My grandmother, so I hear from many miles away across a cell phone signal, agreed willingly to the move to the nursing home. She moved in this evening. My grandfather is resistant.
Elsewhere, in another part of the country, my two (and a half!) year old precious niece is enjoying her still-new room. She soaked it in with eyes wide and in uncharacteristic quiet. A hush fell over the room as she saw what her Daddy had done just for her. "It's so nice," she breathed. The breathless awe of something just for you. Something grown up and special and wonderful.
In a yet another part of the country, my son enjoyed an evening with one of his favorite people on Earth...a bright, beautiful young lady preparing for her first year of college at my alma mater. The first time Mama and Dada entrusted him to someone not a parent themselves. And he not only survived without me for the evening, he loved it. He waved when she left. My son doesn't wave 'bye-bye', he waves when he sees something he wants. He waves harder when he senses he's not getting it. He waved very hard when we came inside. He loves her.
My grandfather agreed to go tomorrow. What reasoning finally worked? I don't know. But I don't think it was human eloquence. I think it was a divine intervention. I think this because I asked for it specifically, me and an untold number of friends and fellow believers. And I asked God to remind my grandfather, who has nearly circled around the sun on this planet 100 times, that He is in control, no matter where he lives. That God is to be trusted, no matter who is calling the shots. That the next stop is Paradise, good and faithful friend, hold on, keep trusting me to the very, very end. God sustained my grandfather across two world wars, the nation's stock market crash, the Great Depression, his youngest daughter's illness which could've killed her, his oldest daughter's car crash that should've killed her, his only son's mugging that could've left him dead, personal injury that kept him from working and the paychecks from coming, the birth of their only grandson, five years later, their only granddaughter, and even their great-granddaughter and great-grandson. In the century that my grandfather has spent here on this side of Eternity God has proved faithful, trustworthy, and sovereign. What on Earth does he have to fear? This is what I asked God to remind him.
Did he? I have no way of knowing for sure. But the little text that came about an hour later that informed me he had changed his mind told me that, one way or another, God had heard me and my prayers had been answered.
The juxtaposition of it all just astounds me. My niece with her brand new big girl room...so thrilled with the change, so excited to be a BIG girl, full wonder and awe at this big, exciting world laying at her feet. My son growing confident, learning to be okay without me, having first adventures without me, growing so big and strong. The dawn of new life, the twilight of a life well lived. Something about it inspires me...to trust God a little faster, a little stronger, to hold onto Him a little tighter. He prepares new big girl changes for me with as much love as tenderness as my brother does for her beloved daughter. He takes me on new adventures with people I come to love and trust, just as my son is learning to do in his toddlerhood. And He will sustain me across an untold amount of years and an untold amount of struggles and victories, blessings and trials. No matter where I live or who is calling the shots, GOD is faithful, trustworthy, and sovereign.
September 2nd...it was a Friday morning...I was just about a week overdue, if you know what I mean. And I'd thought about taking one of those dastardly pregnancy tests but frankly I'd seen too many negative results to really stomach another one. I had considered asking God for a sign, like a dream, but then I decided that every time in my life I'd tried to rely on signs that it never worked. I'm far too good at tricking signs into appearing where God never intended them to be.
But I had a dream. It was exactly what I'd almost asked for. God has a sense of humor.
So a couple days later I decided to just take the stupid test and get all the disappointment over with for the month. The sooner I had an answer the sooner I could move on. I dipped the stick and set the timer for 3 minutes and walked away. When I came back, holding my breath...I couldn't believe my eyes. Two lines.
So I asked Curtis, who was busy making me breakfast, how many lines he thought their were. He told me two, and we just looked at each other stunned.
Now...don't get me wrong...I was excited. I was thankful, I was praising God in my heart somewhere. But mostly I suddenly and thoroughly felt gripped with fear. I don't think I've ever experienced fear quite like that before in my life. As we told our closest friends and family members and they all celebrated, I felt a little numb. Grateful but numb.
This lasted several days until I finally gave way to my emotions. In the shower (I seem to do a lot of emoting in the shower, actually) I broke down and I sobbed. It's been years since I cried like that. And I told God, don't get me wrong, I'm amazed at what you've done here, and I so want to glorify you but there's this huge BUT in my way. BUT what if you take the baby back? BUT what if something happens? BUT what if this breaks my heart and I'm worse off than before?
