Anxiously Brave

Raygan Watson has been married to her husband Mike for 8 years.  They have two silly kiddos, Winnie (6) and Charlie (4) and one very lovable (but stinky) dog Sparky.    She loves her family and still talks to her Mom on the phone everyday….most days more than once.   In her fantasy world, her entire family would live on one giant compound enjoying dinner together every night.

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When Aly first asked me to share a “brave” story I excitedly said yes, and I thought I knew exactly what I wanted to write about.  But when I finally sat to down to write my “brave” story, something completely different came out.  I think I had three different versions of a story and a ton of notes before I finally felt that this would be the story I shared.  It’s a story of an awkward and uncomfortable period of self-examination which ultimately led to a revelation of God’s Truth.

I have always been a people pleaser, overly sensitive, avoiding confrontation at all costs, spending entirely too much time worrying what other people think of me and constantly comparing myself to others, leaving me unable to make even the smallest of decisions without a phone call first to my mother or middle sister.    And this has caused me a lot of unnecessary stress for most of my life. After graduating from Baylor University I moved to Washington, DC and lived there for 5 years.  During my last year there I experienced my first panic attack.  I didn’t realize what was happening.  A sudden fear that something really bad was about to happen came over me and I felt unable to catch my breath.  That happened while riding in a friend’s car, seemingly out of nowhere.  The next panic attack hit me while I was trying to check out at the grocery store.  Again, out of nowhere, I felt as though something terrible was about to happen and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.  It scared me.  I continued to have panic attacks over the next few years, but then after meeting my husband and getting married they stopped and some of my insecurities seemed to subside.  But then came motherhood!    Out-of –whack hormones, an underactive thyroid and two children 19 months apart brought on a whole new level of insecurities and anxiety.   And it was a particularly stressful 16 month period that eventually set me on the path to discovery and spiritual growth.

Back in January 2014, I took my daughter Winnie (then 4) to a neurologist upon the recommendation of her pediatrician because of headaches she had been having.  She had an EEG and I expected to hear back from the doctor in a few days that everything was normal.  But the doctor had a last minute cancellation that morning and was able to read the results of the test while we were there.  I was shocked to hear she had an abnormal reading.  And later, an MRI showed no cause for the abnormal reading (such as a tumor).  We were thankful for that and also found some relief in having an explanation for Winnie’s “staring spells” that we had always thought was just her not listening.  Now we know she was more than likely having several absence seizures a day.  We contemplated putting her on anti-seizure medications and decided against them, but a month later, after an episode that left Winnie very upset, we decided to try the meds.  The doctor put her on Topamax for its anti-seizure properties and because it is supposed to help with headaches.  We quickly realized her new anger outbursts and agitation were the result of the medication.  After a dosage adjustment, Winnie seemed to be doing better and her mood evened out.  But she was not my Winnie.  She became quiet, insecure, anxious and just kind of out of it.  This drastic change in personality concerned me and I started to worry what other people thought of her.  It didn’t help that I was also projecting my own insecurities onto my daughter.  I worried I had passed my most negative attributes onto her.  I imagined hard days ahead of her because of that and just knew it was all my fault.  And because of her anxiousness, I was fearful I had emotionally scarred her as a young child after her brother was born because I acted like a nutcase most days!  I was heartbroken for both of us and felt defeated.   After a year of being on the medication, we decided to take her off of it because of these changes in her personality.  After consulting with her doctor, we weened her off the Topamax in July of this year.

Last fall and winter were long.  My son, Charlie (then 3 years old), was hospitalized twice because of his asthma.  In September of 2014 he contracted the enterovirus and because he had asthma it hit him especially hard.  So hard in fact, that he spent 8 days in the hospital, 4 of those in PICU.  We battled through many asthma flares with another one sending him to the hospital in November.  It was so frightening and heartbreaking to see my baby struggling to breathe and I felt like a COMPLETE FAILURE as a mother!  I just knew everyone was second-guessing my every decision and my parenting skills.  Charlie and I spent a lot of time together that winter, just the two of us.    It at times felt very isolating.  And isolation for me brings on a lot of negative self-talk!

