Is that a second line?! Part 2

I was frustrated

I was mad

I was scared

I was overwhelmed

I was disappointed

I was selfishly crushed

This is the story about the contortions of a believer’s ungrateful heart. It’s weird, it makes no sense, and frankly it’s kind of bratty. By most standards, my feelings are understandable, but by my standard it's not right. Thankfully, my contorted heart and mind and emotions were untangled in the end, which is personally my favorite part. I’d love to skip the “freaking out” parts and skip straight to the happy stuff, but our story, like all the best stories, is even better because of the triumph.

There were so many sleepless nights spent staring wide-eyed at the ceiling completely freaking out. I worried about the number of bedrooms in our home, the lack of a third row in our car (purchased ONE WEEK before I found out I was pregnant), the chaos that was looming in the distance, the effect all the pregnancy and children would have on our marriage, and the effect that the pregnancy would have on my body. I spent a lot of time being sad that I had to stop losing weight. I tried to bury the fear of migraines returning (although, when the first one hit I was a massive heap of frantic tears, which makes me even more thankful for friends who let you cry and take your kids off your hands for the afternoon). But more than anything else—I lived and breathed in complete and utter denial. I’ve always heard of denial as a real thing that people that are grieving or in shock deal with. I never knew how real it could be until I started catching myself praying for the absurd.  I know what you are thinking…how can any prayers be absurd? Let me tell you. When you catch yourself genuinely praying that God would keep this baby safe and healthy and protect you and the baby from a miscarriage, but just kind of freeze that pregnancy for about two years, just ya know, put things on hold…. believing that because God is sovereign, he can do this thing you are asking of him…that is absurd. Yes he is a sovereign and powerful creator, but come on! Get a grip girl! I wish I could emphasize enough how honestly I relied on this whole…on hold, notion. 

Probably the only time during the week that I would face reality was during a run at the Y. I liked running inside on the little track upstairs (I know it’s weird) and each time I would inevitably cry. It was two steps forward, one step back. Beginning the run I would cry from stress and worry and fear, leaving the gym I felt encouraged, filled with truth, happiness and excitement. You should know that the encouragement piece came largely from the ministry of my husband and his amazing worship team and the awesome album they were working on, which I put on my iPod even during it’s “revision” stage (if you don’t have it, your missing out).

This was a time of contrasts and roller coasters for me. It was as if with every crash of fear and worry and selfishness, I was hit with a corresponding wave of truth and encouragement and help. If I wasn’t crying from the worry, I was crying from the happiness. It was so overwhelming for me that even while I was being so difficult, God would be so gentle. No matter how afraid I was—of everything, all of it—God still spoke. Never was I alone, never ever did I stop hearing from him. Sometimes it was scripture, sometimes it was music, sometimes it was people, and sometimes it was quiet revelations or new perspectives.  I’ll never forget the day when I realized that not only was this real, but this was perfect for our family’s story. All at once, at the end of a run, it just came together. Having the perfect “two year plan” just isn’t us. We are risk takers, free spirited, rip the band-aid off, “let’s do this thing” kind of people. This fit us better. The air was crisp, the sun was bright, there was a tiny breeze, my hair was pulled back with a ponytail and elastic headband when I called Austin and shared my excitement. The moment you realize that God knows you and your marriage and your family far more intricately than you do, that is a beautiful moment of grace and relief.

The coming days brought more “reliefs.” Relief like—we have eternity for order and peace and perfection, so what is the big deal if we have crazy, full, tiring days for a little while right now. That’s what life on earth is anyway. Relief like—my weight loss and health goals were quickly turning into an unhealthy obsession and this pregnancy was the abrupt end to that path.  Relief like—I love, like really love and like my kids, and now I get another one! No doubt the changes ahead are big and undeniable, but it’s a good thing. Fletcher Colby Tullos, our son and third born, is loved and anticipated and good for all four of us.

I am blessed

I am joyful

I am hopeful

I am entrusted

I am excited

I am held up

Normally, my journal is totally off limits, but just this once, take a look.

 truth

 # of kids

Beth Moore conference notes

 "I am Not Abandoned" HBCD Worship

 deliverance

                                                                     Relief

Is that a second line?!

