Afraid to Love

(Originally written March 2016)

What's the greatest thing that holds you back from experiencing true love?

A deep, dark sin? 

A busy schedule?

A spell from a poisonous apple given to you by a Disney movie witch?

Though it could be (almost) any of those, I'm going to guess none of those are actually the greatest stumbling block to love for you and for me. 

You know what is, though?

Fear. 

Throughout my life, I've seen fear hold me back time and again from loving fully, loving freely, and loving...well...fearlessly. 

My husband and I were privileged to hear Matt Hammitt (former lead singer of Sanctus Real) speak at my workplace fundraiser this past week. We were both powerfully impacted by the story of his son Bowen, who was diagnosed with a rare heart defect at 20 weeks in the womb. Matt and his wife, though advised to abort little Bowen and end his life, chose life and continued with their pregnancy. Little Bowen had open heart surgery at just 4 days after birth and the recovery included an episode when Bowen's tiny heart stopped beating-- a doctor did compressions on his bare heart in his open chest while Matt and his wife cried and prayed and held on to the blue toes of their beloved son. 

But God has plans for Bowen. And we saw the adorable five-year-old this past week as he helped his dad sing a song on stage that was written around the time of Bowen's birth. 

Matt shared with us that he struggled to become attached to Bowen after that tragic prenatal diagnosis. The pregnancy became a time of fear and uncertainty and even detachment. As his song states, Matt was "afraid to love something that could break." Yet God continued to move in his heart and mind and showed him that he could love Bowen in the way God loves us-- with all that was in him. Without reserve. Without condition. Without fear. Yes, there might be sadness or struggle or even loss, but freely and fearlessly loving-- being all in-- was worth it. He learned to "trade the fear of all that I could lose for every moment I share with you." ("All of Me," Matt Hammitt)

My husband and I had tears as we listened to his powerful testimony and our little one kicked inside my own belly. Though our baby had a healthy heart at 20 weeks, this pregnancy has been rocky with bad blood level results and our own fears due to our previous miscarriage. We have struggled with detachment at times and being afraid to love this precious child too much in case we lose this one, too. 

But God continues to work in our hearts and we, too, are learning what it looks like to love freely, fully, and fearlessly. Despite lab results or increased medications, we are learning to rejoice in every moment we spend with this incredible gift from God growing inside me. 

Fear creeps in to every relationship and circumstances because the devil is always trying to keep us from experiencing the rich love of the Father and the love He desires us to have with each other. Where might fear be holding you back?

Are you sharing your deepest self with your spouse--physically, emotionally, mentally-- or are you holding back because you're afraid of feeling inadequate or unloved?

Are you diving deeper into your relationships with family and friends, or are you afraid of losing them to distance, disagreements, or even death?

Are you tithing, giving, and sharing with others or are you afraid of financial insecurity?

Are you sharing God's truths with other or do you fear misunderstanding or being made fun of?

And here's the biggest one: is fear holding you back from throwing yourself into your Heavenly Father's arms? Whether you're afraid of your mistakes and sins or you just feel ashamed for not living up to your potential, know that He will never reject you and is always ready with open arms, abundant mercy, and the grace to start fresh. He loves you with all that He is, and wants to teach you to do the same. 

Let's experience that freeing love together this week. God is an expert at breaking the chains of fear. All we need do is ask. 

Of Loss and Love: A Year in Review with Pictures

So I've been pretty sentimental today. I didn't expect it. It was mostly a normal day. I worked. We have no New Year's Eve plans. I'll be going to bed early from exhaustion. But this NYE stuff caught up with me. The reflecting on a year drawing to a close. So as I drove to and from work, I found myself reviewing the year.

And what. a. year.  Marriage. A home purchase. Losses that knocked the wind out of us. Joy that seeped into the cracked places of our hearts. New places and new friends...and always the treasured old.

Tears and smiles, awe and gratitude joined me in the car today. But more than anything, I felt grace. Grace all over the year, woven through the ups and downs. God's presence. His protection. And His providence.

Sometimes we need to look more closely at the small things to see beauty...but sometimes we also need to step back and look at the larger picture. Join me as I recount the big and small things of 2015?

January

I was knee-deep in wedding planning, a nervous but excited fiancee looking ahead to the biggest change in my life.

I accompanied P. (fiance at the time) and my bestie R. to the March for Life in Washington D.C. Always a powerful trip as we show our nation's leaders (and the few media channels that will cover it) that we believe every life is a gift and worth living.

P. was invited to lead the prayer for the opening of a House of Rep. session at our statehouse. Such an honor!! His brother, nephew, and I were tickled pink to join him!

February


We were blindsided by the sudden death of my father-in-law. By God's grace, all the family members were already in town for a Baptism (some live as far as the East Coast) and were able to stay together for the following week. The grief and shock were overwhelming. We were too young to lose a parent. I felt so inadequate to comfort my husband-to-be, yet was so deeply touched by the way his family banded together in their grief. I felt blessed to become part of this family, this legacy.

March

We found our house. Searching for a home during our seven-month engagement proved to be one of the most challenging things we did and possibly stretched us the most as a couple. But I'll never forget the day we saw this house...shortly after losing the bid on a previous home I had wanted. We both fell in love with the country view, the quaint two-story, and the white woodwork. Within a week, we had had our offer accepted.

April

My bachelorette party with my sisterhood. These girls. The ones who have been with me through the ups and downs of single life, relationships, faith struggles, and self-image woes. We have a history together...and a future. Their hearts were so generous in helping me plan and prepare for marriage. Some friends will stay in your life forever.

