Everything Is Already Okay

A newborn, a toddler, and a homeless man. Never in a million years did I think I'd be living with all three under one roof. Yet here we are.

When my husband originally asked me if we could shelter this man with no family and no money, who had lost a job and would soon have to move out of his current apartment...I said no. I was overwhelmed with a reflux baby, sleep deprivation, and a moody toddler. I could barely find time and energy to take care of our little crew, surely God wasn't calling us to do this and add one more? (I know, I know. So selfish of me when we are so blessed, but I'm keeping it real, y'all.)

But then a couple days later in prayer I knew He was. And so we invited him (or Him? -Matthew 25:40) into our home.

About once a week I start to get panicky about finances and time and energy and how long can we keep doing this. In the middle of last week, I had one of those days. I was on the way to the grocery and just feeling weary and overwhelmed. Not quite discouraged, but just on the brink. I asked God for some sort of sign. He's already given us several affirmations (like the time a family sent us a random gift card in the mail, not even knowing about our guest, that just happened to be the amount I had spent extra on groceries that week) but I felt like I needed a hug from God...a sign that He was with me, He cared, and He would work things out for all of us.

He sent me that sign in the meat section of Aldi's. A lovely middle-aged black woman saw me looking at the chicken prices while my sleeping baby was strapped to my chest in a carrier. She oohed over him and asked a few questions, then when we were going our separate ways she pointedly and emphatically said, "GOD BLESS you honey, and GOD BLESS your baby." Immediately my mind went back to my prayer and I had tears in my eyes as this woman blessed us. I wanted to share it with her but was afraid I'd break down in the grocery and how silly that would look over a simple "God bless you."

Instead I silently prayed for her as I continued through the grocery, encouraged by God reaching out to me through her. After bagging my groceries and heading out to my car, I noticed her getting into her van. She saw me walking through the parking lot and drove over, got out of her car, and started loading my groceries into my trunk. "That way you can get the baby into the car sooner and out of this hot weather," she said.

I knew there was no excuse to not share my story with her now, so I quickly mentioned how I'd prayed for God to reach out to me today and how much it meant that she had been a believer and blessed us in the grocery. Before I could even finish, she wrapped her arms around me and the baby in a big hug and started praying over us. It was so beautiful. The best part was when she prayed:

"Lord, we know that you are at work and going to make everything okay...we know that because of You, everything is already okay."

And then she was gone. And my day was changed.

What an incredible encounter. It was such a powerful reminder that when we ask God to show up, He does. When we ask Him for a hug, sometimes He gives us a real one.

And when we know Him and trust Him in this life, everything is already okay.

*******
(I would love your prayers for our friend...God has found him a job and now we are looking for inexpensive apartment.)

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. 

Happy Easter!

Easter blessings to you from our family! May the Risen Lord give us hope this season as we remember and celebrate that HE can overcome anything in our lives holding us back from the joy and peace He wants us to experience!** 

**My husband took a walk with the dog last night and wished a neighbor man a 'happy Easter.' The man grunted and said 'just another day.' It hurts my heart to think of those hurting on holidays-- the poor, the lonely, the singles (I remember, girls!), the childless...and honestly, each one of us has our brokenness that surfaces during the holidays. Even now, the hubby and I argue, or family gatherings aren't perfect, etc. etc. But let's all remember no matter what we're struggling with, that Easter is never just 'another day.' It is truly the reason for our hope-- that Christ died to give us new and eternal life, and that He overcame the grave and every darkness we may ever experience. Seek the Light this Easter season. The darkness cannot overcome it. Lots of love to each of you. Thanks for reading and being my friend.

These Days

Other than book reviews, I'm not blogging much these days. I'm thinking a lot, but my fingers stall on the keys.

Not much is happening, yet so much is happening. I told my mama-friend the other day how odd it is when someone asks how I've been. To the outside eye, every day is simply the same-- staying at home with my daughter, the diapers and food and naps and such. Yet every day feels like a roller coaster internally with all the physical, mental and emotional energy the day commands. Especially the emotional. No one told me that motherhood would take me to the end of myself and mirror back to me not only the best of myself and my strength, but also the ugly parts and the weakness.