I've had two fears all my life. 1) That I wouldn't be able to have children and 2) That even if I could get pregnant that I wouldn't be able to stay pregnant. There's plenty of familial evidence to support both fears; these are not ungrounded. Clearly fear number one was well-founded, but once that was shoved out of the way it was time for fear number two to take over.
God heard the cries of my heart and instead of taking them as a sign of disbelief in His power, He took them as an opportunity to love on me so much and restore my trust in His goodness. I can only imagine the tenderness in His eyes as He looked on His daughter so afraid and uncertain. God is so good.
The following Sunday was September 11th which proved to be highly emotional for a lot of people. There was a big altar call and I felt the tug to come forward. I knew what it was that I had to lay there on the altar of the Lord. I knelt at our altar, face to face with the Almighty, and I knew that the only way to conquer the fear of losing my baby was to give my baby to God willingly. So I did. I figuratively but very truly placed this little life that I've wanted for so long on the altar, much like Abraham putting his beloved son Isaac on the altar all those thousands of years ago. I told God, and meant it, that no matter what He chose to do with that little life that I would praise Him anyway. That I would still insist in His goodness, even in my pain. I didn't promise that I wouldn't be angry or devastated, but that I would still see His goodness and mercy.
We came home from church, planning on a lazy afternoon with the dogs before youth group started. But we found Shiloh, sick, actually dying we would later find out. As Shiloh's situation went from bad to worse to hopeless in just a few short hours I remember thinking, crying out, that I'd just given God my baby, why was He taking my dog, my best friend, my ruff? I don't know. Maybe Shiloh was that sacrificial lamb that God provided Abraham with so he wouldn't have to give up Isaac. Maybe I had to give up something. Or maybe it was just Shiloh's time to leave us. I'll never know for sure.
A few days later I was driving from my office where I work in the morning to the library to grab a few books before heading out to the school where I work in the afternoon. I'd wanted to hear Gungor's song 'Beautiful Things' ever since I saw those two pink lines (more on that in this post ). But I hadn't. Until that day. And as I drove to the library the song came on KLOVE and I praised God, both in song and for the song. But God never does a little when He could do a lot. I came out of the library, started driving toward the school and Matt Hammit's new song 'All of Me' came on the radio.
He's the lead singer of Sanctus Real and we'd seen them in concert about a month before. Matt performed this song that he'd written about his baby boy Bowen who was born with only half a heart. The song is about the moment when Matt realized that giving his baby only half his heart, half his love, in an attempt to save himself from loss and pain wouldn't help anything. The only choice was to recklessly love him, no matter the ultimate pain or cost.
So here I am, driving down the road with tears just streaming down my cheeks. Confronted face to face with myself in music. Which is truly more important--guarding myself from potential pain or falling completely in love with this little miracle? Which would God have me do? One meant living in that horrible grip of fear, going back and forth from the altar, giving up my baby and then snatching 'him' back. The other meant living in a joyful celebration, not ignorant of the danger, but not crippled by its threat. That song has become my anthem, my chorus, my motto. I want to embrace every moment of this journey because I can't have it back or do it over. And if it all comes crashing down on me...God is still good. He will still give me air to breathe and command my lungs to suck it in, even if that's all I can do.
It's been about a month now since all this has taken place. We've had our first appointment and ultrasound. We got to see 'his' little hands and feet, complete with ten toes! We think we're having a boy, that's the general consensus among family and friends, too. There's just something about those pictures that says 'boy'. But we'll be thrilled and overjoyed no matter what. We are already thrilled. The morning sickness (which is really all-day sickness...what a ridiculous misnomer) and fatigue have been a struggle. I'm already in maternity pants...I don't quite have a belly but I'm getting bigger all the time. But I refuse to complain about weight gain or outgrowing my clothes. Or any of it really. I've wanted this for far too long to spend nine months whining about how awful it is. I can't do much for my baby yet, take vitamins, rest and eat, but I can endure the symptoms with a joyful heart..perhaps a merry heart...and in that way already love, nurture, and cherish my little one.
God is good. He is the God of impossibilities. He takes what cannot be done and makes it do-able. He took my broken body and barren womb and filled it with life. He took my fearful, fretful heart and filled it with love and joy. Only God can do these things.
If you haven't heard 'All of Me' I've provided a music video here on this post. It is such a beautiful song for any parent. I'm learning more every day how being a parent will change everything...require me to love far more than I ever have and give more than I ever knew I could. And its worth it all. Just like the song so beautifully says.
