Not Just a Hallmark Holiday

Tears were stinging my eyes and the sheets of music on the stand in front of the keyboard were starting to blur. I felt that horrible lump in my throat, the one that means your emotions are getting the better of you. In a split second I decided to leave the service as quickly as possible--it was over anyway and I didn't want to have to explain my inexplicable teary eyes and lumpy throat to anyone. 

But my husband knew, and my best friend already knew, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out. It was Mother's Day. And I was a childless mother. A childless mother? What an oxymoron...but for those of us that have been there, you know exactly what I mean. And you know just how unbearable Mother's Day can be. And you feel like such a jerk for feeling sorry for yourself on a day when you should be thankful for your own mother and happy for all the mothers around you. But you just can't. At least I couldn't. 

At this point, it'd already been 2 years of trying to get pregnant and nothing but heartache. Tests and more tests, pills that didn't work, bloodwork that didn't give hope, ultrasounds that showed an empty womb. Data. Data that added up to one thing--I was not a mother on Mother's Day. 

But this proved to be a turning point. After 2 years and some months of pouring my heart out to God and lamenting my worst fears and trying to bolster up hope, I finally felt as if I had reached a decisive moment. God made it clear in the following days and weeks that it was time for me to share my story, my struggle with people. It started with our pastor and then his wife. I was anointed at the old altar in the church we were then attending. It was a private moment, didn't take very long, but it was profound and significant, and in my opinion, it made all the difference. 

I came home from that anointing and asked 10 people to pray, a mixture of old friends and new, a few family members on both my side and his. It was a cross-section of people who knew how to pray and always held out the highest hopes for us. 

And then I started writing. I wrote here and I shared it. And then people started sharing their stories with me. Stories of infertility, of miscarriages, of hopes and fears and prayers and triumphs. A community sprung up around me. After years of feeling alone and ashamed with my childless womb. 

Last year was my very first Mother's Day. My son was exactly a week old. He was recovering from jaundice and we thought he seemed more yellow than he should be so we took him to the hospital to be checked. The photoraphs aren't very good--he's a squishy little newborn and I was still all puffy and big from pregnancy...but they're precious all the same. My very first Mother's Day with my little miracle of faith. 

But this year...this day... is one of great significance to me. My second Mother's Day is one for the record books...or the blogosphere , as the case may be. For today Dayton was dedicated. Along with two other babies, the April and June babies, Adalaynn and Jaxon who bookend my miaracle, miracles themselves.

We stood on the stage before our congregation, our church family, our extra grandparents and aunts and uncles and role models, and we pledged to give Dayton back to God and to raise him in faith. He was conceived in faith, how else could be raise him? And our friends, some of which were the very same people that prayed for his conception, pledged to help us raise him to know God and live the faith. The same pastor that anointed me led us through the dedication. It all came full circle. 

Hannah, the mother of Samuel and one of the best mothers on record in all of history, has been my hero since this journey through infertility began. Hers is a story of intensely honest emotions and intensely profound faith. Shortly after I found out I was pregnant, I began to fear losing him during pregnancy. So it was at the same altar I knelt to be anointed that I gave my son back to God...before I even knew he was a boy...before I'd ever heard his heartbeat...before I'd ever held him in my arms...I gave him back to God. And today I did it publicly. That looks different for me in this century, in this culture, than it did for Hannah...but I'm familiar with her promise, her heart. 

So while some people disregard this as just a Hallmark holiday, a way for businesses to sell cards, flowers, and brunches, I will never see it as such. It's so much more and it'll never be about the gifts and cards. It's about my heart, my faith, and my miracle. My little noisy rambunctious precious miracle that I waited so long to conceive, meet, and give back to God. 

A bit antsy during the Dedication Ceremony

Standing up so big and tall!

Myself, Pastor Mike, Dayton, and Curtis after the Dedication Ceremony

Happy Mother's Day!!

Chasing Joy

Psalm 100

A psalm. For giving grateful praise.

Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth.

Worship the Lord with gladness;

    come before him with joyful songs.

Know that the Lord is God.

    It is he who made us, and we are his;

    we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.

Enter his gates with thanksgiving

    and his courts with praise;

    give thanks to him and praise his name.

For the Lord is good and his love endures forever;

    his faithfulness continues through all generations.

My son thinks our dog is hilarious. Dayton's first true giggle was at Bode jumping around the yard and barking. And this Indian summer when we would walk around and around the pond, just to escape the claustrophobia of our house, we would watch Bode chase butterflies. I'd never actually seen a dog chase butterflies before but leave it to our dog to do it. And then Dayton wasn't the only one giggling. It was hilarious. Our enthusiastic border collie would bound and leap after the butterflies leading him on an erratic chase around the pond. But eventually Bode would lose sight of the butterfly...or interest. Something else interesting would catch his attention or it just wasn't that much fun anymore to chase something so elusive as a butterfly.

