Treasures in Heaven
“…But store up treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor decay destroys, nor thieves break in and steal…” –Matthew 6:20
Today is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. Five years ago that would have meant nothing to me, today it means everything. Oh how quickly things can change. My husband and I have committed five precious souls to Jesus in five years. Prior to our losses, miscarriage was simply a word without meaning. Everyone knows when you get pregnant, there is always a chance of miscarriage. But many women do not think twice about it until it happens to them. Suddenly your world is turned upside down, and this seemingly meaningless word takes on a meaning beyond compare.
It was the fall of 2016, and I had two relatively uneventful, healthy pregnancies behind me which resulted in the birth of our two daughters, who are now 8 and 6 years old. When we found out we were pregnant again, we were overjoyed! My husband and I have always dreamed of having a large family, so we figured we were well on our way to making that happen. This time we were hoping for a boy…we figured having a little extra testosterone in the house to balance out all of the estrogen we currently had might not be a bad thing 🙂 This pregnancy felt different to me, and instinctively I knew our baby was a boy. There was no reason for us to be concerned with anything initially…no history of loss, and two previous pregnancies that resulted in living, healthy children. Our first ultrasound revealed a sweet eight week old baby with a healthy beating heart. Things progressed and seemed rather normal until I went away on a weekend youth retreat with some high schools students I was ministering to. Something felt different, my belly seemed a bit more saggy, and the vivid dreams I had been having stopped. The Monday after the retreat, I was scheduled for my second pre-natal appointment. When they went to locate the heartbeat, they couldn’t find it. By this time, I was beginning to get anxious, but they told me not to worry and that they would likely find the heartbeat on the ultrasound. After being taken to the ultrasound room, I laid down and they began their scan. I knew immediately something was not right…the baby on the screen was lifeless and still. I was alone, and all of a sudden my world seemed to fall apart in a matter of seconds.
No one prepares you for miscarriage. No one tells you what to expect, or how it feels when you are the unfortunate victim. There is no guide book, and worst of all, after it is over everyone around you expects you to act like it never happened. Somehow, because the life inside of you never came to be outside of your womb, there is an unspoken rule that your baby isn’t worth speaking about. Some people actually tell you to forget about it. Common comments can pierce to the heart, such as “I’m sure you’ll have other children” or “Maybe there was something wrong with the baby”. Although most people are well meaning, their comments can jolt you to your core. It doesn’t matter if you can have other children (which is never guaranteed even though some people mistakenly assume it is) the baby inside of you was your baby, and nothing can ever replace that life. After finding out our baby had passed, I opted to try and have a natural miscarriage at home. I delivered our sweet son James at twelve weeks, a perfectly formed little boy who literally had his hand extended in what appeared to be a blessing. But shortly after, I knew something wasn’t right. I was bleeding out, and had to be loaded onto a stretcher into an ambulance in the middle of the night. When I arrived in the ER, I was barely conscious from all the blood loss, but I vaguely remember a doctor asking me if I had other children at home. When I said yes he replied with something akin to “Well, at least you have other children.” In that moment, I couldn’t believe the insensitivity of that doctor. He may of thought he was saying something comforting, but in reality his words poured salt on my already open wound. I wanted to scream “I may have other children, but did you know this was my first son! His life mattered!” I had to spend the rest of that night and the next day on the labor and delivery floor, trying to complete a miscarriage and hearing a lullaby being played every time a baby was born. Meanwhile, my now lifeless son was lying in a box that my husband and I had put together for him when we found out he had passed.
Experiencing a miscarriage puts you right at the foot of the cross with Jesus. You may not be the one physically dying, but you are watching your baby slip from this life into the next and you are powerless to do anything about it. You feel the agony, and with every drop of blood you shed you are living the way of the crucified Christ and His sorrowful Mother. There are so many feelings that accompany miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant loss that no one ever talks about. Perhaps you ended up having an unplanned pregnancy that you weren’t prepared for, but then you lost the baby and feel guilty for having hesitancy. There are other couples who try for years just to conceive, only to have their hopes and dreams devastatingly ripped away from them when they lose their baby. Other mothers may be told not to grieve their child and to move on, only to realize years later they have a wound from their miscarriage which never fully healed. Guilt is a huge emotion associated with miscarriage. The second you learn of your baby’s passing, your thoughts can immediately turn inward. “What did I do? Was it because I went running after my other toddler? Should I not have drank that cup of coffee or ate that lunch meat sandwich?” There are a million and one reasons to blame yourself for a miscarriage, but the truth of the matter is, a miscarriage is hardly ever the result of negligence on the part of the mother. Another terrible emotion that comes knocking at your door after miscarriage is shame. “Why was my body not able to complete something that is supposed to be natural?” “I can’t bear to tell others about my loss, and how I failed my husband, or my parents who were really wanting a grandchild”, etc. A woman should never have to live with shame after a miscarriage. Miscarriage is something that is completely out of the mother’s hands. Perhaps this is why God has allowed me to experience so many. You see, I come from a family line of movers and shakers, doers and take charge types who mistakenly think we can somehow plan our lives out in the way we want them to go. My miscarriages have humbled me greatly and made me realize that I can plan all I want, but ultimately God is writing my life story and the sooner I make myself comfortable with that, the better it is going to be for me.
