Nine years ago I met Katherine and we were instant friends. And much to our delight, our husbands became friends, too. We took our first and only couples vacation with Katherine and Geoff and over the years, we have shared in dinners and events too many to count.
Jason and I love Geoff and Katherine. Knowing them has made us better in all the ways that count. It’s no small thing to find friends that do that for you.
Over two years ago, Katherine and I became pregnant at the same time. We both had one miscarriage behind us (though not far from our minds) and I found out I was pregnant first.
I remember calling Katherine and telling her our news but I did it with a spirit of dread- I just could not get excited about news that I knew could make her sad. Katherine was so generous with her congratulations for me- this was not at all a surprise.
But just days later she called me and told me she was pregnant, too! Oh that made me so happy and I told her “Now I can be fully happy about my baby!”
For weeks we would check in on each other and talk each other through the symptoms (or lack of them) because there is an element of fear that takes root after you have had a miscarriage.
I felt so fortunate to be able to journey through that second pregnancy with such a dear friend and knowing that we were just days apart in our November due dates was just too perfect. It just was.
It really was.
But then we lost our baby. We saw a heartbeat one day and then three days later there was no sign of life.
Katherine had her first appointment the week after we had ours and I remember feeling physically ill- I could not bear to hear good news from her but I also could not bear to hear bad news.
But thanks be to GOD, she got good news at her visit and so began what would be a complicated dance for us both. It’s the dance of of anticipation and longing. of life to come and death that is. of joy and grief.
And in that season I made the choice to distance myself from Katherine because it was too hard to talk to her and know that she was where I had so desperately wanted to be. I am not saying it was the best decision- it was very selfish- but it was all I knew to do to be able to cope with my loss.
Well the time came for the baby to be born and the day "S" was born I cried something fierce. My tears were hot and never-ending and after crying most of the day, I willed myself to stop and I forced myself to think past my own loss and try to feel what Katherine must have been feeling: elation and joy over the birth of her daughter.
Her daughter. She had a daughter. My friend, who had wanted a baby for so long, finally had one to hold in her arms. And for a brief time I felt that with her. And I sent her a message of congratulations before my tears took over once again.
I did not know how I would respond the day her baby was born- nothing was ever written about what to expect the day a baby is born around the same time yours was supposed to be born but I would venture to say it was as sad as I had expected it to be.
Slowly I came around and visited "S" three months after she was born. It felt so good to hold her and look her in the eyes and breathe her in and talk to her and feel the grip of her hand on my finger.
She was finally here and meeting her was like a healing balm for my breaking heart. Funny how someone so small and so new can do that for you.
And so began mine and Katherine’s journey to re-connect. We had a good heart-to heart after that visit and I’ll just say that I am so grateful for Katherine’s generous spirit and her willingness to allow me back into her life even after I hurt her by stepping away from it for a time.
Since "S"’s birth, Katherine has seen me through three more miscarriages and she has always been faithful to pray me through the pain and grief. Always.
I remember when she shared with me that she was pregnant again and I will admit that I felt jealous, but I moved myself to a place of “rejoicing with those who rejoice” and from that day on I have been happy for my friend and excited to see her family grow.
It was about a month ago that Katherine phoned to ask me something I was not expecting. She told me that she and Geoff had decided on a name for their second daughter and then she asked how I felt about them giving her my name as her middle name.
When she shared why she wanted to do this I did the only thing I could: I cried. What a beautiful gift. What a remarkable way to honor the lives of our babies and the journey we have been on.
A name does not rust. or perish. Nor can it be torn. or thrown out. A name does not wither. or wilt.
A name lives on and on.
And so, just a few days ago, a sweet little girl was born into this world and she was given a name filled with meaning- here is part of what her parents wrote upon announcing her arrival (I am not sharing her full name or the full announcement to keep some privacy):
“A” is also named for our dear friend, Justine, whose journey to bring a baby into the world has been marked by pain and grief. In giving our daughter this name, we desire to remember the babies Justine and her husband Jason have conceived and lost, to recognize the sorrow that child-bearing in this life can bring, and to honor Justine and Jason’s steadfastness and faithfulness to the God who promises to make all things new.
