Discovering Bitterness

I am so inspired to write, I just read so many awesome posts from my reel. So I decided to reach back into my "back-logged and previously written, but not yet publish-perfect" drafts, add on, edit, and post.


I always thought that when people get to the point where they "grieve over their sin," it was a good thing. And it is a good thing... except it feels awful. In the months following our miscarriage (four months to be exact) I've found that 95% of the time I can go through my day being thankful for both of my babies, the one who is here with us and the one who is with the Father. I can think about that little one and not be filled with sadness or sorrow or disappointment or anger or jealousy or regret or shame. But then there is that sneaky remaining 5%. It's never expected, but something random will happen in a random day or I will read something or I will hear something, and here I am. Here I am aching from a whole in my heart, hurting from the void in our lives and filled with this burning thing. Burning too deep and so real that all I can think about is that one thing I read or that one careless comment I heard.
It's bad enough when those things happen in and of themselves. But to be filled with grief and then realize...this thing, this burning thing...it's bitterness. It's sin. I had it hidden, way deep under here. And it grieves me. It hurts. I hate it. I wanted to think that I was passed that. No, more than "passed," I wanted to think that I avoided it altogether. I wanted to think that I loved God enough and clung to Him tightly enough and hid enough scripture in my heart, that I wouldn't have to deal with my sin on top of my grief. I don't want this bitterness, it feels like taking a step backwards. And I can't go back. I won't go back.

But it isn't a total step backwards, grieving my sin is a step towards repentance. I thought grieving your sin meant being a super spiritual person. I thought it would be awesome. But really, the heartbreak of my own sin and the tension that sin brings between me and my sweet Jesus...it feels terrible. But like all grief...it's taking me somewhere, it is moving me forward. It's bringing me to repentance and amazing grace.

Fighting the More Monster

I'm currently typing to you from the cutest possible blog writing senerio, sipping coffee looking out the huge windows of my in-laws' "flat" in eastern Europe. We love it here. The culture just fits us, Austin keeps saying he was born in the wrong country. Outdoor cafes literally line the streets, all the food is amazing as well as fresh and natural, the people enjoy each other's company and work to live (unlike Americans who live to work). But amidst all the picturesque people, places, and things there is an ugly dark spot for me...and it's growing.

So sometimes as a young married, new parent, and stay at home mom I chat with other women in any or all of these categories about saving money. I love the idea of being thrifty and I sort of pride myself on it. I don't care about name brands and I love shopping at outlets or TJ Max kind of stores. So as a spender...I save money. But when it comes down to it, I would save a lot more money if I wasn't "saving as a spender" I would save money if I was avoiding spending altogether. But who wants to do that? Well my friends, I have come to discover that there are wondrous women out there who can nonchalantly and honestly say "I just don't need more stuff." Uhh..seriously?! Seriously, you don't want more? Dang. I was hoping that this was just a human-nature kind of thing or at least a woman-nature thing. Because I want more. I always want more stuff. I guess it took me this long to realize it because I'm not concerned about the social-status of my stuff...but nonetheless I still want stuff. I want new trendy outfits, I want housewares, I want furniture, I want practical stuff, I want unique stuff, I want baby stuff, I want decoration stuff, I want kitchen stuff, I want shoes, I want the perfect pair of jeans, I want loose fitting shirts that somehow simultaneously make me look skinnier, I want outdoor stuff, I want garden stuff, I want hardcover books, I want an e-reader, I want new music, I want intellectual stuff, I want organizational stuff, I want it all. I'm a monster.

Bleck just writing all that made me so grossed out. And reading it over for a proof read made me even more disgusted. So instead of chasing the more monster I'm going to try really hard to chase "enough." I think that sometimes people see the word "enough" as a bad thing, like it really means "just scratching the surface." But I think it means "yea I'm good, and this is good." When I abandon my "I want I want I want" I realize that I am good and this is good. So here's to having an amazing husband, a joyful baby boy, coffee in the mornings on the deck, and  breezy evenings eating Dairy Queen blizzards with good people. And you know what? It is enough. I guess thats the secret all those wondrous women knew, chasing enough--pursuing it, embracing it, and cherishing it. 

Blogging about what to blog after a monumental blog

Even though I LOVE writing, sometimes I just get totally lost. First of all, how am I supposed to follow up one of the most personal blogs ever?! I don't want to paint myself in a corner and keep talking exclusively about miscarriage (even though, I will definitely continue writing about that), because then it will be even harder to break out and write about all the many other things that are write-worthy. I don't want to do a photo blog of photos from our overseas trip to Serbia (though some blogs will definitely come out of that trip). I don't want to write about mundane things or funny things (though as the mishaps and misadventures occur, and they always do, I will share them). So I will post a blog about writers block. I am so grateful and overwhelmed that any of you even read my blog, and I promise I tried really hard to write while we were on our trip. Oddly enough, the writing that I most enjoyed was a snip-it about not being able to write, which turned around and made itself into a snip-it about writing. So I will copy and paste from the email I wrote myself and you can just take what you will from it.

Thoughts on writing

Something about being somewhere with so much history but also so much modern western influence...it's like a big huge contradiction. Like as soon as you really start thinking about all the history and tradition, you get distracted by all the shopping and eating and drinking. And of course another huge contradiction, I've been dying to grab another pair of hands to keep up with Lyric so that I could get some writing out, but now with an abundance of time on my hands and plenty of help with the little man...I can't seem to muster a significant sentence to save my life. It's almost like a forbidden fruit--writing, at least for me. It's like this important, even urgent at times, all consuming, relentless stream of words and thoughts and concepts just fighting to make it out...but once I have time to really sit down and write, the river slows down to a glassy smooth and there is nothing. It makes me sad really, like maybe it was just a momentary glitch and not any actual talent or gift or rhythm. The rhythm, that's half of it. The flow of the stream and the feel of the river. Because who cares if I have thoughts-- everyone has thoughts, what makes them special is the way the thoughts feel. Do they feel escaping and fun and urgent and clever, do they burn into my mind leaving me desperate to both write them and read them? A thought is just a thought unless you like reading it and hearing it and saying it.