So, after several stressful months, including several panic attacks which had crept their way back into my life, and a trip to the ER because I just knew I was having a heart attack (it wasn’t thank God and I believe the chest pains were simply stress- induced) the negative self-talk,   dwelling over every comment made, constant comparisons, self-doubt and comparing my weaknesses to other people’s strengths were at an all-time high.  Eventually, there was a rift in an important and close friendship.  It was painful.  I was angry, confused, hurt and bitter.  The stress of the previous 16 months had allowed a way for Satan’s lies to infiltrate my heart and mind….and I believed them.   It was a conversation with my husband, who reminded me we cannot control others but how we respond to them, that pointed me towards the path of self-examination.

Over the next couple of months I finally had the courage to admit my flaws instead of focusing on others.  I realized I didn’t always have the purest of motives…mainly due to people-pleasing and pride.  And that I can be stubborn…..if I feel like you are telling me what to do (when really you might just be trying to help!), then you can guarantee I’ll do the opposite.  And that I had also taken on the spirit of offense. I had spent a lot of my time angry, mad or upset either at friends, my husband or family members. But it was also during this time that I had my big “A- HA” moment!!!!!  While at my small group one Sunday afternoon it finally clicked…..my worth is found in God, not in the opinion of others!!!!  And once I really understood that, I too came to know the truth that God is pleased with me.  He created me.  He loves me.  I am exactly who God designed me to be and that I have been fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:13-15).  And that includes my perceived weaknesses.   I also learned that I should not necessarily try to overcome my weaknesses, for if I did I would no longer depend on God.  I finally understood the power of 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 “When I am weak, then I am strong; I boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”

Our old Winnie reemerged after going off her medication in July.  Our sweet, very silly, animated and talkative Winnie is back!  She is in kindergarten this year and loving it!  She has not had a follow-up EEG yet but we have not noticed any staring spells which would indicate a seizure.   I just said to my husband over the weekend, “Can you believe this is our Winnie?”  And I know she too is fearfully and wonderfully made!   Also, this time of the year typically brings on several asthma flares for Charlie, as his asthma is induced by allergies and colds.  He has breezed right though a couple of runny noses without any severe asthma flares.  And as a side note, we found out in April that he outgrew his peanut, almond and dairy allergies!  Praise God!  As for my friendship, it has been restored.   In no longer comparing myself to others, I can instead learn to love and appreciate others.  I celebrate our differences and I am thankful for her God-given strengths and talents.   There is so much to learn from my friends that are different from me….”As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another” Proverbs 27:17.    I will no longer dwell on my perceived weaknesses, but instead explore my strengths and pray for the courage to be obedient in using those to serve God.

My anxiety attacks came to a screeching halt after this period of spiritual growth.  And I pray this period of peace lasts as long as it can and that I will enjoy it!  But I also know that through difficulties comes growth.  And I pray that I will remember that when periods of stress or difficulties interrupt this season of peace, that His joy would remain in me (John 15:11).   I pray it does not take my children 39 years to learn these truths but that they instead would grasp them at an early age.  I believe God used those hard months to prepare me…to open my heart and mind to His Truth.  And I’m forever grateful that God gave me the courage to take a long, hard look at the ugliest parts of myself in order to finally release the offense in my heart so that I could grow spiritually.  Just this week God spoke to me again through a beautiful new friend when she quoted her life verse, “He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with his love, He will rejoice over you with singing,” Zephaniah 3:17

Ask

A while back, Amelia asked me to put cat food in her snack cup. I, of course, said “no.” That wouldn’t be a good thing to eat. She cried. Later that same day, as I was cutting up fruit for a snack, she asked for some fruit to snack on. This time I said “yes, but wait.” She threw a fit. She wanted her snack immediately. That evening, while I was setting the table for dinner, she asked me for more water in her sippy cup. I said “yes” and then asked for her cup so I could refill it. She fell down on the floor and gripped the cup as tightly as she could, sobbing “mine” through her tears. Seriously kid? Come’on. I’m saying yes. Just hand me the cup! I feel like I just can’t win sometimes. I just wish she could see that I’m looking out for her best interests. I want to give her water, she just needs to give up her cup for a minute!

