Clarity With Charity

Motivation for Mommyhood, Marriage and the Mundane

My love/hate relationship with DIY

bath 6DIY!

Its a phrase flooding blogs, pinterest  and reality tv shows.

If you are slightly obsessed with HGTV home makeover shows like me, you may also have found yourself suffering from DIY delusionism.  What is DIY delusionism?  A  feeling and belief that you can easily transform your entire house in a few days without any problems, headaches, or disasters.

Lately my husband and I have been tackling a lot of DIY projects.  Our most recent was a major overhaul of our guest bathroom. Somewhere in between coats # 1, 2,3,4,5 &6 of paint and polyurethane on our bathroom cabinets, I realized my DIY delusionism was shattered.

bath 1

bath 10

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No longer… would I think slapping a few coats of paint on bathroom cabinets would just take a few hours.   I could never look at old bathroom hardware and think, “oh, that will just take a few minutes to switch out.”  I will never believe that a tool like a paint sprayer may save you time.  Because tools, can let you down, tools can spray thick clumps of paint, that you have to sand and re-paint.

Never again…. will I plan a major room makeover shortly before agreeing to host 15 ish people in our home.  Because wiping up sawdust as you wave hello from your bathroom to guests is just awkward.

Never again… will I spend 12 hours a day in a garage, in July, in Texas in 100 plus degree weather.

bath 9

bath 3

 

 

bath 4

bath 5

 

bath 7

 

 

NEVER AGAIN, I promised myself at the end of our marathon remodel….but THEN AGAIN there is our master bathroom, and our kitchen cabinets, just screaming for a little love…maybe DIY delusionism is a bit like child birth.  They say you forget the pain of it and so that is why it is possible for women to desire childbirth again.

 

Are you a DIY’er?  Tell me about your latest and greatest DIY adventure!

 

Our Second Baby, Moving from Hurt to Hope after a Miscarriage: Part 3

Moving from Hurt to Hope after a Miscarriage:  Part 3 

baby fingers on crib

She is a girl. I had known she was a girl from almost the moment I found out I was pregnant.   As I prayed about this babe’s life, I felt like the Lord told me it was a she, and that she was a dancer and one who had the anointing to lead others into worship.  I felt Him say that she was witty and her jokes would make you laugh out loud.

The morning after the ER visit, I woke up feeling strange, because sadness enveloped me, strange because my husband had to go into work uncharacteristically early and he was no longer beside me. The steel fist of grief twisted my heart, my baby girl was gone… and she had died inside me.  I don’t know how to describe that feeling, but it is awful, real and powerful.  I hated knowing that death happened inside a place that was made to hold and cultivate life.   It had happened despite the progesterone supplements and the high HCG numbers.  It had happened in spite of deep love for our baby.

I rolled out of bed and felt angry…maybe more angry than I have ever felt in my life.  I don’t get angry a lot, I get sad, frustrated and impatient but true anger is not something I usually experience.  I don’t like the way it makes me feel or act, but there it was…raw anger.  I went to the kitchen and slammed cabinets and yelled at the cats for acting like, well ….cats, meowing,  pooping and being hungry…”how dare they!” I thought.

I walked around the grocery store glaring at stranger’s in the peanut butter aisle because they were holding a baby, and I wasn’t.  It seemed like there were mothers and baby girls down every aisle.  I felt like everyone in the world could snap their fingers and get a beautiful, healthy baby girl anytime they wanted.  I saw mothers yanking sticky fingers and yelling “shut up” at their little ones….its hard not to judge other parents especially when you want to be one.  Then there were the mothers with starry eyed adoration of their babies, who cooed about their undying love to their little ones.  They felt the same love I had for my baby, but they held theirs in their arms and mine was only a memory in my heart.

Four months later it is hard to remember what she felt like, as our souls collided.

"Firework" by Marcus

“Firework” by Marcus

Her life was like a firework exploding into the darkness, lighting the night with its brilliant color only to fade into an all consuming black sky mere moments later.  I remember her light, I remember her brilliance. But what shade of red was that firework and what tones of blue did she use to light the sky?  I remember her light, I remember her color, but her memory is like a picture you took on family vacation, before digital cameras.  Back in the days when you used real film and prints came back blurry, because the tourist taking the picture was jilted by a biker on the sidewalk.  Her life feels a little hazy, I know what was supposed to be there, but it was too quick for me to catch the true intricacy of her beauty.  And I HATE that!!!!!!!

That is the worst part.  Not remembering clearly what you want to so desperately remember.  What I  have of her is the memory of what it felt like when her life began to grow inside of mine.  I remember my heart welling up with such intense love that I would have risked all my dignity and sanity to save her life.  I would have done anything to give her a chance to giggle and dance…because I just knew she was a giggler and a dancer and I loved that about her.  I loved the essence of joy her life held, the way her essence fueled my heart to beat a little faster.

Before the dr. came in to tell us the results of the sonogram, I sat in the frigid room my hand held by my husband’s, providing warmth and stability on a surreal night.  I saw in my mind Jesus standing beside me.  I saw Him cradling my baby in my womb.  I glimpsed what advanced technology could not see yet, my little one surrounded by fluid in my womb.  Jesus held her, and I knew, I knew she was His, she was now with God.

