The New Normal

I don’t know who really runs with open arms toward change.  I know I’m not one of those people.  I am a creature of habit, and I find great comfort in routine.  My whole life is mostly a routine.  As a teacher, it’s my job to create routines and stability for my students, and they treasure it as much as I do.  I have to prepare them for change. We have short morning meetings to talk about what may be special or different each day.  For my own children, I do the same thing.  My oldest thrives in routine.  My kids will be quick to tell you “But, that’s not how Mama does it,” if you have to deviate from the norm. 

To say that we have to adjust to the recent changes in our family is a gross understatement.  Thankfully, my God, in His infinite grace, is being so gentle with this worrysome daughter of His, as well as these young ones He’s entrusted to us.  He knows all of us so intimately, and He is not intimidated by our quirks, our need to be in a controlled environment, or our staunch resistance to change.  But He is also too good of a Father to leave us where we are, so He brings transition-somewhat of an abrupt change this time-and He stands with us.  We are all slowly adjusting, and the differences are a few more each day.

The children are getting used to Daddy saying, “I’m not hungry,” and they are free to respond to that openly.  Our oldest readily states that he’s not used to hearing those words from Daddy, and it’s OK that it’s true.  It’s something that will readily become a way of life for us, as we begin to see the positive changes that happen when we say no to food, and yes to life.  We eat to live, no longer live to eat. 

Little girls who are so used to tucking themselves into Daddy’s “pocket” (the space between his side and the arm of the couch) to watch a show before bed and get some snuggles, have learned to crawl up gently to watch for stitches, that are quickly healing, and looking better each day.  Soon, those will be coming out, but they will have to continue being careful for awhile.  The biggest, our man-child has to put a hold on jumping into Daddy’s arms for his good night hugs and kisses for a bit, but that doesn’t stop him from getting his goodnight love.  None of us really like the feel of stitches on our skin, so we tend to stay away from incisions when snuggling in to our protector.

Zoe has found a recent love of the chocolate protein shakes, which is wonderful, because she doesn’t really like eating much anyway.  The children love Daddy’s new diet, as they have all the yogurt, sugar free popsicles, and Jell-o they could ever want.  The biggest problem is making sure the fridge stays stocked so that when their daddy actually needs to have something, it’s there for him. 

I’ve pretty much banned the term “bloated full” which has always been somewhat of a trademark phrase of Patrick’s.  This takes on a whole new meaning after bariatric surgery.  Bloated can mean that you’ll need to throw up soon, because once you reach full, there is literally no other place for food to go.  So, upon further discussion, we have determined that the phraseology, “bloated full” isn’t an accurate descriptor of the feeling he feels, as the last thing we want is to stretch out that shiny new stomach he has.  Sometimes, indigestion is the feeling, as reflux is common, but for him, it’s often some discomfort instead.  If you can’t tell, I’m kind of a words person, so accurately describing something to me is important, and I take his words very literally.  Since his catch phrase causes me heart palpitations, I’ve asked him to try out different ways of explaining how he’s feeling.  And he’s doing a great job of accommodating me in these early days post surgery.   

One thing we all have to work with is his constant feeling that his thoughts are disconnected.  He often loses his train of thought, or struggles to find a word in conversation.  As he is able to take in more protein, this should improve, as should his energy levels.  He still needs lots of rest, and we try to let that happen as often as our noisy little brood of small people will allow it.  He forgets things a lot.  It reminds me of myself when I’m under lots of stress.  I tend to forget things so much when all the plates are spinning a hundred miles an hour!  So we all help as much as we can, and we know that soon, he will be feeling more like himself and won’t have a self proclaimed “baby brain.”  He has a whole new understanding of my experience with forgetfulness during my pregnancies.  He can truly understand first-hand!

I’m affectionately known as “The Warden” these days, as I’m a pretty big fan of following the plan the nutritionist went over with us at the hospital.  I know he misses tasting “real” food, but my heart is to see him fully healed, with no setbacks or complications.  His healing has gone miraculously well.  I’m amazed at how quickly incisions are healing.  Stitches came out yesterday, as he was starting to heal over them.  I got some great video and photos of them coming out, and I even got to pull a couple myself!  AWESOME!! 