May

I stood face-to-face with the man who swept me off my feet and vowed to love him forever. I watched him cry as I walked up the aisle. We worshiped together in song after receiving our precious Jesus in the Eucharist. We were overjoyed at the church full of so many loved ones who traveled near and far to support us, pray with us, and celebrate with us.

June

After a crazy two-week stint of living in both our apartments (an hour apart) on a random schedule, we moved into our new home! My mom and dad get the highest praise here, I've never seen anyone work so hard in helped us pack and unpack. We also had a sweet band of friends who made endless rounds from the trailer to the house. I hope they move soon so we can begin to repay them!!

July

One of the most joyful and painful months of our lives. We learned I was pregnant. Those moments of awe that a little life is within you...soon changed to the agony of having the little life leave you too soon. We lost our sweet son, Ignatius, to miscarriage. Despite being only two months into our marriage, my husband was a rock for me. My mom and my sister were lifeblood. And all the women who came out of the woodwork and shared their own miscarriages gave me strength and hope that we, too, would get through this. I was most comforted by these words of Mother Angelica.

August

It's an odd thing to be an adult. Because somehow, you can grieve and rejoice at the same time. And so while we still carried our grief, we were also enjoying our first few months of marriage and life in our new home. We hosted about forty young adults at a local park for a summer party of sports, pizza, and a bonfire. Such a gift to have fellowship with solid, delightful people who share our love for Christ.

I took my first trip away from P. and enjoyed the annual girlfriends camping trip at the lake. Despite my tan for the wedding, I burnt to a crisp from too much lounging in the lake!

September

A friend H. and I began Courageous Women, our monthly Bible study. The book has been incredible, the friendships inspiring, and the food quite tasty!

October

In the wake of doctor's appointments, new diagnoses, and discouragement about my fertility, we decided to take a month to refocus and reprioritize. October was a simple, carefree month all about our marriage. We even took a little getaway to Amish Country when my husband was scheduled for a few talks there. I was so excited for him to experience a historic Bed and Breakfast (although I think he mostly just enjoyed watching me get so excited about it all). I found so much peace and joy in this month of surrender to the Lord and gratitude for the gift of our marriage.

November

The day after Thanksgiving my thankful heart overflowed when I got a positive pregnancy test. Despite my deep gratitude, I soon learned this time around there would be a battle with fear and anxiety. I wanted to be excited and joyful but I struggled with detachment and fear that we would lose this little one, too. I so desperately wanted to trust God, but what did that even look like in this situation? I couldn't trust that everything would turn out like I wanted it to...but I realized I could trust who God is, that He loved and willed this child into being, and that He had a plan for it. If that plan was to join Him in Heaven right way or if that plan included us meeting and raising this little one, God's will be done. He is good and He loves us in either outcome.

December

My Advent continued my struggle with fear but I could see grace reaching in, God teaching patiently, and my heart learning slowly. We still don't know what will happen in the months ahead, but I'm learning to treasure every day I carry this child beneath my heart. I'm learning to trust like Mary in the uncertainty of life just as she trusted God in her pregnancy. And there is joy. So much joy.

She Sits Next to You in Church

So it's been an overwhelming week at the crisis pregnancy center.

I almost cried three times with patients. And I sobbed last night when I was alone praying at our adoration chapel.

These women. Their stories. They grip my heart and won't let go.

They are dealing with situations you and I can only dream of.

Yet at the same time, they're just like me and you. But a little less aware of grace. 

There's the teenager who's being threatened to get kicked out of her parents' house if she doesn't have an abortion.

There's the married woman with her marriage on the brink of divorce. They decided to reconcile and then she found out she's pregnant...and it's not her husband's baby. She plans to abort to save her marriage.

Twice. I heard that story twice this week. From two different women.

My heart is breaking.

They're losing jobs. Going through breakups. Escaping abuse. Battling depression.

It's heart wrenching.

But you know what else?

These women are your neighbors. Some of them sit next to you at church. They are your coworkers. You are encountering these women every day. Don't doubt that. There is no stereotype for a woman with a crisis pregnancy, for a woman considering an abortion or a woman who has had one. You have met these women, too.

Let that sink in, sisters. And let it open your heart and eyes to the people you encounter each day. They may just need your smile, your hand, your witness, your words, your love.

And more than anything, these women need your prayers. I sat before Jesus last night in the chapel, offering him these women. It's so heavy. I couldn't carry their burdens. I couldn't save their babies. I couldn't fix their lives. But I could give them to Him. He is their hope. He is our hope.

Please, sweet friends. Pray with me for them this week.

And you, dear heart. The one who's reading this while your heart whispers, I know. I've been there. You who carry the weight of your abortion in that corner of your heart that no one sees. You are loved. You are prayed for. There is hope and freedom and healing for you. God wants to break your chains. "Give Him the joy of being your savior." -Mother Teresa [www.hopeafterabortion.com] 

The Silent Sorrow: Miscarriage Awareness Month

Precious gifts from Sufficient Grace Ministries: A memory book and bear.

It's Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. 

Not that I'm celebrating it or anything. But it's there. And I can't ignore it. I keep seeing posts on social media about miscarriage awareness. And honestly? There's a part of me that wishes more than anything I weren't so acutely aware of it. 

Yet here I am. My heart, my body, my arms aching to hold my little one this side of heaven. To mark the weeks with milestones of growth, instead of milestones of grief.

Yet here I am. Simply a newlywed to most people. But a mother in the deepest core of my being. 

These are the pains no one talks about. Miscarriage is such a silent wound. I think it's partially because of our culture's lack of care for the unborn. To some people, we simply lost a "pregnancy," a "potential child." But we know he was our son. 