This is a Sanctus Real song, and for me, its the one that really put them on the map in my life. At the time I first heard this song things were going well, but I made a mental note of it. I knew it would be one of those songs I would cling to in the middle of the night someday. And it has been. It's the anthem of reassurance. Pain is a necessary part of life, especially life as a Christian. Pain can signify when somethings not right, and it can allow growth. Nobody likes it, but there can be a peace that passes understanding when we understand that whatever 'it' is, it's bigger than us.
Whatever you're doing inside of me,
it feels like chaos but I believe,
You're up to something bigger than me,
Larger than life, something heavenly (Chorus 2)
They played this song at the inaugural concert at the Stroh Center at BGSU. I've heard it dozens of times, even recently, but I found a new message tucked inside of it, like a secret note just for me. In the same way that 'Beautiful Things' by the band Gungor symbolizes more to me than being remade--its about making new life, making beautiful things out of dust, out of us. Tonight the words 'inside of me' grabbed my attention and gripped my heart. Perhaps it's my training as an English major that makes me find meaning where there isn't intentionally one, but I couldn't help but feel that I was supposed to pick up on that tonight. The song is supposed to be about emotional turmoil during difficult times and I get that, big time. But for me the meaning is more literal. I have no idea what God is doing inside of me in terms of allowing me to become a mother. And it feels like chaos sometimes. All the tests and data collecting and stress and baby drama definitely can create internal emotional chaos. And sometimes it feels like physical chaos when my body reacts to the medications. But when I remember that God does have a plan for me (Jeremiah 29:11) and that plan is bigger than only me there is a peace that can override the chaos. I believe that God has a plan and all of this is intentional and purposeful, and I believe that with all my heart.
Whatever you're doing inside of me,
it feels like chaos but now I can see,
This is something bigger than me,
Larger than life, something heavenly (Chorus 3)
I consider this last variation of the chorus to be a promise. I've been able to get to the top of a mountain after trudging through a valley and see how the struggle was part of a larger plan. And those past experiences reassure me that nothing is without purpose, and someday I will see. Even if that day comes on the other side of Eternity, someday I will see how this struggle and journey has been bigger than me. And at any rate, what God is doing inside of me is larger than life. It's about so much more than creating life. It's strengthening me, drawing me to Him, requiring me to share my heart, and expanding my faith. That is most certainly something heavenly.
But I'm still a dreamer, a believerOh, I've lost my faith in so many things, but I still believe in You
'Cause You can make anything new
This is the chorus to a different Sanctus Real song but it seems like the best way to end this post. Sometimes I do lose my faith in the process. I stop believing that all this struggling and hoping and praying and dreaming will work. But even when I've lost faith in everything, even myself, I still have my faith in God. And God is still faithful to me. He can make anything new, even a body that doesn't work properly. My favorite word in the entire English language is 'believe'. That word is in every room of our house, one way or another. I'm not always good at showing my belief, but I believe deeply and I dream even deeper. And it's okay for me to dream and believe even while facing difficult realities, because God is a redeemer. No matter what I may lose or never gain, I have Him. What else is there really?
But blessed are those who trust in the Lord
and have made the Lord their hope and confidence. They are like trees planted along a riverbank,
with roots that reach deep into the water.
Such trees are not bothered by the heat ... or worried by long months of drought.
Their leaves stay green,
and they never stop producing fruit. Jeremiah 17:7-8
I've been trying to come up with a new name for our youth group, so I turned to my Bible for some inspiration. Technically, I turned to biblegateway.com but same difference. I was trying to recall verses and stories I had read in my Bible, and find the specific addresses in the Bible. This passage has been one of my favorites for a long time. I can't really remember when I first read it, but I remember how I felt. Refreshed.
Like slowly drinking a cool glass of water on a very hot day, this verse just gets inside of me. I can picture such a tree in my mind. Maybe a weeping willow with long wispy branches reaching down to touch the water which gives it life. Maybe an apple tree with branches reaching high into the sky, providing shade, producing fruit, giving life. The imagery is refreshing. The idea is refreshing.
Letting roots grow deep and strong. My generation is a rootless one. Our friends change, our interests change, our phones change. My grandparents have lived in the same house for over 60 years, my grandmother has only lived in that valley in her 90 years of life. They know everyone on the mountain and in the hollow. Things have changed. We have starter houses, we switch neighborhoods, switch schools, switch friends, switch careers. Roots can't grow where things are always changing.