Personally, I’m adjusting myself back into a slower pace of summer.  It allows me to afford little luxuries like staying up later, and in turn, sleeping in later.  But not too late…these kids are ready to take on the world!  With that slower pace, comes a chance for me to reflect on my responses to these beautiful children.  They get on each others’ nerves from time to time; they tattle constantly; they don’t listen to me…it tests me daily.  So, my personal challenge this summer is to respond to them in love-sometimes firm love-but also, to have more grace for them.  I personally must realize that everything isn’t an emergency, and to respond with calm grace, instead of reacting in anger.  I’m being purposeful to take little faces gently into my hands, look into those soft brown eyes, and give direction or correction with love, instead of yelling.  It’s a reprogramming season for me and for the children, too.  Sadly, under the pressure and stress of long work hours, and feeling the strain of trying to keep up with home and family, I’m pretty sure it was my family that took the brunt of the anger that resulted from just being stretched too thin.  I’m hopeful that, as weight comes off and my husband feels better, I will not have to stretch that far again.  And even if I do find myself stretched paper thin, my prayer for myself is that I learn to deal with all of life’s emergencies with a full measure of grace, and to embrace each moment as a chance to squeeze the most full joy out of each day.  

Progress Report

Today's post is just a simple progress report, but there is beauty in the practical things.  I want to keep this here so that one day our children can go back and review this journey they likely won't remember as being a big deal.  They won't know until later in their lives that this decision, and the journey that ensued, was the lynchpin that changed the course of our lives as a family.

Patrick has been incredibly strong through this whole process.  He started a modified diet 6 weeks before surgery date.  He focused on a high protein diet, with low carbs and moderate fats, cutting sugar from his diet.  He knew he had to lose about 20 pounds to be able to go to Mexico and get the surgery, because the O.R. table had a 500 lb. weight limit, and he weighed 518.6 before he started diet changes.  Ten days before surgery he went to a clear liquid only diet.  The doctor only required five days of clear liquids, but he wanted to make sure he achieved the purpose of the fast, and have his liver at a reduced size in anticipation of surgery.  A smaller liver simply means an easier procedure.  The day of surgery was a total fast from everything, and he received all nourishment through IV that day. Then, 24 hours after surgery he was given ice chips and slowly, throughout the day, reintroduced a few more clear liquids (sugar free ice pops, water, broth, sugar free jello).  The main jobs at this point were to walk and nap.  He continued this clear liquid diet ten days post surgery, for a grand total of 20 days of clear liquids.  The Tuesday before surgery, he weighed in again, just to make sure he was under the 500 lb. weight limit.  Using the four weeks of high protein and ten days clear liquid diet, he weighed in at 492, for a loss of 26.6 pounds before surgery.  After surgery, and the continued liquid diet, he posted a weight of 471 eight days post op-a 21 lb. loss in 8 days!  He was very tired, and needed frequent rest and naps.  I reminded him to rest, as he was taking in less than 50 calories a day, and recovering from surgery.  His biggest job, to me, was to hydrate.  I know he got tired of me telling him to keep drinking water.  It was a struggle, as the stomach was small, and he had to sip so slowly, or it was painful, but hydration aids our healing.  It allows cells to repair themselves.  And he needed to heal completely.

After he completed his ten days of clear liquids this past Sunday, he was ready to introduce protein again in the from of protein shakes, low fat yogurt, and fat free milk.  He will continue these in addition to jello, sugar free popsicles, natural fruit bars, and chicken broth until Friday, when he can start adding purees to his diet.

He continues to have an incredible attitude, never complaining when the family eats in front of him.  I ask him if he feels hungry, and he says he's never hungry.  He has to make himself take in the required amounts of protein and water for each day, sipping slowly, being intentional about ingesting things healthful to his healing process.

