Faith

 Faithless...

I struggle...daily.... I hear the stories of my friends in their quiet time and their worship time and my skin prickles with angst and callousness. I used to be that person...I loved that time in the morning...sometimes I wonder if I’m lying to myself that it’s so hard to get up that early and get going and having some prayer journal time...because my body is failing me... and then other times i remember this truly is my reality. I feel like my faith is waning. 

But I also have to say I feel like it’s fake when i hear the word ‘faithful’ ... ‘he lived a faithful life’ or ‘she is so faithful’ or ‘journey of the faithful’ ... it’s laced and dripping with lies...because no way no how can we keep up the journey without faltering...we are broken and unbelieving and we struggle with the stumbling and that is a lack of faith. I’m just trying to be real. 

I sat tonight watching my 94 year old grandma crying in her sleep and yelling because she’s in so much pain. She can’t vocalize her words and say what’s wrong...and the only name she says is ‘mama’ which is my mom...her daughter...and she cries for her. My mother wraps her arms around her mother and whispers...’it’s okay I’m right here...just rest’ and my grandma..with the thin..see through skin and the thin hair and eyes that will barely open...she calms down... i see it unfold and i think...why? What is it all for? I am cynical...I am on shaky ground...and I need You Father to steady me....fill my doubts with your peace...

I honestly think it takes more guts to admit to ourselves that our faith is an ebb and flow of struggle. So I’m here admitting it....over the course of the last 14 years I’ve spoken at retreats and conferences and I’ve taught Bible studies and I’m landing on the pages of ... I did that and I don’t know why because honestly I didn’t really know much. 

Faith as small as a mustard seed..that’s what He said... so why do we lie about our faith being so big when all we need is a little...well I can admit I have a little...because He has the rest of it for me. So when I’m crying out because I’m broken and I have nothing left...He can wrap his arms around me and shhhhshhh me to comfort...and i will rest in His arms because He carries all i need. 

Every Dog Needs a Boy...Every Boy Needs a Dog

She was so tiny the first time I picked her up. 3 lb's to be exact. I held her against my chest and something in me snapped. Went haywire. Came loose. An uncontrollable need to just hold her. I don't think it came as a shock to anyone, but it was a sign that I wasn't as 'okay' as we all thought.  The next few weeks were followed with intense counseling called EMDR. It's a form of therapy that helps a person deal with PTSD. Even in the middle of all of it, I could only think about holding her again. There was a physical ache.

I had one last session...crisis averted...we found the trigger and I was going to survive. In place of the anger there was only sadness now. Coping was the important thing. So feeling a bit relieved but no less heart heavy I walked into my kitchen that night and there she was. Sitting under the high chair that should have been for my baby...there she was...and she was good....good for the soul.

The problem was...in my desire to have her...to let her make me feel better...I didn't think about the day I would have to say goodbye to her too. A word from the wise...don't get a puppy to help you grieve the loss of a baby...because someday that puppy will die. And you will be left without your baby and without your puppy. As far as I'm concerned don't even get a plant...plants die too.

Back to the puppy. She was 3 lbs. Exactly the weight of my son when he was born. She went everywhere with me. Eventually I had a baby boy and she couldn't go everywhere with me because frankly carrying a little dog and a baby seat was impossible. She was a trooper though. She was always little and always thought of as a puppy because she never made it over 10 lb. Two bags of sugar. She liked to sleep under the covers where it was hot. Even when we were camping she would get in my sleeping bag and sneak all the way to the bottom by my feet. Sometimes at night I would find her wedged between the edge of the mattress and the sheet under all the covers. She obviously required very little air. But she loved heat. She could get closer to any fireplace and stare right into the fire and just get hot. It was bizarre. She thrived on the warmth. She was sweet and tender and she was mine to cuddle when I was sad...but she was getting sick. Three times I had her at the vet and they said to get ready...three times I said I just couldn't. She was my link to a boy I wasn't able to hold. The worse she became the more I tried to prepare myself but nothing worked. The reality sucked. It just sucks.

