facing fear and embracing the unknown

...FEAR NOT, for I am with you… do not be dismayed, for I am your God…. I will STRENGTHEN you, YES, I will help you. I will lift you up with my righteous right hand…

...God is our refuge and our strength… an ever present help in times of trouble. Therefore, we will not fear, though the earth gives way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea… Be still… and know that I am God.

...The LORD… is my shepherd… I will not fear… for you are with me.

Never will I leave you nor forsake you. Fear not, for I am with you…

There are times when the voice of the Lord comes in a gentle whisper and times it comes in a commanding voice, just loud enough to rise above our fears and remind us that we are not alone.

Today started off as an ordinary day.

Ordinary as life has been the last month anyway, even the last few months. Where as Allender says, when even opening up our arms to a day is in itself, an act of faith.

Each day, I’ve gotten out of bed, not knowing what the day holds. Each day revolving around what symptoms I’m experiencing, never knowing what I will or will not be able to do on a daily basis. Some days I wake up already in pain, some days I've got about a 3-4 hour window before I'll start feeling dizzy, or numb or tingly all over or where it's painful to sit, walk, drive, do anything.

I’ve known deep down for quite some time that something was wrong.

My body has felt out of sorts for quite some time now. I don’t even remember the last time I went through a day and felt somewhat normal or pain or symptom free.

Today we got more answers, but definitely not in the manner we would’ve expected. Yesterday when I was hanging out with Korrin, I decided to leave the house even thought I was in incredible amounts of pain and probably shouldn’t have been driving since it hurt to turn my head or doing so caused me dizziness or my entire neck or arms to go numb, but I just couldn’t take it anymore.

I tried to fake it when I saw her, but she could see from the minute I walked ina nd just how I was walking (even trying to cover it up) that I was not okay.

I was meeting her and the kids at the mall, she found some cute flower girl dresses she wanted to show me.

It was so sad not being able to pick up my kids. They all came rushing over but Korrin had to tell them, remember Miss Mazvita is sick, no pulling, no tugging, no jumping on her.

All the little things I love about getting a greeting from them. I couldn’t even pick little Brennan up. Korrin started asking me what I was feeling and as soon as I told her she told me we’re getting a wheelchair to go to the next store. I told her how Ben’s been threatening me with the same thing the last couple times we’ve left the house to add things to our registry, even when it hurt to walk around.

After just 30 minutes walking around, I was done for the day. I was so frustrated. I was feeling worse than when I first went to the hospital when this all started. We planned for me to hang out at their house after that and lay down and take some medicine.

I also called my mom, she works in internal medicine, and told her I needed her to call the doctor I’ve been seeing to see if she could squeeze me in tomorrow. My mom and Korrin both said I needed a referral to a neurologist and so I called the clinic and asked them if I could see a physician for that. (The two docs I’ve been seeing at the internal medicine clinic were out for the week.) I told them my symptoms and they got me in first of the morning.
Even last night as I was driving home, something deep down knew something was wrong but I didn’t want to face it. this sickness and the way it’s shaped my life in the last month has taken a toll on every facet of my life, yet it has also given me a new perspective on all these things.

Ben and I have been processing the strain it’s placed on our relationship, yet also the strength it has given it. much like how him going to Haiti and how his leaving, time there, our time apart, and the lessons learned in that time as well as the aftermath, placed a considerable stress on our relationship, it was also a catalyst for deeper growth and reliance upon our Father.

But with this, we have been forced to face our fears of the unknown, and move from escape to embrace.

Embracing what God has allowed, embracing suffering, embracing that times are hard right now and that is okay, embracing and grieving that this season has not been typical by any strectch of the imagination but embracing that the One who is leading us knows what He is doing and is faithful and eminently reliable. Escape to embrace.

We’ve also had to embrace the reality that thigns might not get better for a while. And what that means and all the possible options they are testing me for now and how any of those avenues would affect our lives.

Yet, while we have to face reality head on and grieve and feel all that we are feeling, there is also a time to turn to the Lord, and trust even when we don’t know what is going on, that we can trust Him. That He is taking care of us. That He is with us and that He will never leave us nor forsake us.

Tonight I’m filled with hope. Even though it has been a crazy day. my heart is at peace and I’ve been able to rest.

Rest in the fact that I don’t have to have certainty to have peace. Rest in the arms of the One who knows and sees all and is going to see me through. Rest in the midst of clouds of uncertainty, stress, chaos, fear, doubt, difficulty. Rest, knowing that He who promised is faithful.

