Hate the sin. Love the sinner.

“Hate the sin. Love the sinner.” I’ve heard this phrase my entire life and it has never sat well with me. In fact, it makes me cringe to my core. Like when I hear it, I have to physically restrain myself from slapping someone. Repeatedly. It’s not that I don’t understand the concept. The Bible says to hate evil and to love people. But the phrase “hate the sin, love the sinner” is so callous and is usually said in a pompous way by someone who knows very little about love. It lacks grace. In fact, most people I hear say it are so focused on the speck in “the sinners” eye that they miss the log in their own.  

Throughout the gospels, Jesus rebuked one group of people over and over again. It wasn’t the promiscuous woman at the well. The prostitute. Or even the men who betrayed Him. It was The Pharisees. The Know It All scholars that knew the law so well they often repeated it and very rarely lived it. They picked on the very ones Christ actually came to earth to serve. Oh, how I relate to The Pharisees.

I am so guilty of judging, gossiping, turning my back on the very people Jesus died for, all because of my being uncomfortable. Take Muslims for example. I get that some of their religion is radical. I get that because of recent events, many are fearful to trust this entire people group. But does that mean I’m not to show them love? Does that mean that they are beyond saving? If I disagree with homosexual marriage, does that give me the right to say they are all going to hell? To not welcome them in my church? In my home? We are so quick to rebuke that which makes us uncomfortable, yet we are okay with gluttony and gossip and the sin of judging? Moreover, if I truly thought someone was going to hell, shouldn’t that make me want to take them to church, to cultivate a relationship with them, to show them Christ?

The more I read Scripture, the more it becomes clear that Jesus really only has 2 commands….to love Him and to love people. Let’s be honest. Loving Him isn’t hard. Sure, there are times where we struggle with understanding His goodness, but how hard is it to love the Creator of the universe, the One who sent His Son to die in our place? Loving people is a whole other issue. 1 John 4:21 says that anyone who loves God must also love their brother and sister. I hate to burst bubbles here, but John isn’t referring to your blood relatives. He is saying that if you love God you will love ALL people. We are to love those who treat us like crap. Those who use us. Muslims. Those we are jealous of. Drug users. Illegal aliens. The poor. Basically, anyone who makes us uncomfortable. I am not saying that we need to change the Bible to meet the needs of our culture. I’m not saying we are to ignore sin. In fact, what was it Jesus said to the prostitute after he saved her from being stoned by The Pharisees? He said “Go and sin no more.” I’m saying it’s God’s job to judge and convict. Period. It’s our job to love people in such a radical way that they can’t help but see The Holy Spirit in us. Period. You see, there’s no conviction if there is no Holy Spirit. Our job is to love people to Jesus so that The Holy Spirit can convict them, but how can we do that with our doors shut?

A few months ago, I took a look at my life and I realized that most, if not all of my friends looked like me, talked like me, believed like me. Most of them had the same socioeconomic status as me. In fact, most of them were raised like me. Then I realized that that is NOT the way the church is meant to look. I’m not saying you have to stop going to a church because it’s predominantly white. Or you need to get new friends. I am saying that God wants us to be surrounded by all types of people, Christian and Nonchristian. Rich and poor. I will be the first to admit that I’ve struggled with this. Out of my own insecurity, I believed that I shouldn’t go to certain places or be with certain people. And in some instances I shouldn’t, but I was also living in a bubble. I was worried about what someone might think if they saw me at a bar? What if they judged me for having atheist friends? What if I hurt my witness by having a glass of wine?

In reading the Gospels, I’m reminded of the places where Jesus went. He most definitely was in church. He had the 12 Disciples whom He loved deeply, prayed and fellowshipped with. He always spent precious, alone time with the Father. But He also ate with tax collectors. He healed the no namers. He had women in His inner circle. I believe this gives us the freedom to believe that Jesus went out of His way to love those NOT at church. He didn’t have brunch with the church leaders. He went out of His way to find the sinners. Period. But don’t miss the fact that while He went to those places, He never sinned with them. I am tired of Christians, especially leaders, trying to win souls to the Lord by being “cool.” Jesus never changed His character regardless of where He was. There is no need to tweek the Gospel to make it cooler. There is nothing more incredible than a Savior loving you so much that He died in your place.  Basking in cultural norms for the sake of not scaring off new believers is heresy. Jesus was strategic and purposeful in all His encounters. As also we should be.