During the acute time of grieving after our miscarriage (because the grief never completely ends, it only changes with time; I will always love our child and always yearn to hold him close), God still provided. Yes, there were people who just didn't get it, who said thoughtless things or who said nothing at all. But there were also the people who reached out in word and deed, who prayed like warriors. There were the articles that said what my silent heart wanted to say, there were the women who understood exactly what I was going through. Those words and those women were gifts from God. He was reaching out to me through them.

And so in the coming weeks, I want to compile some of the things that helped me rise and walk again. I want to share them with other women who are suffering from this cross and remind them that they are not alone. 

If you are reading this and uncomfortable with my rawness, my realness, I want to share one more truth. It's an important one: There is joy in this cross. I never thought I'd say that, but there is joy and there is peace. There is joy because God gave us a child. There is joy because we believe he is now in heaven with the Lord, a small but mighty prayer warrior before God as he prays for his parents and awaits our incredible meeting in heaven someday. Our child was loved so deeply his whole time on earth, so wanted, so cared for, so carried. We have never experienced deeper love than that which we had for him-- and that by which he was created. These are good things. These are blessings. The temporary separation is painful, but the eternal joy is sweet. 

So know that we appreciate when you reach out. It means so much when you acknowledge our loss but also our parenthood. When you share about your own losses. When you pray with us and for us. 

We count it all joy, because God has given to us abundantly. (James 1:2, 5)

From a precious friend, who lost her son in the second trimester this summer.
What a beautiful reminder of God's love for our babies.
This is the goal for all of us. Our little ones just made it there before us.

Her Story

She walked in the other night, a breath of fresh air. Five-foot-nothing with a couple inches added on with her stylish heels. Cute outfit, gorgeous hair, twinkling eyes, and an infectious smile.

I was intimidated.

It had been a long day at the new job and I was still finding my way, wading through paperwork, trying to make friends, and hoping I was where I was supposed to be, literally and philosophically! Despite my excitement about the new job, there was still fear and hesitation...and a nagging doubt that I would be able to handle it all-- these pregnant women in crisis when in some ways, I was still a woman in crisis after losing my own pregnancy.

She smiled at me and introduced herself, this beautiful woman who comes in to volunteer at the crisis pregnancy center a few evenings a month after her day job. She was perfect in my eyes--poised, friendly, and gorgeous.

So I assumed her life must be perfect, too. 

Why do we do it? Why do we compare, contrast, measure, and evaluate ourselves against other women? Why do we draw conclusions from what we see before we even speak? 

But even though I was intimidated-- and let's be real, a little jealous-- I still wanted to get to know her. I wanted to hear her story. I was inspired and curious that she would volunteer her evenings at this place despite working a full time job and have a baby at home.

I think God wanted me to hear her story, too.

Because as she opened the cover of her book and laid it all out there for me, I knew it wasn't a chance encounter. Her chapters of infertility, of then conceiving twins, of her son dying in her womb and her daughter dying in the neonatal ICU. Her subsequent chapter of the adoption of her daughter. That somehow she knew she was still called to work here. That God gives grace. That some days it's hard to see the clients conceiving child after child-- often unwanted. But there's grace. And there's redemption. And there's healing. 

You can do this. You are meant to be here. Despite your story. Or maybe because of your story. 

That's what I heard that night. It was exactly what I needed to hear.

All because I asked her story. And because she wasn't afraid to share it.

Open up your heart to others, sweet friends. Don't be afraid to let them read the tough chapters of your story. It might be just what someone needs to hear.

7 Quick Takes Friday: I'm back and I think it's for real this time

--1--

I have Fridays off now and it makes me ridiculously happy. And it gives me a lot more time and energy to write. So. This time I'm making a solemn vow an honest effort to get back on the blogging bandwagon. Because when I looked at my last post and realized it was posted on July 30, I promptly fainted couldn't believe it!

In addition to writing and sharing more, I'm planning on bringing back Wisdom for Wednesdays, my weekly sharing of quotes, thoughts, and Bible verses with you. Stay tuned!

--2--

The job. Remember when I shared about a possible job opportunity? It happened! I'm not back in crisis pregnancy center work and I couldn't be happier! 

Back in the summertime, I was extremely stressed with my current job, mourning our miscarried child, exhausted from my daily commute to my old town for my old job. One night I was crying/venting/desperately begging P. to fix everything. In his calm way, he asked what my dream job would be right now. 

Working part-time at a crisis pregnancy center, I answered through my tears.

The next day, I went to a previously scheduled meeting with a center to discuss volunteering. By the end of the meeting, there was a job possibility arising.

Two months later-- and a LOT of prayer and discernment (because of my control freak cautious self in decision making)-- I'm now a nurse and sonographer for them. 

And I couldn't be happier or more grateful that my passion is now my job.

--3--

The fertility stuff. In addition to grieving our little Ignatius, our follows up with my doctor shed more light on the situation. It's one of those things. When you find out abnormal results, are you glad because now you have an answer or sad because they're abnormal? Honestly, it depends on the day for me.

In addition to PCOS (which I knew I had), I have low progesterone and a clotting disorder, both of which put me at high risk for miscarriages. That's the sad news. And let me tell you, it brings on a new grief, a grieving over a body that doesn't work right, that puts me at risk to lose more babies. 

But there's always hope. And I'm deeply grateful for my NaPro doctor. He's compassionate, faith-filled, and a highly competent physician. My treatment is minimal and hope-full.