But there's this nagging fear that maybe I'm the only one who thinks this is hard. Maybe she has family that lives nearby to help. Maybe her husband has different work hours. Maybe my perfectionist personality brings on my own hardships. Maybe it's just me.

Then there's this nagging guilt that this is everything I've ever dreamed of, this life of home and hearth and husband and babies. Guilt for the friends' who want this so desperately. The friends whose left fingers are empty of a ring, or whose wombs are empty of a heartbeat. I know. I remember. So I feel guilty when having those things now feels hard. 

Sure, there are the days when music is playing and dinner is cooking and the baby is smiling and my soul is soaring. There can be nothing greater than this, I think, my heart fairly bursting with gratitude and joy in this season of my life. My husband is romantic and charming, my baby is gorgeous and endearing, myself productive and accomplished and enjoying a good hair day (ha! rarely for that last one!). The sun shines and I cannot think of a better way to spend my life.

This swinging of the pendulum drives me crazy. Why am I so fickle? Why cannot I not be steadfast in the mountains and the valleys? Why cannot I not remember the joys in the hard times? Why cannot I see the grace in the the distasteful moments? Why cannot I not "count it all joy" (James 1:2)?

We're coming out of a week of teething, tummy bugs, respiratory bugs, and freezing temperatures and snow. I'd like to say I handled it all with saintly wisdom and grace and patience, but instead I feel bedraggled and, well, dragged through it. The lack of sleep and the constant body fluids wore me down.

But there's the tiniest light inside me that says all is not hopeless within me. That even though I don't like what I see in myself, God sees more. That even though I might have trudged more than I danced through it, I still did it. I showed up and offered up and begged for grace. I saw the places where I need His healing and molding and cleansing. Isn't that what Lent is all about? Perhaps this is all the point. God is at work, but it is a process. And for someone like me, that's difficult. I want so badly to "do things right" from the start but God simply wants me to do them and give them to Him, letting go of the outcome....and maybe sometimes not even to do, but just be.

My delusion is often that since motherhood is my vocation, I must do it well (and dare I say perfect?) all of the time and from the very beginning. Yet I forget that because motherhood is my vocation, God is going to use it to make me into the woman He desires and created me to be-- which will not happen instantly but rather over a lifetime. And wouldn't it make sense that the very vocation that will shine light on the dark and broken places for healing to occur will be a little messy (or a lot!) at times? I know when I'm cleaning out a closet, it gets messier before it gets cleaner!

I'm broken, friends. And that's hard. But it's also hopeful! We serve a God who mends the broken places and makes beautiful mosaics from them...and then shines through them.

"We're all broken...that's how the light gets in." -Ernest Hemingway

Maybe it's time I start focusing on the Light instead of the broken.

Come, Lord Jesus, Light of the World, and shine through us this day, even and especially through the broken places.

What Trust Looks Like

My daughter was loaded in the backseat of the car in her carseat. I glanced at her in the rearview mirror and then glanced up at the pin on my visor. A silver medal of Jesus (Divine Mercy) with the words "Jesus, I trust in You" below it. I breathed a quick prayer of it and we started on our way to the doctor.

The visor pin made me think of a conversation with my husband the day before. We were on our first date post-baby, a simple afternoon getaway to a bookstore and coffee shop. We were talking about what trust looks like for us in this season, when fears have a different shape than they did when we were single. I shared how one thing I learned during my single years is that when it comes to trust, we must trust in a Person, not an outcome. I couldn't necessary "trust" that I would get married and all would be well, but I could always, always trust that God was good and He loved me and He would take care of me.

Little did I know we were about to embark on yet another one of those journeys in learning to trust Him.

The doctor examined our baby girl and then excused herself from the room. She brought in another physician to examine her as well. They were both stumped and started to converse about options and diagnoses and possibilities. While they talked out loud, my heart was racing almost as fast as my mind. Fear was tightening its grip around my throat. They don't know what's wrong. I had hoped it would be a simple exam, obvious answer, and quick fix. But two doctors were confused about what was wrong with my daughter. They started talking about medications and xrays and other testing, but I could barely take it all in.