I named her Liya (pronounced Lay –yah).  Liya means “I am the Lord’s”

After my first miscarriage my friend had given me a scripture as a promise, Isaiah 44:1-5.  In the passage it says that your offspring “shall spring up among the grass like willows by following streams.  This one will say ‘I am the Lord’s’.”     I looked up what name meant “I am the Lord’s”– it was Liya.  In Latin, Liya means “ bringer of the gospel.”  I thought that her physical feet would carry the gospel across the globe.  While her physical feet never walked this earth, I believe that part of the redemption of God is that whenever her story is told, salvation will come to the hearts of people.

baby hand in big handHer life proclaims the story of Jesus, how He left heaven and became man while fully God, walked on this earth for 33 years, healing and loving people wherever He went.  He was perfect and died a horrific death on a cross.  He died for every sin that will ever be committed.   He died and paid the price for my sin and yours.   He died to bring victory over illness, and disease and death.  Three days later He rose again, bringing complete victory to the power of death.

When we acknowledge our utter need for a Savior, commit our life to Him and admit the right He has to rule and reign in on our life, we too experience victory over death and sickness.   We do not die when our bodies breathe their last breath, we will live and reign with Him forever in Heaven.

Liya’s life, while only with us on earth for 7 weeks, is a testament to the power of Jesus and His victory over death.  I knew the moment that I heard they could see nothing on the sonogram and my HCG had dropped, that she was alive.  Even when I realized I would never cradle her in my earthly arms, I knew she was in heaven with Jesus.  I would cradle her someday.  I knew that she would never know pain, she would never know the sting of death because she was in a place with a Savior who had conquered death, in heaven where there are no tears.   She would never know a day without the presence of Jesus.

I knew it was true:  that there was no one I wanted Liya to be with more than Jesus.  Yet, there was a place of indescribable pain in my heart that I had to deal with.  There was anger and I didn’t know how to move through.  With my first miscarriage it had been much easier to release Alexander to Jesus.    I thought what I had experienced was common for a lot of women who are pregnant for the first time and so it would never happen again.

After about 2 weeks of walking around in my tornado of bitterness, anger and comparison it struck me how much I did not want to be this person.  I didn’t want to be a woman who snapped and glared at every pregnant momma in sight.  I didn’t want to resent other women who had healthy children, and I didn’t want to be angry at God.  I didn’t want to spend the next twenty years of my life wandering around in self pity, I had to get out….but how???  I felt so trapped.

Next week, I will  be sharing the steps the Lord took me through that brought  freedom from bitterness, hopelessness and despair.  I hope you will join me!

Kitty Houdini

Jaxon In KitchenAs many of you know, I am the mother to two cats.  Technically, I am only their step mother as I begrudgingly accepted partial responsibility for these 2 mischievous felines when we got married.  My husband in an attempt to preserve my sanity, had built an additional barrier of wire netting at the top of our backyard to allow the cats some time outdoors and me some time indoor without the pitter pattering of curious kitty paws following me around the house.

The extra barrier has worked well until the other day when Jaxon’s natural curiosity had morphed into outright rebellion as he swatted down the wire netting and escaped over our fence.
We found him in the neighbors yard to our right, the next night it was the opposite neighbor’s yard we caught him in.  Even the loud barks from the yard directly behind us had not hindered his exploration expedition as we found him there.

Our concern grew, as a friend who lives nearby told us that she had seen Jaxon walking down the sidewalk on a road near our house, apparently Jaxon had been living a double life.  House cat by day – con artist by day and night.  We had no idea how often he had been roaming the streets and were unsure how to prevent his escape.  Jaxon was sentenced to house arrest and not allowed outdoors, until my husband could find a more secure barrier for him.

Jaxon’s distress grew with every passing hour he was not let outside, as did mine.  His constant meows and glances of longing out the window panes eventually turned into a continual howl of distress all day long.  He listlessly wandered between the front and back door staring at the bars of his prison and yelping with shrieks that probably made our neighbors suspect we were starving him.

Nothing would stop his pathetic and might I add ANNOYING yelps.  I tried to reason with my inmate, “Jaxon you could be outside right now, but you have been rebellious and we can’t trust you outside right now, because you may escape and meet a cat knapper or a neighborhood dog bully.  Then you would really have something to cry about.”

P1030560Finally Jaxon’s day of liberation came, I am not sure who was more excited, me or him.  I relished in his house arrest being over for a whole 15 minutes, because that is all it took for Jaxon to yet again tear down the netting at the top of our fence and escape into the neighbor’s yard.

My husband came home to find a half crazed wife, pleading to fix the fence after a long day of enduring meow choruses from both cats whose only entertainment was to chase a fly in our house, and rattle the bars of their prison cell ….. did I say bars?…. I meant the blinds on our windows.

My husband fixed the fence.  A sense of peace has flooded the house again, the inmates released and I am still recovering from the steady soundtrack of feline choruses.  I used to think living in absolute silence would be torture, I was wrong…. living with absolute meows is torture. 