I don’t know when this peace started coming about. Because after trying to convince Ben he didn’t need to come with me to my doctor’s appointment at the clinic today, and then losing that battle, and then within 10 minutes of my appointment, they said my symptoms were “red flags” and they needed me to see a neurologist today… my peace was instantly stolen.

And then there’s the dreadful waiting.

There is a lot that happens in the human heart as we wait. We either fight or flight. For the Christian, waiting is where we either make a choice to trust God with our fears and the situation, or we indulge our fears and feel we have to figure out a way out of this on our own.

I starting freaking out internally as how quickly things were changing and suddenly we’re being rushed to the emergency room. Even when my legs were going numb over the weekend or this week, or I would randomly lose feeling in my fingers or toes, I was still in denial. Yet I secretly knew something more was up. But I didn’t want to face it, plus it was frustrating that no one knew what was going on.

But then at some point, there was a turnaround. As I texted some of my friends on the way to the ER, asking them to pray. When I got back there, and on my way to the CAT scan, was another dreadful wait. There were 3 people in front of me for the scan. And I lay there in waiting, again.

It was then, I cried out to the Lord and asked him to be with me. And remind me that He is here with me. I was all alone them. My family (Ben included, he will now be my family J) was all in the waiting area, and it was only me and God now.

These verses above kept coming to my mind. I kept saying, Lord, remind me that you are here. Remind me that even if I am sick for a long time, even if I have something terminal… that you are good. You are with me, your love never fails, you stay the same. Even if I am not okay, you are good. And I don’t have to fear, you are WITH me.

And there’s something called a peace that will guard our hearts and minds, a peace that transcends all understanding.

Yes, this is the peace I experienced and am experiencing now.

A peace I cannot explain nor begin to understand. But therein lies the beauty and the mystery of the holy spirit, our wonderful counselor, one whose ways we cannot begin to fathom.

Yes, there are some times His voice comes in a gentle whisper, and other times when it is the nearly audible voice of a loving Father, reaching out to comfort His child when she is afraid, telling her it is okay she is afraid, but that she didn’t need to worry anymore, her Father is here with her now. All will be well.

“For he himself is our peace…”

both now and forevermore.

Whether we live or die, let me glorify your name. Let my lifesong sing to you.

.:and now i'm breathing out and breathing in, i'm alive again:.

YOU CALLED AND YOU SHOUTED
BROKE THROUGH MY DEAFNESS
NOW I’M BREATHING IN
AND BREATHING OUT
I’M ALIVE AGAIN

YOU SHATTERED MY DARKNESS
WASHED AWAY MY BLINDNESS
NOW I’M BREATHING IN
AND BREATHING OUT
I’M ALIVE AGAIN

::

Very rarely do I buy a CD for just one song. But "Alive Again" by Matt Maher has been a current soundtrack for many moments in my journey the last few months. Every time I'd hear it on the radio it was always during one of those moments of true joy that can come even in the midst of sorrow, when the joys are so much sweeter, and when we are the most broken and therefore the most fully alive. As Allender says, "Suffering can move us toward God, or it can move us away from him and consequently from being fully human and alive. If we are closed to sorrow, we will also be closed to true joy."

This song carries so much meaning for me and has always come at critical turning points and now serves as a reminder of the power of my God. Who alone has the power to bring us from death into life. Who alone has the power to make all things new. And to restore, redeem, renew. It's a beautiful song and captures so much of the victorious moments in the journey of the last few months that I can't put into words.

I woke up in darkness
surrounded by silence
oh where, where have I gone?

I woke to reality
losing its grip on me
oh where, where have I gone?

Cause I can see the light
before I see the sunrise

YOU CALLED AND YOU SHOUTED
BROKE THROUGH MY DEAFNESS
NOW I’M BREATHING IN
AND BREATHING OUT
I’M ALIVE AGAIN

YOU SHATTERED MY DARKNESS
WASHED AWAY MY BLINDNESS
NOW I’M BREATHING IN
AND BREATHING OUT
I’M ALIVE AGAIN

Late have I loved you,
you waited for me,
I searched for you…
what took me so long?

