Wrestling with the Good and the Bad

I grew up playing soccer on a girls team. I was slow, awkward, and unconfident. Living in Wexford, Pennsylvania there were a lot of girls that played soccer. I was one little fish in a giant ocean of graceful, confident, talented little super stars…or at least that is how it felt. Then, at the awkward age of twelve (8th grade) I found out we were moving to Bridgeport, West Virginia.  

I can still remember my mom delicately telling me that there were no all-girls teams in Bridgeport and I would be trying out for a co-ed team. I could feel my palms start to sweat and my stomach churning. I wasn’t even that good on a girls team, how in the world would I compare on a co-ed team? Well, the truth is, it was a “co-ed” team because I was there. If I had not been there, it would have been an all-boys team. If it weren’t for one of the boys saying hi (he had just moved from out of state and did not find it odd that a girl would play soccer) I am not sure I would’ve made it onto the field. 

Thankfully I made the team and had an incredible first coach. He believed in me and began to see areas of strengths and fit me in positions that worked with that. There was something freeing in some ways being in a place where “people” (fans, opponents) didn’t seem to expect much out of me, but my coach and teammates did.  The guys on the team became like brothers (which quite honestly made it hard to make girl friends once we started school that fall), but I felt like they had my back and trusted me. 

By the start of High School I had the option of trying out for the boys JV team, or not playing. Three of us girls decided we would try out, and thankfully we made the team. “Thankfully” because we didn’t have to stop playing, but it was in many ways an awful experience. For the most part it wasn’t the other players, nor was it most of the parents, it was primarily our coach. I can not even count the number of sexist remarks our coach made throughout that year. He would yell at players and call them a bunch of p*ssies. He would tell them to stop kicking like a bunch of f*cking girls, and then he would have me take the kick (which was so weird and confusing). There were a few times he had me go in drills with some of the varsity boys, for no other reason except to let them know it was humiliating if I did anything good against them because I was a girl. The few times I boldly told him I did not appreciate the words he used or how he talked to me or the team, he would smirk and stare right in my eyes and tell me I could go start my own girls team if I couldn’t handle it with the big boys. Yes, a 30something year old man twice my size would look at me ice cold, and the next minute around the parents he would smile and pretend that he was kind and great. I won’t even go into details about some of the comments opposing players made about my body or other comments while I was defending them, or the parents who were appalled I would play because they thought I would get hurt, or knowing that one of my boyfriends parents didn’t seem to like me because I was a girl on the boys soccer team. 

My mom and I did go on to start a girls soccer team at our High School the following year. We realized there were a lot of girls that might play if they didn’t have to play under the conditions we just had to.  Our team comprised of a few girls who had played soccer, a majority of athletes from other sports, and a lot of girls who had never played a sport but wanted to try it out. The rest of this is for another time and place, but I am proud to say that the Bridgeport High School girls soccer team won the State Championship in 2012. I’m sure most of those women have no idea what it took to get a girls soccer team started, and that’s okay. 

So, what is my point?  

Every person on this planet has a story. Since we live in a fallen world full of sinful people, there is pain, abuse, loneliness, isolation, sexism, racism, and the list goes on and on. I would say in the grand scheme of life, my experience was so small compared to the hurt and injustice other women (and men) have experienced. However, that doesn’t mean that my story and pain didn’t happen or should be brushed aside. 

I understand why so many people marched yesterday. It just makes sense for so many reasons (my soccer experience being one of them) and I am proud of my girl and guy friends that did. I also think it makes sense why it seems so unfair for a pro-life organization to be pulled from being a sponsor (I am pro life). I think this is part of wrestling with the good and the bad. 

Hypocrite is a word I’ve seen thrown around a lot recently, and I totally 100% agree with it. As a matter of fact, I would go so far as to say that every single one of us is a hypocrite. Haven’t we all lied or pretended to be something or someone that we aren’t all of the time? I know for me it is much easier to point my finger at someone else to show what they are doing or saying that is wrong than to take the time to investigate my own heart. Sometimes lately I feel like I am watching a bunch of toddlers saying “oh yeah, you think that about my person, let me tell you about your person.”  We want to view all people, all politics, all decisions through a lens of things or people being all good or all bad. I just don’t think it’s that simple. 