             Jaxon’s persistence reminds me of my relationship with God.  There are so many times when He tells me No, or I don’t get something I want.  And I throw a fit.  I mean a week long, human meow fest kind of fit.  I gaze out the window at whatever it is I want and I complain to God in my own annoying chorus of “why? Why? WHY?????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”  Over and over again I plead with God, and accuse Him of being mean and withholding something good from me.

I join Eve in the garden looking at the fruit, and I think that I know what is best  for me.  And that God doesn’t.  I think  if I don’t have something I want then He is cruel and mean.

I am not a kitty mind reader, but I am pretty sure somewhere between meow and MEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!  They were saying “hey mean lady, you are cruel and uncompassionate, you are keeping us under house arrest to torture us.”  When the truth was I was keeping them in house arrest (and enduring my own torture) because I had their highest good in mind.  My kitties can’t understand that the fence wasn’t fixed yet, and that allowing them into the neighbor’s yards and into the streets unsupervised could result in their death or serious injury. It was my…gasp…love for the kitties that kept them locked inside.

 My actions were a small reflection of God’s love for me and for all His children.

Often we feel  stuck and we look to God to give us something yet we still experience pain or don’t get  the breakthrough we long for.   We become certain if only we had “that”, that object, that job, that person, that child, that paycheck, that degree, that life – that we would be happy.

But we don’t see what He sees.  Some of the things we want could be dangerous , they could lead to our serious harm or even our death – either of our bodies or souls.

I felt this way so often as a single woman.  I believed that my desire for marriage was from the Lord, I believed He had promised me that I would get married.  Yet, I couldn’t understand why wasn’t it him, or him or even him!  Why didn’t he ask me out, why didn’t that work out with that guy?   Every wedding invitation, I received in that period of intense longing seemed to confirm what Eve believed, that God didn’t know what He was doing, and He was withholding something good from me.

 He would whisper to wait, to trust Him, He would assure me that He was in control and He had the best for me.

Sometimes I believed him, some days I howled like Jaxon, and then I would try to control the situation and take matters into my own hands.  That always led to disaster.  Regardless of my response, God’s character was unwavering, He was committed to my best, even when I acted like I didn’t want it. 

P1010874I am so thankful to Him, for His sovereignty, His commitment to my life, His never failing love even when I was a pathetic sniveling mess.  In His time, His way, in a way so crazy I couldn’t have imagined, He brought my beloved, my husband and the one I was made to be with.

It was worth all those years of “House arrest” now if only I could make a certain cat understand that…..

What about you –  Can you think of a time when you felt God was withholding something good from you only later to realize in His love He was protecting you?

5 Ways you can Support a Friend after Miscarriage

I originally wrote and published this post on the blog after losing 2 babies to miscarriage, if you would like to hear about my process of finding hope and healing after a miscarriage you can find that here:

http://claritywithcharity.com/?p=374

It is challenging to walk through a miscarriage and it can also be challenging to know how to support a friend or family member who has experienced this loss.

I confess, that when friends shared about their miscarriages (before I had one), I felt unsure of how to respond.  My heart ached with them and I wanted to support them, but I had no idea what to do and say.  Maybe some of you have found yourselves in a similar situation, wanting to help but feeling helpless to do so.

IMG_64415 ways you can support someone after a miscarriage:

1.       Say “I am so sorry for your loss.”  Through this statement you are expressing what someone who has experienced a miscarriage desperately needs to hear, an acknowledgement that they have suffered the tragic death of a loved one.

2.       Acknowledge that you are honored they would share such a personal part of their life with you.  Realize that what this person is sharing with you is probably the most difficult thing they have walked through.  This may feel overwhelming to you (especially if you have never had a friend share this with you before).   Instead of stressing over fixing them or making everything better, focus on your love and concern for the person.  Saying something like this can be very helpful, “Thank you so much for sharing that with me.  I feel privileged to hear about your baby’s life.  This must be a very difficult time for you!  I want to be there for you and I am not really sure how to best do that.  How can I best support you right now?”

3.       Act like you would if there was a funeral to attend and an obituary in the paper.  While most families will not have a public memorial service for their child, their need for community support in this time is very similar.  We received many of the acts of service and gifts listed below after our miscarriages and they were incredibly healing and also helped in a practical way.  When people took these actions they not only acknowledged the tragedy we were walking through but expressed a physical representation of sharing in our grief.

–           Send Flowers

–          Bring a meal

–          Send a gift. 

–          Send a card.

–          Clean their house.

–          Offer to watch their children (if they have other children).

Having a miscarriage is not only hard on a women’s heart but it also takes a physical toll on her body.  The effects vary woman to woman but usually there is a period of time where you are very tired and weak.  This is why I suggested acts of service such as bringing a meal, cleaning their home, or watching their children.  I remember a friend bringing us a meal after our miscarriage and it was such a blessing, not only mentally to not have to plan dinner but because my body was so weak it was difficult to function normally.