I long to be rooted by a riverbank, always producing fruit, but more than anything I don't want to be bothered by the heat or worried about droughts. That phrase really captures my heart right now. I worry about drought all the time. Not a literal one, but emotional and spiritual droughts. I worry that I don't have the same emotional experiences about God as I once did. It's a drought. But it's not permanent. A tree with strong roots by a riverbank knows that and just keeps standing, drawing on the strength and resources in its' roots until the drought is over.
I worry that prayers will go unanswered. I worry that this drought in my womb will never be healed. I wish I had an easy answer for that one. But I suppose there are years when trees don't bear fruit, or as much fruit. A tree with strong roots by a riverbank knows that and just keeps standing, knowing that the next year will be a bumper crop of blessings. My blessings may not be what I'm expecting, but God doesn't give us stones when we ask for bread. He will only give me good things, even if I'm not so sure at first.
I may not have roots in my neighborhood or even with old friends, but I can have roots in something far better. It's the difference between having roots in a puddle or in a riverbank. One will dry up and leave the roots with little to sustain the tree; the other will last into forever giving the tree plenty of nourishment. It's time to dig deep and let my roots sink into God's soil, soaking up the water He provides, and growing strong on His nourishment. It's time to be deeply rooted.
For I am like a tree whose roots reach the water,
whose branches are refreshed with the dew.
Job 29:19
Oh, the joys of those who do not
follow the advice of the wicked,
or stand around with sinners,
or join in with mockers.
But they delight in the law of the Lord,
meditating on it day and night. They are like trees planted along the riverbank,
bearing fruit each season.
Their leaves never wither,
and they prosper in all they do.
Psalm 1:1-3
I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
But blessed are those who trust in the Lord
and have made the Lord their hope and confidence. They are like trees planted along a riverbank,
with roots that reach deep into the water.
Such trees are not bothered by the heat ... or worried by long months of drought.
Their leaves stay green,
and they never stop producing fruit. Jeremiah 17:7-8
I've been trying to come up with a new name for our youth group, so I turned to my Bible for some inspiration. Technically, I turned to biblegateway.com but same difference. I was trying to recall verses and stories I had read in my Bible, and find the specific addresses in the Bible. This passage has been one of my favorites for a long time. I can't really remember when I first read it, but I remember how I felt. Refreshed.
Like slowly drinking a cool glass of water on a very hot day, this verse just gets inside of me. I can picture such a tree in my mind. Maybe a weeping willow with long wispy branches reaching down to touch the water which gives it life. Maybe an apple tree with branches reaching high into the sky, providing shade, producing fruit, giving life. The imagery is refreshing. The idea is refreshing.
Letting roots grow deep and strong. My generation is a rootless one. Our friends change, our interests change, our phones change. My grandparents have lived in the same house for over 60 years, my grandmother has only lived in that valley in her 90 years of life. They know everyone on the mountain and in the hollow. Things have changed. We have starter houses, we switch neighborhoods, switch schools, switch friends, switch careers. Roots can't grow where things are always changing.
I long to be rooted by a riverbank, always producing fruit, but more than anything I don't want to be bothered by the heat or worried about droughts. That phrase really captures my heart right now. I worry about drought all the time. Not a literal one, but emotional and spiritual droughts. I worry that I don't have the same emotional experiences about God as I once did. It's a drought. But it's not permanent. A tree with strong roots by a riverbank knows that and just keeps standing, drawing on the strength and resources in its' roots until the drought is over.
I worry that prayers will go unanswered. I worry that this drought in my womb will never be healed. I wish I had an easy answer for that one. But I suppose there are years when trees don't bear fruit, or as much fruit. A tree with strong roots by a riverbank knows that and just keeps standing, knowing that the next year will be a bumper crop of blessings. My blessings may not be what I'm expecting, but God doesn't give us stones when we ask for bread. He will only give me good things, even if I'm not so sure at first.
I may not have roots in my neighborhood or even with old friends, but I can have roots in something far better. It's the difference between having roots in a puddle or in a riverbank. One will dry up and leave the roots with little to sustain the tree; the other will last into forever giving the tree plenty of nourishment. It's time to dig deep and let my roots sink into God's soil, soaking up the water He provides, and growing strong on His nourishment. It's time to be deeply rooted.
For I am like a tree whose roots reach the water,
whose branches are refreshed with the dew.
Job 29:19
Oh, the joys of those who do not
follow the advice of the wicked,
or stand around with sinners,
or join in with mockers.
But they delight in the law of the Lord,
meditating on it day and night. They are like trees planted along the riverbank,
bearing fruit each season.
Their leaves never wither,
and they prosper in all they do.
Psalm 1:1-3
I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