It's a chapter I hadn't anticipated in my book, particularly not in our first year of marriage. But it's our story. And God continues to write with grace and beauty when I'm least expecting it. I'll keep sharing with you because that's what I do. And that's how I believe God gives further meaning to our suffering. I can't tell you how many women God has sent to me in these past few months who have shared their stories of hope, strength, and encouragement in the midst of subfertility/infertility struggles. I am grateful. And so I share mine.

--4--

The husband. He's great. I just love him. He shows me how to love more steadfastly, live more spontaneously, and trust God more deeply. In the midst of my fear of my medical diagnoses, he is my rock and a gift. So grateful. 

He's currently knee-deep (or maybe neck-deep?!) in coordinating the local 40 Days for Life Campaign as well as a leader in a local religious liberty men's group committed to bringing our country back to its moral foundation. But when he's not busy with saving lives and freedom...

He let me cut his hair for the first time! And he liked it better than the salon.

Brownie points for shaving down our budget (yep, pun intended) and for my mad skills.

--5--

A friend and I are hosting a women's Bible study beginning tomorrow. I'm so excited. We're doing a "mugs and muffins" breakfast theme for refreshments and hosting it once a month on a Saturday morning. I spent the afternoon making Healthy Cinnamon Sugar Apple Muffins and Pumpkin Cream Cheese Muffins. Here are some pics of the muffins (in process) as well as the book we are using for the study:

--6--

The cornfields are turning golden. It's gorgeous. I'm not ready for winter at all, but I'm thrilled that fall is on its way. Because...you know...my Fall into Autumn board. 

Um. Guilty. 

--7--

Time for some prayer at the Adoration chapel with P. and then I am off to bed! If you are cooler than me and staying up late on a Friday night, check out the other Quick Takes hosted on This Ain't the Lyceum. Goodnight, sweet friends!

Quick Takes Friday [vol. 22]

Did you think this was turning into a book blog?? I know, seriously!! I was way behind in my book reviews, so my apologies for the slew of reviews! (but then again...I'm a book lover, you're a book lover. No apologies needed, right?)

--1--

Summer. Sweet summer. It's finally here. Our days are 80's (and 90's today!) with little humidity and lots of sunshine. It's so gorgeous. The cornfields around our house are topped with their golden fuzz. The birds can't get enough of the seed in my birdfeeders. I ate breakfast outside this morning just drinking in all the beauty of this season. 

--2--

P. has had two trips this month for work-- both of which involved flying out of state, which is unusual for him. My first time with him gone since we've been married, and my first time alone in the house. It was actually a bit of an adventure. I'm thankful my single years taught me to be content and competent on my own...there are recipes to be made, projects to do, books to read! But I was still very happy to pick him up at the airport and have him home once again!

--3--

Speaking of adventures, I sought out the nearest farmer's market last week! There's such a charm to market shopping! It makes me feel like an old-fashioned girl, going to the market to barter for fresh food for the week. My 'splurge' was a cute little pot of rosemary to plant in a flowerbox outside. I'll definitely be back next week! I can't wait until the watermelons are ready...

--4--

I'm writing for The Catholic Sip now and was featured on one of their podcasts recently. What a fun time. One of the hosts was one of our groomsmen, so I had a bit of an 'in' to writing for them. They're a great new ministry, though, and it's made me seek out other podcasts. I never really listened to them before and now I'm finding all sorts of neat ones (although I still don't quite understand how to use them...can you subscribe so they're automatically downloaded to your phone? Help a tech-challenged girl, will you?) Do you have any favorites podcasts to share  while I'm on this craze?

--5--

I officially told my employer that I'll be looking for a new job so they can begin the hiring/training process while I'm still there. What a bittersweet time! I've held my position in cardiology for eight years!! But the drive is now about an hour from our new house and I'm just exhausted from the early mornings and the two-hours worth of driving each day-- it makes for a cranky wife sometimes, just to keep things real. I'm on the hunt and God has provided some exciting opportunities! One step at a time...I'll keep you informed, stay tuned!

--6--

This book. This beautiful book that I've had for months but read at just the right time. God has a way of nudging us like that...despite all the joyous events in my life these past few months, I've felt a little spiritually dry or distant. Enter Every Bitter Thing Is Sweet, by Sara Hagerty. A story of personal faith, infertility, adoption, authenticity, rejecting legalism, and finding sweet intimacy with God. It was a powerful book for me and one chapter in particular just...hit me. And all of a sudden I was crying redemptive tears and praying from a heart that God was slowly renewing. 

--7--

And He knew I would need that closeness with Him. The God who sees us. The God who is with us. The God who holds us tightly and walks with us through the valley. 

Because last month I miscarried. 

I know. I'm tucking it here in the last of my quick takes. Because after these weeks of intense grief and sorrow, the wound is healed enough to be tucked away...or maybe rather protected from those who don't understand. But I want you to know. And I'll talk about it more soon. But for now-- know that I tasted the indescribable goodness of being a mama. Of a little life growing inside. I have a child. I will meet him someday. My heart is torn by the separation of this life...but rejoicing that the Lord is holding my baby. He is still good. And I praise Him for the gift of a little one, an eternal soul that will be happy with Him forever. We love our child more than I ever knew was possible. Love hurts but it's still beautiful.

Every life is a gift, no matter how brief it be upon this earth. And so life is still beautiful, too. 

Loss

We're getting married in two months.

My dress needs altered.

We don't know where we're living.

We don't have all of the music selected.

And four weeks ago, life changed forever.


Because his dad died unexpectedly. 


We were in town with all of his siblings. For a baptism.

Welcoming a new little one into God's kingdom on earth...while his dad was welcomed into eternity.

And we're reeling.

I'm not his wife yet. I feel too fresh, too inexperienced, for this.