4.        Check in with your friend.  Dealing with the emotions of a miscarriage can affect you for months and even years afterwards.  Depending on your relationship with your friend, it can be helpful to check in with your friend to see how they are doing.  I received texts, emails, and calls from friends months after the miscarriage asking how I was doing and letting me know that I was loved and they were praying for my husband and I.  This meant so much to me.  Their taking a moment to realize that I was in a season of grieving and that I was on their heart and in their prayers was helpful for me because I didn’t feel alone in my grief.  The message or call can be as simple as, “ I just want you to know I am thinking about you and praying for you today.  I love you!  How are you doing?”

5.       Pray for your friend.  It sounds nice to say, “I’ll be praying for you” but it is A LOT nicer to share in the burdens of your friend and actually pray for them and their spouse.  Here are specific things to pray, if you are unsure what to pray for.

–           Healing for their physical body and also for their heart.

–          For their doctor to have wisdom.

–          An increase in intimacy with the Lord in this season.

–          For complete health in their body, that miscarriage would never occur ever again.

–          That there would be an increase in love, intimacy, good communication and trust in their marriage through the season of grief.

If you have experienced a miscarriage, what were things you needed to hear or acts of service and support that were helpful to you?

Quick, Easy and Favorite Recipe!

Hello Friends,

Today we are taking a break from our “typical” blog post topics, to discuss something very important: dinner! 

Yesterday, I woke up in a fluster, there was way to much to do in one short day, and we had virtually no groceries.  I was about to resign myself to a night of take-out, when I remembered that I had a frozen roast in the oven.  Dinner was saved!  Using my Pot-O-Wonder (i.e.  crockpot) and taking about 5 minutes using ingredients most of us have at our house, I was able to make dinner.  This recipe was first given to me by my sister – in – law who had modified it for the crockpot from:  http://tastykitchen.com/recipes/main-courses/italian-drip-beef/.

I have further modified it for our tastes.  And it is a crowd pleaser!  It is my go – to meal for hectic days and providing a meal for new mommas ( if you have had baby in the last year and live near me, you will probably recognize this recipe).  Enjoy!

beef sandwhichIngredients:

– 1 Whole Beef Chuck Roast, 2-4 pounds.  (2 pounds will serve 4 adults)  It can be frozen or unthawed!

–  1 Can Beef Broth

–  1 Tablespoon Italian Seasoning (if you like more zest you can add to your taste)

–  1/4 cups water

–  1/3 jar, Pepperoncini peppers with juice (want more spice, use more pepperoncinis and juice)

–  Deli rolls

Directions:

Combine all ingredients in Slow Cooker.  Cook on Low for 8 hours.  If it is frozen you will definitely need the 8 hours.  My crockpot tends to cook things faster than recipes suggest.  So if you are using a frozen chuck roast you may need 9-10 depending on your crockpot.  Meat is done when falls off the bone, with gentle prodding from a fork.

Turn chuck roast over mid-way through.

Shred meat with two forks.

Serve on deli rolls (toasted is really yummy!) with any kind of cheese.  Our favorite is fresh mozzarella slices, last night we only had provolone but that was delicious too!

Dip sandwiches in broth that is in the crockpot.

My favorite side salad to serve with this meal.  This is also a throw it in there, one bowl wonder!

saladIngredients:

–  Craisins

–  Baby Spinach

–  Pecans or Almonds (sliced)

– Croutons

– Optional grated parmesan cheese

–  We use Ken’s Balsamic Vinaigrette dressing.

Directions:

–  Toss all ingredients in a bowl.  Eat!

Let me know what you think!!!!!!

 

Fighting Apathy

beachI love the summer.   I love the collective sigh the world takes along with  fewer meetings, activities and agendas  which provide a way for more sun, water, popsicles and fun!

I have noticed during the summer is that the slower pace of life can make me start feeling apathetic about…well, everything…I don’t want to cook, I don’t want to clean, I don’t want to make goals and complete them, and sometimes I don’t feel like spending time with Jesus or in His Word.

Can anyone relate to these summertime feelings?  I can start to feel so apathetic that I lose perspective of what is most important, my relationship with Jesus.

I really believe that a slower pace of life during a season of the year, is healthy for everyone.  But in the relaxed days, we have to be even more vigilant to not lose sight of what is most important.

So how can we fight apathy…when we recognize it in our hearts?

Several months ago, I was feeling very apathetic about sharing Jesus with people I would meet in the city.  I confessed to two girls that I had been apathetic on several occasions when I felt prompted by the Holy Spirit to share His love with others.  I had deliberately disobeyed the Holy Spirit’s prompting simply because “I didn’t feel like it.” Because of this it became easier and easier to ignore the Holy Spirit’s promptings and to walk in disobedience.

cliff jumpingI could feel apathy sneaking in….It was time to Do something radical!

I gave myself a deadline of one week to “do something radical” and asked the two other girls to hold me accountable.  I defined “doing something radical” as sharing the love of Jesus with a stranger, because that always makes me feel uncomfortable, and I was getting too comfortable going throughout my life without sharing the gospel.  Six days later, I still had done nothing radical and honestly I hadn’t felt like I had an opportunity to do so.

