She told me she had been praying for us.
We've had a lot of people reminding us of their fervent and constant prayers these days, and we are grateful for those reminders.
The last year and a half has been the most difficult of our lives. We lost a child, then three months later another. In the same week I was diagnosed with Celiac, and though it has been an incredible and life saving discovery it was drastically life changing. Last September I woke up to find I could not move; it took eight weeks to figure out my endocrine system was on the brink of complete destruction. We have worked diligently to change our lives and revive my health. Thankfully God placed the perfect people and resources in our path to help us on this journey.
One month ago tomorrow, filled with terror and brimming with hope, we learned another child was on the way. As the weeks went on and my health was better than hoped or expected we slowly began to dream.
Our third child was received into the presence of God last monday.
Miscarriage is an odd yet raw and real pain. It's the loss of possibilities and dreams. For us each experience has been different. This past week can be described as shockingly sober. Though you know it's possible, you never think it's going to happen again and again. Sobering in the realization that it is possible we will never be able to personally bring created life into this world. You simply never think that's going to happen. Not to you.
The woman I met tonight asked me how I was doing, to which I honestly responded, "I'm good." Confused, doubting and sure I was just trying to be polite she said, "really?" "How in the world can you say that?"
I can say that because God has radically changed me.
This is not the road I would have chosen. These are not experiences I would wish on anyone. Yet, through the events of the last 18 months I have learned more about who I am and who God is than ever before.
At the top of my blog is the statement "love deeply, live lightly." These trials have shown me how to live lightly. There is gracious, powerful freedom in holding lightly, in keeping your palms unclenched, your mind open and your heart willing. Heretic or not (depending on what you believe about God), I believe God was just as shocked on Monday as me and Ray. I don't believe our struggles are brought on, created or ordained by God. But I do, with all my being, believe in the truth that God will never abandon us, and that God has the ability to make beautiful things out of the dust (to steal a line from gungor).
Sweet freedom can be found in coming to the life-orienting realization that nothing is ours.
Nothing.
Not even our own bodies.
They are gifts. They are tools. They are sometimes flawed and will always waste away. So, why spend precious energy, focus, frustration and time trying to hold with a tight and controlling grip to things, places, people and dreams that are not our own? There is freedom in walking alongside God fully surrendered to the understanding and truth that nothing is our own.
I did not truly believe in this freedom until now.
Sure, (if you're anything like me) there is a fair amount of terror and paralyzing fear you must surrender to and walk through in order to get to this freedom. I mean come on, we're American Christains . . . masters of "being in control," right? Wrong.
Our precious friends and family have been an incredible community to us. Some are ready to wage war with God. Many keep saying "it's not fair." Most are simply willing to sit and be.
Yet, as I prepare to sleep and again wake to an unexpected reality this is what I've realized . . .
I am entitled to nothing and nothing I own is truly mine. Walking in freedom, though it is freedom I must surrender to, makes me more alive and more of who God created me to be than walking in fear with fists clinched tight.
Finally and above all, I have realized how deeply the truth of God penetrates and propels my life.
And the truth is that God is good.
God has been good.
God will be good.
God is still good.
No matter what comes. No matter what goes.
God is good.
