I remember that night last week in the ER, knowing that we were going to lose our baby, and that I was probably going to go through surgery before the night was through.  I could barely stand or even move... I looked around at all those people in the waiting room who didn't know us and had no idea what we were going through.  I could feel that old mean tug on my heart... the Enemy who so wants to convince us, "God doesn't care about you."

So I closed my eyes, shut out the ER for a few moments, and plead with God, "Show up here, please, God. In this awful mess.  In my broken and terrified heart.  Show me that You are near, close.  Taking care of us."

And He has.  Over and over again.  I've been reminding myself as I walk through this terribly difficult week that I NEED to write these things down.  I MUST remember.  God is incredibly faithful, so close.  I NEED to remember this.

So I remember...

the familiar headlights of my parents' car pulling in the driveway at the hospital... knowing they were there for me.  my husband running out to meet them and my mom rushing in to hug me in the ER. my dad walking Ben to the hospital cafeteria to give him some food and encouragement.

the kind, compassionate eyes of the ER doctor as he first came into my room to talk to me.

the understanding young nurse who stopped to tell me, "this is not your fault.  please take care of yourself as you walk through this."

Ben, my husband, over and over again grabbing my hand, kissing my head, singing to me, praying with me, reminding me of funny things and making me laugh.

coming out of surgery... waking up and finding a kind nurse in my room whenever I needed her, bringing me ice cream, cereal, ginger ale - whatever I wanted.  reassuring and comforting me, almost like she never left my room all night.  I wonder if she was an angel...

the grandmotherly nurse who discharged me the next morning, who sat down next to me on my bed and talked to me about my heart... how are you doing with this, she said.

the unexpected snow day... so Ben could drive me home and stay with me all day.

the kind little white dog that I borrowed from my parents while I am home healing... he doesn't leave my side and I love it.

text messages, phone calls, and prayers from friends that come at JUST the right time.

a husband who hugs and comforts me and REALLY helps me to believe that it is going to be ok.

Once again I’ll go over what God has done,
    lay out on the table the ancient wonders;
I’ll ponder all the things you’ve accomplished,
    and give a long, loving look at your acts.

 O God! Your way is holy!
    No god is great like God!
You’re the God who makes things happen;
    you showed everyone what you can do—
You pulled your people out of the worst kind of trouble,
    rescued the children of Jacob and Joseph.

                                                         ~Psalm 77

Psalm 23 has been a dear friend to me these days...

Maybe I'll write more when I can re-surface a bit... all I can say for now is that my husband and I lost our baby at 6 weeks.  I'm clinging to Jesus by my finger nails and looking to Him for each day.  He is good, close, and faithful, and in these days, I hear HIS beautiful voice speaking to ME...

"GOD, my shepherd!
I shall not want.
You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
you find me quiet pools to drink from.
True to your word, you let me catch my breath
and send me in the right direction.

Even when the way goes through
the valley of the shadow of death,
I am not afraid when you walk by my side.
Your trusty shepherd's crook
makes me feel secure.

You serve me a six-course dinner
right in front of my enemies.
You revive my drooping head;
my cups brims with blessing.

Your beauty and love chase after me
every day of my life.
I'm back at home in the house of GOD
for the rest of my life."
~The Message

And I SEE His kindness to me in giving me this man.  He makes me smile and laugh and he is the greatest gift I have ever been given.

And the little white fur ball sitting next to me... I borrowed my parents' dog for a few days, for a bit of extra companionship while I am at home healing.  He has not left my side today and I really love that.

It has been a long time since I have written a blog post.  Not since I have wanted to write a blog post... but since I have actually sat down and written one... and then published it.

Welcome to my whirlwind.  Gosh, I've been reflecting over the past two years... and I see a curvy road with quite a few signposts along the way.  New church (campus)... new job... new boyfriend, then fiance, then husband... new home across the river... new marriage... new friends.

2014 so far has held many tiny changes that have amounted to big changes in my life.  I have sat down many times to write... but have found it difficult to slow my heart enough to pull thoughts from it.  How do you slow a heart so filled with feelings, emotions, impressions, expressions?  I move slow when it comes to change - I take it in, chew on it, mull for a while... I want to move fast, but I find that change just takes time... and a lot of trust and grace as I learn to absorb.

But I want to write again... sink down deep to the center of my soul and write about what is there.

One line has been playing over and over in my head...

we are not as strong as we think we are.

This is what I am learning as I transition.  I feel so urged to take my new life by the horns, master it, and race forward full steam ahead.  Yet, I often feel like I am standing on my tip-toes, still surveying a new landscape and figuring out my way.  My muscles feel small at times when I thought I would emerge big and strong.

oh... I am not as strong as I think I am.

I re-surface to embrace this blessed truth. I am 'frail, fearfully and wonderfully made,' and I am God's.  And He is big so I think that means that I do not have to be.  I learn the blessedness that He becomes greater and I become less... and this does not threaten me.  I think it is meant to free me.

I've been watching the new Rich Mullins movie this week (over and over!) and I think this was his journey too.  Maybe all of ours?  If we let it?  Here's how he said it...

the conclusion of the matter for me was that I would rather live on the verge of falling and let my security be in the all-sufficiency of the grace of God than to live in some kind of pietistic illusion of moral excellence.  not that I don't want to be morally excellent but my faith isn't in the idea that I am more moral than anyone else... my faith is in the idea that God and His love are greater than whatever sins any of us commit.

Maybe we are all learning this together...