I chase joy in the same way. Around and around in circles, bounding and leaping with no methodology to straighten my course, no plan to ensure success. And always, inevitably, I lose interest. Something more interesting and easier to catch steals my attention. Or I just give up all together. It's too hard, this joy thing. It's a nice idea but it's just not me. I wasn't made that way. Some people just can't be joyous...or joyful...whichever.

But that just isn't so. It can't be so. 

First, because the Bible says otherwise. And second, because if that's true then I'm doomed. I'm stuck in my Eeyore to Tigger to Eeyore cycle of my own nature. 

A drama queen since birth, I see the world through a dramatic lens. Gloom! Doom! Stress! Worry! Anxiety!!

EVERYBODY PANIC!!!

But I'm the only one squawking. My mother once said my brother is a duck, the rain waters just roll off his feathers, it doesn't rattle him. I, however, am a trumpeter swan...graceful and peaceful when the weather's just right, but when the rain starts to fall it's time to panic. A swan having a cow. A lovely sight.

And while Christmas is supposed to be all peace on Earth, good will to men, and joy to the world...I'm over here wringing my hands and biting my fingernails. I'm a Scrooge in Nephew Fred's clothing. I seem to embrace Christmas but underneath I'm really fretting and fussing and bah-humbugging about plans and people and people who get in the way of my plans. My plans, my plans, my precious plans. Like Scrooge and his gold, no one better interfere with my plans. Or else the squawking begins. This is not joy. This is not Christmas.

I could list you a thousand reasons excuses for this irritating behavior. I could get all Dr.Phil on you and explain from a psychological point of view why Christmas is now wrapped up with anxiety, why my tinsel is perpetually in a tangle. But there's no real point in it. Talking about what's wrong, doesn't do one blessed thing to move toward what is right. Or perhaps more importantly...righteous. 

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, 

by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, 

present your requests to God.

Philippians 4:6

So recently convicted of this ridiculous, self-centered behavior I've started chasing joy again.. But not in an erratic chase of circles where I'll eventually just get bored or tired or both and give up. This time I have a plan. And I have some tools.

1) I'm reading Ann Voskamp's book One Thousand Gifts. It's a book I've been avoiding for almost two years because I knew it would blast me from my comfort zone. And while I hate my comfort zone because it's stinks...I'm comfortable there. But I'm embracing the uncomfortable to move toward God and His joy.

2) I'm starting my own list of one thousand gifts. One thousand blessings from God, one thousand things I'm thankful for, one thousand things to celebrate. And the thing is...now that I've started counting, I see them everywhere. I would like to share this list on here because it may inspire somebody else, but I just can't commit to that. I don't have time to log into this blog as often as I'd like and I'm afraid that I will use that ask an excuse. Can't write in the blog, not worth writing down at all! (I know, because I did that before two years ago...)

3) Instead of asking God for things, even the right/rightoues things, I am choosing to only thank Him instead for the next two weeks. A friend of mine did this and she said it changed her life. I believe her. Because it's been a mere 24 hours and I already feel a change. I think this must be what detoxing feels like.

4) In a similar vein, when my instinct is to complain, grumble, nag, or otherwise squawk, I'm choosing to thank God for that very circumstance instead. This is hard but it is the very re-training and re-shaping that I need. It is taking every thought captive and making it submit. It is choosing to be thankful in all situations. Because the fact of the matter is, I am one of those people who will cry (ah-hem, flip my lid) over spilled milk. And that doesn't honor God, draw me nearer to God, or bringing me any closer to catching that butterfly.

5) Last, I have community and this means some accountability. I've always shied away from accountability because I like to hide. But I won't succeed and I'll never change unless I bare my soul and all my ugly and ask for some help. We are communal creatures, especially women, especially me. So here I am, ready to accept some love and help and prayers from my own community. And my community is pieced together through Facebook and emails and blogs and text and face-to-face friendships. This is community for a postmodern mom chasing joy.

And this time I'm not just chasing joy, but choosing joy. It goes hand in hand. When we choose joy, we catch it and then we give it away. I must choose to be thankful, to celebrate, to wear joy on my lips and harbor it in my heart. And then I will have caught it. It will be mine, no longer an elusive butterfly.

This blog started out being my journey towards a merry heart. And if you've followed me from the beginning, despite my long periods of silence, you know that I've wrestled with this. One minute I'm chasing the butterfly and the next I've seemingly given up and moved on with life. And I have no delusions of conquering this once and for all, I will always struggle. But this feels more like a real change. The real re-wiring of my heart that I have craved for so, so long. And what better time than Christmas?