As I sipped my coffee yesterday morning and listened to her trying to breath I knew we had less than 24 hours. Quietly I asked my Father what was I thinking asking for a puppy to help me with that stage...This was too hard. Quietly I heard the voice of my Father tell me every boy needs a dog...and Isaac was ready to take over. I wept.

That is the ONLY thing that got me thru last night. As she was drowning from fluid in her lungs and around her heart, as I held the oxygen to her mouth and said goodbye, I knew my boy was waiting to take her. They are 11. Every boy needs a dog. Every dog needs a boy.

I love you Tessa. I will miss you so much. Thank you for filling a hole in my heart bigger than Texas with your tiny love and peaceful presence. You were and always have been good for my soul.

Where Anger Waits

It was March 16th 2016. I was scrolling thru Facebook and randomly followed a link that led me to a page that led me to another page...I sat on my bed and hit share to raise awareness of National Trisomy 18 Awareness day. Over the years I had randomly realized what day it was only on accident and this time was no different...except it was. This time as I clicked to close out the page the border caught my eye. In a glimpse I noticed faces of babies AND children. It gnawed at me. I spent a few minutes walking around my room pushing the images away until I couldn't take it anymore. As I sat back down and opened Google I replayed all the information we had about Trisomy 18 and what we learned when our baby was not yet here. I knew statistically 1 in every 2000 pregnancy results in a baby with Trisomy 18 but most end in miscarriage. I knew statistically we had a minimal chance of carrying to term (we carried to 39 weeks), I knew if he was under 4lbs when he was delivered he would live for a very short time if at all. I knew if he was over 4 lbs his chances of survival for more than an hour increased drastically. I knew the insurance viewed his life as 'non-viable' and would only call hospice in if he did live but would not do anything else for him...as he would not thrive. I knew the only place he was safe was inside me. That is what I knew. Isaac was exactly 3 lb when he was born.

As I typed the words into the search box my spirit warned me...I could feel the anger rise before I even had all the information but something seemed wrong.  I needed to know more...were these pictures of children living with Trisomy 18?

Hours later...article after article read...information on panels of medical professionals for and against trying to save these babies with Trisomy 18...the heart surgery...developed in 2003... 2003, 4 years before our little warrior...the insurance on the definition of life...I was unraveling. I have unraveled. Anger shot from the core of my being. I damn near threw my laptop across the room. I had conversations with people who knew us...who know me...and it was too big. After days I stabilized my emotions with a keen awareness that if I didn't I would end up in an institution. My anger would drown me. My emotions were a black hole. They have been a black hole. I have been cautious to feel anything...yes you read that right...feeling any of this is painful and if I let go..I go down the rabbit hole of sorrow and affliction...I don't quite think I can handle all of it yet. We don't talk about it. I don't talk about it. Church was/is not a place for peace...it has not been a place for peace. Some might say I'm hiding but realistically I'm surviving so that I don't lose myself for the sake of living. This does not mean I am without faith. Quite the contrary...my faith is even more real...the relationship with my Father seems even more real now that it is strained...but like any relationship that goes thru hard times I know I don't want to stay here. I don't want to be so hardened that I miss the intent of it. But that is my problem...what good could possibly have come from us not having been given the truth?...I just need someone to tell me he wasn't a viable candidate...or better yet someone to have at least given me the courtesy of a decision...but that was taken from us...from me.

I can barely write about it...This is going to take time. This is not a...lets have a come to Jesus meeting and all of a sudden you're okay...people desire faith to be that way...we want a shotgun solution to so much of life...people say it's not what you're dealing with it's HOW you deal with it...I say BS...sometimes it IS what you're dealing with. Perspective helps but sometimes we want our hearts and lives fixed with a magic wand...or a magical moment...and it just doesn't work that way.

So that's it...I've had every argument about it possible with myself....I already know God has us...I already know His involvement or lack of will someday make sense... I ALREADY know if Isaac was here my other baby may not be...I GET IT ALL...but it doesn't change the reality for me that I was not told about it. So maybe this is the first step to my healing...I started this newer blog to get away from the other one...something more positive...but in all reality...it's all part of who I am....who I am becoming....the continued story of Gods path for me. 

So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and at the right time he will lift you up in honor. Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you. 1 Pet 5:6-7