Matthew 7:7-12

⁷ “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. ⁸ For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.

⁹ “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? ¹⁰ Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? ¹¹ If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him! ¹² So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.

 I cannot tell you how many times I have heard this passage used to preach the prosperity gospel but let me tell you, this passage does not promise that you will be granted everything you ask of God. It does not promise that you will prosper if you just pray hard enough. It does, however, promise that God the Father knows how to give good gifts.

Did you ever have a wish list for Christmas or your birthday? I did. Every year. In fact, I kept a running list all year long of the things I wanted so that I wouldn’t forget what to ask for when the time came. There were always things on there that I knew my mom would say no to–a CD with a parental advisory warning on the cover, that new, hip music player called an iPod, a brand-new car. I figured the worst she could do was say no and, if I never asked, she’d never have the opportunity to say yes. Besides, she might not know what an iPod is, or that I want one, if I don’t tell her. For the record, she never once bought me a CD with a parental advisory warning on the cover, which was probably a wise decision. I didn’t get an iPod until the iPod Mini came out, but I had tons more space for my music than my friends who had the latest and greatest. Plus, mine lasted a lot longer than everyone else’s, and I’m sure my mom paid much less for it than if she had bought it when it first came out. And my first vehicle was a mid ’90s F150 that I helped pay for. Trucks are way better than zippy little sports cars anyway.

When my mom said no or wait, it wasn’t because she didn’t want me to have what I was asking for. It was because she knew what was best–the same reason I didn’t hand Amelia the whole apple just because she wanted to eat it right then and there. I must admit, she does look really cute when she tries to eat a whole apple before I’ve cut it up for her–some of those honey crisps are as big as her head. But it’s a lot better for her to have it cut up and ready to eat.

I know how to give my daughter good gifts. I am fallen. I am sinful. I am wretched apart from the saving grace of Jesus Christ. Yet, even I know how to give good gifts to my daughter. How much more does God, the heavenly Father, who is without sin, who sees all and knows all because He created all, how much more does God know how to give good gifts to His children!? Not only does He see the whole picture, but He literally made the whole picture!

I’ll admit I sometimes throw a fit when God doesn’t give me the answer I want. But He stays consistent, like a good father. He doesn’t waver. He knows how to give good gifts.

The Teeth

My daughter is growing some teeth. It’s painful but we’ve done this before. We can handle this. She has 5 lovely teeth already filling in the front of her mouth. The ones in the back couldn’t be too different, right? Wrong. Nothing could have prepared me for this. Right now, there are at least 4 teeth coming in all at the same time. The crying is almost too much for me to bear. Last night, she woke up 4 or 5 times. We tried all the usual methods of soothing her: cold blueberries, a damp cold cloth, massage her gums, extra cuddles.  But nothing made a difference. She just wanted to be held. So my hubby rocked her, we gave her some Tylenol, and she eventually fell asleep on his chest.

I wish she didn’t have to go through this. Growing pains suck–for her and for me. I hate seeing her in so much pain and being able to do relatively nothing about it. I know it’s something she has to go through. She can’t eat soft, mushy foods forever just like she couldn’t nurse forever. This is just something she has to endure. It’s a part of the process of growing up, and I hate it. I can hold her, comfort her, give her medicine to feel better but the process is still one she needs to go through, and I can not change that, no matter how badly I want to.