Alright it's time. You know what I'm talking about. The pregnancy post. I announced that we had been surprised to find out we are expecting another baby due exactly one year and ten days after our daughter Lily was born. Surely, there are things to be said...or written. And here it is.

So, I've been going around and around in my head trying to think of the best way to say this--but regardless of how I put it, it's awkward. So without giving any details...just know that I had been very anxiously awaiting June 21st--so that I could take a pregnancy test. I knew that there was a chance that I was pregnant, and I was trying my very hardest to convince myself that I was not pregnant and life would play out as planned. I mean really, what are the odds that one...urhh uhh, anyway what were the odds that I could be pregnant? Had to be low. HAD TO BE. I had finally grown a real love for running, and I was training to run a 5k and making plans for the Turkey Trot in Fort Worth when we went down to Texas for a visit. I was losing weight, feeling so healthy, loving being the only person using my body; life was good. In my mind, being pregnant at the time would be the worst possible timing ever...EVER. At the time I thought that, even though I had faced some really tough days, I had my self image issues and battles under control. I was active, starting to see signs of my old body, so proud of myself for the hard work I was doing and the healthy habits I was building. I was so convinced that surely I would not be pregnant-- that Austin and I traded in our minivan (which was regardless, a good thing since the mileage was getting high) and we got a Ford Edge (no third row, keep that in mind). One week later I bought a box of pregnancy tests at Walgreens, only so that I could rule out the possibility and go eat sushi with a clear conscience. In fact, I was so absolutely sure that I was not pregnant, that in that little trip to Walgreens I paid for three things. 1. Pregnancy tests 2. a box of cheap combs (I have a toddler obsessed with combs and I'm a southern lady so clearly, my hair is teased on a regular basis) 3. contraception. That poor cashier had to ring up two things that very much contradict one another. I'm sure that she was thinking one of two things, either she had a crazy woman on her hands (yup) or she was dealing with one super promiscuous woman. I mean seriously, who does that? What woman in her right mind buys both pregnancy tests and contraception together? The box said results up to 6 days early. I was still 8 days early, but I was desperate so I went ahead and took the test. Surprise surprise, the test was negative. Life was good. My parents and sisters would be in town for a visit in three days (so if you are counting, that means that I could accurately take the next test the day before they arrived). I continued running and exercising the hardest I ever had (you should know that I have never been the athletic type). I was not just loving the current state I was in...I absolutely relished every single minute of it. Two more days pass, one of them when I had to go to the dentist and answered on my paper work that no, I was not pregnant. Thankfully with God's great grace I didn't need new x-rays. The next day at the gym I weighed myself (something which I was accountable to both Austin and my friend Olivia that I would only do every two weeks, because I had started doing it every day--which is just a bad idea). Hmm, strange...I had not lost one single pound. That could be fine. Most people hit a plateau, I guess it was time for mine. Right? right? or...what if?...I'd seen this happen before, when I was pregnant with my firstborn, but that isn't a real symptom. Right?! --This and only this thought was the ONE thought outside of denial that I had towards my pregnancy. I quickly dismissed it and decided to hit the gym harder and eat even healthier. The next day was the big day...day 6. Austin was literally on his way out, putting on his shoes and then leaving for work. I had just woken up and remembered that I should take the pregnancy test again today during my first bathroom visit. So without hollering at him to wait--I peed on the stick. I laid the stick down. I washed my hands. I looked back at the stick. It had the faintest most light resemblance of a second line. But I mean--I had just woken up, so probably my eyes just weren't focusing right. But as I stared it got a teensy tiny bit brighter.

"Austin?"

"Huh?"

"Austin?!"

"What?" 

"Can you come up here? Like now?"

"Why?"

"Just come here!"

He came up, poor husband, and had no idea what he was walking into. 

"Is that another line? Can you see that?"

"No, I mean I see what you are talking about, but its not a line. Its just the plastic behind the little paper."

"So you see that?"

