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December 19th.  Nine years ago it fell on a Friday, and that evening I found myself weeping as the last movie of the Lord of the Rings trilogy concluded.  It was this scene pictured on the right that did it.  The week before I had miscarried our third child, and had no idea if children would ever be in our future.


But despite my tears, there was a new seed of hope.  Earlier that day, one of the students in my 5th grade class had given me a Christmas card.  The card that proved to me that God not only existed, but knew me and my struggles.  And through the tears, my heart warmed.   In the up and down days of waiting to hear if this baby would continue to grow, my fortune after Chinese food read:  "You' will soon receive help from an unexpected source."  At the time I read it, my mind immediately jumped to the hope of that baby making a miraculous turnaround.  I had no idea that God would become real to me in the days to follow, and become my source of help even in the midst of my grief.

In the days that followed, that seed of hope began to grow into a new faith in Christ.  But I struggled so much with wanting a baby, a child.  Some days it felt that no cost was too great.  We looked into adoption and considered fertility treatments.  But questions kept coming into my mind - Did I trust God with this part of my life?  Could I let go of trying to control it myself?  What if we never had a child ~ could I ever really be happy? 

Fast forward to December 19, 2012.  We're planning to see The Hobbit over Christmas break, and will need to find a babysitter for our two children.  Girl and boy, just like the picture.  But even as wonderful as they are, I realize now that they aren't the true source of my happiness.  We have a promise of an Abigail ~ but that promise isn't the source of my joy either (even though her name means joy.)  The very experience of walking this road of faith, of stepping out even when we can't see the end result, and discovering that God is there - ahead of us, beside us -  that's where I'm finding joy and hope. 

The hard times still come, and these next nine years may bring heartache beyond imagine.  I pray that if they do, I won't lose total sight of that ray of hope, however dim it may seem at times.   I pray that I will be able to remember that we only see part of the picture and that from God's perspective things can seem so very, very different.  I pray that above all, I will cling to the belief that God is there and that he knows me in all my circumstances.

Writing just as fast as I can, as the rain falls 'round

Some weeks (or months . . . or years) are dry.  Bone dry to the point where you find it hard to remember what rain was like.  When we lived out in Arizona it was like that.  Months would pass with barely a cloud in the sky, you'd forget that you even owned an umbrella or that the skies did open up.

But then . . . the clouds would start to roll in one day and the wind would pick up and you ever-so-faintly detected a change.  Was that scent of rain on the way just a phantom smell?  We'd be almost afraid to hope.  And then the first drops would begin falling, hitting heavy and leaving a puff of dust in their wake.  As they picked up in intensity people would emerge from inside their concrete cocoons to the sidewalks and patios and balconies, just drinking in the scent and feel of the nearly forgotten rain.

I remember a day eight years ago in October, driving to an ultrasound as the rain poured down around.  We had lost three pregnancies already and this one had shown danger signs as well.  The song "Healing Rain" came on the radio as we drove and I remember looking down at the new outfit I had recently bought to accomodate my expanding midsection realizing that it might be forever linked to that day.  The rain that day did bring healing, as the ultrasound showed our baby growing just as she should be.

God hadn't forgotten us after all.  Our hope hadn't been misplaced.

The past week or two have been filled with prayers.  Prayers for those who are struggling right now with feeling that their hope is misplaced and that God has forgotten them, as they watch those around them receive blessings.  Prayers for renewal and filling of God's Holy Spirit.  Prayers for the family of one of God's workers taken from them too soon, with no warning.  Prayers to know God's will and be able to pray in it with faith.

And with the prayers, the scent of rain began to come.  Followed by drops . . . a comment here, a conversation there, an Abigail-sighting unexpectedly in a book or email.  As I began to capture those in writing, the drops started coming heavier with Bible verses that leap off the page, books speaking right to my heart at the moment, new prayer directions, a comment reassuring me that I'm not on this journey alone, and blogs that just beg to be followed from there-to-here.  And I find myself writing as fast as my fingers can to keep record of the way God is good and trustworthy and faithful. 

More pieces are falling into place in this puzzle, even though we don't yet know what it is building.   Today has had spring hope.  New directions around the corner, perhaps? A new journal about to be started, certainly, as this one is nearly full.  Wise words to gather that provide refreshment.  I again remind myself that this isn't my story to plan, but God's to write.