I'm floundering something fierce. Making mistakes left and right.

Loving imperfectly.


But somehow there's grace.


There's grace in knowing his dad was praying at the very moment of death. That he left an incredible legacy of the story of his life, his faith...and his family.

There's grace in seeing the man I'm going to marry be so beautifully tender and vulnerable...and so immeasurably strong and faithful. Watching him cling to the cross. And hold on to hope.

There's grace in watching the faith and strength of his mom as she trusts in the Lord unconditionally and still worships with joy.


But there's still pain.


Because he can't call his dad or hug his dad or ask him for advice.


The space between heaven and earth is wide.

And my inadequacy as an almost-wife feels deep.


Pray for us?

Turning the Page

This has been a beautiful holiday break. I mean, hey, it's 1:15pm and I'm cuddled in my chair with coffee, the Little Dog, and a Christmas quilt. Does it get any more cozy than this?

Quiet simplicity and time for reflection. My soul is happily expanding.

I'm reflecting on 2014. And looking ahead at 2015. I'm thinking about all of you. Some of you have been with me the past several years...maybe even some of you since the blog started. You, too, have caused my soul to expand with your own stories, your comments, your love and encouragement. God uses everything. Even (especially?) the internet. To connect His children. The kindred spirits I'd never have known if it weren't for the blog. So thank you. For being with me on the journey.

This past year was full of sunshine and storms and much grace. The beginning of the year found me lost in Paris. No joke. Stranded alone at an airport without a working cell phone and only a French phrase book to guide me. Pretty much an emergency course in trusting God's providence and protection. But all is well as I sit in my American home a year later, realizing with His help I conquered the metro system and my fears.

February found me reeling from a second break-up with my now-fiance. Even on heart-sharing blogs, there must be some things kept in a private corner of the heart. So though I want to share more details, and certainly would if you were across from me with your own coffee mug in hand, I'll simply repeat that God uses everything. I never doubted P.'s love for me, but both of us painfully separated to figure out what God really wanted from us. What a time of surrender and being covered by grace. Of being stripped of everything but the present moment. Of learning to pray with an open hand and heart, confused but earnestly desiring God to make His plan known whatever it might be. If you're going through your own storm right now, my heart is with you. I have tears in my eyes as I write this because hearts that have been broken love best and care most. Lean into Him, friend. He is enough. He does love you and has not forgotten you, even when you don't understand His ways.

I resigned from my manager position with the crisis pregnancy center this spring. It was a difficult decision (to put it mildly) but seemed best when I looked at the neglected areas of my life due to a too busy and stressful schedule. I'm still able to volunteer for them and have more one-on-one contact with clients, including performing ultrasounds-- my true passion. So though I miss the leadership role, I think this current role is perfect for this season and I look forward to how the Lord will use all my experiences in the future to promote a culture of life.

The summertime found me traveling to Tennessee with a carload of 6 girlfriends en route to our cabin in the mountains! We called our Facebook planning group "Epic Tennessee Adventure" and looking back, I can't think of a better description! It was an adventure, and it was epic. I learned how to cook on a charcoal grill, prayed devotions with the girls on our cabin deck, braved class 4 white water rafting, hiked the Smokies, and soaked in a hot tub with my sisters while Dollywood shot off fireworks in the distance. Traveling is such a bonding experience (and it can bring out the worst in us, too, haha!); this trip was a treasured gift and memory.

Then in October, there's this fairy tale where the dragon is slain, the forests are navigated, and all of a sudden I have this diamond on my left hand, the man I love before me, and overflowing joy in my heart. It's humbling and crazy and amazing and messy and indescribably beautiful. Our time apart has solidified our foundation in Christ and I am forever grateful. For all of it. Our God is in the business of redeeming everything we give Him...especially ourselves.

So this 2014 stuff: lost in Paris, then found in Tennessee. A broken heart then a heart that overflows (Psalm 45:1). What can happen in a year...

Now I'm turned the page. 2015. Marriage. Moving. Life as I know it is changing. Will you stay with me, my friends? You who have traveled with me, who send emails and comment love, who remind me time and again how beautiful are human hearts? I invite you into my journey of 2015, my heart and my life. I hope you will let me walk with you, too.

Grace upon grace,

Christmas Prayer Requests

In the joy and beauty of this season, we can sometimes forget that this season can be a real struggle for others (or perhaps for you this year). Infertility, death of a loved one, financial poverty, loneliness-- these painful realities can make it so difficult to celebrate when our world places such emphasis on parties and gifts and laughter.

Just this week, my heart has been impacted by three strong women and the suffering of their families at Christmas this year. In each of their stories, I see a reflection of the strongest woman I know--Mary, the Mother of God. She knows the difficulties surrounding Christmas, she who traveled to Bethlehem and gave birth to our Savior in a stable...and years later, knelt before the cross of her suffering Son, trusting without fully understanding God's plan.

Would you join me in praying for these women and their families?

For E., my dear friend being treated for a brain tumor this year. An MRI in January diagnosing it, a repeat scan in July after surgery only to find a new tumor had grown, and now in December a follow-up MRI after non-surgical treatment. This woman is one of the most hopeful, joyful women I know, with a trust in God that lights up her eyes even as she walks this road. We pray for good test results, and for her strength and hope in the midst of her treatment.

For B.'s family. Years ago, B. and her husband adopted two precious little girls. Having overcome cancer when they were young, it then returned in the past couple years. B. passed away a year ago this month, leaving her godly husband and two beautiful teenage daughters. I saw them at the cemetery at church yesterday, remembering the anniversary of her death and praying. I couldn't help but cry for their loss as I drove past praying for them. May God comfort her husband and her daughters as they grieve, and guide and bless them with renewed hope and joy in the future.