Even with his reduced energy, I've seen an increase in so many things.  I've already seen him helping more, and I hope he knows these things aren't going unnoticed.  He cleaned off a table without prompting. When we went to Sam's last week, and he picked up a bunch of flowers for me.  He knows I love fresh flowers, but I know he detests buying them for me, because they die.  But he loves me enough to occasionally overlook his annoyance with flowers.

One day last week, he was going to the store to get a couple of things, and Zoe asked to go with him.  He readily agreed and they headed to the car, and when Charis came unglued at the thought of not getting to go to the store with Daddy, he took her along, too.  This blessed my heart to no end.  I knew taking the girls meant a lot of extra work and time for what should have been a quick errand.  They were gone for awhile.  When they came home, my sweet girls were glowing with the joy of having spent time with their Daddy.  They came with the things I asked for, and a couple of extras for his little ladies.  It meant the world to them.  And to me.  He met my need for a few household things, but more than that, he helped.  He didn't complain.  I didn't even have to ask.  He took it upon himself, and that...was worth more than words can say.  He loved me my way.  It's what we always talk about, but it's such a beautiful sight when it happens without prompting.  I've always known he loves me completely, but he's begun to have the energy to love me by helping more.  And it is completely refreshing. 

Extra-Ordinary Grace

This week as we arrived back home on Monday (Really, midnight, so Tuesday Morning) and started back to the work of getting things done-paying bills, running errands, buying groceries-it seemed a little surreal to me. We were headed to Publix to do some very ordinary grocery shopping on Tuesday, and I had a moment while we were walking through the store. That in itself was a small miracle, as we had come to this place where it was such an effort for Patrick to get out of the car and do things like go shopping that he would just drop me off at the entrance to stores and drive around the parking lot until I was done shopping, and then swing by to pick me up. He’d never say he was too tired to go in the store, or that it was too much effort for the handful of things we may have needed, but I have to think that must have been what it was. Sometimes, it was what we’d do to avoid getting all three kids out of the car to just run in for a few things (it takes so long to get everyone unloaded and reloaded), but it became the norm, whether the kids were with us or not.

This particular time, he surprised me by going in the store with me. It made my heart so happy to already see small steps of progress, that were so huge to me. I knew he would tire quickly from the clear liquid diet, so it truly blessed my heart that he wanted to go with me. I know he needs to walk daily, and it’s so refreshing to see him owning his care plan without my prompting.

As we walked through the store, I had this moment where something as ordinary as a trip to buy groceries became a kind of sacred moment. I was reminded of the story of Lazarus, found in John 11:1-44. I’m sure you’re familiar with the story. Jesus loved Lazarus and his sisters, Mary and Martha, and when they sent word to him that Lazarus was sick, Jesus took his time getting to his friend. Once arriving in Bethany, he found Lazarus’s sisters grieving, as Lazarus had been dead for four days. The sisters told the Master he was too late, and he was heartbroken-he wept. Then, true to Himself, he called Lazarus out of the grave-it wasn’t time for Lazarus to leave his earthly home just yet-and he returned to his family. This happy reunion is where John leaves off for us. It’s here that Father God brought me, in the middle of the grocery store. As I’m walking with my dear husband from aisle to aisle, I think I may have gotten a glimpse of how it felt for Mary and Martha once the grave clothes were off and Lazarus returned home.

Did my husband die? Of course not!  Was he on the brink of death? Not yet. But something happened for me while we were gone to Mexico. I had resolved within myself that he might not come back to me the day we parted in the hospital, and I also knew that if I didn’t let him go get the surgery, I was bound to lose him soon to complications with his weight. I had to completely surrender him to my Jesus, who knew best of all what I needed. And Jesus, who sees the broken-hearted, saw my heart, my need for His help, and removed the death sentence from over my husband’s life. He redeemed Patrick’s heart 20 years before, but now, my Loving Savior had restored his physical life. An undeserved gift that wasn’t lost on me.