He is still doing work in us that is necessary before the next step can be revealed. . . When the blessing is finally revealed, we can see the progressive process that brought us to that point.  - Craig Portwood

• God loves the details in our lives.  Don’t be afraid to share them with Him.  Nothing is too small or too big for Him.  He works in the details.  Don’t overlook them. Actually…watch for them!
• God uses other people.  If you feel the nudge to talk or do something, pray about it.  It just might be the Holy Spirit’s guidance.  Then, do it.  If people weren’t obedient, they wouldn’t have been part of the story and witnessed God’s movement.  God would have just found another way to get it done.  He doesn’t HAVE to use us.  He chooses to use us.  He chooses to allow us to be part of His mission.  I LOVE LOVE LOVE that! - Marti Michalec Williams

So, dear friends, take heart. I believe God will do exactly what he told me. - Acts 27:25 (MSG)

Joyfully awaiting

In this season of Advent, I have found many parallels with our waiting journey.  Preparation of hearts and meditation on His word while awaiting the fulfillment of a promise.  The season began with experiencing a Sabbath meal and day of rest (part of our homeschool curriculum).  My daughter helped bake the challah and we lit the candles, remembering that Jesus is the light of the world.  As we broke the bread and blessed the wine grape juice,  we remembered His words at that first Lord's supper.

An evening of celebrating our church's anniversary followed, as we enjoyed good music, laughter, and fellowship.  We spent the next day in worship, study, and a meal with our church family.  As daddy used some of his down time to get the stable ready, inside we worked on the tree.  The first two ornaments hung were a sparkly star and a scroll with the words "Mighty Counselor, Prince of Peace" that our two children had made that morning in Sunday school.  We set up the nativity scene under the tree, ready for little hands to begin acting out the story.

As night fell, we went out to take in the scene, Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus.  A humble birth, simple surroundings, but oh-so-filled with love and life.   For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord.  Luke 2:11

  
We mourned the passing of my husband's grandfather in the midst of family from near and far.  But through the clouds, God's light broke through.  That same weekend, our daughter went forward to declare her belief in Jesus as her Savior and request baptism.  Life ending, new life beginning.

Our family ornament for this year (the third of the so far only three on the tree) captures our life right now well:  Joyful.  Joyfully awaiting.  Joyfully submitting.  And the verse that was included on it will serve as a reminder of when we received our promise.  2/11 .  . . February 11, 2011.  Our Christmas is more humble this year, more mindful of the fact that we're not celebrating our birthdays, but the birth of our King.  Rejoice!




When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy. And going into the house they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh.  Matthew 2:10-11

9 years - HOPE, Part 1

Nine years ago.  While I didn't know it at the the time, that's when my journey to hope began.  It didn't feel like it then.  Instead it felt unthinkable. 

At the time, we were both teachers, living in a townhouse with our cat out in Phoenix.  Life revolved around work, grading papers, watching a heavy slate of television, and going to AZ Diamondbacks baseball games.  We spent too much time discussing how we would be perfect parents (who would always check our child's homework each night and never have crayon decorated walls!  :)  ).  For the most part, life was under our control.  If we wanted to eat out, we did.  Go to a movie?  Sure, any time.  Buy a new car?  Head out one weekend and drive one home.  Have a baby?  Just go off the pill and wait for our carefully planned out schedule to match up maternity leave and summer vacation unfold. (Are you shaking your head yet?  Yes, it was bad.  My planner side had gotten totally out of control, and I didn't even realize it.) 

We didn't even realize what else was missing from our lives then.  At that point, God wasn't invited.  My husband hadn't been raised with any sort of religious upbringing, and while I'd grown up in church, life as a college student and young adult out on my own had pushed me far away.

After several months of trying to start a family, we had gotten a positive pregnancy test early one Saturday morning (by this point we were off the carefully constructed schedule, but had begun to worry about getting pregnant at all.)   I drove across town to a baby shower for one of our young teaching assistants and for the first time, felt responsibility for new life.  My smile that day had to be huge, as I nursed the secret.  We were going to have a baby!  All those months of planning and reading ~ I thought we were ready.  Dreams began to take root in my mind.  What would she look like?  What would we name her? Who would she become?    Who would I become, as a mother?

I remember someone snapping a picture of me at a school event a couple days later and thinking that it was the first picture of me pregnant.  Our little secret!  We began planning how we would surprise our families with the news at Christmas, and starting dreaming of her due date.