Thank you, Katherine and Geoff, for thinking to honor our babies and our story in such a meaningful and lasting way.
And welcome to the world baby "A!" We are so excited to watch you grow in stature and in GOD's love for you.
June 27, 2012
June 18, 2012
When Nothing Satisfies You
Some have said that I am strong or brave when they reflect on what has been my journey in the last nearly three years. I assure you I am not either- if there is anything strong or brave in me, it’s from the LORD.
Because the reality is that I am scared of what the future holds. Lately I have been asking Jason if we will be okay if we never have children. That question comes from a place of being scared.
And while I am, for the most part, in a place of peace with the state of things, there are days like today where I buckle and I cry- over the loss of my babies and the dream I have of becoming a mother slipping away.
The reality that I carry with me every day is that I may never get to have a child of my own. That brings me to my knees. It’s a hurt and sorrow that I am intimately involved with and it’s one that I would gladly break up with if given the choice.
Nothing about my life and how it looks now is at all what I planned or dreamt of. Some of that is good: being married to Jason; living in the city I was born and raised in; working in ministry- these are good things that I had not planned for.
But some of it is sad and hard and uncomfortable and unwanted.
The truth of the matter is that I don’t want to be here in this place of life. I don’t want to be the person who can’t have a baby and gets to watch others around her do what her body won’t let her do. I hate it.
I have struggled greatly with jealousy and anger towards women who are pregnant and I have had to watch family and friends go on to experience the very one thing that continues to elude me. Four times now I have had a friend who is pregnant have a due date within days of my own and have had a front row seat to watching their bellies grow and their lives be changed by this amazing and mysterious gift that is a baby. How do you be happy for them when you are so sad for yourself?
I don’t know. After all this time and “practice,” I still do not know.
Walking this journey has put us in a place of having really insensitive things said to us and around us; of having to push through feelings of hurt because some family and friends choose not to enter into this journey with us. Even after all this time and all these losses, there are still some that have said nothing to us.
So what’s the point of what probably sounds like complaining and bemoaning?
The point is this: I am not satisfied with where I am and what has been my portion in life. I’m just not. I don’t want to be here.
If I take what life has given me in the last nearly three years at face value, then I would say it is a huge disappointment and is the most unfair thing I have ever experienced.
I am guilty of looking to things, and food, and appearances, and work, and people for satisfaction. I am guilty of it all.
Nothing this world has given to me has satisfied me. Nothing. It’s all crap. It all has torn, rusted, perished, spoiled, ended and left. All of it.
It was about two months ago that I began hearing the LORD say to me, “When nothing satisfies you, come to ME.”
When the pursuit of things loses it’s appeal and you are on to the next sale, come to ME.
When the taste of food leaves your tongue and you want more, come to ME.
When you look in the mirror and don’t like what you see, come to ME.
When an endeavor comes to an end and the excitement fades, come to ME.
When a person disappoints and you feel hurt or angry, come to ME.
Come to ME.
Surender your agenda, Justine.
Step away from what the world says is good and look to ME.
Stop striving, Justine.
Know that I work for the good of you.
Repent of your jealousy and your anger and your resentment.
Come to ME, Justine. And ME alone.
Rest in ME.
When nothing satisfies you, believe I am good and I love you. And I will satisfy you.
Oh LORD, that you would find me faithful in this journey; that I would not for one minute doubt YOUR goodness or YOUR sovereignty; that I would seek YOU and find YOU; that more than having a baby I would want YOU; that I would dwell with YOU in this valley and still dance even when my heart is breaking; that I would be thankful for the work YOU have done, will do, and are promising to do until my last breath; and that I would not wish this journey away but rather be a willing servant of her KING to proclaim that YOU alone are good and worthy and that YOU, o LORD, alone satisfy.