When I finally began to think that maybe, just maybe my miscarriage days were behind me, it happened again. A couple of months ago, my husband and I were sitting outside of the Cathedral church of our diocese, asking ourselves the question we have asked each other countless times. Were we ready to be open to another child? Even though I had three previous miscarriages (including the loss of our twins in September 2019), we went on to have two more healthy boys in between those losses. I was feeling good and thinking that perhaps I could finally have two healthy pregnancies in a row again, but praying for whatever God wanted. We weren’t actively trying for another baby, but we knew there was a possibility of conception and felt open to that. When my cycle hadn’t returned mid July and the days of its impending arrival came and went, I figured I should take a pregnancy test. I knew I had felt extra tired lately, but I figured it was because I was a mom of four now. When I got a positive result, I didn’t know what to think. Of course we were happy, but after loss my husband and I are now a bit guarded when we see those two pink lines. Why? Because we know a positive pregnancy test is not a guarantee of happily ever after and a baby in your arms at the end. I don’t know if either of us were expecting a possibility to become a reality again so quickly, but after loss you welcome any baby that comes your way…all of our children are so precious to us. We began imagining what our lives would be like with five children, and speculating about the sex of the baby…we both felt it was a girl this time.
I was busy planning and preparing for my husband’s family to visit at the end of July. It was special this time around because we were actually going to be able to tell his mom and sister in person about our pregnancy, which is something we hadn’t be able to do since learning we were pregnant with our first. They arrived on a Wednesday, we told them on a Thursday, and I began miscarrying on Friday evening. I didn’t know what to think this time, so I just tried not to think at all. I was hosting people in my home, and I was miscarrying another baby. And this wasn’t my second or third miscarriage, it was my fourth. It didn’t seem fair. We had just begun planning and hoping and dreaming…having five children may not seem like a dream to everyone, but a house full of little ones has always been a welcome thought to me and my husband. The weekend progressed, and I knew I was losing our baby. Somehow, I made myself push through. On Sunday, August 1, our sweet Sophia Catherine entered into eternal life, not into our arms nine months later as we had hoped. That Sunday in mass, I left my dreams at the foot of the cross with Jesus.
There is something so innately wrong about miscarriage. The child you had hopes and dreams for, the life that had begun developing in your womb, just stops. And when their life stops, your whole world stops. You should never have to wrap your developing child in a toilet paper shroud and bury them in a box in the ground. It just shouldn’t happen. But it does, and then you are left with the whys. I have learned that there are never any real answers to the whys, there are simply some things in this life we will never fully understand. As I reflect on this day, and what it means to so many women, especially to me, I find myself still struggling. My rate of pregnancy success now stands at 50%…four healthy pregnancies, and four miscarriages (but five children in heaven because of our twins) .
Friends, I can’t tell you why I have lost so many children. I can’t tell you why moms and dads continue to experience stillbirths, why some children are born with fatal conditions that only allow them to live a few hours, or why some women lose all of their pregnancies and never give birth to any living children. These realities and the reasons behind them are known to God alone. But I do know where my treasure lies…and that is in heaven. I used to be extremely afraid of death as a child…now my heavenly children point the way to my true home and the happiness that lies therein. My husband so poignantly stated after our most recent loss “God is just increasing our joy in heaven!” What a beautiful and profound thought. Yes Lord, thank you for increasing our joy! I recently attended a ceremony with many other moms and dads to commemorate our children lost through miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant loss. At this ceremony, you are invited to take a pinwheel for each baby you have lost and write a special message on it. As I looked around at the others present, many had one, or maybe two pinwheels…not five. But when I looked down at my full hands, grief intermingled itself with joy and a profound feeling of being extremely blessed. I have five sweet treasures in heaven and four on earth…yes Lord, my cup overfloweth.
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and decay destroy and thieves break in and steal. But store up treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor decay destroys, nor thieves break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be.” ~Matthew 6: 19-21
Clay in the Hands of the Potter
” ‘Indeed, like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, house of Israel.'”-Jeremiah 18:6
Friends, it has been far too long since I’ve posted here–about one year, to be exact. Now it’s not like I didn’t have a good reason…we bought our first home last June, closed on it in July, moved at the end of August, and I had my second son (our fourth child here on earth) in October. But through it all I feel like God has been calling me back to this, and I’ve wondered what has kept me away so long. In late spring, early summer of last year, I had come across Jeremiah chapter 18 in my daily readings, which talks about the potter and the clay. At that time, I was struck with inspiration about the reading which I felt called to discuss, but that thought has since left me. Recently I was thinking about this scripture reference again, and a different perspective came to me, one I feel even more compelled to share. But before I begin, I must take you back a bit in my story to last summer and fall.