I imagine that the shepherds, feeling a bit foolish, were chasing joy when they went from stable to stable in search of a babe in swaddling clothes. The wise men were chasing joy as they followed that mysterious star toward the child savior. Mary and Joseph must've been chasing joy as her belly grew swollen with the life of the King inside her. They couldn't have been the type to fuss and fret and squawk so they must've been chasing joy. Anna and Simeon caught their joy at the temple when Jesus came to be dedicated to God. Elizabeth and Zechaeriah caught their joy with the birth of their son, the prelude of the Messiah. These people didn't only chase joy but they chose it in their obedience. Joy is everywhere in the Christmas story, from the lips of Mary in her magnificat, to the returning of Zechariah's voice, to the alleulia of angels. Joy abounds at Christmas time.

And this Christmas, I am choosing joy.

And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, 

and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: 

and they were sore afraid.

And the angel said unto them, 

Fear not: for, behold, I bring you 

good tidings of great joy, 

which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day 

in the city of David a Saviour, 

which is Christ the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you; 

Ye shall find the babe 

wrapped in swaddling clothes, 

lying in a manger.

And suddenly there was with the angel 

a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,

Glory to God in the highest, 

and on earth peace, good will toward men.

Luke 2:9-13

Roaring Like a Lion

My favorite part in 'The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe' movie is midway through the battle. Peter and Edmund are entrenched in a hopeless battle against Jadis, the White Witch. She has more soldiers on her side, she has the power to turn their soldiers into stone, and she's fearless. But they (and their "men") refuse to surrender. Peter knows that he could lose, that he probably should lose in terms of what seems most likely to happen, but he's going to continue to fight 'for Narnia and for Aslan!'. And then...just as the scales really tip in Jadis' favor, the music changes, and the point of view sweeps up the mountain to the top of the ridge. There stands Lucy, Susan, Mr.Tumnus, and of course, Aslan who announces his arrival with a mighty roar. (This is the part when I get chills and tears come to my eyes). Hope comes flooding down the mountain infusing Peter with new strength, and Jadis is drained of hers as she whispers "impossible", for she herself had killed him the night before. It is impossible, for everyone except the Son of the Emperor Across the Sea. For Him, nothing is impossible.

With God all things are possible.

--Matthew 19:26

The Newsboys have recently released a song entitled 'God's Not Dead (Like a Lion)'. For obvious reasons this song and this scene in that movie are related to me. Aslan was dead but defeated death and is now roaring to the rescue of the ones he loves and died for. Lewis didn't come up with this lion metaphor on his own; the Bible calls Jesus the Lion of Judah,  Judah being one the names for the Israelite people. In his life Jesus hardly came across as a lion. He was meek and mild when people wanted him to overthrow the Roman government. He took and endured abuse and slander with staggering humility. Those who believed in Him knew that He could put an end to it and was choosing not to; those who did not believe in Him mocked and challenged Him to come off the cross or call down angels. This does not seem lionish--any of it. But within Him he had the strength of the Lion, the strength of God, in fact. And that's what turned back death, defeating the deep magic, as Lewis puts it in his timeless stories.

"Oh, you're real, you're real! Oh, Aslan!" 

cried Lucy and both girls flung themselves upon him and covered him with kisses.

"But what does it all mean?" asked Susan 

when they were somewhat calmer.

"It means," said Aslan, "that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of Time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards."

Unlike in the Narnia stories, Jesus didn't come roaring back into the middle of a battle. He came quietly into a garden where a young woman had come to tend for His broken, lifeless body. But inwardly, I imagine, there was a battle inside Mary. A battle of unsettling doubt and confusion, of heart-breaking loss and emptiness. Like the Pevencey children, Jesus had saved Mary, had loved her and cared for her as He did all his dear friends. And without Him, the pain must have been unbearable, very much like a hopeless uphill battle. Within the tenderness of his speech, maybe there was a roar...a roar against the darkness surrounding Mary and the other disciples. A roar against all doubt, fear, worry, and regret. A roar that allowed doubting Thomas to believe, that reinstated Peter, and that finally turned John from a 'son of thunder' to an apostle of Love. A roar that allowed me, in the 21st century, to make a turning point and conquer my own demons. Now that's a mighty roar. 

My God's not deadHe's surely aliveHe's living on the insideRoaring like a lion

--God's Not Dead (Like a Lion), The Newsboys

It Feels Like Christmas

A part of childhood we'll always remember

It is the summer of the soul in December

Yes, when you do your best for love it feels like Christmas

I realize Halloween is still 5 days away and that means Thanksgiving is a month away which means Christmas is two months away. That being said, I'm already in the Christmas spirit. It might've started when I first spied the Christmas fabric on display at Jo-Ann's. Or when I dragged Katie with me to buy some of said Christmas fabric at Jo-Ann's. This was in late August or early September. I can't remember exactly. I've been just itching for Christmas this year.