Little did I know that our child would be born much sooner than expected ~ and born not into this world.  Before I even was able to make that first doctor's appointment, I had an early miscarriage.  I had so many questions.  Was it my fault?  Did I make a mistake being on my feet during that event?  Was the test wrong?  (Not likely, since I'd taken many.)  Was something wrong with me?  Wrong with the baby?  Was it even really a baby, happening so early?  The doctor acted skeptical that I'd even been pregnant, stating that it had perhaps been a "chemical pregnancy". 

There's an innocence about a first pregnancy, an uneventful pregnancy.  That was shattered on that day nine years ago.  I'm sure that I'd read about pregnancy loss in at least one of that giant pile of pregnancy books that was sitting on the bedside table, but must have skimmed right over it in that "Oh, that wouldn't happen to us" confidence of someone used to being in control.  But at the same time, I clung to the reassurance that we could get pregnant and that all the statistics said that after a miscarriage, most women went on to successfully have a baby.

That's the beginning of our story, really.  Where I first began to realize that maybe, just maybe, life wasn't under my control as much as I thought.  But we still had far, far to go, and hope felt a long way away on that day.

To be continued . .  .

Happy heaven day to the baby that made me a mommy, even if only for a short time together here on earth. 

Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere . . . Psalm 84:10

A hope and a promise

Tomorrow a new ministry at our church begins, HOPE meetings for women in the community who are grieving the loss of a child.  This is very dear to my heart, since we have four babies awaiting us in heaven, and because God reached out to me in the midst of such a painful time to draw me back to Him.  It is our prayer that through this group we'll be able to share the comfort that we have received from God with women who are in the thick such a hard experience.

A lot of my recent focus and prayer has been on this new ministry, but God keeps sending reminders that it is not to be my only focus.  For a time in the midst of the planning, I had even begun to wonder if Abigail was one of the babies that we had lost and that through sharing God's work in the midst of that experience was the way God was going to be glorified.  It wasn't long after that thought that I got another little reminder that no, this is something new.

It has been so inspiring to watch the way that God has gently kept Abigail on my mind even in the midst of the daily life and special projects that are for this season.  Aside from that first promise that was spoken straight to my heart, most of the nudges since then have come either through His Word or through those of you who are supporting this journey with me.  Right when I need it most, one of the verses from this journey shows up or a comment is written here.  Sometimes it's a note letting me know that you've been praying for Abigail or passing along something that reminded you of our journey.

This week, God used one of you to pass along a single sentence that was overhead as someone walked by in the hallway.   "Abigail will be born in (month*)."  The speaker then corrected himself, replaced that month with one five months later, the coming birth of his own daughter.  You thought of our journey, and sent me a quick message.  I was intrigued, but tried to talk myself out of believing that it had much significance.  :)
Still, that single sentence stuck in my mind, so I began praying for confirmation if the month spoken (*which I'm not going to share right now so as not to influence the way this journey unfolds) was relevant to our Abigail. 

I opened up my Bible and landed on a page from 2 Samuel.  The first few paragraphs I read didn't seem to contain any confirmation as it was a description of preparation for one of the many battles in the Old Testament.  Then I landed on verse 25.

Absalom had appointed Amasa over the army in place of Joab. Amasa was the son of a man named Jether, an Israelite who had married Abigail, the daughter of Nahash and sister of Zeruiah the mother of Joab.  2 Samuel 17:25

So I added that sentence to the ever-growing list of ways that God keeps Abigail in my prayers.  It's not going to shape the direction we go, but perhaps was sent as a way of confirming at some point down the road that we are still on the right path or as a reminder that big things are still ahead and not to slack off on the prayers.  In any case, it imbues me with HOPE and reminds me of God's sovereignty.

Prayer request

In the midst of the waiting for our Abigail (no news currently on that front ~ just more time to learn to trust in God and His provision and plan), God has been at work in another direction.  There are a disproportionate number of women at our church who have experienced the loss of at least one child at some stage of pregnancy, infancy, or beyond.  Recently, God has been moving the hearts of several of us in the same direction to begin a new ministry reaching out to others in our community who have walked this painful road, sharing the hope and comfort that we have found in Christ.  As this new ministry is in its formative stages, I'd like to ask for your prayers for the ministry itself, for the women God will be bringing to be a part of it, and for me personally, what my role in it is supposed to be. 

And if this hits close to home for you personally in some way . . . .. I am so sorry that you have had to walk through this valley.  Please know that you're not alone, and consider joining us on October 15 for our first meeting.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.      2 Corinthians 1:3-4