"Yea, but its not a line. Why? What does a line mean?"

"They don't make those with anything that would even look like another line showing."

"What does a line mean?"

"We're pregnant, oh my gosh, I'm pregnant."

"No, let me hold it under the lights.....yea that's a line"

"Oh my gosh. (now leaning against the wall for support) I can't breathe"

Part two coming soon. Its gonna get kinda sad, real funny, and super vulnerable, and then happy up in here. Come back again to see the smackdown I got from the Holy Spirit.

My Message for the Mediocre

I never thought I could miss looking at this boring blogger writing template so much! A quick life update and reason for which I have been so absent as a writer: on top of taking care of our son and daughter and carrying this growing unborn gift, I am taking my last college class. To answer the questions that are most popular, the class is The History of Science Up to Newton (to meet the requirements for my Social Sciences Minor/Communications Major), no I have not been in classes all this time, I will be finished with class and graduate (finally) in December from The University of North Texas. So my free time has been extra scarce and I am trying very hard to uphold a standard of discipline and order...which means that fun things like writing may be good, but for right now they are one of the "best"s so it won't be the high priority that it has been in the past.

As I have been absolutely aching to write, I have realized how far I have come in the last 3 and half years. See I have always had this embarrassing little problem. It is something that most people wouldn't necessarily notice about me, in fact I think even my husband didn't notice until I pointed it out to him. My problem/secret is that, well how can I say this--I'm kinda talentless. In harsher moments I would probably even say I was chronically mediocre. Now I know, "God created me special" and everyone has a purpose or calling blah blah. But when talent shows would come along...I didn't even consider auditioning and not because of stage fright. I like to think of myself as someone who is not afraid to be the center of attention, but not obsessed with being so either. No fear wasn't the problem, it was lack of talent to show case. Which is the same reason I wasn't an athlete, or first chair, or a vocalist, or a dancer. I know this sounds so ridiculous and it is SUCH a first world problem. I know. It didn't bother me a whole lot until I married one of the most talented singer/songwriters/worship leaders ever. Seriously, from the beginning I have always admired not only my husband's musical talent, but... he is one of THOSE GUYS. You know the ones, they decide to do something and they do it. The kind of guys that just make things happen. And dang, that is attractive--real attractive (to me...it better not be for you unless your husband is also one of THOSE GUYS, otherwise you best capture that thought). But sharing life so closely with someone so talented...it started to highlight the contrasts between us. Ok--so another pause I should take here--I don't really consider myself mediocre in everything. I think I'm pretty good in relationships, I like people and I think I'm good at interacting with them, I can make a killer gift basket on a dime, so far I don't think I'm messing up things on the mommy-front, I'm kinda funny--but none of those are like--something that leads to a grand dream or anything.--Unpause. -- So in the last almost four years of being married I have been dying to find a talent. I finally admitted to Austin that I was one of those mediocre types and he argued, but couldn't actually come up with a tangible talent that I possess either...but he did try, really hard. So as stupid as I felt about it, I started praying for God to 1.Give me a talent that I never had before (my top pick would be to suddenly turn into a song-bird type and I will always want this forever and ever) or 2. For Him to cultivate something that was already there but maybe just kind of hiding. I just "happened" to start a blog, just for life updates and bragging and such, ya know like everyone else--but then I started really liking it. The more I wrote the better I got. Then I started understanding my spiritual gifting a little better and that encouraged me to follow that stirring to write what God was impressing even more. Now, I know I am a writer. Maybe all that will ever mean is that I type away on blogger for the rest of my life, maybe one day my new dreams (that I am not disclosing cause that junk is personal and calls for far too much vulnerability via internet) will be reality and being a writer will be even more --either way I'm good. It is just refreshing to feel like I have a thing and so fun to dream with Austin about our things. Recently, some new friends asked what I did, I answered that I stay home with our kids, but then my husband proudly added "She's a writer." That's one for my "favorite memories."

I survived being mediocre and I was surprised that my "talent" had really been there all the time, even back in my creative writing club days and writing class with Mrs. Shurtleff in middle school, God was beginning something precious in me. 