Which is unusual for me but not new. I used to love Christmas. I suppose all children do, despite the depressing existence of young boy Scrooge. What kid doesn't get ants in their pants for Santa Claus and presents and looking at Christmas lights? The coming of Christmas also meant the coming of my birthday. Born just two weeks before Christmas I would get birthday cake with a side of Christmas cookies. My mom was great at making birthdays special. She made Ace of Cakes style cakes before anyone had ever heard of Duff and his Baltimore bakery. We'd have a gaggle of little girls over for games and gifts and cake and cookies. And my excitement would only grow as Christmas drew ever nearer.

I remember decorating the Christmas tree and listening to Manheim Steamroller. One of our traditions was opening a new ornament the night we decorated the tree. Sometimes Mom hand-made our ornaments, other times they were store bought. She kept lists for both Adam and I so we'd know in the future who gave us particular ornaments and how old we were. It's those very same ornaments that hang on my Christmas tree now.

While we were away at school our house would change into a winter wonderland. A collection of Santa music boxes in display in the barristers, a Christmas village would appear complete with puffy angel hair snow, we'd each get our own little tree to decorate. Our collection of Christmas books would appear. My parents bought me a new The Night Before Christmas every year for my birthday; the one holiday birthday gift I'd tolerate. I now have those Santa music boxes and I pair them with my Night Before Christmas books. Memories re-gifted, in a way.

Some years I would get to arrange the nativity set. I couldn't understand why the donkey or sheep couldn't lay in the hay...in the loft. When the other, more sensible, people in my family tried to explain that a donkey or a sheep could not climb a ladder, I told them I didn't care. And the donkey, or the sheep, stayed in the loft, defying all reason.

There was magic in our holidays. Our basement functioned as a family room where we'd watch movies and play with toys. Every year, as a family, we'd watch White Christmas and when we'd come back upstairs to get ready for bed...it'd be snowing. My family, cute as we were, would sing together at Christmas eve services. The Virgin Mary Had a Baby Boy, Have a Super-Duper Christmas, and my favorite Do You Hear What I Hear? My mom was the night wind, I was the little lamb, my brother was the shepherd boy, and my dad, of course, was the mighty king. We were adorable.

We were always in the Christmas pageants. I was an angel one year, my brother was a prophet (Isaiah, I think). Church was a big part of our holidays. Services at our own church, at our grandparents' church, my great-uncle was a minister so some years we'd go to his church, too. There was always talk of Jesus and the manger, of Mary and Joseph, of shepherds and wise men. Jesus was never lost in the tinsel and twinkle lights. Somehow He was infused into everything. The music, the traditions, the memories.

We'd have our own little family Christmas--Dad, Mom, Adam, and me--and then a day or so before Christmas we'd pile in our mini-van and go over the river and threw the woods, and we'd be comin' round the mountain, to grandmother's house. Adam and I were the only grandchildren, and let's face it, Christmas is much more fun with little ones, so we were a teensy bit...indulged...at the holidays. Grammy, PapPap, my aunt and uncles filled the living room with gifts. Literally. Every year the tide of gifts would get nearer and nearer to the dining room, encroaching on all the furniture, threatening to overtake the Christmas tree.

Of course, all of this changed rather drastically as my growing up crashed with my parents' divorce. I remember feeling as if the spell had been broken, no matter how hard we tried to paste it all back together. Some years were good, others were not. I wouldn't say I lost my excitement entirely...I just had a feeling of loss lingering in the background. I think this was inevitable and I think we all had a similar feeling.

Eventually Christmas became about keeping the peace and pleasing other people. The magic was lost and Jesus was somehow missing from the equation. I couldn't seem to find Him in the gifts or the tree or the cookies. But I eventually started my own traditions. There are certain books I try to read every year, The Birth by Gene Edwards for one. I like to read the Christmas scriptures, especially on Christmas eve as midnight approaches. Charlie Brown Christmas has become a family favorite--I'm Sally and Adam is Charlie, we call each other every year when it's on--and when Linus recites Luke 2, I find Him. He's there. He always was. He was in the magic, and He was there when the magic was broken.

He's there this year when the magic is stirring again.

Our first year of marriage felt a bit like this year. Curtis and I decided early on to do Christmas just us. I baked so many kinds of cookies and was excited to do the shopping. I decorated my own house for the very first time. We fought about the Christmas tree (the first one we bought fell over but magically none of my precious ornaments broke). I made a huge Christmas feast. It was everything a first Christmas should be.

Then the next couple years we rushed here and there to try to squeeze it all in and work around other people's plans. The magic left again like pulling Santa's beard off.

I'm not sure when, from where, or why the Christmas magic comes. I think it's about the spirit of a person, their attitude. When all I could think about is what used to be or what couldn't be anymore...there's no chance for magic to stir. When Christmas became about agendas and rushing and people-pleasing, there's no chance for the magic to stir. When Christmas becomes about getting what you want and holding your ground, there's no chance for the magic to stir.