“Therefore, as you received CHRIST JESUS the LORD, so walk in HIM, rooted and built up in HIM and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving.” Colossians 2:6
Because the reality is that I am scared of what the future holds. Lately I have been asking Jason if we will be okay if we never have children. That question comes from a place of being scared.
And while I am, for the most part, in a place of peace with the state of things, there are days like today where I buckle and I cry- over the loss of my babies and the dream I have of becoming a mother slipping away.
The reality that I carry with me every day is that I may never get to have a child of my own. That brings me to my knees. It’s a hurt and sorrow that I am intimately involved with and it’s one that I would gladly break up with if given the choice.
Nothing about my life and how it looks now is at all what I planned or dreamt of. Some of that is good: being married to Jason; living in the city I was born and raised in; working in ministry- these are good things that I had not planned for.
But some of it is sad and hard and uncomfortable and unwanted.
The truth of the matter is that I don’t want to be here in this place of life. I don’t want to be the person who can’t have a baby and gets to watch others around her do what her body won’t let her do. I hate it.
I have struggled greatly with jealousy and anger towards women who are pregnant and I have had to watch family and friends go on to experience the very one thing that continues to elude me. Four times now I have had a friend who is pregnant have a due date within days of my own and have had a front row seat to watching their bellies grow and their lives be changed by this amazing and mysterious gift that is a baby. How do you be happy for them when you are so sad for yourself?
I don’t know. After all this time and “practice,” I still do not know.
Walking this journey has put us in a place of having really insensitive things said to us and around us; of having to push through feelings of hurt because some family and friends choose not to enter into this journey with us. Even after all this time and all these losses, there are still some that have said nothing to us.
So what’s the point of what probably sounds like complaining and bemoaning?
The point is this: I am not satisfied with where I am and what has been my portion in life. I’m just not. I don’t want to be here.
If I take what life has given me in the last nearly three years at face value, then I would say it is a huge disappointment and is the most unfair thing I have ever experienced.
I am guilty of looking to things, and food, and appearances, and work, and people for satisfaction. I am guilty of it all.
Nothing this world has given to me has satisfied me. Nothing. It’s all crap. It all has torn, rusted, perished, spoiled, ended and left. All of it.
It was about two months ago that I began hearing the LORD say to me, “When nothing satisfies you, come to ME.”
When the pursuit of things loses it’s appeal and you are on to the next sale, come to ME.
When the taste of food leaves your tongue and you want more, come to ME.
When you look in the mirror and don’t like what you see, come to ME.
When an endeavor comes to an end and the excitement fades, come to ME.
When a person disappoints and you feel hurt or angry, come to ME.
Come to ME.
Surender your agenda, Justine.
Step away from what the world says is good and look to ME.
Stop striving, Justine.
Know that I work for the good of you.
Repent of your jealousy and your anger and your resentment.
Come to ME, Justine. And ME alone.
Rest in ME.
When nothing satisfies you, believe I am good and I love you. And I will satisfy you.
Oh LORD, that you would find me faithful in this journey; that I would not for one minute doubt YOUR goodness or YOUR sovereignty; that I would seek YOU and find YOU; that more than having a baby I would want YOU; that I would dwell with YOU in this valley and still dance even when my heart is breaking; that I would be thankful for the work YOU have done, will do, and are promising to do until my last breath; and that I would not wish this journey away but rather be a willing servant of her KING to proclaim that YOU alone are good and worthy and that YOU, o LORD, alone satisfy.
“Therefore, as you received CHRIST JESUS the LORD, so walk in HIM, rooted and built up in HIM and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving.” Colossians 2:6
May 1, 2012
And I Am Not Through With Him Either
It’s important for me to say that my faith in GOD has not been deterred in this. That even though HE allowed us to lose six babies and we are still not promised the gift of becoming parents; and that I still have questions that have not been answered (they may never this side of heaven); and that I don’t always agree with or like how HE does things, who GOD is in my life and the place HE holds has not changed.
I still trust HIM and I still believe HE is good and loving.