As a mother, I want nothing more than my boys to love Jesus. In my need to shelter and “protect” them, I have done them a great disservice of turning my back on the people Christ put in my path. If I were to continue, I would be raising a bunch of Pharisees. As they grow older and start their own families, I want them to remember their Mama as someone who loved sinners. Does this mean I let them sit at a table as an unbeliever curses profusely? Absolutely not. Does this mean I get drunk with unbelievers? No way. But it does mean I ask sinners into my home. To eat at my table. To fellowship with those I love most, regardless of our differences. People, we have to invite sinners to our table. We have to love them. We have to get our fill from the Lord, from our 12, and go forth into the hard places. We have to be different as we serve sinners because the world has enough Pharisees. We have to shower people with love and grace. After all, isn’t that what we want Christ to do for us?

Thou Knowest

One of the hardest things in the world is learning contentment when you’re not where you want to be in life. Even harder, to me, is when you see others "arriving" while you’re in the same ole’ place. I'm writing this not to say "buck up" or "bloom where you're planted" because while true, I believe it lacks empathy and grace. I'm writing this to say, "me too." I'd like to say I've been there and got the t-shirt, but the truth is I've just been there. I struggle in this place every single time God brings me here.

I don't think trials should be compared. Sure, there are people losing children, receiving a terminal diagnosis, going through a divorce, and all other sorts of horrific circumstances. While these circumstances definitely put into perspective your struggles, this still doesn't diminish your discontentment or the hurt you feel while sitting in a waiting room. At least it doesn't for me.

I have found two words that have helped me whenever I'm in this place. Two simple, Old Testament words that ring in my ear whenever I wrestle with these thoughts. "Thou Knowest." Your husband didn't get that job promotion. "Thou Knowest." Your house didn't sell. "Thou Knowest." You are barely scraping by financially. “Thou Knowest.” You suffer from a chronic illness. “Thou Knowest.”

After I lost Henry, I so badly wanted another child. That feeling of seeing one line when I so badly want two took my breath away. "Thou Knowest." I mean, let’s walk this for a second. What if I had cancer cells that hormones in a pregnancy would have fed? What if I were to have a miscarriage or another stillborn child and my soul and marriage just couldn't handle it? What if there was a child across the ocean I was supposed to adopt? What if God knows my one child was gonna need so much of me later in life? Oh Lord, "Thou Knowest."

I have found the worst thing that can be done when struggling with contentment is to dive into media. Social media, especially. Andrew and I were laughing the other day at how perfect our life looked from some of our recent Facebook posts. This is true of everyone. Facebook, Twitter, television, they're all highlight reels. It's so easy to look at someone who seemingly has more money, more kids, more fun. Someone prettier, skinnier, smarter. A better mom. A better wife. A better Christian. Oh, this is so easy to believe. I am lured into this trap too often, but that's precisely what it is...a trap. It's so easy to think God skipped you on the blessing train. That God dealt you a harder hand. But even if your circumstances are harder, or complacent, is that really a bad thing? I mean, don't we all seek God when we're desperate? Or when we want something so badly....like a change of scenery, another kid, a stronger marriage? "Thou Knowest."

Like most of the world, I've suffered life's acute and life’s chronic pains. While they both have their own challenges, chronic pain eats at you slowly. A hard marriage, a physical ailment, a difficult child, infertility, these are all chronic pains, but a big one that so many of us are blinded to is complacency. Sure, life can be mundane. Prayers can seem to go unanswered, but as my sister said to me the other day, don't put a comma where a period should go and don't put a period where a comma should go. Think about this for a minute. God may be saying no. Period. He may also be saying wait. Comma. It's not for us to punctuate or label the situation. It's for us to abide, to seek His face and to let Him lead. Your house won't sell. You aren't pregnant this month. Your husband didn't get that job. You want more money. You want to quit your job. Whatever the situation, we have two choices. We can turn to Facebook and convince ourselves that God blesses everyone but you. That action must be taken in every situation. That life isn’t fair. Or we can stay the course. We can pray. We can seek Him, cry to Him, and rest in Him. No matter what we choose, however, and no matter what befalls us in this short, short life, the fact still remains: "Thou Knowest."

Six Years...