But when Christmas is about joy, regardless of where you are or if the Christmas tree falls over, there's a chance. When Christmas is about celebration, simplicity, and relationships, there's a chance. When Christmas is really about Jesus, when He's not stuffed into a stocking buried beneath the presents and the angel hair snow, there's a chance.

I have no issues with mixing the secular with the religious at Christmas. What's wrong with sprinkling some reindeer feed on your yard after reading the Christmas story? What's wrong with writing letters to Santa, after thanking God for all that He's given us? What's wrong with believing in Father Christmas, as long as we truly believe, save our souls believe, in Jesus Christ? I think there's supposed to be whimsy, fantasy, and the whisper of magic on every winter wind. It's only when tradition overtakes meaning, when cash registers drown out the angel chorus, when hurrying rushes the Christmas story into a one-hour Christmas eve service, that the magic of the season is really lost. It's only when we lose Jesus that we really lose Christmas.

It's in the singing of a street corner choir

It's going home and getting warm by the fire

It's true, wherever you find love it feels like Christmas.

A Secret Message Decoded

Whatever you're doing inside of me,

 it feels like chaos but somehow there's peace.

You're up to something bigger than me,

Larger than life, something heavenly. (Chorus)

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?

Empty Arms But A Full Heart

A note from my heart: I wrote this post over a week ago. It's honest, it's personal, it's sincere...all things I believe this blog needs to be in order to be worth writing and worth reading. And I felt that I needed to write this, not only for myself, but because there may be someone who needs to know they're not alone. I am so thankful for the brave women who write, women I will never meet this side of heaven, because their honesty lets me know that I am okay and I am not alone. I would be remiss to not pass it on and share my story so someone else can know that they are okay and they are not alone.

There was a certain man... whose name was Elkanah... He had two wives; one was called Hannah and the other Peninnah. Peninnah had children, but Hannah had none.
... Because the LORD had closed Hannah’s womb, her rival kept provoking her...till she wept and would not eat. Her husband Elkanah would say to her, “Hannah, why are you weeping? Why don’t you eat? Why are you downhearted? Don’t I mean more to you than ten sons?”
 Once when they had finished eating and drinking in Shiloh, Hannah stood up. Now Eli the priest was sitting on his chair by the doorpost of the LORD’s house. In her deep anguish Hannah prayed to the LORD, weeping bitterly. And she made a vow, saying, “LORD Almighty, if you will only look on your servant’s misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but give her a son, then I will give him to the LORD for all the days of his life, and no razor will ever be used on his head.”
As she kept on praying to the LORD, Eli observed her mouth. Hannah was praying in her heart, and her lips were moving but her voice was not heard. Eli thought she was drunk and said to her, “How long are you going to stay drunk? Put away your wine.”
 “Not so, my lord,” Hannah replied, “I am a woman who is deeply troubled. I have not been drinking wine or beer; I was pouring out my soul to the LORD. Do not take your servant for a wicked woman; I have been praying here out of my great anguish and grief.”
Eli answered, “Go in peace, and may the God of Israel grant you what you have asked of him.”
She said, “May your servant find favor in your eyes.” Then she went her way and ate something, and her face was no longer downcast.
Early the next morning they arose and worshiped before the LORD and then went back to their home at Ramah. Elkanah made love to his wife Hannah, and the LORD remembered her. So in the course of time Hannah became pregnant and gave birth to a son. She named him Samuel,saying, “Because I asked the LORD for him.” (1 Samuel 1: 1-20)

I love this story because, you see, I am Hannah. I've been tested, blood drawn, womb checked, one test left me crippled in pain and throwing up for hours. The tests have yielded some answers but no results. Month after month I force a smile and say to my dear husband, vacant! As if it is a room for rent. Which maybe it is. A temporary home for someone--someone who may never come to hang the 'occupied' sign on the door.

My husband is Elkanah. He loves me. He sees the pain, the agony in my face. He knows he can't fix it. He tries to say the right thing, never knowing for sure what the right thing is. The poor man never knows if this month I'll shrug it off and really be okay with it, or if I'm going to sit quietly in the bathroom and cry. Why do women always hide in the bathroom to cry?

I can only imagine how much deeper Hannah's grief was at having to share a husband and know that his other wife could do what she could not. How much more broken did she feel? Because that is exactly how I feel. All broken. What good is a vase that can't hold water? Like the Island of Misfit Toys--a caboose with square wheels. Broken. Useless. There is a reason the text uses words like 'anguish', 'deeply troubled', 'grief'.

These are the words we associate with mourning, with loss. Isn't that what Hannah is doing? Mourning her loss? Mourning the closed womb that cannot bear life? Mourning the reality that she may never feel the kick in her belly, the pain of contractions, behold the cry at birth? She has every reason to mourn. Every month is an egg unfertilized, an egg dying, an egg that might've been a child.