I called my husband to let him know we were headed to the bigger town's hospital for testing and if he could cancel the repair man that was supposed to come today to fix our water heater (when it rains, it pours). He promised to meet me at the hospital and I could hear the strains of worry in his voice, both of us trying to be strong for the other.

I stopped at Subway to get a quick sandwich so I could drive straight to the hospital instead of going back home. Of course, nothing is quick with a baby and time was in fuzzy, slow-motion ever since we'd left the doctor. I stood in line at Subway, not really caring what I ate but knowing I needed to eat something, and watched the people in front of me. When it was my turn to check out, the cashier glanced at me and said "our card machine just got jammed, so go ahead. No need to pay today."

And in that odd little moment, a distracted Subway manager reminded me to trust in a Person rather than an outcome. The small coincidence of my lunch being paid for on that day was a hug from God. A reminder that He was with us, He loved us, and He would take care of us no matter what lay ahead.

I got back in the car and continued our journey to the hospital, this time with peace instead of fear. A favorite song by Josh Wilson came on as yet another reminder of God's goodness, of the 'dark before the morning' and the 'pain before the joy.'

We still don't fully know the outcome, but things are looking so much better with her health and prognosis right now and we are so grateful for that. But I'm also grateful for the ways God showed up and reminded me to look to Him and not an outcome. He was, and is, tangibly present with His grace in our situation...first shown to me that day by a Subway manager.

Tuesday Talk #19: Our Love Story (a blog hop)

Joining the other Tuesday Talk hosts by sharing our love stories today! I hope you will join us! 

If God is still writing your love story, I hope you will take heart and hope from the stories shared. I didn't get married until my late twenties, learned the joys and struggles of the single life all too well, and went through a few heartbreaks (including a broken engagement) along the way to my 'happily ever after.' And even though love and marriage are incredibly beautiful and leave me humbled and grateful for my husband and our journey together...in the end, the only real happily ever after is with our Savior in Heaven, for "to fall in love with God is the greatest of romances." -G. K. Chesterton

But without further ado, I decided to share just one chapter of our story today: how we met.

It was a gorgeous midsummer day and I was helping my brother with the music for church at his university parish. He was their summer musician and invited me to sing with him for Mass one weekend. 

Afterwards, there was an annual parish picnic and reunion for the current and past college students and parishioners. Not one to pass up on a cookout and festivities, I stuck around after Mass. I sat down with a plate of food at the nearest table with an empty spot. (When my husband tells the story, he insists there were plenty of other seats and that I purposely chose that spot.)

Little did I know I had just sat down across from my future husband: the new campus minister.

He was looking pretty hot that day. Typical campus/youth minister, I thought. Athletic, good-looking, outgoing. Even spikes his hair in the front a little. I was not impressed. I had a preconceived notion that youth ministers tend to have an ego and don't necessarily ever grow up.

But my future husband was quite smitten with me. He took every opportunity to talk with me and I enjoyed our conversations but was actually oblivious that he was singling me out. 

Maybe that's because I was dating someone else at the time!

The next day P. (my husband) proceeded to tell his new friend (who also worked at the university church) all about this amazing girl he had met. His new friend smiles and says, "oh, you must have met my girlfriend Laura." 

Silence. 

Yep. I was dating the other guy, who had been out of town the day of the picnic. My hubby was shocked and embarrassed and mumbled something about how he wasn't sure and then ended the conversation. 

It's one of our favorite stories to tell, and P. tells it a lot better than I do-- I love hearing his version of it!! 

Obviously, things gradually moved in his favor (and mine!) over time. A few months later, I broke up with the other guy after realizing he wasn't my Mr. Right. A few months after that, there was a mission trip my little brothers were going on with the university church group and they needed another chaperone over the age of 25 (I had just turned 25!). I was excited about the idea of a mission trip and needed something like that after a long winter. I talked to the campus minister (yep, my hubby!) and he was all about the idea of me chaperoning. Wink, wink. He even accommodated me so well by making sure I was in his van on the drive. 