Six years of marriage…Most people would tell me “Congratulations” and go on their merry, little way, but anyone brave enough to admit that they have really struggled in their marriage knows that every year, every day, is an accomplishment. My marriage has been my Everest. It has been THE biggest challenge in my life. My proudest accomplishment, too. It trumps writing a book, running a marathon, even raising 2 beautiful boys. And I hate to say this, but there have been moments when it has been as hard as losing a child. I’m not saying this to be a Debbie Downer. In fact, I’m saying this to encourage those out there who want to quit. Who aren’t “happy.” Who don’t think their marriage can change. Who feel that their marriage will always (for lack of a better word) suck. I am living proof that it can change. That people can change. That I can change. That your spouse can change. And that God can redeem the coldest, most wretched situation. I know that because He redeemed mine.

I am THE most stubborn human being alive. I am also pretty entitled and very selfish. I have lofty expectations of everyone close to me, even more so for myself. This trait immediately set my husband up to fail. When my husband and I were first married, we really struggled, but I thought that was normal. I mean, two selfish sinners under the same roof breeds challenges, right? Not to mention the fact that my husband and I both have Alpha personalities. It was hard, but then it got worse. And rather than praying about it and allowing God to work, more specifically work on me, I let it infect my heart. My expectations were not being met so I bought into the world’s view that I deserved to be happy. My husband was this and not that. So and So’s husband was doing this with his family and so and so doesn’t do that. Blah blah blah. I believe my husband would be the first to admit that he definitely had work to do, but it was me that was growing cold and complacent. I’m not going to hash the details because I believe these things to be private, but when I finally started praying more and filtering every concern through the Lord, change began. My frigid heart began to melt. Over time, and after a lot of mistakes, God has given me a new love for my husband. The giddy, “Baby, you are so hot,” kind of love! Seriously, just the other day I made him pose for a picture because he looked so smokin’ hot that I wanted to savor that image! If it can happen to me, it can happen to anyone.

I know so many people who are struggling in their marriage. They are married to selfish people that act like frat boys, spend too much money, watch too much football, work too much, hunt or golf too much, criticize, etc. etc. My marriage has its’ own set of issues, but all my biggest issues boiled down to this: it was all about me. Don’t get me wrong, it’s excruciatingly hard when you don’t feel “seen” by the one you pledged your life to. Or when you look at Facebook and imagine other people’s lives and husbands to be perfect while yours is not what you had hoped. Or if you are really honest with yourself, deserved. I also know the fear we have as mamas that our children may see dysfunction because our husbands may be acting like an idiot or just plain not filling our needs. (Didn’t we all swear we would be different than our parents or that we would be Allie and Noah from The Notebook.) Truth is, until I got over myself, I was paralyzed by my own expectations. By my entitlement. My husband had no chance because of my “What’s In It For Me” attitude. I get that marriage can be hard. I seriously wanted to be divorced the first few years of my marriage. And I understand that I am blessed that my spouse refused to give up on me and is changing every day, as am I. But we have to get over ourselves. Everybody assumes that their situation is different, but the bottom line is that it doesn’t matter what he is or isn’t doing. Unless it is harmful or dangerous, it can be fixed. I know firsthand that God can change anyone. He can redeem any and every situation. He has changed the entire dynamics of my marriage. He has grown in my husband’s life. He has taught this entitled, kinda feminist, selfish woman to love and cleave to her man. (As a side note, I have to say that I believe there are Biblical reasons to divorce, and if there is a situation you are unsure about, Biblical counsel from a trusted pastor should be sought out first.) But in no way is being unhappy or your husband hurting your feelings or being selfish a Biblical reason to divorce. That is a lie and perhaps why the divorce rate is so high. It’s why my marriage struggled so much in the beginning.

I have a tendency to surround myself with people who don’t challenge me. I mean, who doesn’t want to be pat on the back and told “poor, pitiful you?” While most days this isn’t an issue, this is the most crippling kind of friend regarding your marriage. Surrounding myself with people who agree with me and tell me to leave my husband because I’m not happy or because he will never change is straight from Satan. PRAISE GOD FOR GODLY FRIENDS! I have been blessed with a mother who consistently called me out on my “Holier Than Thou” Attitude that thought my marital woes couldn’t possibly be me. Having a person like her is a gift from God’s hands and is integral in my life, especially my marriage. She called me on my junk, still does, by pointing me to Jesus. Someone who reminds you, in love, that you took a vow, that nothing is impossible for God, and that divorce of any kind (emotional or physical) is detrimental to yourself and your children was the best thing that I could have heard. Though it was hard to hear and definitely not pretty, it triggered the love I already had for The Lord and motivated me to change….and pray. This is precisely why the Bible talks about iron sharpening iron. We are to encourage one another in holiness. Not happiness. While I wanted to slap my Mama upside the head for challenging me when I was upset, I could not be more thankful that she pushed me to holiness, more specifically, pushed me to my husband. I owe her my life for that. She knew that my joy outweighed my momentary happiness. Oh, how everyone needs that kind of friend. Had she told me that she just wants me happy, I would have left Andrew for some stupid reason. There would be no Henry. No Samuel. And Benjamin would be another statistic. Praise GOD I dodged that bullet.