Those of you who know my story or have read my miscarriage journey on this website know that before my husband and I conceived in February of 2020, we tragically lost our set of identical twins around 11 weeks gestation. To say that we were devastated is a gross understatement. I was crushed in spirit, struggling in my faith to understand why God would allow us to lose yet another pregnancy, and why He would ask me again to surrender not only one, but two more unique and beautiful souls to heaven. After our loss of the twins in September of 2019, I felt God calling me to a deeper, more radical level of trust and abandonment to His will than ever before. It was out of my pain and heartbreak of losing the twins that The Trust Project was born. I felt called to share our story with the world, but moreover to share with others that trusting God completely and totally brings with it a profound sense of freedom, even in the midst of pain and suffering. Our journey together as a married couple has been full of these trust moments, some of which I will revisit and share with you at a different time. But for now, let’s rewind back to June 2020.
Through a series of different events, it became apparent to my husband and I that my job as a musician, youth minister, and PSR teacher (which I had held for almost four years) was coming to a close. We had begun the process of pre-approval for a mortgage in January of 2020, and started scoping out areas in which we might want to live that were closer to my husband’s job in St. Louis. But try as we might, when looking at these different areas, we were repeatedly out priced for the size and type home we were looking for. After many days and nights of unsuccessful searching and a few house showings that didn’t work out, we began to wonder if we were truly called to move closer to St. Louis. As soon as we considered the possibility of staying closer to where we currently live, we felt peaceful and more options began to present themselves. However, after a couple of promising options fell through (including an offer that was not accepted), we began to wonder if we were supposed to move at all (even though we had been feeling the pull to move for several months). After another day of what seemed like fruitless home searching, my husband exclaimed “I found it! I found the home we’ve been looking for!”
After going to look at what is now our current home, we both felt we had indeed found the home we had been searching for. From the time of our offer to the closing of our home, there were countless instances where our contract should have fallen apart; yet miraculously, God kept answering our prayers in unexpected ways. We live in an old home, and older homes come with a certain level of TLC. Right out of the gate, we asked for multiple repairs to be made and/or finished…the seller accepted our offer AND agreed to make all of the repairs listed. After having a thorough home inspection completed, more problems were revealed, particularly with the electrical system. When we learned that the electrical repairs needed would be to the tune of several thousand dollars, we again asked for compensation to complete the necessary repairs and the seller agreed to give us the money to complete the scope of the work (which was quite comprehensive and vast). Finally, when we thought we were through some of the biggest hurdles, a plumbing inspection revealed a break in an outside lateral line. Being in a financial situation that didn’t allow us to spend our own money to fix the problem, we once more asked the seller for funds to repair the lateral line and she AGREED. Our real estate agent was beyond baffled…she told us more than once that things like this DO NOT happen in normal contracts. So you can bet by the time we hit our closing date, we felt more than confident that God had taken care of us yet again and had answered our prayers in countless ways.
Completing a move with three small children while I was in the third trimester of my pregnancy was not ideal, but somehow we got through it. October came around, and I could feel the time was getting close to have our son, even though my due date was not until early November. Near the end of my 37th week/beginning of my 38th week, my water broke somewhat unexpectedly. Even though we weren’t totally prepared to go to the hospital yet, I threw my bag together fairly quickly and made it there in time. It had been my prayer throughout this pregnancy that my doctor would be able to deliver our baby; she has never delivered any of my living children because she was not on call when they were born. When I got to the hospital that evening, I found out she was indeed on call-another answered prayer. Early the next morning, our son Timothy was born, delivered by my doctor. God is so good!
Shortly after his birth, when I was reflecting on things in my heart, the experience became even more profound. The day I went in for my second sonogram with the twins (to essentially confirm they were gone), I kept hearing in my head “Joy will come in the morning.” I didn’t quite know what to make of that, because I knew my twins were already with Jesus. But after having Timothy, I realized he was born bright and early on a Sunday morning, the Lord’s day. Joy had indeed come in the morning. Later in the day, I was looking up Saint feast days for October 25 (something I like to do for all of my children to see who they share a feast day with). Again, I was not prepared for what I found. October 25–Timothy’s birthday– is the feast day of two twin brothers, Crispin and Crispinian. I was in awe of God and his ways; throughout my pregnancy, I continually felt that my twins had wanted me to know that their life and death was a part of God’s plan for their brother to be here…now I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt.