With my deadline approaching,  I knew I needed to go and look for someone to share the love of Christ with because spending the majority of the day at home it is harder to encounter strangers.  I went to my local grocery store, texted my friends and told them that I wasn’t leaving the grocery store until I had shared about Christ’s love with someone.

As I walked into the grocery store I headed for the beauty section and began looking for nail polish.  A sales clerk approached me and asked if I needed help.  She seemed friendly and possibly like the person God wanted to share His love with through me that day.

After talking with her for a little while, I asked if I could pray for her about anything, she enthusiastically said “YES!” and shared about a personal situation she was going through.   She said I could pray for her then, and I did.  She was so thankful and the expression on her face when we were done praying was more joyful and lighter then when we had first begun to talk.

“Wow,” I thought, that couldn’t have been any easier or fun.  Not even two minutes after arriving at the store God sent this sweet girl to talk to me, and she was so thankful that I had reached out to her.  All it took was for me to do something radical.

When I did this I was opposing the spirit of apathy.  This simple concept of doing something radical can be beneficial in so many ways.

hammockHere are some ideas of how to come at apathy in the opposite spirit.  I would love to hear your ideas below as well!

 Emotion:   You don’t feel like worshipping Jesus or spending time with Him in prayer and in the Word.

Opposite Spirit: 

–          Read:  scriptures that talk about God’s character and thank Him for His attributes.  An awesome Psalm to reflect on the character of God is Psalm 103!

–          Blast:  worship music for 30 minutes, and sing along no matter how quietly or off tune you must do so. 

One of my favorite songs to worship to is:  “Jireh”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ht1Aco2iVsA

–          Stand:  I have often found that when I don’t feel like worshipping God either at a corporate gathering or in my own personal time with Him that it helps my heart when I stand.  The simple act of standing shows initiative, it is your body telling your spirit, I am actively engaging in what is going on here, whether I feel like it or not.

Emotion:    You are feeling grumpy and full of complaints about life

Opposite Spirit

–          Remember:  Make a list of 10 things you are thankful for everyday for the next week.

–          Bless:  Look for someone in need that you can bless.  Bake them cookies, offer to clean their house or babysit…ect…

How do you oppose apathy?  What is a favorite worship song or scripture you come back to when you need to stir your soul to worship?

 

Its another Great Give-Away!

ramona booksHello Friends!

If you grew up, like me, spending your summers reading your favorite books, you are going to love this give away!  As a kid I couldn’t get enough of books.  Some of my favorites were The Boxcar Children, The Bobbsey Twins, Anne of Green Gables, Nancy Drew and of course the Ramona books.

If there was ever a literary character I could and still relate with, it is Ramona Quimby.  Ramona is curious, imaginative with a huge heart to help her family and friends.  Unfortunately, her crazy ideas usually end in disasters.  However, her eternal optimism and love for those around her always prevails to bring good out of the worst catastrophe.

I was thinking about Ramona last night as I made dinner.  Ahem…err…ummm… attempted to make dinner.  I was trying a new recipe and I was sure it would be one my husband loved, because it had three of his favorite things in it:  Chicken, Cheese and Mushrooms.

Unfortunately, I missed the part in the recipe which indicated it needed to be cooked on a grill or a broiler.  If I had read this more thoroughly I would have realized:  our grill is broken, and what is a broiler anyway?

My awesome husband spent about an hour trying to figure out where the broiler on our oven was.  Only for us to discover our oven has no broiler pan!  Disaster!  It turned out fine because I just baked the chicken and my husband (who is very used to my Ramona moments) was very patient through the whole ordeal.  Turns out the recipe is just as good baked as broiled or grilled (not that we actually know)  It is going onto our list of favorite meals.  Another Ramona sized triumph!

What Children’s Literature character do you most identify with?

If you’re not sure, you can take this quick quiz and tell me who you get:  http://quizilla.teennick.com/quizzes/1399139/what-hero-heroine-of-childrens-literature-are-you

(I got Anne, as in Anne with an “E” – my second favorite children’s literary heroine)

junie b. jones bookThe give – away is for this “Junie B. Jones” book.  Junie B. is a hilarious and precocious modern children’s literary hero.  Although these books weren’t around when I was a child, I confess they have provided me a lot of laughs as an adult.

Even if you think you are “too old” for this book….I would encourage you to enter!  Give it to a child and encourage them to read, give it to a teacher or a local library.  But before you do…you should read it…come on…its good to see the world through the eyes of a child =)

You have up to four chances to win!  Please, comment below:

–  Tell me which children’s literary hero is your favorite OR who you most identify with.

–  Take the quiz and tell me the results.

–  Sign up to receive my email notifications for the blog.   Please tell me “email” in your comments

–  Tweet or share this blog post on facebook.  Please tell me “I shared”

 

 

 

Our Royal Baby

couple flowers baby Moving from Hurt to Hope after a Miscarriage: Part 1

Monday, the world stopped as news of the royal baby’s birth was announced.  This news stopped my heart.  Our first baby had almost the same due date as the royal couple’s little one.

If you have been following this blog, you know that I have mentioned that my husband and I have lost two babies in the past year to miscarriage.