We live in a world that’s all about being happy. YOLO. Do it now. Instant gratification. That’s why we are fat. That’s why we are in debt. That’s why we are impatient. And I have totally bought into it. I am a glutton for the instant gratification life has to offer. I barely know what hard work looks like. But let’s be honest, the best things in life are achieved through hard work. And marriage is no different. If I were to have left my husband when things weren’t like a Hallmark movie, I would have probably married another Yahoo with a new set of problems. What a fool I would have been. I would have thrown so much away because of my own selfishness. I am in no way saying to get used to mediocrity. To read your Bible all day and hide behind God. Absolutely not! I am saying to fight for your marriage. At first, I didn’t want to but God used the love I had for my child and for Him to get motivated. I’m not saying to stay in a marriage for kids, but in allowing God to use children and faith as a reason to want to work on things, the love for your spouse will come in due time. I am not a natural optimist. Seriously, I hate to admit this but I lean toward the negative side of things, but I am optimistic about things that I have witnessed firsthand. And that is this: Not only can God save your marriage, but He can renew it and make it better. He can thaw the coldest of hearts (mine) and change you and your spouse for the better.

I, by no means, have the good wife thing down. In fact, just last week on the way into church, I was mad at my husband and said something I knew would hurt him. Not make him mad, but hurt him. The old spouse of mine would have fired back. A fight would have occurred and we would have spent the entire day mad and jabbing at each other. Well, my sweet husband told me it hurt him and even asked that we start over so that we didn’t end up in a toxic cycle. He proceeded to take me to lunch. Not golf with his buddies to escape my attitude but spend time with the family. He knew I needed that. Anyone that knows my husband and where my marriage has been knows that that is a miracle in itself. I am not proud of my bad mouth, but I am proud to have witnessed yet another gift of grace from the Lord.
 

Marriage is a blessing. It’s a hard, beautiful, messy, rewarding journey. It sanctifies us. It has and is changing me. This is why I am so passionate about fighting for it….and about tapping into The Lord’s desire for my marriage to make it and letting Satan know he can’t have it. Because I have been there, I have to say this one more time. It’s not about you or me. Of course I challenge my husband and call him out when he is acting a fool. And so should you! But to leave him and force my kids to grow up without both parents in their home all because I have the warped idea that marriage should be like a romantic comedy is not only absurd but THE most selfish thing any mother could ever do. To love your children, to love Jesus, to truly be walking with Him means fighting for your marriage. Boundaries and counseling, even a trial separation may be needed based on circumstances, but there is hope. These last 6 years have been hard, but I wouldn’t trade them for the world. I have witnessed Him part The Red Sea and do THE IMPOSSIBLE. I couldn’t be more proud to be married to my man, and I am so happy to let The Lord change me and mold my husband and me into His likeness...not mine.

 

Comparison

I recently took a break from Facebook. While I enjoy keeping up with people, especially family and old friends, it was ruining my self-esteem, my marriage, and relationship with God. It was creating in me a false sense of what life should be like. I’m not some freak that thinks social media is evil in itself. It can actually be a great ministry tool, and it has been for me in the past. But lately, it has been a band aid to a deeper problem. Some people don’t have this problem. In fact, I asked my husband the other day how he can look at Facebook every day and not get annoyed or envious. He looked at me as if I had a third eye because this has never even hit his radar.