During the middle of December, I put in my two weeks notice with the church. The need for me to be home full time had become even more pronounced since Timothy’s birth, and we felt peace with our decision. Feeling confident that my husband’s salary increase would cover my lack of income, we forged ahead into a new year. Then, at the end of January, my husband was laid off for what was supposed to be a period of a few weeks. However, weeks turned into months, and his layoff continued through April. Amazingly, God provided enough side work during the layoff period to keep us afloat. I bother to mention these details because I feel they not only illustrate God’s providential care for His children, but also His continued desire to place me and my husband in situations that require an extraordinary amount of trust. My continued prayer since I began this blog (and really since God placed me on this path of living a deeper, more radical abandonment to His will) is that God would be glorified through the sharing of our lives, our story, and our experiences with others.
Jeremiah too was a prophet that was called to bring God’s message to others, often at the expense of His own reputation and welfare. When God called Him down to the potter’s house, He asked Him to observe the potter at work on his wheel. ” I went down to the potter’s house and there he was, working at the wheel. Whenever the vessel of clay he was making turned out badly in his hand, he tried again, making another vessel of whatever sort he pleased. Then the word of the LORD came to me: ‘Can I not do to you, house of Israel, as this potter has done?–oracle of the LORD. Indeed, like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, house of Israel.'” -Jeremiah 18: 3-6
How many times, friends, have we tried to fight the potter? How many times have we struggled and resisted against something that we didn’t want to happen, or tried to force something to happen that wasn’t meant to be? Think about what would happen if the clay did fight the potter; if it had a mind of its own to say “I don’t want to be made into a pot, I want to be made into a vase, so you’ll make me into a vase no matter what!” Just as the potter sometimes has to bring the clay back to a shapeless heap on the wheel in order to make something more seamless and beautiful, so too does the LORD have to bring us low sometimes before He can turn us into a vessel that is more useful, lovely, and designed for a specific purpose. When we allow ourselves to be molded and shaped by the master, trusting that His loving hands will provide for our needs and bring us through whatever challenges we are facing, we are one step closer to becoming the beautiful, useful vessel that God intends for us to be. But we have to be pliant and malleable like the clay, willing to be shaped and formed according to His design, even when we cannot discern from our human perspective what He is creating.
Every so often, we should probably ask ourselves the question, “Am I soft and suppliant clay, ready to be used by the potter to become something beautiful according to His plan and purpose, or am I dry and hardened clay, unwilling or unable to be formed or changed into something new”? The potter by himself cannot create a vessel without the clay, and the clay is unable to be transformed without the assistance of the potter. But when the two work together, a masterpiece can be created. Lord, help me to continue to trust that you are the good potter, and that your handiwork is better and more lovely than anything I could create on my own!
He writes the BEST stories
Today is my eighth wedding anniversary. Each year as I recall and reflect how God brought me and my husband together, I am continually amazed at how God worked (and continues to work) in our lives to show us that He can never be outdone in generosity. Our story is one I love to tell, and also one I feel can inspire others to trust God completely, even with the most vulnerable parts of ourselves that we try and hold onto, in an effort to protect our fragile hearts.
Just before I met Joseph, I had reached a pretty low point in my life. I was twenty-five years old, I had been out of college for three years, completed my masters degree, and just moved from a small rural town (with literally no relationship prospects) to a larger city in northern IL in the hopes of giving myself more opportunities to meet people. I had also been offered a job which would take me out of the public school realm and into the private sector, which seems like a positive transition for me at the time.
While living on my own for three years after college, I had lots of time to pray and discern about where my life was going. I had remained open to the plans that God had for me, whether that meant remaining single, entering religious life, or getting married, but I continually felt drawn towards marriage (as I had for some time). The confusing thing however, was that all of my relationships up to that point had not worked out (and there were no current prospects). All of this led me to question whether or not I was traveling down the right path…I remember saying to God “Lord, if you want me to enter religious life, you’re going to have to give me a fire and a passion for that!” Similarly, I prayed to find peace in my singleness, if that is what He truly desired for my life. But even in the midst of those prayers, it was hard to dismiss the dream of having a husband and a family of my own someday.
When I moved in the fall of 2010, I was expecting all of my relationship problems to be solved. “This was the answer, right?”, I told God. All I needed to do was shake the dust of this tiny, rural town, move to a larger, more thriving area, I would meet someone, and suddenly all of my dreams would come true. So you can imagine my surprise when months after my move, in addition to joining a Catholic young adult group, I was still single with no prospects. I began to question God-I didn’t understand why nothing ever seemed to work out for me. In addition to having no relationship prospects, I had taken over the position of a very well-loved teacher who was let go under what many in the community felt like unfair circumstances, so needless to say, my life felt like anything but easy at the time. To make matters worse, I had been involved in two minor car accidents since moving, and was hit by a truck as a pedestrian a few weeks later (surprisingly, I walked away without any major injuries…which I only attribute to the grace of God).