This whole process brought a couple passages of Scripture to mind. I’ve been rolling them over in mind since last night.

Hebrew 5:11-14
11 We have much to say about this, but it is hard to make it clear to you because you no longer try to understand. 12 In fact, though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you the elementary truths of God’s word all over again. You need milk, not solid food! 13 Anyone who lives on milk, being still an infant, is not acquainted with the teaching about righteousness. 14 But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil.

In the previous verses, Paul (Probably. Not everyone agrees who wrote Hebrews) tells the Hebrews about the high priests being called by God and being submissive to God. He talks about Jesus being obedient to God and being the source of eternal salvation. Then he stops himself. He tells them that even though there’s a lot more to say on the subject, they have refused to mature and therefore wouldn’t understand what he’s saying. They insisted on living on milk rather than solid food. They’re not mature enough to grasp any more of the concept Paul (probably) is getting at. We know from 1 Peter 2:1-3 that milk is good for a while but it’s purpose, according to verse 2, is to grow up in salvation.

1 Therefore, rid yourselves of all malice and all deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and slander of every kind. 2 Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, 3 now that you have tasted that the Lord is good.

Mother’s milk is good for a lot of things. It has the perfect balance of nutrients for babies; it protects baby against loads of illnesses; it prevents things like breast cancer in mom. But then babies become children. They get teeth, and their digestive system is fully operational. Eventually, kids need regular food. They have to stop nursing and eat solid food at some point. Paul wants the Hebrews to stop living on milk (a.k.a elementary truths of God’s word) and move onto the solid food!

So, what does this have to do with my sweet little daughter who is in terrible pain? Furthermore, what does this have to do with Madagascar?

Well, first, it gives me comfort that this teething pain is a good thing in the long run. It will give her the ability to eat solid foods! She’s already eating a lot of solid food, but it has to be small or mushy. Soon, she’ll be able to ground up food in her very own mouth! This is a GOOD THING.

Second, it doesn’t really have anything to do with my trip to Madagascar except for the fact that I feel like I’m sometimes still in the milk phase rather than the solid-foods stage of my walk with the Lord. How can I possibly do great things for God when I have to be reminded of elementary truths? God is big, that’s how. He can use me whether I think I’m ready or not!

I have an announcement. Plans for Madagascar have changed. I still need roughly $4,850 in order to go. Thank you to those who donated to my Indiegogo Fund. However, it was not nearly enough. Domoina and I have been praying and talking about this for quite a while. Because the money hasn’t come in yet, we both feel like God is telling us, “not now.” That’s not a “no,” it’s a “not now.” The plan now is to go in the summer of 2016, you know, unless the Lord changes our plan again!

Ends of the earth, here I come!

Thursday Stories

Hello again! I hope you’re enjoying this series of stories as much as I am! This next story was written by a dear friend of mine who has refused to let me respond to the question “how are you? ” with “okay” or “fine” when I’m actually not. She genuinely wants to know how I am. She celebrates with me when I actually am okay, fine, or better because she knows what I went through to get there.
Her story is hard but thanks to God’s strength she has come out the other side joyful. Her courage has been a huge encouragment to me.

Stories from San Antonio

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9

“Hey God, it’s me again. I just want to take a minute and remind you that sometimes it is REALLY hard to do the things you ask of me. Sometimes I think it might be impossible. I mean, I know you’re there, and I know it can happen because of You, but I still just want to remind you, it’s not easy. Oh yeah, that is how you want it isn’t it…”

I know I’m not the only one who has conversations like this with God. I know I’m not the only one who looks around and says “but….” However, sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one that thinks Job had it easy, maybe building an ark would be more simple, or parting the Red Sea a bit less of a challenge than what God has set before me. But when I stop, and I really think, and I really study, and I really pray instead of just whining, I realize that no matter what God sets in front of me, I absolutely don’t want to be the one who steps away from the call and retreats to the sidelines.

“Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life – well, valuable, but small – and sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven’t been brave?” Kathleen Kelly ~ You’ve Got Mail

Sometimes I forget, it seems impossible to do, but it’s true. Sometimes I forget what I have been through, what trials and hardships I’ve had to endure. Instead sometimes I look at my life, and I think that it is small, that it is filled with drudgery, and that it is menial in the scope of God’s kingdom. Sometimes I get frustrated because I want to write a book to tell my story, and it just doesn’t happen. Then I get extra frustrated because I have felt for years that God wants me to tell my story, so why can’t I write it? That’s when I realize that telling my story can happen in a number of ways. That’s when I realize that my life isn’t small if I live it for God no matter how menial the tasks may feel. That’s when I realize that God has given me a story not only so that I can tell it, but so that I can live it. So I can walk alongside others in the hard parts of their stories and be a supporting character. Is it hard for me? Yes. Does it bring up my own hurts and open old wounds? Yes. Are we meant to live a life of ease and comfort? No.

I have spent much of my adult life wondering why I was “gifted” with the ability to see through the façade people put up, why I struggle with being overly blunt, and why it’s really hard for me to listen or observe a situation and not immediately say, “Well, duh, this is how you fix it.” Then I walked with Aly for a while.

You see, God sent me down a path, and it was dark and twisted, and full of pain, but He set me there. He blessed me with four precious babies, but He took three of them from me too soon. He took my son at 32 weeks of my pregnancy, and then He gave me a beautiful, rambunctious little girl. But then He took the next baby at only six weeks of pregnancy. And then, again, He took from me a daughter at 21 weeks of pregnancy. And that last time, that last time I should have died. But I didn’t.

“Why God, why?”

“So that you can walk with others, my child.”

So that I can sit and cry with the momma who is so anxious about her growing belly because of the fears she has for the health of that child. So I can look a friend in the eyes when they say they are “OK” just a few short weeks after a miscarriage, and I can say, “Really? Because you’re allowed to still hurt.” So that I can use my words to help others realize they are not alone, they are not the only one ever to walk through something like this, and even though it seems all is blackness, there is light, there is hope, and there can be joy again.

Are my days of bravely facing the unknown in my past? Hardly! It seems like I am again on the precipice of a huge choice – do I jump off the cliff and trust that God is there, or do I turn and walk back down the mountain that He and I have climbed? What is next for my family and me? Well, we spent the whole last year preparing our house to sell, so we could move to the country and start a farm. Then God spoke, and not in the quiet whisper I’m kind of used to, but in the loud booming, you-can’t-ignore-it voice. What did He say? Well, He told us that we weren’t moving, that we were staying right where we are for a few more years. What will we do other than go stir crazy in the house I can’t wait to get out of? Well, we are going to foster some kids, and maybe, if we’re lucky, we’ll get to adopt some, too.

P.S. You’d better believe I’m scared by this. But you know what? There is a part of me, inside somewhere, that can’t stop smiling…

Thursday Stories

Merry Christmas! Today is Thursday which means it’s story time! Today’s writer is Ora Linville. This lady is one of the bravest people I know. I hope you are as encouraged by her story as I am!

Stories from San Antonio

Bravery. This is a word that I have heard so much in the past six months. Before that, it was a word that I never really thought much about. Thanks to the MOPS, International theme for 2014-2015, “Be You, Bravely,” I have had a lot of time to consider the topic of bravery.

Those of you who know and see me on a regular basis know that I have blue hair. Seriously. I decided to put the blue streaks in in early September. I have received a lot of comments from friends and strangers alike. Some of the comments are something like, “wow!! that’s so brave!” I think I have even said, “Oh, you know, just ‘Being me, Bravely!'” However, if I’m being honest, I don’t really think that was an act of bravery for me. Gutsy, maybe, but not really brave. Perhaps letting my gray hair come in without constantly covering it up would be more brave. But, seriously, I’m only 35 – I have plenty of time to bravely embrace my gray hair!