As I did the everyday work of walking in a grocery store that day, I got a glimpse of how Mary and Martha must have felt as they went about daily life after Lazarus was restored to them. They must have seen each opportunity to spend time with their brother as a special gift given by a loving savior.  Knowing that Lazarus was restored from death made each day a special gift. Likewise, I began to see the regular, the mundane, as a privilege, a special opportunity to be grateful to the good God that I serve. And for each moment hereafter, I am immeasurably thankful.

Counting Gifts

I have a little catching up to do, as I’ve had a lot happening over the last couple of months.  So, I got a gift card for my favorite store from a friend for my birthday a couple of months back.  I was so excited to go shopping, and I finally got the chance to go one day.  I was trying to be a savvy shopper and get the most I could for my gift card, but still get things that would add to our home.  This isn’t something I’m able to do very often, so it really lifted my spirits to think about getting something to brighten the house.  After way too much deliberation, I finally decided on a painting and a metal sculpture of a tree, and I brought them home, so excited to share them with my hubby.  I told him about the awesome deal I got and showed him my finds.  I told him I didn’t really know why I chose everything in trees, but I thought they really added something to the house.  He reminded me of a verse that we’ve been hovering around lately in our family, Proverbs 13:12 “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.”  I hope that we are moving to the “tree of life” part of that verse.  At least in my heart, I’m looking to a season of things moving in a more positive direction, even if it is only in my perspective. 

I think my perspective shift started a couple of months ago when a dear friend gave me a copy of One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp.  She said it was a hard read, but a life changer if you let it.  It’s been a slow read, and I can honestly say I’m still reading, but its truth has permeated my spirit, and changed the way I live.   The basic premise of the book is, in order for us to be fully alive and experience true joy, we have to start in the same place that Christ always began: thanksgiving.  There is beauty in the everyday, if we will just look for it with hearts of gratitude.  I have begun a journey of searching out those gifts that God puts in my path that I so commonly overlook.  I’m seeking to live with my hands open to receive and to give those precious things that are so often taken for granted.  I have found by looking up and seeking out the thankfulnesses that surround me, my entire perspective has changed.  Even more than that, when trials come, I am seeking hard in those things to find the beauty that God has hidden in it for me to find.  If I go through trial by fire, and find the gratitude in my heart to thank the One who is bringing me through it, my eyes are no longer looking at the circumstances, and I begin to find joy though the pain. 

One of the biggest things that has resonated in me with this book is “Thanksgiving always precedes the miracle.”  Without giving too much away, she discusses how, before Jesus worked a miracle while on earth, he always gave thanks to the Father, and thus a miracle ensued.  I am believing for miracles in my life right now, for that “longing fulfilled” that Proverbs speaks of, and instead of focusing on my want or lack, I’m choosing to focus on all the incredible gifts I’ve already been given.  Even though the current path is a huge variance from what I had hoped, I am thankful that grace abounds, even in this season.

That doesn’t mean that everything is perfect…as we near the time to try again for our hearts’ desire, I constantly battle my mind, my fear, my own doubt.  I have to almost convince myself to want to try again, as fear and doubt have squelched the desire that was so prevalent a year ago.  And in this moment, like so many just like it, I begin to count gifts.  I make lists – I tweet them, Facebook them, write them on sticky notes and stick them to the red wall around the metal sculpture of the tree I bought.  When I doubt His goodness, I look at all of the gifts in my life, and I am reminded of His faithfulness, and, yes:  His grace.  Even if things don’t go the way I want the next time, does that mean that His grace has left me?  Absolutely not!  It means I have to look hard and search for it, but He has by no means left me, or forgotten me, or been caught by surprise.  I refuse to let the enemy take the full life that is rightfully my inheritance. 

The challenge for me, and all of us, is to live with eyes to seek out the gifts in what appears to be a mess, and know that our God is in the business of making something beautiful out of it.  Everyday, He is doing the extraordinary if we will just see it.  Pick up the lenses of grace with me, and see what God is doing in your life and in mine.  Count the gifts he is giving and live fully! 

