What is helping

As someone who has struggled with postpartum emotions and anxieties, these pictures represent some big things this past week.

Between processing the change and loss of leaving pregnancy behind and welcoming an actual LIFE into my world… Non-wrapped gifts are presenting themselves each day.

The moments of strong ups-and-downs still try to push themselves into the forefront, but right now, the gifts of these past days are staying in the lead.

• During our hospital stay, one evening was especially hard for me. Anxiety suddenly begun rushing in on me. It was almost hard to breathe and seemed impossible to shake it off. Nate went to run an errand, and I planned on spending the next hour having a good cry. But 5 minutes later, Nate walked back in the room, followed by a longtime friend. She had decided to stop by our room just to drop off a gift, even though we had decided to limit visitors that day. But she followed her instinct and came to see me. My big tears at seeing her surprised them both, but was as though God had picked her up and dropped her right in front of me at the moment I absolutely needed someone there. The next few hours were filled with deep, heart honest conversation between two girlfriends who have walked through some big stuff of life together. The sweetest medicine for my anxious heart. Like an angel had visited. God showed me His care in such a clear way.

• Before we left the hospital to head for the familiarity and noise of home, Nate laid down on the inclined bed, holding Anna close. This duplicated a scene from the past, where we had been in a hospital bed with our newborn middle boy on leaving-day. So, on this day, instead of leaving the hospital right away after being discharged, my cue was clear, to lay down with them. The three of us. So still, so calm. Like a bubble around us, protecting us from the rest of the world. Completely safe, quiet, worry free. For those long moments. The best gift.

And since returning home… 

The gifts continue.

• The purity and tenderness of a particular baby girl with deep blue eyes, round cheeks, and a soft swirl of dark hair who has entered our family and home. And older brothers who have taken her in, each in their own way. Wrapping this baby in blankets that have been given to us out of love and care.
• Laundry friends, who have taken totes of clothes to their own homes to help tackle the stress when our dryer stopped working. With a newborn. A family of 6. Mountains of clothes that had nowhere to go, until friends offered their time and kindness to meet such a need.
• Meal friends, who have dropped by our front door with homemade meals for my family. Daily blessings.
• A friend who has come over to stay with the youngest ones so I could venture out with the older ones. Who took one on a playdate so there could be a quiet morning.
• Sunny afternoons, when the guys get dirt covered in the backyard playing baseball. Ice cream, root beer floats with their daddy.
• An old dryer being removed and a new one being installed. After weeks of struggle, the whirring sound of working machines sounds so, so good.
• Friends who stop by to meet the newest member of our family, and to just talk. And let me take their picture. What is better than someone you care about loving on your child? Memories. 
• Tears in my eyes this afternoon at a good doctor report, that our youngest one will be the only one of our children not to need extra care for jaundice concerns. There have always been tears for me with this certain baby issue, but this is the one time they were tears of such relief and thankfulness.
• And the looking-forward-to of friends coming to visit. And my mom coming next week. And those who haven't met our sweet one yet. Loved ones.

And so, this day, what struck me, that being on the constant lookout for gifts is what is helping my spirit. 

My emotions may nose dive time and again, and not everything is smooth. 
But celebrating the gifts as they come, one hour after another? 

It is helping. 

(Thank you, each of you, friends and family and nurses and doctors, who have lavished care on my family. You are beautiful gifts.)

That January 31st

At some point, 
we may all have one of those turning points...

Not a pretty turning point, 
but one that comes from a deepest crisis in our life.

Crisis:
1. a stage in a sequence of events at which the trend of all future events, 
especially for better or for worse, is determined; turning point.
2. a condition of instability or danger, leading to a decisive change.
3. a dramatic emotional or circumstantial upheaval in a person's life.
(http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/crisis)

For us, our Big One was 10 years ago today.
(Funny how some dates will stick forever in your memory.)

On January 30, 2006:
We had been married almost 2 years and were walking along pretty confidently down a certain path, with major life goals and changes coming together.

On January 31, 2006:
BAM.
BAM.
In the space of one unexpected morning phone call, I found myself crumpled on the floor of
our hallway, head in my hands. 