So what’s my problem? Comparison. When I lost Henry, I logged into Facebook and saw healthy babies and sweet pregnant bellies all over my feed. When I got in a recent fight with my husband, I saw a dozen posts about perfect husbands and romantic dates. and spontaneous trips. When I lost 35 of the 45 pounds I gained with Samuel, I saw multiple bikini posts and “I’m back in my skinny jeans 6 weeks after giving birth.” When I recently hung a new painting I adore, I saw multiple friends’ elaborately decorated million dollar homes. While I am happy for others and the ways in which God has blessed them, these posts allowed me to question why I was still chubby, why my marriage struggled, why I lost a son, and so on and so on. They made me angry with God. Why did He take Henry when He blessed her with a child after she had an abortion in college? I was walking with Him so closely, praying, and bam my son was gone! Why does she get a third healthy child when she doesn’t even pray for her children? Not only is it petty and judgmental on my part because God is writing their story as well as mine, but this is a dangerous train of thought that leads straight to alienation from the Lord and depression. And Satan LOVES it. In fact, I can hear his whispers, “Serving God leads to pain. Look at so and so…She has a perfect life and yours sucks. Her husband adores her and yours can't wait to leave for work every morning. Why do you even pray if God does what He wants anyway?” Like I said, Facebook is not a problem for everyone, but for where I was, it served as a platform for way deeper issues in me. It created a false sense of what life should be and what I so selfishly "deserved" when in fact mine is exactly the one God chose for me.

Then there are the posts about marriage. These are actually laughable when I think about it because I know no marriage is perfect. In fact, most are hard, but my stars, if you get me on the right day Facebook is plain depressing in this arena. If I see one more post about someone’s soap opera man of a husband who works all day and comes home with flowers and chocolate to cook, clean, and romance their wife, I may lose it. It sounds funny to write because I know that social media is only a highlight reel. No one posts that their husband forgets to flush the toilet or drinks too much or had an affair. Everyone struggles in their own way. Everyone has problems, whether they choose to see them or not, but on those lonely days, days where you haven’t left the house and your kids are acting a fool, you drink the Facebook Koolaid. Why doesn’t my husband buy me a nicer home? In fact, why doesn’t he make more money or read The Bible more with the kids? Why doesn’t he take me to The Caribbean? And oh, he could do the same thing to me. He could wonder why I have so much cellulite and his friend's wife is a size 2? Or why I'm always in yoga pants when so and so’s wife is always put together? To be honest, these thoughts never would have occurred to me had I not logged onto Facebook. Not that I blame Facebook for my critical, unsatisfied heart. The problem isn’t Facebook or Instagram. The problem is me.

I have endured a lot of pain and heart ache in the past year. And I am a messy, sinful, selfish woman. But you know what? My problems and struggles are the lot God has given me. If I could flip my mindset from “Why is her life so perfect” to “God gave me this so that I can know Him more” then I would be so much more better off. And confident. And free. If I could always grasp that life is truly about knowing Him and serving Him, I would want to delight in His sufferings. I mean, have you read the Bible? No one with a story had it perfect. In fact, God’s greatest leaders struggled the most. Their lives were messy. They struggled and fell but they always got back up. Losing Henry was the worst thing I have ever endured. It was a potential podium for so many negative thoughts and if I were to let myself go there, I would die. I know this because I did on a few occasions. I once read that your greatest trial is your greatest ministry. I couldn’t agree more. God created me knowing that I would lose my precious son. It’s horrible and dark and I yearn for him daily, but there is so much beauty in it. Why cheapen that by comparing myself to some random girl from high school who is rich, has a nanny and has 3 “perfect” kids?

And my husband. I couldn’t have a better husband. I have watched him grow and mature in his walk with the Lord so much over the past few years. He is the man who held me and prayed out loud in the funeral home chapel when I had to sign over my son’s body. He is the man who goes for a drive around the block instead of staying in the room while I take out my hard day on him. He is the man that takes on extra work so that I can stay home AND shop at Target. So why do I even try to compare him to any other man? I’ll tell you this, Facebook doesn’t help. We have a beautiful home in a nice community. In fact, I was looking at our house the other day thinking about how beautiful it is and how much I love all the things in it. Things from our 7 years together. Things we picked out. Things from our children. Memories. Then on to Facebook I go and boom, another friend has a million dollar home with Pottery Barn everything. And why don't her dogs shed? Why does this even bother me? I’m still not sure, but the root of the issue is entitlement and worldliness and I don’t like it. It makes me feel icky and shallow. I never think to compare myself to people who are wealthier or more beautiful or whose life appears easier until I look at social media.

The only tool that we should use for comparison is the Word of God. The only being I should compare myself to is Jesus Christ. That means that when these thoughts arise….the “she is prettier, she is a better mom, her marriage is perfect, her husband is more attentive, her children are more behaved” thoughts boil in my heart I need to measure them to the Word. Period. End of story. This isn’t an endorsement to get rid of social media. In fact, I plan to use it again when I can grasp these concepts better, but it can be a tool that creates great, unnecessary, unwarranted, ugly comparison. Comparison that robs me of the joy promised in Christ. The joy of enjoying the beautiful blessings I have now.