I wonder if women talked about it in those days. Kind women, not just 'her rival'. I wonder if Hannah had a mother, a sister, a friend who tried to comfort her. With good intentions they tell her that she still has time, they give her remedies and tell her what worked for another friend. They tell her to pray to God. They tell her to stay strong. Oh, isn't that what Hannah wants more than anything? The strength to bear the anguish of a barren womb. It's so hard to be strong sometimes.

We see what desperate women will do for a child in Sarai, before she became Abraham's princess and the mother of Israel. So desperate for a child to raise, she pushes another woman into her husband's bed. Never thinking of what her feelings afterward would be, she can only picture the perfect ten fingers and ten toes, the cooing and crying, diapers hanging on the line with her husband's cloaks. The things women do in despair.

Her granddaughter-in-law, Rachel, would follow suit. Trying to compete with her homely sister who bore their shared husband child after child, Rachel pushed her servant into Jacob's bed. She claimed her servant's child as a victory for her, and yet, still felt empty, broken, anguish. This is how we got the Twelve Tribes of Israel. Rivalry between sisters, one loved but infertile, one unloved but fertile, and two servant girls dragged into the baby drama. Rachel died birthing Benjamin as Joseph proved to not be enough for this desperate mother, and the poor child is saddled with the name 'son of my trouble' until daddy renamed him 'son of my right hand'.

The Bible doesn't tell us much about Elizabeth's infertility journey. We see more of Zecheriah's unbelief at what Gabriel is trying to tell him. There is doubt because perhaps they've finally come to terms with the vacant womb. Maybe they've found a way to laugh like I try to do. Maybe they've embraced other people's little ones, doing for other people's children what they would've done for their own. Maybe they've just finally come to grips with it all and then this angel appears and throws it all into chaos again. I can hardly blame Zecheriah's doubts anymore than I blame Sarai's laughter in Genesis. It's hard to keep believing when hope seems to dwindle away every month. Hard to believe even when God Himself is telling you to hang on.

“The Lord has done this for me,” she said. “In these days he has shown his favor and taken away my disgrace among the people.” --Luke 1:25

We want this verse to be outdated. We want to believe that in the 21st century with the women's lib movement and our enlightened minds that a woman is not disgraced when she can't have children. Let me tell you...that's not so. Every time someone looks at you and wonders just what you're waiting for when the reality is you've been trying for a long time. Every time someone asks you when you're going to have kids, and you hesitate before answering. Sometimes I smile and say, when the good Lord wills it. And sometimes I just smile and shrug, and hope that my eyes don't betray the pain.

I vacillate between peace and agony. Sometimes I can hold on tightly to God and His ways and find peace there. We've been trying for a little over two years, I know people who tried for over ten before getting pregnant. I think about adoption, I have a cousin who adopted a son. There are so many little ones already who need to have a family, to be loved. Sometimes I can even find peace in knowing that I may not be a mother, but I am already an aunt and a friend. There are plenty of small ones in my life that I can love on and teach them what I know. Other times I pour out my sadness. It aches, it's awful, it's heartbreaking to wonder if I'll ever have that joy that I've always, always expected.

But I don't want to become a woman desperate for a child. First, what kind of life is that for me? I am more than a womb, vacant or full. I am more than a would-be mother. I am a child of God, an intentionally designed creation, a much loved princess of the Most High King. Second, what kind of life will that make for a child, should I have one? If I've become desperate for a little one, I won't be able to let him go, to raise him as I should. My life will revolve around the little one, neglecting myself, my husband, my God. This isn't healthy for a child. Parents that give up their own lives, figuratively speaking, for their children are really doing them a disservice.

I love this story of Hannah. She is in agony, but not despair. Her husband is sensitive to her breaking heart and does what he can to alleviate her pain.  Eli comforts her but doesn't try to give her a bunch of answers. He simply prays over her, blesses her. And when Hannah receives this blessing she gets the elusive peace she's been seeking. She worships God, she eats food. She takes care of herself, and then, she gets pregnant. And she gives the child to God. This child who will become the anointer and advisor of kings.

I've written about Hannah before, but I didn't tell you why. I've wrestled with this for a long time. Wondering if I should be honest about my journey, if I could be. But I've been feeling God leading me from the darkness and into the light. There isn't shame in my journey as I am sometimes tricked into feeling. And God has been whispering into my heart that my husband and I don't need to shoulder this pain alone. Until now we've kept this 'news' in close family circles. In fact, many members of our families don't know. I don't want to be smothered by pitying looks and cliches. I just want to be loved and valued for what I already am. And, more than anything, I want people to come alongside in prayer. Praying that we will have wisdom to know what God wants, that we will hear His voice prompting us in this journey, that we will have strength to take the steps required. Praying for a miracle. And praying that if that miracle never comes that we'll see the blessing hidden in that.