Life had crashed. Big time.

Suddenly all was an unknown.

All was uncertain. 

All my control was GONE. 

The rug had been completely pulled out. We were sitting on nothing but air.

So scary.

That day and the next overflowed with rawness.

Adrenaline to exhaustion. 
Exhaustion to heartbreak. 

Heartbreak to anger.
Anger to peace.

Peace to emptiness.
Emptiness to adrenaline.
Adrenaline to exhaustion.

And back and forth.

Constantly.

What do you do, 

but make yourself pick up one foot and then another. 

And repeat. 

You turn to those you absolutely trust to walk with you, 

to buffer you from falling,

to hold up your arms when you can't.

You guard yourself from those you just don't have the capacity to open up to in such an intense time.

You live one short moment at a time.

You (Psalm 23) "walk through the valley" knowing Someone is with you.

And you make choices.

BIG ones. 

Will I turn away?

Will I turn toward?

The initial days crawl by.

The world seems so different.

Life is normal for everyone else. 

But not you.

Not at all.

What is next?

When will life feel familiar and safe again?

The weeks go by.

Life continues: Survival and a New View.

Not easy. 

Like each step is through the thickest mud.
Through sadness. Anger. 
Wondering "if only..." 
Asking "what is next?"
"Will we recover?"

More weeks go by.

And then months.

And then the years.

Life continues, 

but down such an absolutely different path than ever imagined.

Not all bad though.

Just so different.

The grieving of the loss of the former path, the old familiar.

But, it is not all bad.

And sometime along the way, the "not all bad" shifts into an undiscovered kind of beauty.

What was once coping has gradually turned into a new normal...
and that new path has a completely different, personal, bittersweet beauty.

Bittersweet from going through the valleys and the struggles... 
But also a changed perspective.

And a loosening of those lost expectations.

Agonies and despair and uncertainty that have grown ever-so-tenderly into a deep, deep appreciation for what is lovely and positive and REAL.

Hope grows out of losses and hardest days. And what is more pure and rich than that?

The little is never little again.
(Not looking for the huge moments to see that beauty, but instead seeing it in the tiniest, simplest bits of life.)

"The soul would have no rainbow if the eyes had no tears." 
(Native American proverb)

And if seeing life and its ups and downs in that way doesn't bring some healing and gratitude...

• For a once-broken heart turning more tender.
• For no longer dwelling on what cannot be controlled.
• For the 'big stuff' not seeming as all-defining.
• For the once-unnoticed blessings being SEEN. 
• For absolute realization that Hope has always been there.
• For seeing the loss and grief and helplessness of someone nearby going through her own crises. (And yearning to walk alongside her.) 
• For that pure, indescribable gift in the recognition and appreciation of the good.
• For an inner radiance that could only grow from such painful days. (The light after trudging through such darkness.)

What is the only thing we have any smidge of control over?

Whether or not we can pick up that one foot and put it in front of the other. And continue.

Ever so slowly at first, but turning into a new boldness and gentleness. 

A different awareness.

You keep close to you what you need to hold close to you.

You trust that inner circle when you need to lean on someone else.

You see in the eyes of others whether they have had their own crisis moment.

You never forget the rough path of your journey, and you savor the sweetness when the path isn't so rocky anymore.

"Victories don't come by accident."

("War Room")

We have recently been reminiscing and reliving these past 10 years... 

The memories are still so strong and vivid.

BUT the milestones to look back on of how our path has been readjusted and recreated show us at least some meaning for we've been through. 

The painful memories don't disappear, but they are gently buried and remembered from a familiar distance.

Not ever wanting to go back through the hard steps again, 

but GRADUALLY seeing the crisis-to-survival-to-new-life with a gratitude for how we have been changed. For the richer. 

(Wrinkle lines and dark circles under our eyes and all.)

We would not be the same people AT ALL if not for that huge valley 10 years ago.

We would not be the same Team together if not for that shared trial and journey.

And I would not trade that for ANYthing.

No power of hell, 

No scheme of man,

Can ever pluck me from His hand.

("In Christ Alone")

And not a tear is wasted

In time, you'll understand:

I'm painting beauty with the ashes

Your life is in My hands.