Saving Grace

My dear husband has asked me to share my thoughts on his life changing decision, to give our journey from my perspective. And there is much to share. 

   
It is with great trepidation that I share my thoughts. Not because they are wrong, but because I want my heart to be truly heard. I share this for the other spouses who walk my same path. It is something that isn’t talked about, and it’s time for you to know you aren’t alone. 

Perhaps for those of you that don’t live life this way, my story will help you understand so many things you never knew. 

When I met my husband over 14 years ago, he was a big man. It was never an issue for me. Maybe it made me feel safer-it’s always been important to him that I be kept safe, and that I understand his self-proclaimed job is to provide that safety. It is one of myriad things that I love about him. I could name a million!

When he made the decision the time had come for weight loss surgery, it struck fear in my heart. Since our insurance specifically excludes bariatric surgery, even when deemed medically necessary, the only viable option was to go out of the country.  With that decision, came a million unknown questions and uncertainties. He did his research, talked to people who had it, watched videos, joined support groups, and I...I just continued with daily life. I listened, supported, and pretended it wasn’t happening.  I suppose it was denial. But when it began to get real-plane tickets purchased, surgery date was set, hotel reservations made-my battle began. I daily fought back the enemy, and the lies he told me-whispering that I’d come back alone, have to raise the children alone-terrible lies! But the truth of the matter is this: worry is but the notion that God’s Love ends, and I know that He loves me utterly. He is faithful, true, and honors an obedient heart. So, I prayed. I surrendered to His plan-whatever it may look like- and believed He loves me enough. He is enough. When I reached my end, He found me, and He’s never left. 

So, the day came for us to leave. It was such a blur. We arrived in San Diego, were picked up by the hospital shuttle with other patients, and were ferried over the border. We arrived at the hospital, and were treated with great care and hospitality. I began to feel more at ease when I saw how clean everything was, and how much pride everyone there took in the work they were doing. 

They did the preliminary blood work, blood pressure check, and EKG to make sure everyone’s heart was strong enough for surgery. My Love came back concerned when his blood pressure was high. He was worried they wouldn’t do the surgery. 

We met with the business guy, the surgeon’s brother, Hugo, who took our payment, and I explained that I needed to get this man safely back home. I showed him a picture of our littles, and told him they need their daddy to come back home to them. Perhaps a little dramatic, but I can’t explain in words how much of my world this man comprises.  He is my ministry. While he ministers to and loves on countless people, it’s my job to love my warrior when the day is long and has asked too much of him. 

Still battling uncertainty, we went to see the cardiologist next. He asked about his blood pressure situation, and Patrick explained that he (mistakenly) thought he was supposed to leave off meds as part of his preparation. So the cardiologist gave him blood pressure meds to take that night and the next morning. He said that as long as the pressure came down with meds, we were still good to go. So meds were given, blood pressure was rechecked, and a green light given.  He was beyond relieved and so excited. I was still concerned about the arrangements made for breathing during surgery. So, when we met the doctor, Patrick asked the question that was burning in my mind: Would they intubate during surgery?  And the answer was yes!  So, now I knew he wasn’t likely to suffocate during surgery. Great relief washed over me.  I wasn’t sure if I was excited or ready to hide in a corner. Whether he had the surgery or not, I still ran the risk of losing him, so I just had to lean back and trust the One who has my back. This was really happening. 

We got him prepped and ready, and the nurses came to get him. It was time!!  So I walked with him to the elevator, blew him a kiss, and told the nurses to make sure they brought him back safe. I gave them the “I’m watching you,” eyes, trying to keep it light. But as I turned to walk back to the hospital room alone, I knew I was utterly helpless to do anything from here. 

Really, though, isn't that how we're supposed to be...utterly helpless...resting on our El Shaddai...trusting that the heart big enough to love the whole world, loves us enough to bring back our whole world safely?  I have to remember His love for me is unending. And He didn't bring us here for His love to end in Tijuana, of all places!