Some would define bravery as an absence of fear. When we think of bravery, we often think of the super heroes that we grew up watching. Not only do I think this is a wrong idea of what bravery is, I think it is dangerous. The truth is that we all face fear – the types and levels of fear are different for each of us, but it is something we all deal with in this life. Fear is often a good thing, and not usually something that we need to rid ourselves of in order to be brave.

As I have been thinking more about what bravery means for me, I’m coming to the conclusion that bravery can be seen in graciously living the life God has entrusted to me regardless of whether or not it has turned out the way I had envisioned it.

As all girls do, I spent much of my childhood dreaming of what my adult life would look like: A big house that cleaned itself (those would be invented by the time I was an adult, I was sure of it), a gorgeous husband who practically worshiped me, and two perfectly behaved children who never got dirty. No financial issues, no pain, no fears. In my mind, life was going to be perfect. I won’t say that I went into marriage with the same delusions of perfection, but I did have certain expectations as I buttoned up the white dress and slipped into my beaded white shoes. I was about to walk down the aisle and commit myself to one man for the rest of my life. We would exchange vows with the promise to love, honor and cherish each other until death do us part.

Little did I realize that my soon-to-be husband had expectations of what I would be as his wife, expectations that he did not share with me until after we started settling in to life together. I moved from Texas to North Carolina right after the wedding – away from my family, my friends, my church, and really my whole life. I didn’t question it. I was a wife, and this is what a wife does for her husband. As I settled in, I noticed some little things here and there that seemed odd – he did not like me having friends outside his sphere of influence, he would not let me join Bible Study Fellowship or any other study that wasn’t done at his church, he expected me to call his mother “Mom” because “she’s your mom now.” I also noticed that any time I brought up a theological concern, he would halt conversation with, “I’m your husband and the head of this house, so this is what we will believe.” This was in stark contrast to the many theological discussions we had before marriage. He went from my sweet, caring fiance to a hard and calloused husband almost overnight. Over the course of a few short months, I learned to not open my mouth and to just internalize every hateful thing that was said about me, my faith, or my family back in Texas.

About one year into our marriage, we traveled back to Texas to visit family. My family and friends did not recognize the person I had become. Before marriage, I was happy – I smiled, I laughed, and I had a sparkle in my eye. The woman that came back to visit was extremely quiet, looked down constantly, made an innocent joke and then quickly apologized to her husband for making it, and had little life in her at all. I will forever be thankful to my family and dear friends who pulled me aside, shared their concerns with me, and asked me what was really going on. They helped me see that I was being broken down through the hateful words and unreasonable restrictions.

I went back to North Carolina with many people praying for me. . I prayed that God would soften the heart of my husband. I truly believed that God’s will would include the healing of my broken marriage. I knew that I didn’t go into the marriage lightly. I was in this for life. Things didn’t get easier. Having had my eyes opened to the emotional and spiritual abuse that I was dealing with, I was able to resist the arrows of hate that were constantly launched at me. This resistance was met with more anger from my husband and his family. On June 4th, 2007, my husband came home from work particularly angry. He ate his dinner in silence and then started letting me know all the ways I had disappointed him that day. I remember standing up and telling him that I would not take the abuse any longer. He then started throwing anything he could get his hands on. Knowing that physical abuse would likely follow if I remained in the house, I packed a few things I would need overnight and walked out.

I. Walked. Out. This wasn’t what I wanted. This wasn’t what I had prayed for. This wasn’t how my life was suppose to go. I didn’t know what was going to happen next. However, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was the right thing to do, and I stand behind that decision to this day. By March 2008, I was divorced. Divorced! As a young girl and even a newly-wed, I never could have imagined myself divorced.