Here is my disclaimer: I do believe in absolute truth. I am a Christian. I do believe that our choices are either glorifying to God, or not. I believe that we all choose to follow Christ, or we reject Him. I do believe that the gospel (the good news) of Jesus is that out of his love, Christ died for our sins, He paid the penalty for our debt, and it is His grace (not our works) through which we are forgiven, have a relationship with God the Father, and are able to live a life of freedom (free from needing to live up to someone else’s standards, free from loneliness and despair, free from our sin). Following Jesus is not the easy life, but it is the best life, and the only route that leads to eternal life. Yes, my views are exclusive (in that I believe Jesus is the only way), but inclusive (in that not one of us deserves it or has earned it, and that anyone who believes can be saved). I get that just saying this will discredit many from listening to me. Being a Christian isn't just my "religion" it is more real about me than anything else. It is my identity, because in Christ I find who I am. 

The question remains, what do I do with this? How do I enter into discussions going on? Do I? I don’t have the answers. Can I be offended, but respond in love? How can I boldly proclaim the truth about Jesus, knowing it offends people, but do it also with compassion? What does it look like to not be silent, but not be aggressive? 

It seems like the more polarized we have become, the more “all good or all bad” we think people are, the more we are losing touch with the ability to connect with people different than ourselves. I am not an expert, I have so much to learn, in many ways I am such a hypocrite. 

Sometimes what I want is someone to listen without interrupting. I want someone to hear how I’m hurting and instead of telling me how it isn’t “that bad, “ encourage me to look on the bright side, or ignore me…I want someone to just simply say, “I’m so sorry that happened to you.” Isn’t that what we all want?” I would imagine that the most loving thing I could learn to do is to listen to other people’s stories, learn to empathize, and apologize for any ways I personally (or “we” corporately) have hurt them. 

Thinking to the future, I pray that I would be able to boldly walk with Jesus, that He would enable to me to more fully live a life of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness and self control. 

Christmas Mourning (12.25.16)

When I was a child I loved Christmas Eve. The anticipation of Santa visiting and presents was almost too much to handle. Tonight at church as we celebrated the birth of Jesus and people around me laughed and hugged and rejoiced, it was almost too much for my fragile heart. Tears streamed down my cheeks through the songs and scripture reading. My sweet 7 year old daughter held my hand and rubbed my arm. I told her she could stand and sing the songs with everyone else, but she told me, “No mom, I want to be with you.” I had debated all day about going, but I have been looking forward to Christmas Eve service for months and didn’t want to stay home. So instead I sat there and cried, controlled enough to not let it turn in to full on weeping and made it almost to the end. We left when everyone was going to come together and sing Joy to the World and light candles. This is usually my most favorite part. I truly believe that Christmas is a celebration of joy as the light of Christ has entered into our dark sinful world. The birth of Jesus is the greatest miracle, and Jesus is the answer to loneliness, despair, brokenness, sin, hatred, evil, and death…yes, even death.  

As it nears 1:00 a.m. on Christmas morning I am sitting here on my couch in darkness. I was laying in bed watching the clock change from Christmas Eve to Christmas morning and I couldn’t stop tossing or turning. My heart hurts. I have been so joyfully anticipating this Christmas morning as I imagined giving my kids one gift that they would not be expecting. One month ago I bought an extra stocking for the new baby I was expecting this summer. I had planned on writing my 10 year old son and 7 year old daughter letters about how God has heard their prayers over the past 7 years and He has answered them. I was so excited to tell them that they would be such a great big brother and sister. I was going to video them seeing the extra stocking and reading their letters, and that was how I would tell our families the great news. I have imagined this scene over and over, but never how it will play out in a few hours. After 7 years of waiting and praying, infertility, a chemical pregnancy, health issues, and surrendering what my heart desired, it had happened and been such a wonderful surprise. It seemed so sweet of the Lord to orchestrate a miracle baby and little by little I have let my heart get excited for the reality that a life, a precious new life is really in me. That was until yesterday afternoon when the doctor confirmed I am having a miscarriage. 

Besides my broken heart, a day of weeping and anger and wrestling it out with the Lord in a very raw and uncensored way, it isn't just the emotional pain keeping me up. When the doctor couldn’t find a heartbeat at my ultrasound on the Eve of Christmas Eve, and I started bleeding, my blood work confirmed that this baby will not end with a sweet child in my arms, but in a miscarriage. She gave me the option of having a D&C on Christmas Eve or letting the baby naturally miscarry at home. I chose at home because I could not bear to spend Christmas Eve in the hospital having this procedure done, and so my body aches and is cramping. I have tried to fall asleep, but I have waves of pain. She said this could go on for over a week.

