Piece by piece

I can't believe it has been 6 months since Levi was born and almost a year since I found out I was pregnant.  It feels like that was another lifetime... and maybe it was.  When I see myself now, I feel hardly recognizable, but not because I see the grief stricken mother wondering how to keep living in a world her children won't get to see (although I do still see images of that mother at times).  But, I see a woman who has been rebuilt after brokenness into something that is strong, but flexible, tender, but fierce, and most of all full of hope with hands open to receive whatever may come - joy and heartache.  It is hard to put into the words the shift that has occurred inside my heart as I have wrestled with the Lord and with myself over why I have to belong inside this story I never wanted.  But I have learned some valuable lessons along the way that I want to memorialize so I won't forget what God has done.

1) There is no healing in pretending, there are no short cuts to grief.  It doesn't unfold like a neat 5 point pathway that you naturally progress down and then you reach the end and it is finished.  It is like a violent and unpredictable ocean that you can fight against or learn to lean into so that you can find the surface again.  God doesn't take the pain away just because we ask him to.  I didn't experience perfect peace just because I wanted it.  It wasn't until I allowed myself to feel each moment authentically and process those feelings and thoughts taking them to the feet of Jesus and just telling Him whatever my truth was in that moment, that I began to feel the weight of grief lessen.  When I experienced those moments with Jesus, I discovered that He had feelings too and was not simply observing my pain from a distance, but actively experiencing it with me.  I so desperately needed to know that my Father hurts too and suffers alongside us.  Pretending the pain away by quoting scripture at it or chasing after the multitude of platitudes that inevitably follow a disaster didn't do anything to heal the deepest brokenness of my soul.  Showing up in your pain matters, being authentic about your struggle matters and it was only when I decided to keep showing up and telling the truth of my heart that I began to experience hope again.

2) We can do hard things, but we don't have to do them alone.  It is easier to hide our pain, to distract ourselves from experiencing it's weight, to smile because we think we're supposed to.  It is uncomfortable to see someone in pain.  Our human instinct is to heal it, to fix it, to make the pain stop.  But, what if the only way to heal is to hurt deeply?  I've learned in this journey that not everyone can walk next to you - and that's okay, you don't need an army.  But you need a few trusted soldiers - who will go to war with you and will sit in the darkness with you for as long as it takes.  By being open about my journey I have had the privilege to show up for others, to walk into their darkness, and to hold the hands of hurting women in need of hope.  I am so grateful for that.  God often brings deep healing in community, and I'm thankful for those who continued to show up, to listen, and to trust God's work in my life.  What hurting people need most is for others to not be afraid of their pain or try to fix it, but to be embraced in the midst of it and to experience the validation of others who will hurt with you. 

3) Fear only feels like the truth.  To have some of my worst fears realized more than once made those fears feel much more real than the Truth of God.  Fear is a normal human instinct, one that has enabled survival and can be adaptive for us to respond to.  Fear is real and its visceral expression only solidifies the feeling that it is the truth.  To deny it or try to stifle it seems a little delusional, because it tends to show up even when we don't acknowledge it - nightmares, anxiety, feeling out of control - all of these physical experiences are rooted in fear.  For me, the only way to overcome the feelings of fear that I experienced when I thought about the future was to chose to trust God's heart.  This was actually the most difficult part of my healing.  I wrestled intensely with what it means to trust a Father who doesn't promise to prevent this and then doesn't rush in to fix it.  I can't even pinpoint exactly what shifted for me, except that I quit trying so hard.  I prayed and wrestled and begged God to repair the broken trust I felt between us, but He didn't - at least not right away.  He gently reminded me that it is His job to repair the brokenness and to quit trying so hard - and I did.  I continued moving forward in this journey, but chose to operate on an underlying belief that God is exactly who He says He is.  I began to experience this hope that was coming alive in my heart that God was building something much more beautiful than the tiny dream I was holding onto for myself.

4) Brokenness is beautiful.  When I finally quit clinging to the life that I felt was robbed from me, the dreams that seemed to shatter the moment I reached for them and started living in my present life - I realized that it was so beautiful.  As I began to lean into this life, appreciating the moments with my children and experiencing joy again with the recognition that it was truly joyful - I realized that this is an abundant life and that I was living this life because of my brokenness.  Without the darkness, the pain, the terrible suffering, you can't experience the power of hope.  Who hopes for what he already has?  Suffering has a way of bringing life into focus and it allowed me to feel joyful, and alive because I could recognize it and because I have a hope that is not rooted in the things the world says will bring happiness.  Opening my hands and trusting God doesn't mean that He is going to grant my wishes or that I will be spared from more pain.  But it means that until I can let go of my fear and hurt I can't be open to receive whatever good things He has for me - even when it doesn't look good.  I am so grateful that God has taken me off the nice, neat, normal path where I don't experience my need for Him and I got everything I ever wanted - I would be an entirely different woman.  This story, the one I never would have written myself, it has led me to my Great Inheritance, the one that cannot be destroyed and where hope is anchored so deeply that it can always be found.

