A Sacred Story

This place is dusty. I want to write more, and to do so, I must open my heart and tell the story that God has given me.

Last Sunday while we were back home in Tallahassee, my former youth pastor, Roshad, taught the morning service at Calvary Chapel Tallahassee. He had remarkable influence on me in my formative years and though we may not talk much since our move to Ft. Benning, I still consider him a spiritual influence in my life and love him dearly. His teaching confirmed something that God had been telling me for awhile -- that there is no shame in the story of mercy that God has done in our lives, no matter how difficult it is to tell.

(If you want to hear the teaching, go here: http://www.calvarytlh.net/MostRecentMessages.php and listen to "If You Knew Me" from 10/10/2010.)

Here is my God story.

A few months ago, in March 2010, I found out very early that I was pregnant. Anthony and I were so very excited to start a family. Another perfect piece of life had fallen in place, just as we planned. We cried and laughed at the positive test, went to the doctor and started waiting for my belly to grow.

At week 8, I miscarried. It was a slow process, nerve-wracking and tense. I was too much in shock and denial to process the gravity of the situation. Only days after doctors confirmed the loss did it hit me. I felt ashamed of my body and like I had done something wrong. I felt like a life's future had been erased without asking for my permission. I could not stop crying in the shower and though I had people close to me die before, I truly grieved for the first time.

In all this, I knew that God was there. I could not hear Him or see Him or even feel Him, but I knew that He had received our tiny, tiny baby into His kingdom.

Miscarriage happens to many. It is most commonly explained as the body's way of preventing what might have been a worse scenario. In my case, I know the exact purpose of its occurence: to bring me closer to a loving God and to bring healing to others.

God's purpose was made clear in the days and months to follow. We did not tell many people other than our family and close friends and church family what had happened, but God put many in my path, strangers and those close to me, that had also dealt with the loss of a child. Some I was able to comfort and some comforted me. Healing, in all its forms and struggles, had come from an open wound.

The loss of our baby is still often fresh in my heart and I don't think that I will ever stop feeling sad that it happened. As I read what I have just written, the words have oversimplified the complexity of it all. What might best portray what I am trying to express is the story of Abraham and Isaac.

In Genesis chapter 22, God asks Abraham to give up what is most precious to him in this world, his son. It seems masochistic of such a God to ask such a thing. It is a strange truth that God asks of us difficult sacrifice. In the end, God did not "slay" Isaac. He spared Him to show Abraham what true obedience -- letting go --  felt like. In our case, God's will was done. No conversations, no merciful angel's hand. The baby was a gift from God, taken early and dearly loved. And after the fact, we gave it back to Him, understanding that He is good and that His mercy endures forever. It was our conscious choice, with the help of God's Word and the Holy Spirit, to lay down what we thought should have been rightfully ours for His glory.

Yesterday I saw my second child, a girl, for the first time on an ultrasound screen. We have named her Emmanuelle, which means "God with us". He has been with me and with Anthony through literal, figurative and spiritual deserts, and He will continue to be with us until we enter into His kingdom.

Wooden Spoons

Because I love food, my love for cooking comes naturally. I remember reading every page of every cookbook that my mother owned, lingering longer at the pages with tantalizing pictures of a lemongrass stir-fry, caramel coffee cake or poached halibut. Creating my own kooky concoctions either made for a fun snack or an "interesting" non-repeat.

A simple joy for me is to cook dinner from scratch for friends or family. Stirring a savory cream sauce with wooden spoons (one for stirring, one for tasting) gives me time to appreciate and really listen to the conversation in the other room. Please don't hear any Ina-Garten-snobbery in my preference for from-scratch. I can appreciate cut-up hot dogs in macaroni and cheese like any other. It's just that I find a meal to be one of the best ways to show love.

Save Now

I have lines about these kids,
that's what they are.
Kids in men's uniforms,
David in Saul's armor.

I have lines about these kids,
they're about their fates.
Kids in greens and blues,
identifiable by that tri-leveled fade.

I have lines about these kids,
but only intend to Save Now.
No plan to publish later
with a '63 Cronkite moment of silence
and clearing of throat.

Heat

We are silly people,
hiding from this
Heat.

We pay hard-earned cash to
maintain synthetic igloos. Then
lose an article or two to find that light brown,
that light brown like toast, but softer.

I am not the color of toast, I am
the color of my mother.
A beautiful pink, a rosy rosy freckle.

Please, yes, open the back door.
And maybe this weather will kill
those pretty vines choking the pines.

Leviathan

It seems as though I always write in every spot but this one - email, hand-written notes, grocery lists, research papers - and so this is a neglected place of old soul thoughts.

Sometimes, though, the written word is not enough. What is inside of you must be spoken, uttered, breaking the silence with small vibrations that are absorbed by another's eardrum or disseminated into the wind. It is why we sing hymns at funerals and why Arabic women wail in mourning.

Last week I stood on the curved slope of our dead-end drive and looked up into the purple afternoon (Georgia is very beautiful in the spring) and just said, "God?" It was a moment in which I felt the rotation of the earth. I felt as if it was turning so steadily that I might be flung into space. I think that Job felt this rotation too when God answered him. God asked where he was when He made the Leviathan, when He formed the foundations of the earth.

I know that there is a life beyond this one, and when I make it there, I will understand. Until then, I will trust and live and breathe in mercy.

Spring and Summer

This winter has been like the last party guest left at your house... they've helped clean up, dished on their life problems, taken a nap on the couch, found their keys... and then popped in a movie. What? Get out of here :) Snow, rain, freezing temperatures, and windwindwind. I've been bundled up in a warm house, but the hubs is straight-up sleeping on the ground on camping trips with Uncle Sam.

With the advent of the southern chinook, Anthony and I want to check out the end tip of the Appalachian Trail in Georgia, which is in the northeast region around Springer Mountain. It would be nice to do the entire trail consecutively, but that would require a trust fund, no job responsibilities and an eternal spring. So instead, we are going to do the trail a portion at a time over vacation breaks and long weekends and Saturdays. This is a no-pressure, fulfill at your leisure kind of goal.

(*Update: We received orders to be stationed here at Ft. Benning! Yippee! No moving! I will write more about this development soon*)

Now that I think about it, we have about 6 months left here. Although we still don't know where we're going yet, I need to think about transitioning again. Cardboard boxes. Jobs. Petey in the cab of a moving truck. Time to trust.

Go put on your sundresses. It's almost spring and we can daydream in bright yellow again.

Beachy McBeacherton Estates

That's what Anthony and I are going to name our beach house one day... when we have a beach house.

Since I'm now a housewife/grad student/about to be entrepreneur, I decided to share some secrets of my success with my reader audience:

1) Every three or four days, don't be ashamed to rock the pajamas until 10 minutes before your significant other or roommate comes home. Yeah, they mean "I haven't showered yet", but since when is cleanliness next to awesomeness?

2) Develop an intense emotional bond to your email. Check it as if your life depends on it, as least your social life. Also talk to your dog and expect him to respond, as he will.

3) If nothing else, make the bed.

4) Pray! And then write your paper.

5) Don't eat all the snacks in the house unless they are celery sticks and hummus. WiiFit knoooooowwwwws.

In all seriousness, I'm having fun with school and dresses and my little hermit life. So wherever you are, my dear readers, stay in your pajamas as long as you possibly can because before you know it, you are back again in the suit.

Ta ta for now.