I go on Facebook and there are so many happy announcements about babies on the way, pregnant bellies, happy smiling faces, and it hurts. I am so happy for those friends and I am so very blessed by the two sweet kids I have, and there is so much to be thankful for, and yet there is something extra lonely about grieving in the early Christmas morning while the world seems to be rejoicing. I vacillate between feeling hopeful and at peace, thankful that I got to love a little baby if only for a short while, expectant to meet this child in heaven, and then moments of weeping and despair, anger at the Lord for what feels like a cruel joke and cruel timing. 

I have spent years letting go of my desire for more kids, convincing myself that I am so blessed already and focusing on all the benefits of my two kids being close in age, past the diapers and napping and sleepless nights. I have made mental lists of all the pros of being done with trying for a baby. This is how I’ve moved on. However, this past month I had begun to dream again and could imagine holding not just a baby, but MY baby. We talked about how to turn our front room into a bedroom, and I began thinking about my growing belly, and got so excited thinking about another baby shower. I could actually visualize my son and daughter holding a new baby and the smiles on their faces. August 1st seemed so far away, and yet so close. 

The doctor spoke to me about all the hopeful things about this pregnancy. She was sensitive and sad with me, but said it is really good my body can get pregnant. For years it wasn’t happening, and so she sees this as a very good thing. I suppose in a different scenario I would find some hope in this reality as well, but right now it just feels so empty. For the past few years we had come to a place where it seemed we were supposed to move on and not try for more kids. So what does all this mean now? Is the timing right again since we got pregnant? Do we try again for another child, or was this just pain and heartache to remind me of a desire I must re-surrender all over again? Can I trust the Lord to try again, or will it just end like this has ended? Can I trust the Lord to re-surrender if we don’t move forward with trying to get pregnant? 

These are the thoughts that are running through my mind as I’m having labor-like pains in what feels like a very surreal and dramatic ending to this pregnancy. Dramatic because while I sit here grieving the reality of death and loneliness, I know all those years ago Mary must have had a million thoughts running through her head with her labor pains. I imagine there was fear and loneliness and wondering “why me,” but also a very real sense of the Lord’s presence. Her pain ended with baby Jesus in her arms, but her role as a mother wasn’t without it’s own heartache and pain. 

Right now I’m praying I can hold onto the truths that I know in my head, and that when my heart stops bleeding I will rest in the intimate knowledge I have that my God is good, His plans are good, and that though I do not understand His ways, He is trustworthy. I’m okay that for now I’m angry and telling my heavenly Father about it. I’m okay that I don’t feel the need to pull myself up by my bootstraps or tell myself a bunch of fluffy “Christian” sayings, and I’m okay grieving and not comparing my pain to what others are feeling either to minimize my pain or others. Being angry and sad doesn’t mean I’m not thankful for all the Lord has done, nor does it mean that I am not aware of people around the world suffering immeasurably more painful realities this Christmas Eve than my own. However, as I sit here with my body cramping, my heart broken, and my dreams crushed, I’m also aware that in a few hours my kids will wake up and be excited to celebrate the birth of Jesus and open presents… and I will be exhausted, but I will be present even in my Christmas mourning. 

Do not fear the Heat

"Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord. He is like a tree planted by water that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit."  (Jeremiah 17:7,8)

It's been a long time since I've posted on my blog. Maybe part of me keeps hoping this "season" will pass and one full of happiness and laughter will replace what has seemed like a very long season of mourning myself and grieving alongside friends who have tasted more of the bitter than the sweet this life has to offer.

Well, it's August 20th, which means a new school year for my kids (can't believe I have a kindergartener), a new semester at the University of Arizona with Cru reaching students with the gospel, a new chapter as our staff team has changed and my husband is now our director, and a new but familiar opportunity for me to trust in the Lord.

James 1:2 "Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.  And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing." 

1 Peter 1:6 " In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith--more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire--may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ." 

One thing I have become keenly aware of over the past two years is that trials (of various kinds) are a guarantee for those who profess their faith in Christ. I have met so many godly people who suffer from chronic illness, many who have lost babies, children, siblings, and dear friends who have struggled with depression or anxiety.