After my fifth miscarriage, I took an extended time away from life: work, social commitments, and people. The point of that time was to allow myself to journey to the places I needed to go without distractions and the hope for that time was that I would begin to experience some measure of healing from all of the loss we had experienced.
What I remember most about preparing to enter that time of intentional isolation with GOD (and the other important men in my life, my husband and my counselor) was the thought that kept running through my mind: This could be the thing that makes me bitter. This level of loss and the feelings that come with it could be the very things that cause me to shake my fist at GOD and walk away from HIM.
I asked a few people to pray against that for me- to pray that bitterness would not take root in my heart and grow uncontrollably. That bitterness would not be the legacy I left behind.
That is still a prayer of mine.
Don’t get me wrong, I still have bouts of anger about all of this- I feel some now- towards GOD and people. But anger (and bitterness) will not be the undercurrent that carries me along.
I wish I could jump out of my skin and not go through this again. and not feel what I feel. and not be in this season of life. I wish I could have my longing to be a mom satisfied just as I had always hoped and thought it would be. But I cannot. I cannot choose any of these things.
The reality is that I must continue on this road with, for the time being, this unsatisfied desire, but I do have a choice I get to make: I can do it with GOD or without HIM.
And so I choose do it with GOD.
I choose HIM because the loss of earthly life has been extensive for me and my husband and HE is where eternal life abides. I choose HIM because the alternative is to choose bitterness. I choose HIM because HE promised to make something beautiful out of this.
See, HE is not through with me yet....and I am not through with HIM either.
I still trust HIM and I still believe HE is good and loving.
After my fifth miscarriage, I took an extended time away from life: work, social commitments, and people. The point of that time was to allow myself to journey to the places I needed to go without distractions and the hope for that time was that I would begin to experience some measure of healing from all of the loss we had experienced.
What I remember most about preparing to enter that time of intentional isolation with GOD (and the other important men in my life, my husband and my counselor) was the thought that kept running through my mind: This could be the thing that makes me bitter. This level of loss and the feelings that come with it could be the very things that cause me to shake my fist at GOD and walk away from HIM.
I asked a few people to pray against that for me- to pray that bitterness would not take root in my heart and grow uncontrollably. That bitterness would not be the legacy I left behind.
That is still a prayer of mine.
Don’t get me wrong, I still have bouts of anger about all of this- I feel some now- towards GOD and people. But anger (and bitterness) will not be the undercurrent that carries me along.
I wish I could jump out of my skin and not go through this again. and not feel what I feel. and not be in this season of life. I wish I could have my longing to be a mom satisfied just as I had always hoped and thought it would be. But I cannot. I cannot choose any of these things.
The reality is that I must continue on this road with, for the time being, this unsatisfied desire, but I do have a choice I get to make: I can do it with GOD or without HIM.
And so I choose do it with GOD.
I choose HIM because the loss of earthly life has been extensive for me and my husband and HE is where eternal life abides. I choose HIM because the alternative is to choose bitterness. I choose HIM because HE promised to make something beautiful out of this.
See, HE is not through with me yet....and I am not through with HIM either.
April 30, 2012
He Is Not Through With Me Yet
This is not where I want to be. And this is not where I thought I would be.
I really believed that GOD was going to redeem the last almost three years and give us this baby to hold in our arms. In my mind, HE used this last year- the year I learned to dance in the valley- to prepare my heart for the gift HE was going to give us in November. This baby. This baby whose life ended soon after it started.
I thought it was a perfect ending to a long road of suffering and loss- me holding this baby for all to behold and then saying: See? See how good GOD is. See how much HE loves us. HE gave us this baby after taking away all the others.
What a beautiful ending that would have been.
But that’s not the ending we were given. And even now, I can see that HE used this last year and the intimate journey we were on to prepare me for this ending. The one where HE gave and then quickly took away.
On Thursday, April 19, I did not know the fate of my baby, but I knew that GOD is good; that HE loves me and my husband; and that HE is working all things together for our good.