A Year Later...

I remember it like it was yesterday. The first sight of blood. The fear. Calling the doctor. Calling my OB cousin telling him there was no movement. Drinking OJ like he suggested and still feeling nothing. Finally feeling one last kick. I prayed it was the first of many more, but it was my boy’s goodbye. Before I went to the doctor the blood increased. To this day, I shutter when I use that bathroom because I remember knowing at that point. I walked into the doctor’s office knowing he was gone. The Doppler was silent. My doctor rushed to get the ultrasound machine, but I knew. My Jumping Bean was still. My doctor kept looking, but I told him I knew he was gone. The events that followed were horrific. Henry came so fast that he literally fell onto the bed. My husband came rushing over and kept me looking into his eyes as the nurses came rushing in. I can’t tell you the pain of feeling my lifeless son fall out of me. It’s not supposed to be like that. I’m supposed to hear a loud cry. To study my son’s face. The room was silent, and I was heartbroken. But because He lives, I knew then and I know now that Henry was just a body at that point. He was singing “Glory” with the angels. He was pain free and sitting with the Holy of Holies.

I can say this with full confidence that not once did God leave me. I had a suspicion this might happen most of my pregnancy. In fact, just days before I lost Henry I found myself looking up stillbirth on the internet. I had fake conversations in my head on what I would say to God if He allowed this to happen to me. Every conversation involved my walking away from Him. From telling Him that no God would do this to a praying mama. People ask all the time how we Christians know that God exists. Henry’s death is how I know. Any question mark I had is now a period. You see, no matter how hard it got, I couldn’t shake Him. While I had questions, while I still have questions, I couldn’t imagine not hanging on to Christ through all this. I believe in a Sovereign Lord who didn’t allow this to happen, He willed it to happen. Before I was born, this was a part of His perfect plan. And as painful as it is, there is hope and glory in it. He redeems my son’s death every day. I am better because of Henry every day. A better mom. A better wife. A better child of God.

Happy Birthday, sweet baby boy. You are thought of, loved, missed, and talked about every day. I will speak of you until the day I die. Benjamin knows you. He speaks your name. Your other brother will have your name. He will hear about your short but beautiful life and, too, will speak of you. Thank you for letting me be your mama. I love you and can’t wait to hold you again.

Problems

We received some concerning news at the doctor’s office the other day. With Henry, I had an intuition for this kind of stuff but last week blind-sided me. The doctor informed us that our sweet son has not 1 but 3 markers for various chromosomal disorders. Each marker in itself is not worrisome, but the 3 separate markers combined were enough to investigate. My doctor assured us that everything would be fine. That our boy is fine, but you can imagine our fear, especially considering our recent loss. And with all due respect if everything is fine, why am I going to a high risk doctor 2 hours away? I came home and cried. Andrew cried. We prayed. Then we cried again. We were told that this could all be nothing. A bump in the road that would build our faith. But it could also be pretty significant. The internet wasn’t very reassuring, and we were scared. As a mother, I was desperate. And angry. And extremely sad. My first thought was why God would do this to me again? I begged Him to only allow me to get pregnant if my baby was healthy. I was ready to adopt, but I allowed my faith to be bigger than my fear. And now this! Why can’t God distribute hardships more evenly? I see healthy babies all over Facebook. I see healthy babies being born to irresponsible mothers. Why me…again? I was so scared to fall in love with this boy, but everyone reassured me that it would be okay. Everyone encouraged me to love the mess out of him, and I do. I am so hooked on his sweet little kicks. And he looks just like his brothers. I can’t lose this boy. I love him too much. For the days to follow, I couldn’t help but cry as he kicked my tummy because he has no idea that he could have issues. That he may not make it. And poor Benjamin. He deserves a sibling. What will his life be like with a special needs brother? Or no brother at all?

I called my mother and told her I felt like there was this huge wall between God and me and that I couldn’t even muster the words to pray. Her response was so simple yet so profound: “Well then Baby, lean on the wall.” How true is that! So right then and there, I told God I would have faith as long as I could. So began my pleas. I begged Him to take this cup. To use the same power He used to raise Christ from the dead to clear up all of these markers. But I also asked Him to prepare my heart for His will. If He wants me to bury another child then I He would need to give me the strength to do so. If He wants me to have a special needs child then I’d need the wisdom to be his mama. No chromosomal issue was going to change my love for my baby in the least. I wanted Henry no matter his issues and this son of mine is no different. This boy is God’s chosen child for Andrew and me. We were in deep prayer for him even before he was conceived. We have lavished prayer all over him every day, and I believe that God is going to give us the exact child He wants us to have. And I decided that I was going to love the mess out of him as long as I could. Without fear. As hard as I could. 