What is so amazing about the gospel is that in the midst of horrendously painful earthly circumstances Jesus meets us and gives us hope. He offers us hope that this life is not the end. The pain we experience here on earth, be it short or long, be it physical or emotional....this is temporary (even when it feels like it will never end). I think in all of our hearts there is a chord that is struck that causes us to say "this isn't right, this isn't fair, why is life so hard." I agree. The gospel is good news because Jesus conquered death on the cross when he rose again. He paid the price for my sin, he literally took my penalty upon himself so that I could be set free from what I could never pay. The greatest gift in this life will never be health, wealth, beauty, it will never be fame or marriage or family. The greatest gift is that of which Jesus has already done. I don't have to work for it, or prove I deserve it (because I don't), I just have to accept it. "Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me."

I love that God is faithful even when I am not.  He never changes, even when my emotions or circumstances cause me to doubt or drift away. He is steady when life is not.  And this brings me to how the Lord continues to ask me to trust Him.

Do not fear when heat comes. For me the heat for the past few years has been my health (among other things I've mentioned in past posts). I won't get into all the details here, but I've felt like something isn't right. Nobody has been able to give me answers, leading me to think maybe it's just normal to feel fatigued and deal with the other symptoms. I've had moments of hope (diagnosed with H. Pylori and finished treatment; eating strictly to rid myself of Candida), but every time the symptoms come back.

Last week the new doctor I've been seeing went over more blood work that he ran, and this is the easiest way to sum up my 1 1/2 hour appointment to review the results: Autoimmune Disorder. Crohn's Disease. Scleroderma. 

These are the words that now seem to hang over my head. These are the categories that seem to make sense of what I've known is wrong, but couldn't figure out. This isn't an exact diagnosis yet, and so now I enter a time of waiting.

Do not be anxious in the year of drought. I suppose that waiting feels like a drought. Now I know that my blood work is saying something is wrong. There is some relief knowing that this isn't normal and my symptoms are real. But now I wait. I have appointments set up with specialists for further testing to see if we can get an accurate diagnosis, but these appointments take time and so I won't get in until the middle of November to the Rheumatologist.

Manna from Heaven please?!

While I am waiting for these other appointments, I need to get the inflammation that I've been feeling for years (and is now medically proven to be true) down so that my gut can heal and my body will start absorbing nutrients again. So, I have a 90 day strict diet I am supposed to adhere to (I will start in the beginning of September b/c I need time to figure out how I am going to do this).

For 90 days I am to stick to a strict diet that permanently eliminates the foods I am allergic to (Rice and Rye) and for the 90 days eliminates any foods my blood work has shown I am more sensitive to, which includes the following: Almond, Banana, Pinto Bean, Milk, Garlic, Ginger, Onions, Oregano, Peanut, Black Pepper, White Potato, Avocado, Sesame Seed, Wheat, green beans, kidney beans, eggs.

During these 90 days I also need to be careful with foods I am mildly sensitive to. I can eat these, but need to make sure it's not more than once every 3 days: Apple, Artichoke, Broccoli, Brussels Sprout, Cabbage, Carrot, Cauliflower, Celery, Blue Cheese, Chili Pepper, Cinnamon, Cloves, Chocolate, Crab, Grape, Grapefruit, Lemon, Mustard, Orange, Green Pea, Peach, Pear, Green Bell Pepper, Pineapple, Plum, Pork, Sage, Salmon, Soybean, Sole, Strawberry, Cane Sugar, Tea, Tomato, Watermelon, Bakers Yeast, Zucchini.

To add another punch to this plan, I need to try to keep my insulin even throughout the day, so any foods I am eating need to be lower on the glycemic index. If I can get the inflammation down that will help with the healing, no matter what diagnosis I eventually receive.

"Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord." One thing the Lord continues to teach me is that when He calls me to something (be it Staff life with Cru or down this path of Medical Illness) I can trust Him. He goes before me, he provides grace when I need it (yes please, right now!). I do not have to fear or be anxious. He loves me and cares for me.  He is good, even if there is no earthly cure. He is faithful. I pray that I will be healed. I pray that the aches and pains won't be a normal part of my life.  But I think more importantly I pray that no matter what, my faith will grow stronger as I trust Him.