I was looking outside
as if love would ever want to hide
I’m finding I was wrong

Cause I can feel the wind
before it hits my skin

YOU CALLED AND YOU SHOUTED
BROKE THROUGH MY DEAFNESS
NOW I’M BREATHING IN
AND BREATHING OUT
I’M ALIVE AGAIN

YOU SHATTERED MY DARKNESS
WASHED AWAY MY BLINDNESS
NOW I’M BREATHING IN
AND BREATHING OUT
I’M ALIVE AGAIN

Cause I want you
Yes, I want you,
I need you
And I’ll do what ever I have to
Just to get through
cause I love you
Yeah, I love you

- alive again, matt maher

the Lord is my shepherd

::TheLORDismyshepherd. i shall not be in want. [He makes me lie down in green pastures ]He leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, [For you are with me] Your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; My cup overflows. Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord [forever.]psalm 23::



This passage has been speaking to me a lot in the last couple of days. Often times the phrase, The Lord is my Shepherd will bring me comfort in certain moments, just a reminder that He is the One leading and guiding me. The other day this passage stuck out and kept playing in my mind as I was enjoying some moments in silence with God and allowing my soul to settle in His presence. It was one of those moments where I realized how much had changed and was changing in my life and my heart as a result of the last few weeks, yet a moment that brought a strange peace, I heard just nine words in my heart that were able to still and calm the chaos... "The Lord is my Shepherd... He restores my soul... and then it continued...

I read through this psalm and resonated with all the words beautifully expressed. These words became life to my soul... as I could truly say, yes, the Lord and Him alone, is my shepherd. No one else is leading my life, from this point forward, I am following only Him. Only He is authority. His voice is the only One I want to listen to and the only One I want to follow. And then I felt the work of the Spirit warming my heart and reminding me of His presence there with me, as I read on...

Yes, he makes me lie down in green pastures, yes, I could say in agreement, he leads me beside quiet waters, the waters that bring life to my soul and make me new and whole again. Yes, through it all, He restores my soul... Yes, even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I don't have to fear the evil surrounding me, for yes, God, you are with me.

And let's stop there for a moment. There have been so many times in the last few weeks where literally I felt like I was walking through the valley of the shadow of death. The darkness and physical and emotional pain was alarming. Yet the only thing that got me through is knowing that Yes, you are with me. Even though.... yet you are WITH me... I don't know if there have ever been more powerful words of promise written. And it continues, your rod and your staff, they comfort me... my cup overflows, surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life... and I will dwell... I will rest, I will commune, I will dwell int he house of the Lord. Forever. Amen.

It also struck me that the psalmist writes here entirely in present tense. Even just the first line, the Lord is my shepherd... not was, not will be, but IS. He is presently walking with me through the nooks and crannies of life. He is with me now. Presently. The psalmist rejoices and says, look at who He is, look at what He does... for me and for you... The Lord IS my shepherd... I lack nothing, he says. He MAKES me lie down... He LEADS me beside quiet waters... He GUIDES... He RESTORES my soul... Even though right now, currently, presently I walk through the valley of the shadow of death... I will fear no evil, for your rod and your staff, they COMFORT me....

These are words mixed with rich promises. Present observations and rich promises. I will fear no evil when I encounter it, for you are with me now. The Lord is my shepherd, only You can lead and guide me. Only you can restore my soul. Only you know and can lead the way. I desire and want only You. May I dwell in the house of the Lord forever. For you alone are God and You alone are good. Your mercy never fails. Your love is unending and you lead me to a place of peace and rest, you gently and tenderly lead me to a place of hope and healing. A place of redemption and renewal. A place of inner security and calm. A place where only You and I can dwell.

lessons from the grave, pt. II

A continuation of the last post, sharing lessons learned in my personal experiences the last few weeks/months that are resonating with several lessons and themes shared in Allender's book, The Healing Path. I feel his words capture it best so I'm sharing excerpts that have really spoken to me and connected with things God has been orchestrating in my heart lately.

PAINFUL REALITIES

"Most of us are spared such life-wrenching tragedy (referring to the story in the previous post,) but none of us escapes the heartache of living in a fallen world.

To live is to hurt.

We barely take our first breath and a wail is the first sound we utter. Seventy years later (if we’re lucky) our exit is with a moan or a whimper, a last breath reminiscent of the first cry.

Negative? A downer? Unnecessarily pessimistic? Surely life is not that bad for most people. Of course we know suffering will visit us sometimes, but we don’t want to think about it. What is the point in contemplating something that is out of our control? If we could prevent it, then we might briefly consider our stance toward suffering. But why bother when God “causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous” (Matthew 5:45)? We’re all going to get our share of joy and sorrow, so let’s just get on with our lives and hope for the best.