("Just Be Held")

God has been in control.

God is in control.

God will stay in control.

Have hope.

Elizabeth

The Parts of Our Stories We Don't Like

I finally sank into the chair by the Christmas tree to catch my breath.

Struck again with the anxieties of this season: 
This season of the year and all its expectations.
This season of life and all its weariness.
From the daily-of-life to the enormous-of-life.

Wondering the whys of circumstances and challenges.
Why are there those parts in our stories that we just do not like?

Why did this past July have to hold such enormous news and emotion: 

• of our pregnancy
• my sister's cancer
• my father-in-law's cancer

And the longer-ago lingering events:
Why did we have to go through such a loss in our first year of marriage?
Why did my husband have to lose his mom when they were both so young?
Why did our friends have to lose their babies?
Why did our loved one have to go through the loss of a marriage? 
Why did each of our boys have the diagnoses that needed surgeries at their little ages? 
Why sudden pains and losses and life changes we just don't want to swallow.
...Oh-so many more stories we just didn't want to include in our stories.

These longer-past events, they may have some sort of answers and meaning.
But the raw, fresh circumstances? So hard to see as clearly.

Can we trust there is a purpose for those things?

As I took a moment of somewhat-quiet while the boys watched an old children's Christmas movie I grew up watching, it suddenly hit me: 

• When Mary and Joseph arrived at the inn "late" and all available rooms were taken, it SO would not have seemed ideal. Not one bit. Yet that was part of The Big Plan, for them to not have all the comforts and expectations of theirs met how they probably wanted. Not how they dreamed. NOT IDEAL.

• And before that, when they had to face the reactions of their peers and community with their unplanned-by-them pregnancy... that had to have been a horrendous experience to live through. Not easy. NOT IDEAL.

• And when they had to take that long and uncomfortable journey (pregnant and dusty and riding a donkey? As someone on my fourth pregnancy, I just cannot imagine. Not comfortable!) NOT IDEAL.

• And so when they finally arrived at their destination (later than all the others in the crowds), discovering there was no private space to rest in? Not lovely or pretty. NOT IDEAL.

But, was there meaning and reason behind each of these ordeals? 
These parts of the story they probably didn't like? 
Or times we felt "late" and that the timing was off (late to arrive, not how we envisioned a life event, our hope to be comfortable and at ease)?
Absolutely.  
And it's what we treasure about the story of Christmas: 
The sacrifices, the trust, the love, the faith. In something bigger than themselves or what they could see.
It just didn't seem clear or lovely way right away.

When I look back at those earlier past questions, I can see some meaning...
Why such losses and why such tragedies.

 


 The beauty from the ashes.






The deeper love for another.

The deeper appreciation for the good.

The deeper maturity in your soul.

The deeper faith grown.

The deeper understanding that we are not the biggest thing in the world. 
(There is something more.)

This quote stands out in my mind as these thoughts flutter around:

"The demanding of my own will is the singular force that snuffs out joy." 

(Ann Voskamp, 

http://www.aholyexperience.com/2014/12/light-the-candles-advent-devotionals-week-03-joy-video-experience/)

So. 
When my expectations and will for the rest of this week (and this life's season) may not turn out how I had hoped... 
And when I wonder and question why certain circumstances are the way they are:
This is okay, even the best way. 
Letting go. 
And resting in the larger meaning, beyond what I can see right now.
Trusting that one day, someday, it will be clear.

"Rest happy and love this story of a coming King 
who prepares the downtrodden for Christmas by becoming the Way, 
who lays Himself down in the creche, on the Cross, 
so we can lie down and rest."
(Ann Voskamp, "The Greatest Gift")

So I am slowing down and trying to remember to shut out all the clutter and worries, 
huge and tiny.
May you slow down also, and look back on the meaning in how your story has gone...

(At least for the moment.
Then we'll need to be reminded again.)

Blessings on your own season, 
Elizabeth

A sister's heart

I've been struggling these past few days.
Feeling on the verge of sick.
But each time I've felt discouraged that way, 
my thoughts immediately jump to my sister. 
(As if thinking of her ever really stopped.)