For the next 40 minutes, I tried in vain to reach out and let close family and friends know that he had gone to surgery to no avail. Service was spotty and there was no cell signal. I had only my Jesus to stand with me, His faith applied with mine, knowing whether I told them or not, loved ones were storming the gates in prayer on our behalf. And His incomprehensible peace surrounded me. He is always enough. 

The longest three hours of my life ensued, as I sat and waited. And prayed. And waited. And just when I was about to start pestering people and asking questions, they rolled him back to the room!  I’ve never been so happy to see anyone!  My faithful Father had returned my groggy, precious husband. Seems I was the only one who ever battled the thought in the back of my mind that he might have anything but perfect results.  I sent word to everyone that surgery was a success with no complications. The response was overwhelming.  Our faith-filled friends and family fully believed that the surgery would go no less than perfectly. 

For three days, I watched him, determined to make a strong recovery. He got up after surgery and walked like he was supposed to. So groggy, he walked with his eyes closed, and I walked beside, praying he didn’t lose his balance and fall. And he never did. He remained strong through constant nausea, dry heaving every time he would get up and walk.  Daily, he continued to get stronger and work through his healing process. I saw intentionality. He made himself get up and walk, probably more than he’s walked in so long I can’t remember. 

You see, it happened so slowly, so silently and gradually, his weight took so much from us that I didn’t see it. It was there all along, but I never sat with critical eye looking for what had changed or what we were missing. It was my job to pick up the loose ends and make things work. And that’s what I’d been so busy doing all these years that I never saw the enemy stealing life from us all.  I prayed, I supported, I made sure he had the foods for his diets. Many times, well meaning people would ask me why I didn't make him lose the weight.  But, he’s a grown man who had to make his own decisions.  He'd vowed many times before to lose weight and get healthy, but anyone who's ever dieted or made a lifestyle change knows it's difficult to walk out for the long haul.  So, the change never stuck.  It didn't mean his heart wasn't in the right place, and it has never been my place to judge-only to love and pray.  

I have found in marriage a praying wife can change far greater things than a nagging wife.  Does it make the struggle any easier to take when you see a problem, but are powerless to change it?  Of course not!  I fought the daily battle to love in spite of the strain his weight put on me, to not become bitter when I didn't see change after years of prayer, to continue to struggle in daily life as my own body began to cave under the stress and demand I placed on it.  There wasn't time to care for myself as I took care of our growing little family.  I daily reminded myself of the mantra that I'd believed every day of married life, "Love is a choice, not a feeling."  A choice is a commitment you stick with, long after the feeling under which you made the commitment is gone.  Not that I ever stopped loving him - I never will.  But, there were many days I had to choose first to love him, because I was fighting my own bitterness and anger over this place in which we had become stuck.  Many nights, I prayed over my own heart and my marriage, as I had believed the lie that nothing would ever change.  Little did I know the winds of change were stirring, and life was about to take a drastic turn!

I sat at the hospital two nights after the surgery messaging a friend whose husband had the surgery a few months ago, receiving her words of wisdom from the other side of the journey, and I started to catch a vision of what the future may look like. In that moment, I saw...I remembered all of the things that we couldn’t do, or had to do differently because of obesity. 

I dream of the day when we go to a restaurant and don’t have to say “a table, not a booth”. A day when he will be able to go on a bike ride as a family, to go to Disney World and be able to ride all the rides as a family, to not worry about him sitting in a chair and it breaking because it wasn’t “structurally sound”. To be able to play with the children, to travel and fly and not have to ask for a seatbelt extender and take up over half of my seat, to not be so messy in the bathroom, because he can’t see where he’s aiming (just being totally real), for him to be able to get up and get things for himself, to help the children when they need things, to help me at home when I’m already exhausted and have to come home and take care of everything because he’s too tired to help...I’m about to cry...I’m overwhelmed when I think of how much this has stolen from us-from me-over the years...and it’s reign is ending in Jesus’ name!! 