 As I have journeyed through the pain, grief, and questions I have found that hearing someone else’s story is part of the way to healing.  Hearing another’s story helps you realize that you are not alone if you have had a miscarriage.  It is an experience that can feel lonely and isolating because there is no cast to wrap your broken heart, no casket to bury your memories in and too often no one knows.  Even if someone knows, they may not know how to respond.

I am sharing with you my personal reflections about miscarriage, because God has given me hope in the midst of devastation.  I am praying that this series provides comfort and hope for those who have walked through a miscarriage, and insight for those with friends who have experienced one.

pregnancy testI will always remember the day I found out Alexander was inside me.

From the moment I saw the faint pink line turn brighter and then deeper and darker on the pregnancy test, I was absolutely head over heels in love with him.   By the time I had seen one plus sign and the word “pregnant” on the 2 different digital pregnancy tests my husband had me buy “just to be sure,”  I was shrieking.

I squealed and jumped in delight, begging my husband to let me call and tell someone.   Although what I really wanted to do was to run down my street screaming at the top of my lungs, “I’m a MOM!”  “I’m a MOM!”

After getting married at the age of twenty – nine, helping seven friends walk down the aisle as a bridesmaid and with most of these friends having their second little bun in the oven I felt that God was redeeming my years of waiting for my children.

As a little girl, my favorite toys were my dolls and my favorite activity was pretending to be a Mom.  My love for children continued through my adulthood as I  worked as a nanny, camp counselor and children’s pastor.  I went on mission’s trips and worked with orphans, I made friends with any child around me.  I have left adult conversations at parties, to find the kid’s table where I have spend the night, giggling, playing and reading.

Even in my professional life my student staff lovingly nicknamed me “Mom” because of the way I nurtured and cared for their spirits and even bodies, constantly “nagging” them to make healthy choices in the school cafeteria and to start a work out plan.  I had held them while they cried about boys, grades, and life direction.  I had also screamed and celebrated with them about boys, grades and life direction.

It has brought immense amounts of joy to my heart to know that around the world I have many spiritual children.  I had already been a “mother” to children and young adults offering counsel, correction, a listening ear, prayers, meals, snacks and of course hugs.  But I never felt more like a mother than the day I saw that faded pink line turn a deeper shade of rose.  I was a Mom forever now, I knew no matter what happened in life, no matter where I went or where my baby went, he would always be my baby and I would always be his momma.

I remember that day so vividly like a beautiful dream you don’t want to wake up from.  My husband and I ate dinner at a local Vietnamese restaurant. I spent the entire dinner asking him if there was anything in the dishes I couldn’t eat because I was pregnant.  As an engineer, my husband researches everything and had already learned more about pregnancy that evening, then I had learned in a lifetime of being female.  After dinner I insisted that we go to the local used bookstore and look for pregnancy books.  We bought a baby name book and a book about eating healthily while pregnant.  I then came home and promptly ordered “ What to expect when you’re expecting.”

That same week, Prince William and Kate’s pregnancy was announced.  As the whole world watched Kate’s belly, I watched mine with the same force of anticipation and joy as a nation of people awaiting their royal baby.  To me this was my royal baby, the fulfillment of the Lord’s promise to me that I would be a wife and a mother.

I asked the Lord for promises for my baby.  One was so clear to me, this little one would be a person of influence and draw the nations to knowledge and belief in Jesus Christ.  To me, this was the dearest promise that I could receive as a mother.

At first I was sure my baby was a girl, Rene was sure the baby was a boy.  We would joke about who was right or wrong.  I had called a friend to tell her I was pregnant, and she prayed for my pregnancy.  While she prayed I saw a picture of my baby Alexander, which would become such a treasure to me to.  In the picture I saw my little boy probably about a year old, crawling on hands and knees smiling with dimples just like my husbands’ into his chubby baby cheeks.  His dark brown eyes sparkled with mischief and his dark brown hair was wavy and thick, how I imagine my husband’s would have been as a child.  He looked sharp in a plaid blue vest with gray trousers and in my opinion was the cutest baby I had ever seen.

Then the bleeding started.

I went to a doctor who was unable to tell me much except that my blood needed to be analyzed again in 48 hours to see if my HCG and Progesterone levels had increased or decreased.

Those days of waiting for the blood work results felt like the longest days of my life.

Then the phone rang, it was “the call.”  My body grew cold, my heart stopped in my chest.  I answered steadying my voice.  The nurse delivering the blood results was short and abrupt.  Her tone sounded as empathetic as a piece of steel.  “Your progesterone and HCG levels have dropped dramatically in the past 48 hours and we are certain you are miscarrying.”  As her words stabbed through my heart, my husband miraculously walked through the door home, home a few hours early from a work project.

He held me as the nurse asked if I had heard her because I hadn’t uttered a word or sound since she had spoken.   My mouth couldn’t move because I was deafened by the sound of my heart shattering  into a million pieces.  My baby was dying, “My baby is dying!” I wanted to scream at the nurse and tell her, “YES I HEAR YOU! I HEAR YOU CLEARLY,” But I couldn’t say a word, I was in shock, and all that spoke was the scream inside my heart…”NO!  NO! NO!”