I didn't think this place existed, I had no clue how to get here and I certainly couldn't imagine living in a place that felt full, joyful, and abundant.  God's grace is deep and his promises are true, we can give God the glory and it can still hurt.  But when I look back, I don't see the tragedy that I expected, in fact, it looks pretty damn beautiful.  He has brought so much restoration, piece by piece transforming me into something whole again.  Thanks be to God - I know He's still working.

Something out of me

This song came on the other day and captured where my heart is at this moment.  These are the lyrics:

"Something Out Of Me" by: Nichole Nordeman

Just You and me on a hillside 
And 4,999 
If You could see on the inside 
What I brought, what I need, how I’m caught in between

You lifted bread to the blue sky 
They said they watched it just multiply 
But in the back of a long line 
Oh, I want to believe there’s enough left for me

Cause by now it really shoulda been long gone
And somehow it keeps going on and on 
On and on an on ‘cause

You take all kinds of nothing 
Turn it right in to something 
I see impossible, but You see a basket full of 
A little bit of this sounds crazy 
A little bit of just maybe 
You take every doubt and 
You make something out of me

It’s not the story that moves me 
It’s not that I don’t believe You could 
It’s just my heart is so hungry
Is there enough to fill me up 
Or will You run out of love

You take all kinds of nothing 
Turn it right in to something 
I see impossible, but You see a basket full of 
A little bit of this sounds crazy 
A little bit of just maybe 
You take every doubt and 
You make something out of me
Something out of me

By now Your love could have been long gone 
But somehow it keeps going on and on 
And...

You take all kinds of nothing 
Turn it right in to something 
I see impossible, but You see a basket full of 
A little bit of this sounds crazy 
A little bit of just maybe 
You take every doubt and 
You make something out of me
Something out of me

I have struggled with feeling like there is not enough, or that maybe there is just enough, but not any more than that.  Like God's blessing may have run out in my life and now there will be crumbs or morsels here and there, but the abundance is over.  I love this story in song about when Jesus fed 5,000 on the hillside.   I can imagine what it must have felt like to be there - you are hungry and thirsty and eager to get your share.  Sure, this Jesus guy seems legit - but can he give me what I need right now, will there be enough for me?  I bet there were some on that hillside that felt a similar desperation to what I feel now - the grasping, the striving, the feeling that time is running out and you aren't going to get your share.  Not only did everyone get what they needed, but there were LEFT OVERS!  Jesus didn't just give enough- he could have done that. Produced exactly what would be consumed, but He didn't; He gave more and gave abundantly.  I think our culture especially, perpetuates this lie of scarcity.  That there will not be enough, so you must get there first and get the most.  It isn't that way with Jesus - He doesn't run out and the well never runs dry.  There will be enough, it may not always feel like abundance or provide the feeling of fullness that I expected, but it will be enough.... And then the next day there will be more and it will be enough.  

I am learning to take a deep breath, shake off the lies of the enemy about scarcity and really look at what is in front of me.  When I can really look, and see with eyes that are ready to see - I see the goodness of God all around me and my family.  I would argue that it could be better - but, I am not God and I cannot see what He sees.  All I can do is choose to see goodness in what is in front of me and some days that will be easier than others.  I am also learning that in those moments of truly seeing, I am able to experience some measure of joy.  I have felt joy and happiness again and been grateful for those moments.  Someone wise told me recently - that those moments of joy, those are the most that we get.  We need to be able to see, experience and appreciate that moment of joy because it will end, but there will be another one nearby.  I think we put so much emphasis on happiness and even in Christian circles, this experience of joy that we assume everyone is walking around feeling joyful or happy most of the time.  I know I have felt this pressure to manufacture some of kind of joy because the Bible is always talking about rejoicing and so walking with Jesus must mean that I should feel like that.  But, the truth is, if you really look at the people who followed Jesus in the Bible - they suffered - a lot - and called it suffering.  Maybe that is why they were always talking about joy because when life is hard and circumstances bleak, we need to be intentional not about creating joy, but recognizing the things around us that still produce joy in our hearts.  I have learned that when your heart is full of sorrow, there is still room for joy - and you actually recognize it and feel it in a way that you can't when your heart is not broken.  I don't have any more answers this week than I did last week, but I am believing, like with true belief, that God is making something out of me that wasn't there before the life of Levi.  I want to be a woman who pours out abundance to others because of the abundance I have received.  I want to believe that I don't have to cling so tightly to what is 'mine' because I know that there is more than enough for everyone.