Long story short, by the end of the trip, I was head over heels. I couldn't believe how I had failed to see how incredible this man was! He was charming, handsome, funny, deeply spiritual, and an amazing leader! No one had ever given me butterflies like he did and does! Thankfully, he was still smitten with me and we started dating the week we returned! 

We had our ups and downs throughout our relationship, and even a few breakups, as we discerned where God was calling us and whether or not that was together. But God worked through everything and on May 22 of last year, we began our journey together for the rest of our lives as husband and wife. Marriage has been very, very sweet. We chose to save sex and living together for marriage and it's just been indescribably beautiful to live out this sacrament the way God intended (but we're still very much two sinners trying to get to Heaven!). His plan is always so good, so joyful, and so rich with beauty and grace. 

Here's to 50 more years! ;)

Here's a picture someone took of us at the church picnic the day we met. We were playing a crazy game with the college students. (The photographer says she totally knew we'd get together someday.) 

Laughter -- one of the necessary ingredients for a good marriage!

Want to read the rest of the stories?

Beth at Our Pretty Little Girls  //  Becky at BYBMG

Jessica at Sweet Little Ones  //  Emily at Raising Barnes

Stephanie at Wife Mommy Me  //  Stasia at Our Life on a Budget

Sarah at Abiding In Grace  //  Ruthie at Rear. Release. Regroup.

Laura at Life Is Beautiful  //  Christina at Waltzing In Beauty

Michelle at Grammie Time  //  Tina at Go Big or Go Home

Whitney at Polka Dotty Place

Or link up your own below?

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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.

Tuesday Talk #11: Fear Not

It's the most wonderful time of the year.

Right?

Yet in the midst of the joyful preparations, the twinkling lights, the festive parties...I find myself experiencing some feelings that aren't so wonderful.

Fear. Worry.

We've had a couple different situations lately within our families that have been the cause of my anxiety. Yet I allowed those feelings snowball into habits of daily worry.

A few evenings ago, my husband was out of town and it was just me for the night. The Christmas tree was on and I lit the candles on the Advent wreath. But something was missing.

Peace. The tranquility that a night like this would normally bring me. It was then that I realized how much I had let fear take hold within me. It was becoming less about the outcomes of the family situations and more about my attempts to control them, my need to know the future, my exhausted efforts to go beyond my abilities. And I realized these were not just reactions and emotions anymore-- they were habits. They were symptoms of a deeper problem. My lack of trust in God. My lack of faith in Him. That He would be with me whatever the outcome. That He knows, He sees, and He is a good God.

I reflected on Mary, who carried the Son of God in her womb as she traveled with Joseph to Bethlehem. A journey we too often forget about in our hurry to celebrate the Nativity. It must have been a journey of hunger, fatigue, uncertainty. Did they wonder about their next meal, their next bed, the health of baby Jesus in all that traveling?

Yet God was with them. Literally. And He provided for them every single step of the journey.

Just as He does in our own uncertain paths.

I watched this video that evening (moms send us such good stuff!). About peace, About stillness. About trust. I cried through it. And I repented of my lack of faith. Of my desperate reaching for control when a loving God has it all in His hands.

I sat before the Advent candles burning before my manger scene--the one my mom bought for me years ago as a little girl and promised to give to me my first year of marriage. Tears drying on my face. I felt it. Maybe for the first time this season.

Because I had let go. Those hands that had held so tightly to a false control were now open to receive it.

His peace.

"And the angel said to them: Fear not; for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy that shall be to all the people." -Luke 2:10



Want to join this week's link up? Grab our button below and link back to one of the hosts!

