Living Without Fear of the Future. Possible or Impossible?

One of my best friends and I start our mornings by reading from a Proverbs 31 women’s devotional.  It’s a few paragraphs and usually one bible verse that allows both of us to start our days with God and learn a little about how God wants us to live our lives.  It’s 20-30 minutes of reading, digesting, praying and ‘chatting’ over email.  It’s the time after we are awake and before the day starts to set the tone, create a foundation, a strong platform, with God and each other.

Every day is a struggle whether it be at work, with your husband/wife, your health, kids who don’t seem to listen, a dirty house, lack of time to work out and the list goes on.  We weren’t designed to be perfect (thank God), but, we can learn a little each day about how to live a Godly life in the midst of this crazy world.  That’s why this is important to us.

We can try.  One day at a time.  We will fail, certainly.  Likely a few times, ahem, every couple hours.  We will take a few steps forward and inevitably, a step back.  The important thing for me (and for my friend, Vaneesha), is that we are making progress.  It may be slow, but, slow is better than status quo.  For me, one of the things I have learned over the last couple years and recently doing this daily devotional is to not worry about tomorrow, about the future.  Clearly, if you know me, you know I am FAR from perfect on this.  However, I am thankful that God has helped me be more present.  To not worry about tomorrow, about my future and to not let worry consume my thoughts.  And this verse from Proverbs 31:25 (coincidentally…or not) is one that makes me smile.  Makes me smile at the work God is doing in my messy life.

#prayforoklahoma

As I read my devotional this morning, the verse 1 Peter 5:6 jumped out at me for many reasons, but one being the heavy heart I have for the people in Oklahoma.  Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.

I saw many celebrities on TV,  tweets and FB posts from various people and organizations  about #prayforoklahoma and was so encouraged.  Encouraged because we have a God who listens to prayer.  Encouraged because prayer was the response.  And encouraged that we have the freedom in the U.S. to pray and to talk about prayer.  So, my friends, keep praying!

Boston

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Bittersweet Lesson: The Necessity of Change

As some of you know, last month I started a series called Bittersweet which was derived from a book I read called Bittersweet.  Clever, I know.  Anyways, in the author’s chapter called “learning to swim” she talks about suffering and change and when we are in it, we sometimes can lose sight of the fact that we likely are being made new.  That we have to suffer to learn, to grow to be redeemed.  It is a story of sacrifice, purpose and character.

But what stood out to me the most was that she goes on to talk about how suffering made her selfish, somewhat controlling and slightly ignorant.  Why me?  When will this end?  I don’t deserve this. What is God doing? I want to be rescued from this pain.  I don’t want to wait.  I want, I want, I want.  Thoughts and prayers that are so self-consuming and meanwhile we believe we are the victims and crave a fast exit from the pain because we don’t deserve this.  Man oh man I can relate to this.

It struck a chord with me because I have been, precisely, that person, more often than I’d like to admit.  In the midst of my suffering, I can barely even think about others or the world around me because I’m so consumed with my pain, my problems and my own prayers.  In fact, just a couple of short weeks ago in the midst of a yelling match with Rick (it was a rough month…we had to let it out), he made it very clear to me how selfish I had been.  My initial response involved a few words I’d prefer not to reveal as to keep my blog PG-13.  But as we cooled down, as I thought about what he said (or screamed, not that I am keeping track), he was right.  Ugh.  Not only could I not see or care for the world and people around me, I was not seeing or caring for the one person I love the most…my husband.

The point here is not that while we suffer we should be selfless. Rather, the point is while we suffer to remember that something deeper is happening.  And while the narrative is about us, we need to be awakened to the world around us and what good can come of this before we reach the final chapter. We are being redeemed.  We are being taught lessons of patience.  We are being shaped into a wiser person.

And as the author states, “I believe that suffering is part of the narrative, and that nothing really good gets built when everything’s easy.  I believe that loss and emptiness and confusion often give way to a new fullness and wisdom.”

Amen, right?!  Suffering and change are inevitable. And we can choose to embrace the inevitable and embrace the pain, remembering that God is doing something bigger in us.  Work that likely has to get done.  That needs to get done.

This is the bittersweet lesson I am learning more and more with each mountain that I have to climb and each valley I crash in.  It’s not an easy lesson, but, it’s a good one and one that I am grateful for.  Embrace the change.  There are good things on the other side.

February 25. Letting Go.

My arms are a little weak as I inhale and exhale, fingers tapping gently on the keypad.  This post will be tough.  It is tough.  But do it, Ann.  I don’t want to, but I’m going to. 

Today is the due date of what would have been our first baby together.  I actually can hardly type those words without my heart aching so heavily it physically weighs me down.  You see, you never really ever understand the pain of a miscarriage loss until you actually go through it.  And you never ever forget the pain, I am convinced.  And you especially don’t forget it on the due date of the child’s birth.

I feel sad today but the sadness is amplified after finding out, about two weeks ago, I miscarried again.  I wish February 25 was only about the birthday of a child that only lived for 10 weeks inside of me.  The child that I wonder if I will meet in heaven.  I wonder if it was a boy or girl.  I wonder if the child would have had Rick’s smile.  Or my eyes.  I wish I could mourn this loss and remove the now increased pain, the tearing up of my heart just so I could focus on child number one.  I wish.