Luckily for me, the church I had joined at the time had a perpetual adoration chapel five-minutes away from my apartment. I found myself going there everyday, begging God to show me the way. I remember saying to the Lord, “If you want me to be single the rest of my life, I trust you with that. I trust that you will make me happy in that if that’s what you truly desire for me”. All the while, I continued to pray for a good and holy man to be brought into my life if I was supposed to get married.
Over the course of this journey, the prospect of online dating had been mentioned to me more than once, but I quickly dismissed it, saying it wasn’t for me and that I would much rather meet someone the “natural” way. Even so, I knew my older sister had successfully married a man she had met online, and that it wasn’t totally bad…it just wasn’t for me. I will never forget my surprise when, about the second Sunday in October 2010, I came back to my apartment after mass, and distinctly heard ” You need to join Catholic match, and you need to do it today.” The Holy Spirit had never spoken that directly to me before, so I figured I had better listen to such a clear message! With hopeful anticipation, I created my online profile, and began searching through other profiles, hoping to find my future in one of them.
But two weeks later, I was disappointed again. Several messages were sent with no replies, there was a lot of interest from men whom I had no interest in, and no one in my area (or even in my state) that would either give me the time of day or seemed interesting enough to get to know. At that time, I decided to change my search requirements, and simply added “attends daily mass”. My husband’s profile was one of the first ones that came up. Interested, I began reading, and felt immediately drawn to his words and what his interests were. I got excited thinking, “this guy and I have so much in common!”, and then reality set in…Sacramento, California. There was no way (or so I thought), but I did want to tell him that I loved his artwork, so I sent him a friendly message anyway (not really expecting it to go anywhere, considering the distance between us).
To my surprise, he responded, and after his response I was even more intrigued and interested. I began to get excited, thinking perhaps this could go somewhere, but at the end of his message he told me that even with our shared interests and faith background, he was not looking for a long distance relationship. I was so perplexed by what seemed like an interested reply, only to feel like doors were closing again. It wasn’t until my brother-in-law had the genius idea of simply”writing him back”, that things really began. Although neither one of us had ever planned for a long distance relationship, with each email correspondence we felt more drawn to each other than we had before, and so we found ourselves willing to pursue a long-distance relationship after all, even though a freelance artist and a teacher didn’t really have the financial means for doing a lot of traveling back and forth.
Several days into our correspondence, I found out that my husband’s favorite saint was St. Therese of Lisieux, who was also a favorite saint of my grandmother. In fact, several months before, she had told me she was starting a novena to St. Therese for the intention of me finding a husband. In addition, my husband shared with me that he had plans to end his Catholic match subscription, as he had just been rejected by two hopeful prospects, and didn’t want to continue paying for the service. But before he could end his subscription, it automatically renewed itself. If it wouldn’t have automatically renewed, he never would have been able to read and receive my initial message to him. As we continued to write back and forth, it became clear that God had ordained our meeting.
It is not usually a common thing for flights to be overbooked, but I can’t tell you the number of times during our correspondence and courtship that one of our flights was overbooked, resulting in an opportunity to take a different flight and receive a free ticket for another time. My husband also sold a painting for the exact price it cost him to come and see me for the first time…not a mere coincidence. God had finally answered my prayers-in a seemingly unexpected way no less-but Joseph was more than I had ever hoped for in a husband. When we were married in the summer of 2012, I couldn’t believe that our good God in his mercy had finally given me everything I had hoped and prayed for.
Why I share this with you today (besides the fact that it is my anniversary) is to say that God, always has the best in mind for you. Sometimes we jump ahead, thinking we know best, and we don’t trust him enough to wait for what He knows will make us exceedingly happy. He writes the best stories, so why do we try and interfere and insist that by making some edits here or there, we can change our story to be even better than his? Even up to the present day, God continues to astound me the way in the way He loves to give good gifts to his children. Are my husband and I somehow specially “favored” by God? Of course not…God desires to give good gifts to ALL of His children, but we have to be surrendered and ready to receive those gifts.
For the past year, we have been searching for our first home. Of course, this is no small task. We had to consider location, price, schooling options for our children, our personal style preferences, the fact that my husband needed studio space, etc. etc. Our real estate agent was probably wondering what she got herself into…we were seemingly expecting it all. Home of our dreams, the right location, and everything we wanted for a very limited price bracket. Eventually, we began to realize we were going to have to make some concessions, particularly in location, but we felt at peace with this decision (even if it meant my husband continuing to making the long commute to St. Louis every day). Still, nothing was coming up.
I have always had the dream of living in a beautiful old house. It’s hard to imagine my “forever home” being something other than that. However, I began to tell God that if my dream was unreasonable, would pose too much of a strain on my husband, or not be the best thing for my children, I was willing to surrender that dream for a more practical, newer home in a style that wasn’t something I would initially choose. After another discouraging trip to an area that we decided couldn’t work again, we were feeling defeated and wondering if we were ever going to find anything. That same night, an older home came up for sale with almost everything we had been looking for…in our price range. After viewing the home and feeling so much peace, we placed an offer which got accepted and are on our way to home ownership.