I left for Memphis a couple days after the bad news. I left to go to Beth Moore of all places. And while I was praying boldly and fervently for my son, a spiritual event was the last place I wanted to be. I just didn’t want to be there, praising a God who might wound me again. Unfortunately, I had also gotten to a place where I just didn’t believe in the power of prayer. I still very much believed in God’s Sovereignty and His perfect plan, but I assumed He wanted me to learn through suffering again. I also felt like the more I prayed, the more I was disappointed. After all, God took Henry while I prayed. What was the point? Hasn’t all this already been decided anyway? What’s the point of praying if He’s already made up His mind? This is dangerous thinking, my friends. Oppression straight from Satan. And I slowly got to this point. But there I was, walking around defeated, every day. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for God to wound me. Forgetting that He also blesses.

The first morning I woke in Memphis, God had me up at 4:30. I mean, I sat up wide awake. I downloaded some psalms and started reading through the Bible. I hate to admit it, but I’m not one to open The Word and just feel refreshed. I’m not intellectual, so I usually need a book or study to guide me. Not this morning. I turned to James. James 5:16 in particular. "Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective." I do believe God has a plan. And I believe everything is decided, but that morning God showed me that His Word says over and over to get together with one another and pray. Matthew 18:19-20 “Again, truly I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything they ask for, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven. For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” So I decided to take God up on His word. I emailed some of the godliest people I knew and asked them to pray the 2 prayers on my heart: 1. That God shows off His glory and that all the markers disappear. Or start to disappear. Or even that they are all isolated issues that mean nothing of significance. 2. That if this is my cup, I can handle it. That He prepares my heart for what's to come. Because I knew that in that moment, I couldn’t have dealt with it. I also asked them to fast on the day of my appointment. I called on family and prayer groups and ladies at Beth Moore to put their hands on my belly and pray boldly for my son. My mother’s friends, my cousin’s friends, they were all hitting their knees… literally. This was a pivotal moment for me, to witness the way the body came together. Some of my prayer warriors know me well, but some of these ladies and men didn’t know me at all. In fact, I happened to sit in the very seat at Beth Moore where I received a letter from the prayer leader of Beth Moore’s ministry in Memphis. I emailed her and she “happened” to have lost a son. She knew the gravity of what I was feeling with Henry, along with the fear of my third son. She had hundreds of women throughout Memphis praying for me. I was LAVISHED in prayer.

Wednesday arrived and Andrew and I drove to the doctor. I love my husband for many reasons, but one of the reasons is that he steadies me. I used to get upset that he wasn’t as emotional as me. That he doesn’t want to talk about his deep feelings and that he rarely gets worked up, but I’ve come to realize that this is the exact reason why we work. We can’t both be losing it! We talked and listened to hymns the entire 2 hours we drove to the high risk doctor. We talked about how we would love any child we receive, for as long as we had them. Most of our son’s markers pointed to Down Syndrome so we were prepared for that. We actually wanted that because that would give him a life with us.

When we arrived, the tech did an in-depth ultrasound, along with an echo of his heart and various other tests. Having been Lois Lane and researched the mess out of any issue they may find, I was able to read some of her notes for the doctor. The measurements looked good, as before, but I couldn’t tell if there were more markers. A really neat thing did show up on ultrasound. When she went to look at his hands, she couldn’t get him to unclasp them. They were in prayer position. She had to poke and prod them loose! The doctor arrived, he came in and looked at each organ. The three markers my son had 12 days ago were a choroid plexus cyst (on his brain), an EIF (which is basically a calcium deposit on the heart), and a pleural effusion (fluid around the heart). In all my readings, these markers are benign in themselves but the more you have, the more this indicates a trisomy diagnosis. I also read that if they go away, it’s in the 3^rd trimester so I was prepared to see them. My hope was that they would find no more markers or that they had shrunk in size. I won’t go into the details of his exam because what happened next is too good to hold any longer. ALL 3 MARKERS HAD DISAPPEARED! In just 12 days! That, my friends, is a medical miracle. The doctor tried to explain this away with science, saying ultrasounds are radio waves and often mistakes are seen, but I interrupted him by saying, “Or this was a miracle from God!” I even called my cardiologist brother who says that you don’t see that many mistakes and have all of them go away like that. You just don’t! We got to the parking lot and I screamed. I was just so shocked! God didn’t just give me good news, He showed off in that exam room. And I promised God that I was going to shout His glory from the rooftops and that’s what I intend to do.