The hosts of Tuesday Talk

Beth - Our Pretty Little Girls ~ Michelle - Grammie Time
Keri - Living In This Season  ~ Christina - Waltzing In Beauty
Lauren - Simply Elliott~  Becky - BYBMG
Jess and Katie - Sweet Little Ones ~ Whitney - Polka Dotty Place
Laura - Life Is Beautiful ~ Elizabeth - All Kinds Of Things
Sarah - Abiding In Grace ~ Stephanie - Wife Mommy Me
Emily - Morning Motivated Mom

You can join us on Pinterest, too!

Follow Sweet Little Ones's board Tuesday Talk Features on Pinterest.

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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.

Wisdom for Wednesdays (we're bringing it back!)

"So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you have had to endure many trials for awhile."

-1 Peter 1:6

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. 

Wisdom for Wednesdays

"Pray, hope, and don't worry." 

-St. Pio of Pietrelcino

Life

Hi guys...it's me.

You know how sometimes you take a writing break because bad things happen and you need time...time away, time alone...time to process thoughts and emotions and some days even just survive?

So you build a cocoon and retreat from the online world. You wait and you sit tight and you hope for beauty and redemption.

And then time passes and you realize you aren't just surviving anymore--things have changed but life is beautiful-- yet every time you want to write you wonder where to start...so you put it off. You have a few unfinished posts you wrote in the last couple months but never quite clicked Publish.Yet you miss those precious friends...you read their blogs...you think of them--and even pray for them.

And one day you sit down and it happens. You write. Because you want to tell them you're here. And even though you're not totally up to sharing all the details, you want to share with these dear friends. You want to tell them that we serve an incredible, amazing God who walks with us in our pain, who holds us when we cry, who sends us infinite signs of hope along the way. A God who heals more deeply and loves more fiercely than we can imagine. And because of Him, you are smiling and laughing and dancing and learning again. And writing.

This time you click Publish.

Wisdom for...Tuesday!

"New Year's Eve--this is the moment of beginning again...the moment in which the old touches the new, in which we offer gratitude to God."

-Catherine Doherty

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.

Mess

There are dishes in my sink, clothes on my floor, papers on my desk.

But I want to write. I need to write. Is that okay?

I'm thinking of a million things I should be doing instead. Yet whenever I start working on the list, I only get through 32 of those million things instead of the whole list and then I never get to write.

So tonight I left it all and escaped to the outdoors. I'm writing before the dirty dishes and the piles of clothes and the paper messes.

I hear the nagging voice of perfectionism inside me but I choose to ignore it tonight. I never satisfy it anyway.

I've been in a childish mood today. Can you tell? I'd love to blame it on spiritual warfare and a busy schedule and people who rub me the wrong way...but you know...I really think it's just me. In the end, it's where I'm choosing to focus my thoughts (Philippians 4:8). And I'm not gonna lie, you guys. I'm choosing to be childish. With eyes narrowed and lips pouting, I want to whine about an imperfect life-- of busyness and a never-ending schedule, about juggling two jobs and burnout from ministering to pregnancy test clients, about my own body that doesn't work right with P.C.O.S.--plus that pesky fractured thumb, about a messy house, about relationship tensions and comparing myself to others who have five kids by my age. (Did you notice I'm getting my whine out anyway? Let's have some cheese and cheers, shall we??)

But really. I pause. I breathe deep. I let the breeze tickle my face. I hear that undauntedly cheerful bird chirping. I feel Brogan's fur against my leg as he curls up next to me. I think about a family who loves me. A good man who puts up with my moodiness lately. Of girlfriends who speak truth to me when others pull me down.

I breathe out.

I still feel the weight of my imperfection. Some days I'm convinced that life, that grace, that God has taught me to surrender, to let go of control and perfectionism. At best, I'm humbly thankful and at worst I'm subtly proud of it.

Then I enter a new season with new challenges. With new opportunities to let go, to trust more fully, to surrender more gracefully.

And these hands just grip so tightly.

I grasp for a semblance of control when all spins wildly about me. I can't do it all. So why does that make me feel like a failure?

When will I learn to step back and look at things in the light of Christ, in the light of eternity?

Can I come to Him with hands full of this stuff? Can I drag stuff with me if I admit I need His help in letting go?

Will He transform me from childish...to childlike?

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.