For L. and her son. Little J.T. is an adorable two-year-old who won a pro-life photo contest for Down Syndrome children. At a routine doctor visit less than a month ago, they discovered he has leukemia. He was admitted the same day and is receiving chemotherapy. We visited L. and little J.T. at the children's hospital last weekend, where they are staying until the first round of treatment is finished. J.T.'s siblings are praying he will be home for Christmas. We pray for healing and strength, endurance and trust for their family.

Thank you for lifting up these strong women and their families to the Lord. Know that if you are reading this and you are also struggling this holiday season, I am praying for you, too.

When It's Hard to Find the Strength to Go to Him

Yesterday morning, I was reflecting on John chapter 11, specifically verses 17-37. The story of Lazarus' death and when Jesus goes to raise him from the dead. But I wasn't thinking about Lazarus. Or even Jesus.

I was thinking about the sisters.

Their grief and the way they dealt with it. Their friendship with Jesus and how their brother's death affected it.

When their brother was ill, they called upon Jesus because of their faith in Him.

"So the sisters sent word to him, saying, 'Master, the one you love is ill.'"

He stayed two days longer in His current town before traveling to their rescue. Because He knew--He had another plan, one that would bring greater glory to God and greater faith and trust in Him.

In the meantime, Lazarus died. And sometimes the unexpected happens in our own lives, when we've cried out to God time and time again to save us from an outcome, heartache, pain. But it happens anyway. I don't know about you, but I've wrestled with this at times. The question "Why?" Eight months ago, I sat alone in the back of the church during Sunday Mass, overwhelmed by my grief but soaking in the Scripture readings. John 11 was being read and this tiny hidden verse hit me as it had never done before. Because I related to Mary:

"When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went to meet him; but Mary sat at home."

Even though I still believe in Him, still trust Him with my mind...I just don't have the strength or the words to pray. I sit there but my heart struggles. Is that okay? If I had greater faith, would I be Martha, going out to meet Jesus, boldly and actively continuing on knowing He will make all things right? Instead, sometimes I can't find the strength to go to Him. I sit at home.

But this is the God we serve, dear friends. The One who doesn't hold our weakness against us, but instead pursues us in our grieving. He seeks us out to heal us, even when we don't have the strength to go out and meet Him. He will come to you. He will call your name.

"When [Martha] had said this, she went and called her sister Mary secretly, saying, 'The teacher is here and is asking for you.'"

So let Him find you as you are. Fall at His feet and tell Him all your fears and doubts. He knows already anyway.

"When Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said to him, 'Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.'"

Your tears matter to God.

"When Jesus saw her weeping and the Jews who had come with her weeping, He became perturbed and deeply troubled, and said 'Where have you laid him?' They said to Him, 'Sir, come and see.'

"And Jesus wept."

Even though He knew He was about to perform a miracle, Jesus cried. Our God...wept.

He didn't hold it against Mary that in her grieving she didn't go out to meet Him. He came to her. He cried with her. And then He brought good from bad, beauty from ashes, victory over death.

I texted a girlfriend these verses yesterday because of a heavy cross she is carrying right now. She replied with "God is so good" because she had been meditating on a verse from this very chapter for the past few days!

It stirred me to share my thoughts with you. Because maybe God wants you to know this. That He's not holding it against you if you're struggling in prayer or growth because of pain or suffering in your life. He's meeting you where you are. He's coming to you, sweet friend. Take whatever steps you can to meet Him but He will close the gap. Fall at His feet. He has a beautiful plan for you but for now, He is simply holding you in His arms.

I'm praying for you.


Love,
3

Second Week of Advent

Sitting at the kitchen table with the Little Dog on my lap. Homemade spaghetti sauce warming on the stove (thank you, freezer, for giving me fresh food in the winter!). Achingly beautiful Christmas music playing in the background, making me tear up at the slightest swell of instruments.

And I'm thinking about you.

All you wonderful people who visit this site.  (um, and just a little bit about the Christmas cookies in the fridge.)You who welcome me into your home by reading my blog. (okay, I understand if that sounds a little creepy.) Who type comment love or friendly emails here and there, reminding me that my brothers and sisters live all over this big world but are so very beautifully connected.

So I wanted to say hello. And happy Advent.

You know I love this Church season of Advent. This invitation to slow down, seek quiet, trust in waiting, surrender to mystery. It wraps itself around my soul with gentle beckoning.

I responded this year to that call as with other years. I was ready to prepare Him room. I told my women's share group about my goals of finding Christ in the quiet, darkness, fasting, and waiting...just as our Advent program had focused on.

Somehow I pictured myself transformed by fervent prayer, calm solitude, overwhelming peace.

Instead these first two weeks have been more characterized by fervent grumbling, calm despair, and overwhelming uncertainty.

Don't get me wrong. I still love the season. I have my decorations up and my heart lights up when my Christmas tree does. I hosted a cookie swap with a dozen or so girlfriends. I sipped hot chocolate with two of them and crafted Christmas cards. I've absolutely relished a new Advent devotional recommended by a friend (Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas).

But amidst all that, I find myself being selfish, discontent, lonely, and discouraged. I play the comparison game. I get frustrated at both jobs. I need a break from people but I get lonely at home. I choose the temporary over the eternal. I whine. I pout. I sin. It's not a pretty sight, soul-friends. And that further discourages me, because this isn't how I wanted my Advent to be. Old memories surface. Unfulfilled desires nudge. It hurts.

I'm not where I want to be. I'm not who I want to be.