But that isn’t the case.  Instead, it’s two losses I mourn today.  Two children, siblings, that weren’t ready to enter the world.  Two children that God called to heaven sooner than I had hoped.  Today I am mourning, with my body suffering,  in ways that I didn’t know existed.  That I didn’t expect.  The type of mourning that I sometimes wonder how a person could actually be strong enough to go through this. 

Three weeks ago I received the positive sign on three pregnancy tests.  And five days later, on a beautiful Saturday morning as I was preparing for a party at my home (with non alcoholic champagne and all), it happened.  A miscarriage. I knew it immediately.  I wept in Rick’s arms.  I knew it.

Sparing you all of the details (though you may consider the below a lot of details, trust me.  There are around 150 more details that I am leaving out because as Sweet Brown says, “ain’t nobody got time for that!”), here is the summarized play-by-play, according to blood work, tests, exams, ultrasounds, speaking with various doctors and nurses and a. lot. of. waiting.

It goes like this:  Visit doctor after a lot of bleeding.  It’s a chemical pregnancy (wtf is a chemical pregnancy? Pardon my French.). Take a pregnancy test at the doctor’s office.  It’s negative (five days ago it was positive, three times).  I drink wine that night. Get my arm poked to test HCG (pregnancy hormone). Wait.  Nurse calls the next day.  HCG levels are higher than expected.  Need another round of testing.  Get my arm poked again. Wait. The HCG doubled (which is on trend with what a normal pregancy is). I might be pregnant.  There is hope. I wait.  Get my arm poked again to test HCG.  They lower.  It’s probably a miscarriage, an ectopic pregnancy or you could be fine and it’s a normal pregnancy.  Oh, really?  I’m sorry, but when did the bad news bears become OBGYNs?  Ugh.  Get my arm poked again.  I wait. I dream I delivered a baby boy and seconds later the nurses let him die.  Doctor calls the next day while I am at work.  The levels went up.  Need to get an ultrasound and a D&C STAT (at least it’s cool they used the word STAT in it’s true context).  I weep at my desk.  Colleague walks in, I’m embarrassed, I explain and I leave the office.  I arrive at doctor’s office. Get an ultrasound.  Weep as it brings me back to the last time I was in the ultrasound room and we received the “there is no baby” news.  I sit.  I wait.  Exam was “good.”  Ultrasound confirmed no uterine pregnancy and no ectopic.  Yes, I am typing this correctly. Remember, bad news bears.  Too early to see either.  Scratch the D&C.  Get my arm poked again for HCG.  Wait a day.  Test results come back and levels went up.  D&C for real this time.  I get the surgery. I wait.  The surgery was primarily for ruling out the possibility of ectopic pregnancy.  Doctor calls.  No pregnancy cells were confirmed via the D&C so they deduce I have an ectopic pregnancy.  Need to get injection of methotrexate STAT (yes, the word STAT was used a LOT during this process).  Ectopic pregnancies can be deadly if not caught. But before injection, have to get HCG tested again, among other tests to confirm my body can handle the drug.  (Methotrexate is a drug used to treat/kill off cancer so to say it’s strong is an understatement.).  I get poked for the 85th time in two weeks.  And I wait.  For two hours at the hospital.  Results come back, my tests were good.  Go to Prentice women’s hospital to the unit where pregnant women go and the first question I get asked is “how many weeks are you?”  I may have called the receptionist something not nice in my head.  I sit in the hospital for six hours and have nurses, doctors and medical students come in. Oh yeah, they invited Kirsten, the cute med student in because my case was “a doozy” and they wanted her to learn from it.  Awesome.  At least I am furthering Northwestern’s OBGYN program. Get injections and get strict orders of: no drinking, no working out, no travel, no sex and the list goes on.  They should have just directed me to curl up in a corner and sit there until this process is over which at this point could be a week or three months.

So that’s where I am.  I am drained.  In pain, emotionally (physically I am fine, thank God). In shock.  Trying to mourn the first loss. But now mourning two. Right now, all I taste is bitter with minimal sweet.  I am trying to pray but I have asked many people to pray on my behalf because right now, I’m not even strong enough to do that.  I know God knows.  I know Jesus is mourning my loss with me.  I know and believe God’s plans are perfect.  I know I will grow from this.  I know God is good.

It’s just my heart that isn’t quite there yet.  And that’s okay, for now.  When we suffer, often times during the suffering we cannot see one ounce of light (and we BEG to get out of the pain).  We can’t imagine that what is happening could lead to amazing things.   And I think God does this on purpose so that we lean on Him  to help us through and to remind us that we can’t do it alone (very humbling).  For me, there are moments of my life when I suffered (first marriage, divorce, post divorce, first miscarriage, to name a few) and I have those times to look back on to ask myself: Was God faithful?  Yes.  Was God’s plan better than mine?  Big fat yes.  Did I learn something?  Yes. Wisdom is a gift.  Did I grow from the experience?  Yes.  Was I able to help someone else as a result of my suffering?  Yes. 

And this is where my hope comes from.  Sometimes our plans have to fall apart for God’s plans to truly unfold.  It’s time to let go and let God do some work.