I knew my baby was with Jesus.  That my baby would never know the pain of earth and the brokenness of humanity, they would only ever know the love of Jesus and the love of their mother and father.

baby fingers on cribBut I wanted them to know pain!  I wanted to kiss every scrape and bandage every wound.  I wanted to see them fall bump their head on the coffee table as they learn to walk, I wanted to help them get back on their bike when they fall off their new two wheeler, I wanted to help them find the pieces of their heart after their first heartbreak, I wanted to have a continual drippy and snotty hand because I have wiped their eyes and noses from the sting of this imperfect world.  But I knew I never would and I wanted to, more than anything I have ever wanted in my life.

That night I collapsed on the couch holding my belly and cried, a deep soulful cry from my gut that had been building and I yelled until it was only a whisper, “I want my baby, I want my baby, I just want my baby.”

I wrote him a letter that night, I told him all about his life and how I felt when I found out he was inside me, and what we did that night we found out we were pregnant.  I told him he was wonderful surprise, the best kind.  I told him about eating  Vietnemese noodles and buying every pregnancy book in the store.  I told him I loved and missed him.  It helped.

For anyone who has walked through a miscarriage I think one of hardest parts are the questions.  What is the gender,  what does the baby look like, what is their personality like?  God was so kind to me to give me the gender, a glimpse of Alexander’s sweet face and then my husband named our son.  Shortly after the miscarriage I was resting in my husband’s arms, thinking about our baby boy and as hot and gentle tears streamed down my face, Rene said, “his name is Alexander.”   I sobbed  with relief, he had a name, our son had been named by his father.

I looked up the name Alexander in the baby name book I had bought the night we found out we were pregnant.  Alexander means “helper and defender of mankind.”  This bothered me a lot.  I wanted his name to mean what I needed most at that moment:  which was faith, hope or redemption.

How could my baby Alexander bring help to mankind now, I wondered?  How could he defend mankind when he had never set foot on this planet?  I struggled with the irony that the meaning of his name seemed to pose.  Yet, I knew the meaning of his name fit perfectly with the prophetic words God had spoken to my heart about Alexander.  God had told me Alexander would have great influence and favor with people for the Kingdom of God.  God had told me that Alexander would have an inheritance in the nations of the earth for the glory of God.

I do not have an answer for how Alexander will reach the nations of the earth.  However, I feel  nudges of hope from my Father, that as I write and share with others about Alexander’s life, that it will bring the hope and life of Jesus Christ to others, even in the furthest corners of the earth.  There is a joy and peace to be found when we know Jesus.  He is the restorer, He is the redeemer He alone can do this:

Forest Sunrise“comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy  instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.”

They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated”  Isaiah 61:2-4

These are the promises I cling too.  There will be joy for my mourning!….there will be for your’s too sweet friend.

To continue this series:

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

If you have been through a miscarriage, what verses and promises from God have brought you hope?  I would love to hear about your sweet baby –  What is their name, did you do something special to remember their life?  What has been helpful for you in the healing process?

Flowers and Faithfulness

desertI love flowers, tall fluffy trees, bushy floral explosions and the feel of green grass tickling your toes.  I am originally from Washington state and grew up thinking that everyone drives to school looking at a giant snow covered mountain and goes for a walk and picks wild strawberries off the road side.

Of course, you know most of the world isn’t this lush green wonderland I spent the majority of my childhood in, especially if you also live in Texas…where plants come to die….

Maybe it was growing up helping my Mom garden (although begrudgingly) but the past few years, I have been determined to grow beautiful flowers.  In spite of the 100 degree heat, despite the near 100% humidity and the frequent droughts that Texas experiences.

cactusMy Northwest heart needs to see, green and life and beauty.  I am sorry to all my dear friends in the state of Texas but natural beauty is very hard to come by here.   So I have dug plant beds, and planted and re-planted about a dozen different species praying that some kind of flower (and I do not define flower as a cactus…I know those grow here…they are also ugly and have spikes)

My husband and I decided to re-plant our flower beds, on what we would come to find out was the hottest day of the year. I found out that day that we are both stubborn enough to complete the goal.  This meant that we waited until 8 p.m. at night to re-plant our flower beds because it was so hot we couldn’t be outside any earlier.  We spent several hours alternating between one person holding a light and the other person planting the flowers.

I woke up that night to the sound of torrential rain.  All I could think about was my sweet fragile flowers we had resolutely planted the night before.  I worried that their young root systems would not survive the heavy down pour.

They survived, sort of….the past month and a half I have spent re-securing the flowers and watering what half dead, shriveled flowers.

I was frustrated, we had read all the tags at Home Depot and only bought the flowers who claimed to be “drought tolerant” and “summer survivors.”  I researched online and asked locals how to save my plants.  Opinions were mixed and mostly my questions were answered with shrugged shoulders and “ well its hard to say…its hard to grow anything here…except hibiscus and cactus”…but we already know how I feel about that.  For several weeks only our hibiscus and one rose bush produced any flowers.  Virtually every morning, I got up and watered the plants and prayed, “God please give me some flowers.”