This entire ordeal reveled so much ugly junk in my life. Here I was thinking I had it together, but inside I was a hot mess. First it showed me my extreme lack of belief. And what little value I placed on prayer. Since losing Henry, my prayer life and unbelief have been horrible. I’ve felt it to be pointless, despite all the Scripture stating otherwise. I reasoned that if God heard my prayers, He would have never taken Henry. Of course this isn’t true. No one prayed more earnestly in the garden than Jesus. And His Father said no. But He asked, and He believed. I also learned what a brat I am. I recently read a great analogy. When you prick your finger, blood flows. Well this writer asked the challenging question: what flows when God pricks you? She used the story of Job as an example. Job had the perfect life, yet he was pricked and still remained faithful. Worship is actually what overflowed from his heart. I wish I could say the same for myself. When God pricked me with the loss of Henry, anger and unbelief began to flow. I’ve been struggling with these emotions ever since. Eight months later, he pricked me again and out flowed entitlement. God took Henry so I was entitled to a healthy child. In fact, I felt entitled to little hardship for the rest of my life. How bratty is that? And the thing is, God answered this request of mine knowing what an ugly heart I have. What kind of Savior is that who would love someone and bless someone so unlovely? This entire event has been life changing for me. It has shown me that we have to be bold about prayer. We have got to get together with each other and pray boldly for one another. One of the problems is that no one likes to share their weaknesses. Me included! God had to get me to such a desperate place that I had to share with others. How sad to think that anyone is carrying a heavy burden alone. Unbelieving every step of the way. That’s pride. That’s Satan. And it’s got to stop! God says no. He does for reasons beyond our comprehension. I know that more than anybody. But I can't not ask Him for a miracle because I fear He won't come through for me. He performs miracles. And He blesses beyond measure! He does, He does, He does, and I am the least deserving of anyone to be on the receiving end of His many blessings. But you have to ask. Not because He won't do it anyway, but because that's what Jesus taught us . God is good. God was good when He chose me. He was good when He took Henry. He was good when He removed all my boy's markers. And He would have been good had He not. God is good all the time. 

Pressing On

When I found out I was having another boy, I got in the car and cried. I wasn't crying because I wanted a girl. I LOVE boys, but I cried because a boy feels like I a replacement brother for Benjamin. I know that losing him was never my choice. That had it been, I would have chosen differently. But it feels weird to talk to Benjamin about his little brother....again. What if he loses another brother? What if I look down at this boy and see Henry's sweet face? I also cried because I feel like I'm not giving this one a chance. It's not his fault he lost his brother. And does loving this little guy so much mean that I'm glad Henry died so I could have him?

Since becoming pregnant, the grief of losing Henry has been unbearable. I put on a good face, but every time I talk about it, I feel guilt. And sadness. Don't get me wrong. I prayed fervently for a child after I lost Henry. I prayed for the gender. I prayed for every aspect of his being, and I love this little boy with my whole heart. But the fact remains that he is in my belly because Henry died. 

Sometimes, when things get overwhelming, I'm tempted to throw in the towel to this whole faith thing. I realize I can't not be a Christian anymore, but sometimes I'm tempted to put God at a distance and just go about life without Him. But when I think this through I just can't. I can't because if I were to write God out of Henry's story all it will have been is a tragedy. A sad tale. Another bad thing that happened to a good person. And Henry is worth so much more than that. I may have days where I'm angry with God. Or sad. Or confused. Or unsure about His hand in all this, but when I'm seeking Him through my pain, it gives Henry's life and death meaning. It may not give me a full explanation, but it gives me hope. And without God there is no hope or redemption in all of this. Just sadness. 

I'm definitely not a stoic Paul. Or a sweet prayer warrior like Hannah. Or even remotely like Jesus. In fact, some days I hang on selfishly because I want God to redeem all this. But I do know that there is meaning to all the madness. And to give up now would have made none of this worth it. So...I press on (hesitantly) toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. 

Phil 3:14

A dear friend of my mother's who lost her child was told by God that her son's face is the second she will see when she meets Jesus. Oh I can't even imagine the joy of that day. But until then, I press on.