I imagine her chemo days that will soon start, 
and I wonder how her lovely body will respond. 
How all the coming procedures will treat my precious sister- body, mind, spirit.
And the tears are there again. Again.

This morning, I was sitting at our desk, still in my pajamas, tears streaming down my cheeks. 
Scrolling through (a choice, for better or worse) the late Kara Tippett's beautiful blog entry titles on "www.mundanefaithfulness.com" 
Yes, just the titles written by this incredible woman (who fought cancer and ultimately passed away a few months ago) of her entries and emotional photographs. Only a few minutes of looking at the words and heartbreak of this blog and I had to shut down the screen. 

Couldn't stop crying.

And then I realized my boys were chatting away while playing Legos at the dining room table, my back to them, not 2 feet away. 
And, as quick as lightning, I became inwardly angry. 
Angry at this lingering sadness, 
and (unjustly) angry that those children of mine didn't seem to have the slightest care that their own momma was nearby and so upset.

And then, as I (unfairly) thought those boys had no hearts (emotional days, yes?!), the middle son asked why I was sad. 
When I told them "I'm sad because my sister, your Aunt Mary, is sick and I'm afraid. Well, I don't know if afraid is the right word. I'm just really sad."
Luke tilted his head and shrugged, "But she'll get better soon?"
"I don't know, bud. We'll see." Crying still.
Zachary looked straight on at me, "But what are you afraid about?"

A few moments later, as I was still pondering his question, Zachary spoke up again,
"There's kind of 2 ways. 
You have to choose one way. 
The #1 way is you could forget about the whole thing and just go on. 
The #2 way is you won't go far from thinking about it, today and the next day and the next day. You're right there now- kinda sad."

Seriously?

This is my 7 year old son who seldom talks of the heart level or seems to pick up on emotional cues. This boy, who just shared these thoughts with his momma (who had to immediately write down his precious words, since my memory is terrible!), and softened my mean-momma spirit a bit. (I admit, my moods with my own children have been as volatile as anything these past few days.)

And the reality of what he said is absolutely true. 
#1 way- trying to forget about it. (Not really possible right now, but I could see the appeal for some situations, right?) 
#2 way- not being able to stop focusing on my sister, or the imagination of what's to come, whether in the forefront of my mind or quietly dwelling in the midst of all moments of the day.

I'll be honest here again: 
I have been carrying around my green leather journal and Bible with me almost everywhere I go in the house. Having it nearby. But, I haven't had the ability to actually open up either. They stay closed and just sit next to me. 
Not sure what's up with that, but I guess I know this dullness isn't forever. I may even have fallen asleep holding my closed leather devotional book in my hand, but sometime soon it will be opened again. 
Just blinking back enough tears that I suppose I can just trust that God's carrying me through, as confused and sloppy as I've been, trudging through these days.

I feel like, right now, just about all I have the heart for is talking about my sister. (And of course, crying just because someone shared a kind smile!) 

So many friends of mine and friends of my family are praying and burdened for my sister and each of us as we process this still-new-news. And how grateful am I! 

When all I can seem to do is think. And think. 

And talk about it. 

And want to trust God, while the heartache has been so real, almost physically hurting. 

My 40 year old sister, married with 4 young children. 

No breast cancer in our genetics. 

Bam! 

And so I just keep thinking. And sometime (soon, I hope) I can go back to reading the verses about God's care and promises. For now, those beliefs are in my soul, deep. It's just hard taking that step to go back to normal daily life before this journey began for my precious sister and her family.

And I've got to tell you, my big sister ROCKS. She has got a team of support around her a mile long each direction, and each one of us walking alongside this with her is going to be absolutely blessed by her beautiful trust in God's purposes. In the high and low moments, sis, we're all going to keep praying you through. (High five, sis.)

And so, for today, these words from a video on Kara Tippett's blog keep bringing me back out of the foggy thinking and shake me into remembering to look out the window:

"I have today, 
and in this today, 
I get to live well."
(Kara Tippetts)

Tomorrow will be different, somehow. 
Grace enough for one day at a time.

Blessings,
Elizabeth