On Friday, April 20, we heard the words “There is no heartbeat” and we rode home in the back of a cab and while the rain hit the window I was looking outside of, I imagined that all the world was weeping with me over the loss of our baby and over the uncertainty of our future ever getting to be parents.
I left that appointment with more questions than answers, but I also left knowing that GOD is still good; that HE still loves me and my husband; and that HE is still working all things together for our good.
Even still HE is who HE says HE is and HE does what HE says HE will. My circumstances have changed. But HE has not.
Oh, what sweet comfort this is. When at times it feels my heart will burst from the swelling pain, I say this truth over and over. While it does not take away the pain of the loss or the sting of the state of things, it does soothe and it does still me.
And so now, with tears in my eyes and a pain in my heart, I say to you: See? See how good HE is. HE ushered me through a valley and taught me to dance in it. See how much HE loves me. HE restored a broken spirit and body so that both could once again endure the journey HE has me on. So that even in my grief I can testify to who GOD is and that my pain would not deter people from GOD, but rather would point them to HIM.
HE is not through with me yet.
"There was a choice. To make sorrow my friend or my enemy. To walk with it and let it teach me, or scorn it and become bitter." Taste of Tears, Touch of God by Ann Kiemel Anderson
I really believed that GOD was going to redeem the last almost three years and give us this baby to hold in our arms. In my mind, HE used this last year- the year I learned to dance in the valley- to prepare my heart for the gift HE was going to give us in November. This baby. This baby whose life ended soon after it started.
I thought it was a perfect ending to a long road of suffering and loss- me holding this baby for all to behold and then saying: See? See how good GOD is. See how much HE loves us. HE gave us this baby after taking away all the others.
What a beautiful ending that would have been.
But that’s not the ending we were given. And even now, I can see that HE used this last year and the intimate journey we were on to prepare me for this ending. The one where HE gave and then quickly took away.
On Thursday, April 19, I did not know the fate of my baby, but I knew that GOD is good; that HE loves me and my husband; and that HE is working all things together for our good.
On Friday, April 20, we heard the words “There is no heartbeat” and we rode home in the back of a cab and while the rain hit the window I was looking outside of, I imagined that all the world was weeping with me over the loss of our baby and over the uncertainty of our future ever getting to be parents.
I left that appointment with more questions than answers, but I also left knowing that GOD is still good; that HE still loves me and my husband; and that HE is still working all things together for our good.
Even still HE is who HE says HE is and HE does what HE says HE will. My circumstances have changed. But HE has not.
Oh, what sweet comfort this is. When at times it feels my heart will burst from the swelling pain, I say this truth over and over. While it does not take away the pain of the loss or the sting of the state of things, it does soothe and it does still me.
And so now, with tears in my eyes and a pain in my heart, I say to you: See? See how good HE is. HE ushered me through a valley and taught me to dance in it. See how much HE loves me. HE restored a broken spirit and body so that both could once again endure the journey HE has me on. So that even in my grief I can testify to who GOD is and that my pain would not deter people from GOD, but rather would point them to HIM.
HE is not through with me yet.
"There was a choice. To make sorrow my friend or my enemy. To walk with it and let it teach me, or scorn it and become bitter." Taste of Tears, Touch of God by Ann Kiemel Anderson
April 21, 2012
These Dark Hours
I awoke early this morning and the reality of what happened just hours before greeted me with a pain in my chest and tears in my eyes. It’s not a dream. It’s nothing that can be taken back or undone.
Today is the second day of these dark hours.
Yesterday we found out that we have lost another baby. This is our sixth baby, the one we had the greatest hopes for. All the circumstances appeared to be in our favor: we gave my body a year of rest; we were treating a blood disorder I just found out I had this winter; I was feeling nauseous and so, so tired; and I had made it past the 8 week mark- the furthest my body has ever allowed me to carry a baby.
So when we went to see the midwife at 9 weeks, 2 days pregnant, there was a level of anticipation in the room that this could be a good visit. And there it was- death on the screen. again. No heartbeat. No sign of life. It appears that this baby stopped developing at 5 weeks but my body did not get the memo.