Emmanuel. My heart cries out.

I keep learning.

God-Is-With-Us.

Instead of the warmth of Advent wrapping around me, I'm feeling stripped of control and comfort.

It's cold. It's vulnerable. It's painful. It's messy. But hope draws near. Because these are the conditions of the Christmas stable. Of the uncomfortable Christmas journey to Bethlehem.

Messy manger. Messy heart.

I'm finding He chooses both to dwell within.

This Advent is not what I planned. But somehow He's using it. He's making it beautiful before I can see it.

Like Mary, He simply wants me to be open. To be. To look to Him with trust so that He can enter in and be born to the world through me. (From that amazing devotional I mentioned above!)

Maybe I'm not where I want to be or who I want to be. But I know this tender Savior enters into our messes. To transform us into who He wants us to be.

Maybe He's already here.

Emmanuel.

Haiti, Part III

We walked into the Children's Home.

Up until this point, I hadn't cried. (Though I'd come close to it at that chaotic airport!) But as I stood there in front of two dozen metal cribs in the first room, each with a skinny Haitian babe looking at us with curiosity or tears in their gorgeous big brown eyes...I couldn't stop the outpouring of tears.

Reality hits hard sometimes.

And as I picked up the nearest precious child holding his arms out to me, I knew my heart couldn't remain the same.

"To love the least of these..." (Matthew 25:40)

Over the course of the next week, we visited the orphanage often. Not all of the children were orphans, though. About 25 children were true orphans, cared for by the Missionaries of Charity sisters (love those amazing women!). The other 100 children were brought to the Children's Home by their parents, who could not care for them due to poverty or illness. Some of the children would be there for the rest of their life but some would be treated and cared for by the nuns and then return to their families, God willing.

I cannot convey all that I'd love to share about this place, the Missionary sisters, the children, and their families...but perhaps you will see a glimpse of the heartwrenching beauty of the experience through these memories from my journal...

-Changing diapers, holding babies, feeding my special boy his bowl of food and watching him gain energy and actually stand up in his crib. (he was 2 years old, dear friends.)

-The precious 6 year old girl who simply held my hand and smiled as we walked. (I later found out this girl was 12 years old...broke. my. heart.)

-The impromptu 'music band' of one orphan boy drumming on a toy, another shaking a toy, and a third one singing in Creole. Joy and laughter and awe.

-Seeing three orphans get adopted. Listening to the rest of the children sing and pray for them and their new families...and for the ones left behind. Watching the Haitian woman--one of the workers--cry as she hugged the teen girl for the last time before her adoption journey across the ocean.

-Singing the upcoming wedding songs (I had committed to singing for a wedding the day after I returned from Haiti--who does that?! Crazy me) with Haitian babies on my hips as I walked through the empty orphanage church.

-Watching the father of two children who was visiting them cry as he had to place them back in their cribs because the bell was ringing that visiting hours were over. He himself was thin and most likely poor and hungry...but he was showing me a vision of our Heavenly Father's deep, undeniable love in a way that was seared into my memory.

-Grace and Katelyn, a mother-daughter team staying in Haiti for a month, simply because Katelyn felt called to volunteer work before she left for college in the fall. They worked tirelessly caring for the children and keeping them clean, fed, and loved. And always, always with a smile on their beautiful faces.

-The Missionaries of Charity sisters. These incredible women of God. P and I were blessed to slip into an Adoration hour behind them. Thirty of them knelt there praying before our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament, barefoot and clothed in their white uniforms with the blue stripe like Mother Teresa. This. This was how they did it. Time spent before our Lord in prayer...to have the strength to then go out and serve Him in the least of our brothers. To feed Him, clothe Him, care for Him.

The tears just keep coming as I re-live these memories. Has it really been three months since I lived with and loved these people?

It's good to remember. So good to remember.

But it hurts to be so far away when all I want to do is hold those children again. See their smiles, hear their chatter, kiss their foreheads, and press them close to my heart.

They're in my heart. I just want them in my arms.

Home from Haiti

I'm home.

My heart has been broken for what breaks His.

And I know my life is changed because of it.

My heart is full. How did I have such joy, peace, and freedom when I had so little in Haiti?

My mind is full. Questions that arise and refuse to settle just yet.

And our nation. It's full, so full. Of stuff. Too much stuff. We can't see through it all.

The Haitians. Their stomachs are empty. Their homes are empty.

Their eyes are full. Sometimes of pain. Sometimes of joy.

Their churches are full.

My eyes are full. Of tears as I remember smiling with the people, laughing with them...crying with them.

My arms are empty. They ache with wanting to hold those precious babies again, those orphans, those sick children. Just one more time to hold you close and love on you and press your tiny bodies close to my heart.

My heart is so full.

My suitcases are empty. Unpacked and stored away.

But how do I unpack my heart?

The Altar

They look at me with such kind eyes. They're rooting for me, they say. But I feel vulnerable. Is it okay that I'm not hiding the pain in my heart? That I let them see my uncertainty, that I don't have it all together? Is it okay to end a conversation with "I don't know?"

It weighs on me. I feel it pressing into my shoulders. It's heavy and unexpected and complicated.

Their kindness soothes me, but it doesn't change things. Their love washes over me gently, but my vision is still clouded. Their support brings me joy, but I still feel this burden.

I'm tired of surrendering. I wish it were a one-time deal.

But it's not.

"The problem with living sacrifices is that they keep crawling off the altar." -Chuck Swindoll

So I crawl back, dragging along my frustration and heartache and confusion. I look for a moment with stubbornness at the familiar altar. My emotions shift from stubbornness to weariness to resolve.