I was scared out of my mind and I still did the brave thing when I walked out. God didn’t plan for me to stay married to my first husband – God had much bigger plans for me. I am so thankful that God’s ways are not always our ways! If things had gone my way, I would not be married to Michael today and I would not have my two precious children. I wish I could tell you that I have this brave thing all figured out and if you do x, y, and z, you’ll master it too. I still struggle with trust and bravery on a daily basis. Things rarely go the way I expect them to. Being brave is a process and the biggest step I can take is to give God the reigns every day and let Him drive. Maybe, just maybe I’m on my way to accepting my gray hair after all.

Thursday Stories

Hello all! It’s time for Thursday Stories again! We missed last week but the next couple of months are being prepped as you read this! Today’s brave story made a couple of tears leak out of my eyes. It is still very painful to recall my recent miscarriages. Thank you, Christy for sharing bravely! You can read her blog at butterbeesandbumbleflies.com

Stories from San Antonio

Being brave in Christ isn’t the easiest task I’ve ever been faced with. But what I have learned through being brave in Christ is that speaking (and writing) what I’m going through is incredibly healing. And that it brings life to those around me who may not have realized something vitally important – we are not alone. No man (or woman!) is an island. We CAN be found. God IS for us. And if He is for us, WHO can be against us?

 

Aly has taught me more about speaking up and sharing than she probably knows. Because just a couple of short months after I had Grayson, she had her first, and then second miscarriages. Though she carried each for a different amount of time than I carried our two angels, we have that pain in common.

 

Miscarriage is NOT something people speak boldly and bravely about. Women don’t typically come out and say, “hi, my name is Christy, I have had four pregnancies and two of my children are in Heaven.” No, miscarriage is something you don’t usually hear about until you go through it, and share with close friends. And then you start finding out how many people have been there before.

 

I really struggled emotionally. I leaned HEAVILY on my Bible study group, and on God. I questioned Him. I screamed at Him – both inside and out. I raved like a lunatic. And then, I learned to hope again. And then He took my third baby. I questioned Him. I screamed at Him – both inside and out. I raved like a lunatic – HOW ON EARTH could he take TWO babies away from me? Wasn’t it surely part of His plan to give us more than one earthly child? Hadn’t HE been the one to place this desire for multiple children in our hearts? WHY was He taking them away?

 

And then, I finally dared to hope again. We began to live our lives. And one day I very timidly took a test. And then we saw the flashing light of a beating heart on the monitor. And then we made it to 12 weeks. And then to 16. And it was a boy!! And then we made it the agonizingly long wait to 36 and he was kicking and growing and moving like a crazy man. We saw that all of his organs were perfect, and we breathed a sigh of relief. And then he arrived. Now, he’s six months old. It’s been a year and a month since our second baby would have been born. It’s been almost eleven months since our third baby would have been born.

 

And God has given me perspective. He has told me that He has great plans for Grayson’s life. THIS is the child we were meant to have on Earth. And THOSE are the children we lost for a purpose. Their short little microscopic lives HAVE PURPOSE. And meaning. They are not meant to be hidden away in the confines of a Mother and Father’s hearts. No, they are meant to be shared. I am meant to speak bravely and boldly. I’m supposed to tell them about my babies, and to give them the strength to be bold and share about theirs.

 

My grandmother lost three babies before she had my mom. But she didn’t give up. And I’m so very glad. Because if she had let one or two, or even all three miscarriages scare her away from trying desperately to have another healthy child, my mom, and subsequently me, and my children, would never have been born. Miscarriage is tough. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever been through in my life – twice. But it is NOT the end. And I’m so very glad every time I snuggle of my precious little boy, that we didn’t give up.

 

It’s my job to be a light and an encouragement to others. Miscarriage is NOT easy. The scars on a mother’s heart NEVER go away. But time can heal the pain, and provide perspective. I pray I’m always brave enough and bold enough to help others see His love – even through the tears that fall.

 

God, make me brave. Give me the words. And help me to always use them for Your Glory, and to encourage others.

