here I am beginning a journey.  A God journey.  A love journey.  You are welcome to join me.