When we got home it felt so empty, so lifeless, so void of the excitement that once was there just hours before; it still feels that way. I walked through the house and thought, I want to be anywhere but here. I still feel that way, but then again, where else would I go or what else would I do?
This house has been the setting for many a dark hour, and so it will be again as we wait for this baby to pass physically from my body. Though it is painful, it can be a welcome distraction from the sorrow that surround us.
I know it's early in the process, but this feels like the end of the road for us- there is a feeling of finality that is the undercurrent that is moving us along. Maybe that is why the grief of this feels so much stronger than it has before. It feels like the hope of having a baby of our own has floated away and that just adds to the sadness of all of this.
An Invitation to Mourn
There is need to remind me that GOD is in the midst of this- I know that. Or that you are praying for us- to be honest, it’s of little comfort now. But if you want to sit in this with us- if you want to be a part of our dark hours, then please do.
There will be no funeral or memorial service, and while it might be awkward for you or for us, if you feel led to mourn with us, then come over and we will sit and mourn this together.
Today is the second day of these dark hours.
Yesterday we found out that we have lost another baby. This is our sixth baby, the one we had the greatest hopes for. All the circumstances appeared to be in our favor: we gave my body a year of rest; we were treating a blood disorder I just found out I had this winter; I was feeling nauseous and so, so tired; and I had made it past the 8 week mark- the furthest my body has ever allowed me to carry a baby.
So when we went to see the midwife at 9 weeks, 2 days pregnant, there was a level of anticipation in the room that this could be a good visit. And there it was- death on the screen. again. No heartbeat. No sign of life. It appears that this baby stopped developing at 5 weeks but my body did not get the memo.
When we got home it felt so empty, so lifeless, so void of the excitement that once was there just hours before; it still feels that way. I walked through the house and thought, I want to be anywhere but here. I still feel that way, but then again, where else would I go or what else would I do?
This house has been the setting for many a dark hour, and so it will be again as we wait for this baby to pass physically from my body. Though it is painful, it can be a welcome distraction from the sorrow that surround us.
I know it's early in the process, but this feels like the end of the road for us- there is a feeling of finality that is the undercurrent that is moving us along. Maybe that is why the grief of this feels so much stronger than it has before. It feels like the hope of having a baby of our own has floated away and that just adds to the sadness of all of this.
An Invitation to Mourn
There is need to remind me that GOD is in the midst of this- I know that. Or that you are praying for us- to be honest, it’s of little comfort now. But if you want to sit in this with us- if you want to be a part of our dark hours, then please do.
There will be no funeral or memorial service, and while it might be awkward for you or for us, if you feel led to mourn with us, then come over and we will sit and mourn this together.
December 31, 2011
I Danced in the Valley
I used to think of valleys as being so barren and dry. I can recall driving through Death Valley once and feeling this unquenchable need to get out of there- everything about it was unwelcoming and undesirable. This is where you came to die, I thought.
We went there to “find the sun” after a series of gloomy days in California and find it we did. There was no escaping that sun- everywhere we went there it was. Every bend in the road we took and every corner we rounded it followed us.
Actually, it swallowed us alive.
This was the year of the valley for me. I spent this past year walking in the valley of the shadow of death. grief. loss. despair. brokenness. sorrow. and longing.
And I would not have it any other way. Really.
This is where I found the SON. HE was with me here. HE caused me to lie down in green pastures and led me beside still waters in the valley.
In the valley I was not rushed in my grief. I walked this journey at my own pace and was ushered into deep soul rest with my SAVIOR. I was washed over by waters of PEACE and COMFORT. I danced in the valley because HE made my feet light.
I have been restored in the valley. This is where my story and my sorrow were redeemed. This is where I dwelled with my LORD and HE was an all-consuming presence. an ever-present COMFORTER. a gentle HEALER. and a faithful COUNSELOR.
And now I have come to think of valleys much differently. I see them as places with lush vegetation and rich with soil perfect for growing. There are streams to rest by and hills to lie on. Valleys offer sweet rest for the soul and shelter for a broken body and heart.