The problem with this position is that once the inevitable pain comes, it is too late to consider how we will allow ourselves to be shaped by it.

If we fail to anticipate thoughtfully how we will respond to the harm of living in a fallen world, the pain may be for naught.

It will either numb or destroy us rather than refine and even bless us. Suffering need not destroy the heart; it has the potential to lead to life.

But few people I know suffer deeply and profit. Instead, pain is seldom expected nor embraced when it comes. It is often denied or swept under the spiritual rug of “God’s sovereignty.” The apostle Paul tells us that as we “groan inwardly,” we “wait eagerly” for our final redemption (Romans 8:23). But few of us enter the tragedy of living in a fallen world and simultaneously struggle with God until our hearts bleed with hope. We either give into pain with a hopeless cynicism, or we settle for an artificial solution that insists that things really aren’t too bad and we need not muck around in the “negatives” of life.

God’s perspective on suffering is very different.

He invites us on a healing journey through the valleys and over the cliffs of an evil world, but we often miss our on his redemptive path. Too many of us suffer for naught.

For the past fifteen years, I have spent countless hours with men and women who have suffered the ravages of childhood sexual abuse. In 1988 my book The Wounded Heart detailed the harm such abuse wreaks upon the soul and how it eats at the core of what makes human beings in God’s image: our capacity for faith, hope, and love. A decade later, sexual abuse continues to ravage lives even in a culture that has spent unprecedented time and energy talking about the subject. Cast the net even wider, and it becomes clear that many of us are carrying deep hurts simply because human beings inflict harm on each other, whether intentionally or unintentionally, provoked or unprovoked.

Ten years and far more reflection on these issues have made clearer to me what the evil in the world is doing to harm all of our hearts and darken our love for God and others. No matter how we acquired our wounds, we all need the good news of the healing power of redemption: Evil meant our suffering for our destruction, but God meant it for our good.

Healing in this life is not the resolution of our past; it is the use of our past to draw us into deeper relationship with God and his purposes for our lives. We need a new understanding of how to deal with past hurts, one that acknowledges the damage to the human spirit while charting a path toward the abundant life God promises."

- Dan Allender, The Healing Path

--

I couldn't agree more with these statements. It is often the experiences we feel will crush us that have the power to free us. Often the things we feel will kill us that hold the potential to lead us to true life.

lessons from the grave, pt. I

We’ll call it a clearing. Or perhaps a stretch of a patch of sunlight on a dark, dark path we call the healing path. But now that it’s light out again, maybe just for the last few days or maybe this light is here to stay, I’m going to share the lessons that are only borne in the treasures of the darkness. The darkness so heavy it threatens to drown us, but a darkness that gives birth to the power of stillness and waiting on the God you’ve called to save you. The only One who knows the way out and the One who is tenderly leading you through.

The healing path, my own personal experiences and the book these posts have been inspired by titled believe it or not, The Healing Path, has taken me on a journey to places I wish I’d never visited. We’re far from the end, yet I’m coming up for air. Able to share a little bit of my lessons from the grave. Lessons from the shadowlands of life that man most seldom wish to go, but are sometimes the very places our God wants to walk us through. And the very places that are necessary for our growth.

I find it quite interesting that the journey God has been taking me on, and the journey that parallels a lot of the realities of pain and brokenness and healing I’m resonating with in this book, The Healing Path, started off with recollections of experiences past and present dealing with emotional pain. Allender captures it well and seems nearly every other line to put into words what I’ve struggled to feel, understand and express, so I’ll share tidbits of key parts that have spoken to me and helped me process the workings of the Spirit of God within me, where literally as He puts it beautifully, “opening our arms to a day is an act of faith.” Life hasn’t looked any bit of normal for quite sometime and each day brought enough of its own.

Yet isn’t it interesting that in the midst of that, a bout of physical pain also came knocking on my door. And the parallels and intertwining of physical and emotional pain have never been more prevalent. In the last few weeks, I’ve seen how more than ever the intricacies of the human condition. We were created as physical, emotional and spiritual beings, three in one, and while they are distinct, one cannot operate or suffer without affecting another. It has been an interesting journey. Many days I have felt like I was walking blind. Not quite sure of the ground beneath the next step I’m taking. Clinging most days, sometimes barely by a thread, to nail scarred hand that calls my name.