God is so, SO good friends. If you surrender everything to Him, he will never disappoint you. You may go through trials, you may have times where you wonder why the road He has you on seems to be filled with so many pot holes, de-tours , and dead ends. But I can promise you that the end of that road holds something so beautiful, so unexpected, that it will make you realize that those de-tours and dead ends had a purpose. I am so humbled at how much the God of the universe cares for me, and for YOU. We are so insignificant, and yet we have a God who knows the desires of our hearts and wants to give us the very best.
So for my anniversary this year, I am thanking and praising God that he still writes the best stories, even though I continually try to make revisions and edits when and where I can-thankfully He is in control of the final draft ;). He even has my son’s need for a brother in mind, as we recently found out we are welcoming another little boy to our family in November of this year. So trust Him friends, just trust Him. You’ll be glad you did.
Walking in Darkness
The past couple of months have been a particularly difficult time for me. Making this journey of pregnancy again after such a devastating loss last September has been more challenging than I thought it would be. In the midst of all of this, I have been feeling a spiritual dryness that has kept me from experiencing the consoling love of Jesus and the comforts that lie in resting in Him which are offered freely and plentifully to all of us.
Being numb is the most terrible feeling to experience. Perhaps some of us think that being able to feel everything acutely is more painful, but being numb just leads to a death of the spirit. Numbness says “You don’t want to feel, you can’t handle the feelings that might arise if you do feel, so just stay in this safe place of non-feeling and you’ll protect yourself.” Sadly, protection is not really what happens, but rather a small death of the spirit everyday. Our ability to emotionally feel things as humans is unique compared to other living creatures. A fish does not get angry with another fish if it finds another food source more quickly. Nor does a bird sit around and feel guilty for taking the best nesting spot away from another bird. Animals are not able to process and think about things they way we can, and thank God, because otherwise the world of nature might look at bit different wouldn’t it?
It is true that our emotions can complicate things, and many times our emotions can even control us in unhealthy ways if we let them. Yet, if we never allow ourselves to experience them or feel them, then we also deprive ourselves of something authentically human, something as natural to us as the air we breathe. One thing I have always loved about myself is the way that I have been able to embrace life and my beliefs and ideas with an inner passion that propels my thoughts and actions. But lately I have found that passion to be gone, replaced with a guarded sense of caution. It’s amazing what the mind is capable of doing to us when we let it. To remain unfeeling in a world of swirling emotions also takes effort, but it doesn’t leave you feeling invigorated or empowered afterwards.
The truth is, God made us to be emotional beings. He made us to feel things, good or bad. Some of my deepest moments of trust and surrender have come in the most painful times of my life. Those times where I feel I have been stripped of everything, and there is nothing left to hold onto except the Lord. Sometimes we think that it is easiest to trust God when everything is going right in our lives, and there is definite truth to that. When things are not painful or difficult, when relationships are going well and our kids are thriving, when we feel financially secure and happy, it is easy to say “Yes Lord, I trust you, because everything in my life is so fantastic!” It is a lot harder to trust in those darker moments when we don’t understand, when relationships crumble, when we lose our job, when we experience the death of a loved one, or someone we know is diagnosed with a terminal illness. But even in those difficult moments, we may find it easier to take the Lord’s hand and say “I trust you”, because we don’t see another way out of our situation or we need to believe that there is meaning or purpose to our suffering. Personally, I am finding it the most challenging to trust in the times of emotional and spiritual dryness and the uncertainty of what the future might bring.
After starting this blog, I have entered into a period of spiritual and emotional dryness that is new to me. I have dealt with feelings of guilt, professing to “put all my trust in the Lord” when I feel like that is the one thing I have been wrestling with on a daily basis. I have continued my prayers and spiritual devotions, and persevered in my daily activities and responsibilities as a mother, but have had a hard time feeling emotionally “alive”. Yet, I recently had the profound realization that continuing to pray and make efforts to sustain a relationship with the Lord or even with other people in our lives when we feel nothing is also a profound act of trust. Walking in darkness does not feel good…we cannot see where we are going, or where the path might lead. We don’t know what might be just ahead of us, nor can we safely make our way back to the more secure and happier places we have already traveled. Walking in darkness takes trust, plain and simple.
Many times throughout this pregnancy, I have looked to certain milestones or physical manifestations to help me find peace. “If I can just hear the heartbeat at my second appointment, I’ll finally be able to rest easy”, or “when I can finally feel the baby consistently I will feel so much better”. But even when I have experienced hearing the heartbeat of this child or feeling the first few signs of life within, peace has not come. I have been trying to find my peace in other things, but lasting peace can only come from the Father and the knowledge that He is sustaining this child and giving it life, that He is holding it in His precious care.