I used to be so afraid of the valleys but that has all changed. Instead, I am grateful for the valleys of life. 2010 and 2011 were not good years in the worldly sense but when I see them through the lens of GOD’s promises and HIS word, I can see the bounty of beautiful things HE has done through and for me.
As I journeyed in my valley, I was given the great gift of HOPE. Not hope for a baby. or health. or any other thing. But hope in CHRIST. HE is my hope. And that is not something I can lose nor can it be taken away from me. It’s there in HIS word. It’s my HOPE to cling to and rest in.
I can’t begin to tell how good it feels to rest in HIS hope. in the promise of HIM. in the splendor of HIS GOODNESS and GLORY.
We wait in expectant anticipation of how HE will fulfill our desire to be parents to a child we can hold in our arms. HE will satisfy our desire- we just don’t know how. And we know that if it’s not HIS will that we have a child of our own or through some other means, HE will put a new desire in our hearts.
HIS word never returns void. HIS promises never expire. HIS peace is perfect. HIS hope is real and eternal.
This is the GOD I serve. This is the LORD I follow. This is the FATHER who loves me. This is the ONE who met me in my valley and ushered me into HIS presence and made my feet light.
HE gave me beauty for ashes. HE put a new song in my heart. And HE blessed me with good things along the way.
And so while I welcome the new year, I will always look upon this past year as the year that I learned to dance in the valley.
I danced for HIM. And because of HIM.
"Then shall the young women rejoice in the dance, and the young men and the old shall be merry. I will turn their mourning into joy; I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow."
Jeremiah 31:13
We went there to “find the sun” after a series of gloomy days in California and find it we did. There was no escaping that sun- everywhere we went there it was. Every bend in the road we took and every corner we rounded it followed us.
Actually, it swallowed us alive.
This was the year of the valley for me. I spent this past year walking in the valley of the shadow of death. grief. loss. despair. brokenness. sorrow. and longing.
And I would not have it any other way. Really.
This is where I found the SON. HE was with me here. HE caused me to lie down in green pastures and led me beside still waters in the valley.
In the valley I was not rushed in my grief. I walked this journey at my own pace and was ushered into deep soul rest with my SAVIOR. I was washed over by waters of PEACE and COMFORT. I danced in the valley because HE made my feet light.
I have been restored in the valley. This is where my story and my sorrow were redeemed. This is where I dwelled with my LORD and HE was an all-consuming presence. an ever-present COMFORTER. a gentle HEALER. and a faithful COUNSELOR.
And now I have come to think of valleys much differently. I see them as places with lush vegetation and rich with soil perfect for growing. There are streams to rest by and hills to lie on. Valleys offer sweet rest for the soul and shelter for a broken body and heart.
I used to be so afraid of the valleys but that has all changed. Instead, I am grateful for the valleys of life. 2010 and 2011 were not good years in the worldly sense but when I see them through the lens of GOD’s promises and HIS word, I can see the bounty of beautiful things HE has done through and for me.
As I journeyed in my valley, I was given the great gift of HOPE. Not hope for a baby. or health. or any other thing. But hope in CHRIST. HE is my hope. And that is not something I can lose nor can it be taken away from me. It’s there in HIS word. It’s my HOPE to cling to and rest in.
I can’t begin to tell how good it feels to rest in HIS hope. in the promise of HIM. in the splendor of HIS GOODNESS and GLORY.
We wait in expectant anticipation of how HE will fulfill our desire to be parents to a child we can hold in our arms. HE will satisfy our desire- we just don’t know how. And we know that if it’s not HIS will that we have a child of our own or through some other means, HE will put a new desire in our hearts.
HIS word never returns void. HIS promises never expire. HIS peace is perfect. HIS hope is real and eternal.
This is the GOD I serve. This is the LORD I follow. This is the FATHER who loves me. This is the ONE who met me in my valley and ushered me into HIS presence and made my feet light.
HE gave me beauty for ashes. HE put a new song in my heart. And HE blessed me with good things along the way.