---

From Dan Allender’s, The Healing Path

Suffering as a Sacred Journey

"OPENING OUR ARMS TO A DAY IS AN ACT OF FAITH. Even on the days when we feel the most optimistic about the course life is taking, our confidence can be shattered by events beyond our control. A morning that begins with a cheerful whistle can be sideswiped by the droning negativity of a spouse who gets up on the wrong side of the bed. A much-anticipated vacation can be cut short by a broken leg, a stolen wallet, or the death of a loved one back home. A pleasant Sunday morning can be shot to pieces by the cool rebuff of a friend sitting in an adjacent church pew. A single split-second decision can change the course of our lives forever.

I’ll never forget the woman who told me about the morning that changed everything for her. She had put her son in the backseat of the car and buckled his seat belt, got into the front seat, and then realized she had left her purse in the house. She left the keys in the ignition, but did not start the car. She ran back into the house, and as she grabbed her purse, the phone rang. She hesitated but decided to answer it. The call lasted no more than three minutes. When she went back outside she witnessed a horror that would change everything about her life forever.

Apparently seconds after her son was left alone in the car, he escaped from the backseat, climbed to the front seat, started the car, and put it in reverse. When he felt the movement of the car, he panicked and tried to jump out. He must have caught his coat on the car door because he was dragged under the wheels and his skull was crushed. In a matter of seconds, his young life was extinguished, and his mother’s heart was shattered.

Two years after the accident the woman was doing much better, but she still suffered waves of nausea and guilt that threatened to drown her. Her marriage was at grave risk, and she continued to take medication for depression. Her story and the sorrow embedded in her eyes shook me. But one comment in particular unnerved me. “Thank you,” she said, “for letting me know it is not wrong to suffer.” Everyone else wanted her to be ”fine,” she explained. They wanted her to “move on with her life.” She said she used to have similar sentiments toward those who suffered tragic losses; she hadn’t understood the depth of harm with which they wrestled. Now she did. Wistfully she commented, “I simply never thought that tragedy could really, I mean really, come to my door.” "

- Allender, The Healing Path

the problem of pain

It has seemed as if an invisible enemy has been taken my life by storm in the last three months.

And now I am literally bound to the confines of my own home, on bed/house rest, was taken for a 10 minute car ride yesterday and just the drive up the street to Starbucks brought me so much pain it wasn’t even worth it.

I feel like so much of my life has been slipping through my fingertips.

I am not in control and every day just wake up wishing I’m in some nightmare and that the pain will go away.

I feel disqualified from life. or life as I knew it.
It’s as if I’m watching everyone live life as normal and watching their lives pass me by when mine seems to be standing still.

There’s a reality that has been making itself more and more apparent in the last few days, I’m really sick, something is wrong and we don’t know what it is.

The uncertainty is crippling. At any given moment I’m somewhere between the caverns of faith or doubt, knowing yet struggling to believe at the same time that He is with me and promises to take care of me.

At different moments in the last couple of weeks, my Father has spoken these reassuring words to the depths of my soul when I needed them the most. Some days, it is only this gentle whisper that gives me the strength to go on:

“Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you…”

“God is our refuge and our strength, an ever-present help in times of trouble, therefore we will not fear…”

Like I said, it seems like an invisible enemy has been eating away at my life the last three months. Every week I felt, this week things will get back to normal only to be more and more devastated.

It started a few months ago with a maelstrom of emotional pain that hadn’t died down, only intensified, and then in the last 2 weeks replaced by an incredible amount of physical pain.

If there is anything I have learned about pain in the last couple of weeks of few months, physical or emotional it is that pain is persistent.

It demands our attention.

Pain does not whisper, it shouts.
Nags.
Bothers.

Pain is invasive.
It disrupts life. or perhaps, it unravels and disrupts the masquerade we knew as life, as one of my favorite authors puts it.

Pain does not ask, it intrudes.

I’ve been writing about the analogies between physical and emotional pain at length in the last three weeks, words I hadn’t had time nor the energy or strength to share, but now, as I’m on home rest the next at least another week, I’m going to try and start articulating them.

I’ll share more of those later, but just off the cuff as I sit here in my quiet living room, the first moment all day where I have not been in pain, I am feeling somewhat normal again.

Pain is like that unwanted visitor that just will not go away.

I remember how frustrating it was a few weeks ago when I was woken up once again in the wee hours of the morning by a nagging toothache. During that week, I couldn’t sleep more than a few hours before waking up due to the pain. Nothing seemed to bring relief.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. As I trudged to the kitchen to get a glass of water and then reached into my purse for some ibuprofen and some teeth gel Ben got me, I realized, this is useless.