The Parent

Do you ever feel like you are telling your kids to do something that you don’t do?

“Eat all your vegetables!” but you didn’t even put vegetables on your plate.
“Check your attitude!” you say in your best Oscar the Grouch voice.
“Get outside and exercise!” but you haven’t gone running since high school.

I have noticed myself doing this lately, and I find that I correct my daughter on things that bug me the most about myself. I literally just ate leftover pancakes for lunch, but my daughter had rice, mustard greens, and navy beans. I made her drink all of her water, too. I had Dr. Pepper. Also, I am not always the nicest person some mornings. I get grouchy. Not every morning, but sometimes. When my daughter wakes up on the wrong side of the bed, though, I correct her on that. I want her to wake up with a smile but I don’t have to? I think I see a problem here…

Let’s looks at Matthew 5 again. This passage keeps coming up in my life, so maybe I ought to take some note of it.

¹³ “You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt has become tasteless, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled under foot by men.
¹⁴ “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden; ¹⁵ nor does anyone light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house. ¹⁶ Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven.

I have absolutely no reason to be grouchy in the morning. I have a warm bed that I wake up in every morning. My husband is snoring contentedly next to me. My daughter is in the next room. She may be crying or playing depending on her mood that day, but she’s there and she’s safe. I have an indoor bathroom. Even one generation ago, a significant number of Americans couldn’t say that. My kitchen is stocked with good, nutritious food. I don’t have to worry about whether or not I will have breakfast that morning. Instead I worry about whether to make pancakes, oatmeal, grits, toast, or just cut up some fresh fruit. I don’t mean to brag but I’ve got it pretty dang good, ya’ll!

One of the concerns that some people have had about my trip to Madagascar is the different culture. Currently, Madagascar is one of the 10 poorest countries in the world. The United States of America is on the other end of the scale, though. I understand that it’s different, but I can’t seem to wrap my mind around just how unalike these two countries are. The feeling is similar to when I learned how to multiply double digits. I understood the concept and I understood single digit multiplication, so I knew double digit multiplication was possible. I knew it was a thing, but I couldn’t get my mind to understand just what was involved in that until I actually put pencil to paper and did it myself. I think the same is going to be true about traveling to Madagascar: I understand the concept of a different culture, and I know that it is possible for people to live well and happily without all the modern conveniences, like sinks that are inside, but I don’t think I will understand what that truly means until I step off the plane and see Madagascar for myself. Until I live there for two weeks and interact with people. Eat, sleep, and drink they way they do. Live life with them. And I am thrilled to get to do that. If I am going to be a light for all men to see and glorify God, I need to check my attitude. Instead of waking up grouchy, I am going to start counting five good things every morning before I roll out of bed. I have it pretty good here, and in order to get ready to go to a place that is so significantly different from what I am used to, I need to start recognizing what I have.

The other side of that coin is knowing that I don’t really have what I have. All that I own is not mine. It has been entrusted to me by the Lord in order that I might use it to shine for Him. That knowledge helps me not worry about funds for my trip. He has $5,000. The money is no problem. Remember Philippians 4:19? “And my God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus.” God could have easily dropped whatever Paul and Timothy needed right into their laps. He’s God. He can do that. But instead, God prompted the church at Philippi to send resources to them, and then God blessed the church. That’s still true today, ya’ll. God could drop a plane ticket, cash for food, and some extra to bless the ministry already happening in Madagascar into my lap, but He hasn’t done that. He did that for the Israelites in the desert. He dropped manna into their laps daily. He could do it for me, but He hasn’t. I think that’s because God want to use you. So, if you would like to contribute to that, if you would like to allow God to use your resources to send me to Madagascar on His behalf, you can click here and donate. I don’t have any money raised yet, but I sure could use some. And please, share the link even if you’re not going to donate. Maybe you have a friend who will.

Ends of the earth, here I come!