I think, in this new season, I will live in a place of incredulous disbelief. I hope to be constantly pleasantly amazed. I’m very excited for a lot of things. 14 years is a long time to live life this way. I fell in love with him as a big man, but it got way beyond that. It took over our entire lives. There have been many, many things we haven’t been able to do over the years. 

 I have always loved him just as he is, but it has been recently that the Lord has allowed me to see how limited our life has been, and I hope to see the limits removed. I dared not dream of anything different. I’ve learned to be content in all things, but I’m surely excited for what’s to come!

A New Thing...Part I

It’s been about 6 months since the last time I visited and shared, and I know the story that God has been writing in me, is not just for me, and so I share because I hope my story will speak life and truth to someone. 

Six months ago, I was in a place of not understanding why I was asking and seeking God for the desires of my heart and they continued to go unanswered month after month.  We had started trying to have a second child a year before.  I had an incredibly painful miscarriage at 12 weeks…utter heartbreak.   Unexpectedly, we got pregnant again about four months later, and again I lost the baby – this time, even earlier.  We decided to wait awhile before trying again.  End of summer comes, and we start trying.  This time, for the first time ever, I’m doing everything right, and can’t even get pregnant.  Many dear friends have stories with long bouts of infertility, but that has never been an issue with us.  So after a couple of months, I knew something was up, and again began to seek God about what else was going on.  I realized that I was coming to a new broken place.  As though my heart hadn’t broken enough after a year of dashed hope, God again brought me back to this place.  I sought Him hard – harder than I’d ever sought before.  Harder than I did in the lonely days after the miscarriages…when He taught me the hard lessons about being thankful in ALL things…when I learned that ALL is GRACE.  Even the things that we don’t fully understand. 

I prayed a dangerous prayer – and I meant every word. 

I told God that no longer was I seeking Him for just a baby…I was seeking to find HIM – to know WHY there seemed to be a divide between us, after the journey we had made together in the past year.  He had walked with me through the sorrow, had been closer than my skin, and now I couldn’t understand what else I needed to close the gap between us.  I prayed the desperate prayer of David from the Psalms:

Search me, O God, and know my heart:  try me, and know my thoughts:

And see if there be any wicked way in me.”

Psalm 139:23-24

I wept.  I really let go of my agenda. I got no answers that night as I prayed in the shower.  I just felt empty…like part of me had died.  I went to bed exhausted, and awoke the next morning…feeling exactly the same.  The heaviness lay on me like a thick blanket.  I repeated my heart to God.  My decision hadn’t changed.  Whether He gave me another child or not, I would seek Him hard.  So I got up and went to work.  Somewhere in the course of that morning, God spoke.  Having been strangely silent through my sorrow, in the midst of my busy morning at work, He told me the hard truth that I wasn’t prepared for until that day. 

He showed me that as a young teenager, I had made a vow that I’d never have an only child, because I so hated being an only child myself.  I never realized the grave truth of Proverbs 18:21 “The tongue has the power of life and death, and those that love it will eat its fruit.”  By making that judgement and vow, I had predestined myself to become that which I had promised to never be…the mother of an only child.  I knew I had to repent from my rash judgements, and break that vow.  It held me where I was and was choking the life out of me.  I prayed.  I asked for forgiveness.  I took it all back.  God forgave.  He broke the power of my thoughtless words.  He gave me incredible peace, that I cannot describe. 

Then His grace stepped in.  He showed me that, though my own sin held me captive for years, He allowed me to have a beautiful little boy, who is brilliant and amazing.  He let me see that he allowed those pregnancies, so that He could get to the real brokenness within me…and, in His infinite grace and love for me, He spared me from having the many miscarriages I could have had, by allowing a season of infertility.  It isn’t very often that we get to see the mind of God…to understand, in such a limited way, His great love for us, and the purpose for our pain in this life.  For this I am thankful.  Thankful that, that day in September, he sealed a work in me, and began a new work.  He gave peace that He was not finished with me, but that my story was just getting started… 

Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?  I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wilderness.

Isaiah 43:19