After experiencing immense loss and grief this year, I needed to see beauty, I needed to see new life.  I needed to see something survive against the odds.

photoCA4XO77QLast week I was out of town for most of the week and weekend.  As I drove up to the driveway, my heart leapt…there were flowers…pink ones, red ones, blue ones…(this is starting to sound like a Dr. Suess book..ha, ha)  Almost every plant had a flower on it.  These aren’t the kind of flowers that would win a prize but they were flowers.  There was green and there was beauty in my yard and it was such a sweet gift from the Lord.

I love how God uses creation to speak to us.  If we are attentive we can catch glimpses of who God is and learn about Him through nature.  He is the divine designer of it all.

This morning as I completed my watering ritual, I thought about how many days over the past few weeks I wanted to give up on our plants.  I thought about not watering them anymore and resigning myself to yet another summer of dried, dead landscape.  But I persevered; I kept watering even when there were no signs of life.  It reminded me of life and how so often God calls us to persevere even when we want to give up.  Even when it seems like there is no hope.

One of my favorite verses to read when I want to give up is:

red flowers in potGalatians 6:9
Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.

Friend, I encourage you today to remain faithful. 

Are you believing for a friend or family member to know Jesus, keep believing.

Are you asking the Lord for a miraculous healng, keep praying, keep believing, keep asking.

Are you working in a job you hate?  Work hard, remain faithful.

Are you loving a person who doesn’t love you in return, keep loving.

flowers

 

 

What is it that God is calling you to remain faithful too?  Have there been times in your life where you wanted to give up, but you didn’t and were able to see the rewards of your diligence?  What have you learned about God through nature?

A Kitty, A Pitbull and A Miracle

P1040035I think a miracle just happened!  It did not seem like a very miraculous moment at the time.  We were sitting at our dining room table playing settlers of catan with a few friends (my husband and I are a little obsessed with this game, any other fans out there?)  Jaxon (our male cat) was outside in our backyard, sitting on top of our firepit (unlit of course).

We heard a loud crash outside and we all jumped a little, “what was that?” we all wondered.  My husband jumped up to find out.  I love my husband’s protector nature!  As he opened the door that leads from our dining room to the backyard, he saw the neighbor’s pitbull lunge from across our backyard towards Jaxon.  My husband yelled and was about to grab a lawn stake to use in self defense, when the pit bull decided to leave the scene.  Rene brought a very scared kitty inside, as we all stared in horror.  He set Jaxon down, and Jaxon kept lunging for the door with a “let me at him!” attitude.   We also had to grab Sparta (our female cat) who now wanted to go outside to check on all the commotion.  Apparently she had never heard the expression “curiosity killed the cat!”

We found that Jaxon had some hair missing and one of his paws was bleeding.  My husband went outside to investigate the crime scene and left me and my friend with instructions to dip Jaxon’s paw in cornmeal to stop the bleeding.

My husband just knows these things…cat’s paw bleeding..dip it in cornmeal….oh of course why didn’t I think of that.  I had been wondering if a band aid would work on his kitty paw.

While we dipped Jaxson’s paw in cornmeal (he did not like it!), my husband found that the pit bull had broken through our fence and another neighbor’s fence to get through to our backyard.  My husband called the cops and unfortunately there wasn’t anything they could do about the situation because the pit bull hadn’t hurt a person.

Some peculiar  thoughts began to race through my brain, “pets are people too!” and “how dare the cops not be able to stand up for a member of our family!”  I was absolutely overwhelmed with how protective I felt over Jaxon and how outraged I was at this pitbull.

My surprise grew the next day when Jaxon was just not acting like himself.  When I came out of our bedroom in the morning instead of him meowing incessantly and head butting my leg, while circling around me and following me all over the house, I found him laying on the couch.  He barely lifted his head when I walked into the living room and looked at me with a glazed expression.  He looked so mournful and pitiful.  My compassion welled further when we found him after church, laying on top of our kitchen cabinets, the highest point in our house, just staring at the back door with a mix of horrific paranoia.  He laid up there for hours on end, sometimes curling up to sleep and other times hanging his head pitifully off the end staring at the door then looking at us as if to say “do you know what I have been through?”  I felt like my child had come home from school with a black eye and told me that the classroom bully had punched them for no reason.

It was as if Jaxon’s kitty innocence was gone, he had believed that life was full of cat food, cat nip, long naps in the sun and following around his “Dad and StepMom” meowing for attention.  But that night he realized that the world was full of enemies, namely pitbulls that wanted to kill him, and I could see the weight of the realization upon him.  Like the day I realized all adults weren’t trustworthy, like the day my elementary school friends decided to avoid me on the playground for no reason I could understand.  It was the day that innocence died.

It was also the day that I realized I may have begun this journey as a begrudging kitty step mom, but I really loved these cats and I would have been absolutely devastated if one of them had gotten hurt.  I also wanted to protect them from the dangers of the world.

I felt my heart changing, I felt a small miracle leap forth, maybe I was made to be a kitty stepmom. 

Maybe, just maybe we can make this work…..

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