Nothing will dull the ache.

I’m taking 3 ibuprofen every few hours for the pain (as prescribed) and it’s not even touching it!

As I sat there, in my feeble attempts to alleviate the pain, I realized how true of a parallel that is in the rest of our lives.

We will do anything to avoid or alleviate the pain.
But sometimes the pain gets so great, all we’re doing is merely temporarily numbing it, only for it to come back in just a little bit.

To heal the pain, you have to get at the source.

I remember just wanting to yank my tooth out in that moment. I had slept with an ice pack the whole night just to aid with that entire side of my face throbbing. The splitting headaches during the day were enough to make me feel like I was going crazy. Nothing was working.

The pain demanded attention.
Pain is a signal.

It is our body’s way of alarming us that something is wrong, and that something needs to be addressed.

I realized how real the physical pain and my feeble attempts to numb it, correlated with my own emotional pain and storm I’ve been in the last few months.

Everyday, every week, I felt like things would be getting better. But sadly, they were only getting worse.

I don’t know why all of these things are happening right now. In fact, just a week and a half ago, in the midst of the toothache and processing the other challenges I was facing emotionally, I had finally come to acceptance. And instead of fighting, was embracing the healing path that God has me on and my fiancé.

We started reading a book by Dan Allender called The Healing Path and it has been resonating deeply with us and the journey God currently has us on. A journey we did not choose, but have found ourselves on after a series of difficult circumstances have surrounded us. A journey and path that leads to life, more of life than we had been living, but one that does not cut the corners of walking through the dense and thick valleys of the valley of the shadow of death.

A tiny glimmer called hope.

Some days it is only this tiny dot on the horizon that can keep me going and remind me of the One who is holding my hand and holding me through all of this. Some days the darkness enveloping you seems overwhelming and you forget that this isn’t where you will always be, but that you are simply passing through.

The biggest correlation I felt that day, as I reached for ibuprofen to alleviate the pain was that to get at pain, you have to go directly to the source. You have to go to the root.

It involves a painful venture directly into the center of the pain, not away from it.

Just like a root canal, this invasive procedure is the only way to get all of the infection out. There is no other way.

The problem with pain is that while it hurts, it is healing.

Yet it demands attention. I couldn’t take it any longer and had to call my dentist and ask for an appointment immediately.

The thing with pain is we keep wishing it will just go away. Just like with the challenging situations I was faced with emotionally in the last few months, and just a week ago telling a friend I just couldn’t wait for life to get back to normal, is the reality that sometimes that pain is now a part of everyday life as we know it.

We never choose pain. Something in The Healing Path that really struck me is how often we set out on journeys that are supposed to look one way, only to find out, much to our surprise that instead of “Peace” and “Joy,” our companions for our journey are “Sorrow” and “Suffering,” the traveling companions of Much Afraid in Hannah Hurnard’s Hinds Feet on High Places allegory. I could relate to this so much, as I'm in a season where I'm getting married and on the outside you would think and expect everything to be exciting and joyous and for this to be a time filled with celebration and anticipation, yet while I am extremely grateful for the gift of getting to spend the rest of my life with this man, this season has looked anything but what I ever thought or imagined.

I’ve stopped fighting now and am accepting. Accepting whatever is happening within me, accepting the uncertainty of it all, accepting the pain and continuing to grieve, all that I feel I have lost and all I am not able to do right now or be a part of. Grief that is healing. That feels the full weight of the loss, yet relies on a grace that sustains, a grace that carries, and knows they are never alone and that He alone is faithful and eminently reliable. He will pull me through.

"When I am afraid, I will trust in You."

Love,
Avia
Hebrew for "Her Father is Lord"

a place called home

Creating a Home Together, from Henri Nouwen:

"Many human relationships are like the interlocking fingers of two hands. Our loneliness makes us cling to each other, and this mutual clinging makes us suffer immensely because it does not take our loneliness away. But the harder we try, the more desperate we become. Many of these "interlocking" relationships fall apart because they become suffocating and oppressive. Human relationships are meant to be like two hands folded together. They can move away from each other while still touching with the fingertips. They can create space between themselves, a little tent, a home, a safe place to be.

True relationships among people point to God. They are like prayers in the world. Sometimes the hands that pray are fully touching, sometimes there is distance between them. They always move to and from each other, but they never lose touch. They keep praying to the One who brought them together."

:: Henri Nouwen