I recently had a conversation with a cousin of mine, and we were discussing some of the challenges I have been facing. She made the comment that to be a mother is the ultimate act of trust, and I couldn’t agree more. There are many things in life that require a great amount of trust. Jumping out of an airplane certainly requires a great deal of trust, as does getting married, investing in the stock market, deciding to quit a high paying job to follow your dream, or leaving everything you know to become a missionary. But there is nothing quite like the trust of a mother. You are called to trust from the moment you see those two positive lines on a pregnancy test, because what is happening inside of you is something you completely cannot control. You are not creating this life, you are simply acting as a vessel to carry and sustain this life for however long God ordains that life to be.
Even when we give birth to a healthy child, mothers are continually called to trust the Lord to protect and guide that child, after we have done everything within our power to do that ourselves. I know mothers who have lost their children through miscarriage or in early childhood, mothers who have bravely parented special needs children, mothers who are still suffering from the estrangement of one or more of their children or mothers who are living with the knowledge their child has walked away from the Lord. What other vocation requires such faith and trust? To trust that, even in the midst of tragedy or trial, God is still caring for and sustaining your child, even when you cannot see or understand the path they are on.
So if you find yourself walking in the darkness, don’t be disheartened. Darkness can’t last forever, and as Christians we have the assured knowledge that Christ goes before us and makes the dark places light. Even when we cannot see, He knows the way, and although it is hard to walk a path that is unfamiliar, with the right guide we can trust that we will always make it safely through to the other side.
Fear
Is it just me, or does it feel like we’ve been immersed in an ocean of fear lately? Ever since the Coronavirus became a real and imminent threat to the American people, we have been seeing the effects of fear all over our country. People hoarding essential supplies and staple food items, people afraid to gas up their vehicles for fear of who touched the pump last, people uncertain if they will lose their homes because they cannot keep up with the mortgage payments due to unemployment. Fear is all around us, doing its best to keep us from moving forward, and in many ways, it is working.
Fear has this incredible power to manipulate, to control. Fear makes us do things that we wouldn’t normally do, and react in ways that are foreign to us or unnatural to our normal state. Fear also has the unique ability to freeze us in our tracks, or “paralyze” us, if you will. It can keep us from making ourselves vulnerable to repair a badly damaged relationship, it can cause us to remain apathetic in a situation which is crying out for justice, it can tell us the lie that remaining in a “safe” place will solve all of our problems. In short, fear keeps us from trusting, and in doing so, holds us back from living a more fulfilling and intentional life.
Fear and trust cannot co-exist. If you are fearing something, you are not trusting; if you are trusting, then fear has no place to go. There are so many times in my life where I have let fear have the upper hand. Where trust has slipped out the back window, and fear has taken the wheel, often with tragic consequences. Early on in my life, I learned about what fear can do first hand.
Growing up in a Catholic home, my parents would sometimes invite our parish priest over for dinner. This was fine of course, until one evening after our priest had left, my parents looked at me and my sisters and said “Father thinks one of you girls may have a vocation.” Now to an average person, this would mean nothing. In fact, the entire word “vocation” is greatly misunderstood in our society. But if you grow up in a good Catholic home, you know that vocation is usually synonymous with being a priest or a religious sister or brother. Innately, I knew he had been referring to me. I was a child who did have a fairly recognizable “spiritual sense” from an early age. I loved Jesus, and I wanted to please Him and learn more about Him. But something about this idea that I had a vocation struck fear into my heart in a way that I did not understand.
As I began moving from childhood to young adulthood, this idea haunted me at every turn. I felt that my life was already planned out for me, my destiny set as to what I was supposed to do. It didn’t matter that I dreamed of having a husband and children someday, the die had already been cast, and I felt I did not have a say in the matter. Consequently, this lie kept me from developing a personal relationship with Our Lord. I was so afraid that if I got closer to God, if I took steps to know Him more personally, and to accept His love, that I would be one step closer to realizing my apparent “fate”. Now all of this may seem childish and silly to you, but as a child it was very real. Fear kept me from knowing Jesus; it kept me from becoming the person he was truly calling me to be. I went to church every Sunday, I kept up with my catechism and my prayers, but I didn’t have a living, active relationship with the Lord.
It wasn’t until I was sixteen, and on a youth retreat, that God finally broke through the walls of fear that I had been putting up for years. There was a young girl on the retreat who openly told everyone “I want to be a nun.” I was totally paralyzed, and immediately thought “That girl is going to be put at a table with me”. Sure enough, she was seated at my table, but much to my surprise and delight, I was able to witness firsthand her true desire to become a nun and to serve the Lord wholeheartedly.
My fear fell away as I realized this very important truth…whatever God was calling me to, it was something that I would feel excited, happy, and joyful about. It was something that would give me complete joy, and fulfill the desires of my heart. I left that retreat feeling as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I could have a personal relationship with Christ, free from the fear of Him asking me to do something with my life that did not coincide with the desires that He had put on my heart.