(Sign)Posts on A Journey

Commit. My word for the year. Unlike words such as 'joy', 'patience', or even 'prayer', my word doesn't speak to one specific goal or attribute. And I think God designed it that way. He pressed the word on my heart, I know it's the one word in all the words I know that He wanted me to focus on and filter all my prayers through. Commit. But to what?

1. To being committed.
• Serve wholeheartedly, as if you were serving the Lord, not people. (Ephesians 6:7)
• I tend to be non-committal. Sometimes I just look for a way to flake out. I suppose that is the curse of modern society, but I am called to be above that. If I say I will do it, do it. Because whatever I do it's for the Lord. Even if it doesn't look or feel like it.
2. To believing with the purest most refined belief that anything is possible for she who believes.
• But you must really believe it will happen and have no doubt in your heart. I tell you, you can pray for anything, and if you believe that you’ve received it, it will be yours. (Mark 11:23-24)
• That Even I Could Receive a Miracle
3. To loving
• No one has ever seen God. But if we love each other, God lives in us, and his love is brought to full expression in us.(1 John 4:12)
• 'To love another person is to see the face of God'--LesMis
• Loving my husband the way God intended, loving my family the way God intended, loving my friends, my students, the youth, my neighbors, my enemies. Loving the way God intended. Not the same for each person or relationship, but the way that God designed.
4. To teaching
1. The teaching of your word gives light,so even the simple can understand.(Psalm 119:130)
2. Until I get there, focus on reading the Scriptures to the church, encouraging the believers, and teaching them. (1 Timothy 4:13)
3. But anyone who obeys God’s laws and teaches them will be called great in the Kingdom of Heaven. (Matthew 5:19)
4. Teach, encourage, give light. I must be committed to sharing what I know, what I have been taught or else it is hiding my light under a bushel. And that would be pointless.
5. To writing
• God has given each of you a gift from his great variety of spiritual gifts. Use them well to serve one another. (1 Peter 4:10)
• I write because it's what I was created to do. I know this now. I've stopped fighting it, or wanting to change it,  or believing that I have to be writing something important to be writing at all. I write because it blesses God.
6. To leading
• But Moses protested to God, “Who am I to appear before Pharaoh? Who am I to lead the people of Israel out of Egypt?”  God answered, “I will be with you." (Exodus 3:11-12)
• "Give me the wisdom and knowledge to lead them properly, for who could possibly govern this great people of yours?” (2 Chronicles 1:10)
• Although I've resisted and fought against it, God has given me some leadership qualities. There are areas where I need to be committed to forging ahead, perhaps forging a new path, and lead people. It's a terrifying thought, and really very humbling because like Moses and Solomon, I realize I can only do it with God.
7. To making the most of every opportunity to do good in these evil times.
• So be careful how you live. Don’t live like fools, but like those who are wise. Make the most of every opportunity in these evil days. Don’t act thoughtlessly, but understand what the Lord wants you to do. (Ephesians 5:15-17)
• Seize the day the way God intended. Use every opportunity to share the truth of the Good News. Don't wait to live the abundant life that Christ came to give.
8. To repenting of my negativity.
• We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.(2 Corinthians 10:5)
• Committed to breaking my chains of negative thoughts and words. I'm one of those people that despite the joy in my heart the words on lip are negative. Not always critical as much as laced with disappointment. I have great joy, I just struggle to express it and dwell on it. Negative thoughts can be so pushy...so taking them captive until they can behave!
9. To embracing gratitude
• Because you are my helper,I sing for joy in the shadow of your wings. (Psalm 63:7)
• I will shout for joy and sing your praises,for you have ransomed me. (Psalm 71:22-24)
• This is the day the Lord has made.We will rejoice and be glad in it. (Psalm 118:24)
• I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit. (Romans 15:13)
• Always be full of joy in the Lord. I say it again—rejoice! (Philippians 4:4)
• I've struggled with this in spite of my desire to notice and record my blessings from the Lord. I find that in the busyness of life I've been unable to stay committed to really celebrating what I've been given and embracing gratitude as a way of life.
10. To studying His word so that it might change me
• “Listen, O Israel! The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. And you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your strength. And you must commit yourselves wholeheartedly to these commands that I am giving you today.Repeat them again and again to your children. Talk about them when you are at home and when you are on the road, when you are going to bed and when you are getting up.Tie them to your hands and wear them on your forehead as reminders.Write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates. (Deuteronomy 6: 4-8)
• God's word is living and active. It has the power to change, even me as stubborn and thick-headed as I am. By studying, memorizing, pouring of His words over and over my life will change. He will speak to me, He will change me, and I will actually be able to commit to all these things.