And so while I welcome the new year, I will always look upon this past year as the year that I learned to dance in the valley.
I danced for HIM. And because of HIM.
"Then shall the young women rejoice in the dance, and the young men and the old shall be merry. I will turn their mourning into joy; I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow."
Jeremiah 31:13
September 8, 2011
This is for the one I love.
Today my heart is filled to over-flowing because of you. You didn’t do anything special this morning before you ran out the door trying to catch your express bus. We said a quick good-bye and I won’t see you until tonight after your class.
But you are always with me. You are always on my mind.
I picked up your t-shirt that you left in the bathroom on the floor and thought about you smiling in it. I love it when you smile....especially when it’s at me.
I decided to do some clean up in the kitchen and washed the pot you used to make soup yesterday and I felt warm thinking about you eating something nourishing that I made for you. I love taking care of you by providing wholesome things for you to eat. And I love that you will eat anything I make for you (except for that one dish!)- you just go with the flow when I am on my weird kicks.
I went into the den to catch the news and saw that your desk was clean and I know you did that for me so that I will work at it because you don’t want me to be a “hunchie” when I am 80. I love that you do that for me and take care of me in such practical and tangible ways. (By the way, I am writing this from our dining room table- I rarely, if ever, sit at the desk!).
This morning, I am remembering when our place was just a place but after nearly seven years it’s become a home. Our home.
It’s filled with countless memories. Dancing in the kitchen with only the music in our heads to move us. Reading to you while you iron your shirts for the week in the living room. Talking about our days in the den- you with your glass of wine and me with my sparkling water. Sharing the sink in the bathroom when we are both in a rush and me mumbling that we need a second bathroom and you saying that you always want to be close to me so we can only have one!
Of course, there are the sad memories of losing our babies here. I remember how you always kept watch over me, rearranging your complicated work schedule so you could be home with me. Have I told you just how much that meant to me?
It was around this time of year 15 years ago that we met on campus and my life has never been the same. And for that I am so very grateful because this love- your love, our love- well, this love has been so healing. And so freeing. And it’s been fun!
You're not perfect and neither am I, but we are perfect for each other. There are not enough "thank you's" I can offer up to GOD for giving you to me.
You, my love, are the sweetest thing I know. I love all of you.
But you are always with me. You are always on my mind.
I picked up your t-shirt that you left in the bathroom on the floor and thought about you smiling in it. I love it when you smile....especially when it’s at me.
I decided to do some clean up in the kitchen and washed the pot you used to make soup yesterday and I felt warm thinking about you eating something nourishing that I made for you. I love taking care of you by providing wholesome things for you to eat. And I love that you will eat anything I make for you (except for that one dish!)- you just go with the flow when I am on my weird kicks.
I went into the den to catch the news and saw that your desk was clean and I know you did that for me so that I will work at it because you don’t want me to be a “hunchie” when I am 80. I love that you do that for me and take care of me in such practical and tangible ways. (By the way, I am writing this from our dining room table- I rarely, if ever, sit at the desk!).
This morning, I am remembering when our place was just a place but after nearly seven years it’s become a home. Our home.
It’s filled with countless memories. Dancing in the kitchen with only the music in our heads to move us. Reading to you while you iron your shirts for the week in the living room. Talking about our days in the den- you with your glass of wine and me with my sparkling water. Sharing the sink in the bathroom when we are both in a rush and me mumbling that we need a second bathroom and you saying that you always want to be close to me so we can only have one!
Of course, there are the sad memories of losing our babies here. I remember how you always kept watch over me, rearranging your complicated work schedule so you could be home with me. Have I told you just how much that meant to me?
It was around this time of year 15 years ago that we met on campus and my life has never been the same. And for that I am so very grateful because this love- your love, our love- well, this love has been so healing. And so freeing. And it’s been fun!
You're not perfect and neither am I, but we are perfect for each other. There are not enough "thank you's" I can offer up to GOD for giving you to me.
You, my love, are the sweetest thing I know. I love all of you.
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