Fast forward to about three months ago…early Ash Wednesday morning I saw those familiar pink lines on a pregnancy test once more. For those of you who know my story (and for those of you who don’t, I would encourage you to read Our Miscarriage Journey), you understand how receiving this news yet again might strike fear into my heart. Although my husband and I had been praying for another child if that is what the Lord wanted, I didn’t waste any time putting up a wall of protection around my heart out of fear. The loss each of our babies has been devastating in its own right, but losing our twins put a particularly deep wound on my heart.
I immediately started the suggested miscarriage “prevention” protocol that my doctor and I had agreed upon. We told family members and close friends for prayers, and then everything became silent as I realized I was going to have to walk this journey through the first trimester yet again, not knowing what might await me on the other side. The thought of that terrified me. I’ve been struggling with the fact that my Lent was really not what I was hoping it would be, and that God’s presence has seemed so far away. On top of that, I have been dealing with mom guilt for not feeling connected with this baby in a way I have felt connected with my other children.
On Easter Sunday, I began to realize that perhaps one reason why I haven’t felt connected to this baby (besides my fear of losing it) is because we had not yet told our children. Most of my losses have occurred between 11-12 weeks gestation, so my husband and I agreed to not tell our children until I was safely past the 12 week mark, in order to spare our children more grief if something should happen. But it was like the clouds parted on Easter Sunday, and God said “See, I am creating something new. Rejoice in it!” We ended up telling our children at Easter dinner, after which my second daughter’s rather gloomy attitude for the day was changed to pure joy. Because of her joy, I was able to catch a little bit of my own, and I realized that in joy and trust, fear has no place to go. It has no place in our hearts, our minds, or our lives if we want to live in joyful hope. Fear, you truly are a liar.
Into The Unknown
In the wake of Frozen 2 madness, my girls perpetually go around singing “Into the Unknown” throughout our home. I never thought I would be contemplating this song as the new anthem for my life; yet, here I am, venturing “into the unknown” on a call from God and a desire to share my life and experiences with others. Just as Elsa hears a call which eventually takes her “into the unknown” so too have I heard a call, but not from a strange lyrical voice ringing in my ear. My response to “cast into the deep” if you will, comes in response to a call that perhaps I have felt for some time. The vision for how I would respond to that call, however, has recently become more clear.
On the surface, my life is no different than many others. I was born into a loving family, I had siblings and supportive parents; I went to school, graduated from college, and eventually got married and started a family. It is the pages in between these significant life events where God has been writing a unique and eventful narrative. In fact, He has been busy writing your story too, but the question is, have you let Him be the author?
If you’re anything like me, you would probably have to say no. There are many times I have tried to take the pen away from God, thinking that whatever I could compose would somehow be better than what the infinite God of the universe could write. I’m happy to say that it has only taken me almost 35 years to recognize that I just might be wrong 😉.
This blog is a response to God asking me one single question. “Are you willing to surrender everything to me? Are you willing to let Me be in charge?” This is the question I’ve been running from my entire life. Simply put, when I hear this question, the first thing I think of is “What will this require of me?! How much are you going to take? Will I be lead down a path I don’t want to walk?”
Friends, I can only say that in my relatively short life, I have been asked to walk down paths I have not wanted to walk down, I have had to surrender many things not knowing what that might mean for my future, and I have continued to ask the question, “How much more can I handle God?”
Now, for a blog that is supposed to be about encouragement, that doesn’t sound very encouraging, does it? The one thing I can say, however, is this: Even though I have endured multiple challenges and setbacks, the deeper I have gone with God, the more free I have become. This is the great paradox of having a relationship with God. In the words of one of my new favorite songs by Laura Story, “When I give up, I gain”.
After the tragic loss of my twins at 12 weeks gestation just a few short months ago, I felt God posing this same question to me again. “How much do you trust me? How much are you willing to give?” And thus, The Trust Project was born.
Walking with God never disappoints-I know this from experience. Although the road has often been difficult, marred with pitfalls and wrong turns, I have been able to see His hand in all of it. This is the vision I want to impart to you, through sharing my life experiences: If you learn to “let it go”, you will experience a profound sense of peace that you have never known. (Perhaps Elsa and I have more in common than I realize).
1st Corinthians Chapter 2, verse 9 says “What eye has not seen, and ear has not heard, and what has not entered the human heart; What God has prepared for those who love Him.” Throughout my life, God has continually shown me that He is big enough and capable enough to provide for me and sustain me through any circumstances, no matter how difficult they may be. My vision is that you would trust Him to do the same for you, no matter what you may be facing.
In the end, Elsa’s quest to journey “into the unknown” leads her to the truth about the past, and ultimately to a deeper self-realization of who she is. Perhaps our stepping into the unknown is not much different…God is waiting there, ready to help us become who we were made to be. All we have to do is take the leap.
The Trust Project 
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