Because by no means have I been able to do that. I probably never will be fully committed to each of these things at the same time. But that's why this is a journey and a prayer. It is the prayer of my heart to learn what it means to commit all I do to the Lord, and allow Him to tell me what I need to be committed to. I've linked up many of my previous posts because it is a testimony to this journey, this revelation on commitment. And I am certain there will be many more posts along the way. (Sign)Posts on a journey so I can look back and see how far I've come.

That Even I Could Receive A Miracle

"Have mercy on us and help us, if you can.”
“What do you mean, ‘If I can’?” Jesus asked. “Anything is possible if a person believes.”
The father instantly cried out, “I do believe, but help me overcome my unbelief!” (Mark 9:23-24)

This passage resonates deeply within me. Like a tuning fork being tapped I twinge and reverberate and long to have my strings tightened to be in tune with the Truth.

The man in this story is asking for a miracle healing. His son is possessed with a demon. He's desperate and in his despair he cries out to Jesus, 'Have mercy and help us, if you can.' It's that last bit which gets Jesus' attention. I can picture His eyebrow raising along with the pitch of His voice. 'If I can?' He repeats. Picture the celestial arms being bared as Jesus pushes up His sleeves. 'Anything is possible if a person believes', He informs not only the man but the surrounding crowd. And the man immediately exclaims, 'I do believe, but help me overcome my unbelief!"

I believe in you, Jesus, but there is still part of me that can't believe in the impossible. Too many disappointments stand in the way. I am this man. How many times have I approached Jesus not with the plea, 'if you are willing' but instead, 'if you can'? And how I desperately need Him to help me overcome that unbelief which paralyzes my faith and cripples my prayers.

“Lord,” he said, “if you are willing, you can heal me and make me clean.”
 Jesus reached out and touched him. “I am willing,” he said. “Be healed!” (Luke 5:12-13)

Over and over Jesus was approached by people asking for a miracle, knowing that if He was willing, He would do it. That He could do it. Over and over Jesus was moved by their faith and healed them. Because Jesus is compassionate, He could feel the ache and longing of these people. Often the cast outs of society, He was healing them not only of their physical ailments but their emotional and spiritual ones as well. He forgave their sins, healing their souls, and then He healed their bodies. But He wanted very much to give good blessings to these people He loved so tenderly. He was and still is willing.

“You parents—if your children ask for a loaf of bread, do you give them a stone instead? Or if they ask for a fish, do you give them a snake? Of course not! So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good gifts to those who ask him." (Matthew 7:9-11)

To those who ask Him. I wonder how many people stood on the edges of the crowd, wanting to approach the Rabbi, needing to be healed, but too timid to ask for His blessings. I'll just hang back here and watch, they thought, their needs are more important than mine, He's too busy for me. I won't bother Him. They watched and they wished, but they never dared to ask.

I know about this wishing. I wish for that which I long for, that which my heart aches for. I wish and I hope and I want it so badly...but sometimes I find that I haven't truly asked in the midst of all my wishing. I don't believe that Jesus honors our 'I wish' statements. I believe those would fall under the 'If you can' category. I wish you could do this, Jesus. That doesn't acknowledge His power or His desire to give good things. It's a statement riddled with unbelief. I wish. Not I believe.

Another pattern I find in the Gospels is that of Jesus inviting people to ask Him for their miracles. As they draw near, Jesus asks what it is they want Him to do. And I don't imagine that His tone is laced with weariness or exasperation. It's not as if He's bothered by having to perform yet another miracle or grant yet another request. Rather the Scriptures reveal that He feels sorry for people, compassion, tenderness. I get the feeling that His heart surged every time one of His lost people came near needing to ask for healing. And that's why He wanted them to feel that they could ask--because He knew how desperately they needed to.

When Jesus heard them, he stopped and called, “What do you want me to do for you?”
“Lord,” they said, “we want to see!”
Jesus felt sorry for them and touched their eyes. Instantly they could see! Then they followed him. (Matthew 20:32-34)


As the man came near, Jesus asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?” 
 “Lord,” he said, “I want to see!”
And Jesus said, “All right, receive your sight! Your faith has healed you.” (Luke 18:40-42)

Believe and ask. Two steps on our part. We must believe and then we must ask. Completely unlike asking for a miracle in order to believe. Instead, the believing must come first in order for the miracle to follow. He's not in the business of performing miracles so people will believe His claims. Rather, Jesus is in the business of rewarding those who already believe and have been saved with His blessings of goodness.

Help me to overcome my unbelief. Perhaps that is the first healing. Heal this unbelief which poisons me. Banish the doubts of your ready willingness to lavish good gifts. Silence the whispering that I am unworthy of receiving your blessings. Help me to believe that even I could receive a miracle. As messy and broken and going-in-circles as I am...that you would reach out in compassion and touch even me. Because the fact is, I need a miracle and only you can help me.

Moved with compassion, Jesus reached out and touched him. “I am willing,” he said. “Be healed!”