I lug my backpack of emotions to the edge and push it up onto the altar. Then I climb up after and uncurl my clenched hands.

Once again I'm here with my offering, with my very self. I look up to Him with a tear-stained face.

I surrender.

I feel Him approach. His all-powerful presence nearing my altar of sacrifice. Will He accept it once again?

But the next thing I know He's wrapping His arms around me and lifting me off the altar. I'm not sure where my burdens went and it doesn't seem to matter. I rest in His strong yet gentle embrace. Oh, Abba. Is this what surrender feels like because right now I simply feel

Held.

My Valentine's Day Story

A lot can happen from one Valentine's Day to the next.

Trust me. I know.

One year ago today I was single on Valentine's Day. And because I love the holiday, it wasn't horrible. But it wasn't great, either.

I was a few months fresh out of a breakup. The years before had been ones of confusion and pain and lots and lots of growth. Peace, joy, and hope had sprouted from the ashes and were growing stronger each day.

Valentine's Day found me driving home alone in the evening from an hour of Adoration at church with my Jesus. I was in a season of surrender. I had tried to control and plan and make things happen long enough. It was all His now. I had seen Him time and time again pick me up from the shattered pieces so gently, so lovingly. I wanted Him first in my life and I trusted Him with my future.

But my heart still ached with its broken dreams.

A Kutless song came on the radio as I drove through the quiet black night with my passenger seat empty but my heart full.

My favorite band was singing:

When the path is daunting
And every step exhausting
I'm not alone.

And I knew it was true. Every fiber of my being felt this truth and rested in it. Though I was tired and struggled on this path, I was not alone.

I feel you draw me closer
All these burdens on my shoulder
I'm not alone, I'm not alone
You pull me me from this place.

Yes. Yes. He knew the burdens of my past, my heart, my life in this season. But still He pulled me close to Him, to His heart beating with an overwhelming, inexhaustible love for me.

The music swelled and the lead vocalist burst out in praise at this God who draws us to Him,

Hallelujah,

He sang. And my heart was swelling with the music and tears coursed down my cheeks as I praised God with him.

You carry me every day
You carry me all all the way
Hallelujah...You carry me to the cross

Ah, this song was the song of my heart. This was beauty and grace. How could I feel such joy and reassurance and love in the midst of brokenness? Only God can do that. We may carry broken dreams or unfulfilled desires or mental, physical, emotional, even spiritual burdens...but He carries us. And He walks beside us so we are never, ever alone. He carries us to His cross and shows us real love that gave everything for us. For me. For you.

One week after that night I would go on a retreat with the man I would fall deeply in love with.

Nine months later he would break up with me as tears rolled down his face.

Eleven months later he would call me, and we would talk, and we would step cautiously back into this relationship after a few weeks. He would continue to treat me with such kindness and love and respect, that I would fall deeply in love with him once again.

And one year later, he would take me out to dinner on Valentine's Day.

A lot can happen from one Valentine's Day to the next. Trust me. Better yet, trust Him.

Measuring Life [and the Roe v. Wade Anniversary]

Today is the 40th anniversary of the Roe vs. Wade Supreme Court decision, which legalized abortion in America. Forty years. Fifty million babies aborted during them.

Tragic doesn't even begin to describe it.

It's estimated that 1 in 3 women will have an abortion in her lifetime. That means no one is unaffected by abortion. Look around you at college, at the grocery, even at Mass. Who is carrying the wounds, the heavy baggage, caused by abortion?

Less than a month ago, it happened in my own family. A relative and his wife were convinced by their doctor to choose abortion, to choose to end the life of their precious child.

Read the rest of this article at The Catholic Young Woman

Go and Be Healed

We stood for the Gospel as we always do at Mass, out of love and respect for the powerful words of Jesus. It was Thanksgiving Day. The church was packed with people who had come to thank the good Giver. I was squished comfortably nestled between my brothers in the pew.

I was thankful. But I was broken. And raw.

My focus was simply on getting through one day at a time, yet the question still lingered.

Where do I go from here?

I don't want to go anywhere. I want my knight to come rescue me...except that my knight broke up with me. That never happens in fairy tales.

Then the priest began to read from the Gospel, from the Book that is better than any fairy tale ever written…

11	On the way to Jerusalem he was passing along between Sama'ria and Galilee.
12	And as he entered a village, he was met by ten lepers, who stood at a distance
13	and lifted up their voices and said, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us."
14	When he saw them he said to them, "Go and show yourselves to the priests." And as they went they were cleansed.
15	Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice,
16	and he fell on his face at Jesus' feet, giving him thanks. Now he was a Samaritan.
17	Then said Jesus, "Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine?
18	Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?"
19	And he said to him, "Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well." -Luke 17:11-19

He said to them, "Go." And they went. Then they were healed. They had to step out in faith before they received their healing. Imagine their faith and trust in Jesus...leprosy sores all over them as they began their journey. What if they got to the high priests and the sores were still there? If no healing had taken place? Did they wonder that? Or did they simply trust in Jesus' command to "Go" and know that somehow, some way, as they journeyed...He would heal them.

The lesson wasn't lost on me. In all my pain and confusion and heartache, I wanted to curl up and wait for healing--or answers-- before I kept going. But Jesus asks me to trust Him. To keep going and trust that He is here and that the healing is a process.

It takes faith to 'go' when we're not sure what will happen on the way. It takes faith to walk when we're limping. To stand up when we're bleeding. To trust when we're hurting.

But faith makes us well, Jesus tells us (verse 19).

So we step out in faith and we keep going.

The healing is coming. And the Healer is with us.