Pretty Words, Stunning Content

I don't know where you are reading from, but here in the midwest it is a beautiful Sunday morning! As I was reading this morning I was struck by how beautifully and creatively His Word to us is written. It is full of literary devices and poetry as well as promises and truths. So why try to top that? Here are some jewels that have stood out to me both past and present.

You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.
(Psalm 139:5 ESV)


If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
(Psalm 139:9-10 ESV)


Your testimonies are my heritage forever,
for they are the joy of my heart.
(Psalm 119:111 ESV)


You are my hiding place and my shield;
I hope in your word.
(Psalm 119:114 ESV)


The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me,
because the LORD has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor;
he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;
to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor,
and the day of vengeance of our God;
to comfort all who mourn;
to grant to those who mourn in Zion—
to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the LORD, that he may be glorified.
(Isaiah 61:1-3 ESV)

Also, just a side note--if you don't have a study bible I recommend the ESV study bible. I use the online and the print version rocks as well. 

Frenzied Fussy Good Day

Today has been a really good day. Nothing huge happened. In fact, the first couple of hours were a little rough. Lily has been waking up earlier and earlier, which isn't that bad except that I had this awesome grand plan that I would start waking up 30 minutes before the kids so that I could use that time to quick shower and get dressed for the day. My plan was that with that task out of the way I could hit two birds with one stone, 1. have naptime to myself for homework and writing and 2. to train myself to become more pleasant in the morning for my poor husband's sake. Since the evening I declared my new schedule, Lily has literally beat my alarm clock by ten minutes every day (even when I set it for earlier than the previous day). I already started my day off behind schedule, then I had a super fussy baby on my hands, and then for the first time ever in this pregnancy I fell asleep without even realizing it. Thank the Lord I had already put Lily back down for her morning nap when I fell into one of my own. So when I woke up still in pajamas with yesterday's makeup and some nasty hair, I thought for sure this would not be a great day.

But with a splash of blush and a touch up of my old makeup (ok if you are reading this and thinking about how gross that is, you are a liar...either that or you haven't truly lived if you have never put a "top coat" over yesterday's mascara). We were out the door, frenzied but all safely buckled in. And then a glorious thing happened. The day went beautifully! I came home and felt energized to both write and do homework and maybe even a little clean up if I am really crazy. This post doesn't really have some huge reflective meaning or depth to it, but just to encourage you. Get out there! Live your life, go have fun, go spend time with someone new, just do something! Even when your makeup is crunchy--believe it or not it can still be a good day. My favorite news anchor growing up always ended the morning segment with the same sign off and I will leave you with the same (from Scott Sam's mouth to your ears). "Make it a great day!"

You Forget

You forget. Once you are in love with someone. You forget everything. You forget how much it hurt, it physically ached, not to be with them in love. How the most romantic stories or movies or books, made you feel miserable. The way I couldn't breath when you stood close to me. The way I was constantly looking for you in the room, even without realizing it. You forget how hard you pray that this will end or that it will begin--and you honestly don't know which you want more. Somehow if I could just keep you for me or lose you altogether I would be better off. You forget how much you hated to love. You forget how the whole world watched and waited, at least it felt that way. I forget all of that because being with you is the realization of every dream I didn't know I had and some of the ones I did. Because it is that wonderful. Because every day feels like I always wanted it to.

Sadie Hawkins Spring 2006

At Some Point I Waved Farewell to "Normal"

Today I am twenty five, but in two days I will be twenty six. But not really, well really, but not. My birthday has been moved to Monday this year. Being a wife and a mom, rescheduling my birthday has become totally normal. The first time I hated it, I shouldn't have to reschedule my one special day! Now, its no big thing. And to top it off, Saturdays are my least favorite day of the week so it all works out. My husband is home for the morning (favorite part) and we have family time, but then he leaves at lunch time for work and comes back after all is said and done with the Saturday night service at our church, usually by 7:15ish. It's not the longest day of the week, but it's my least favorite because it's so broken up that it feels like three different days all squeezed into one long day. I hate taking the kids out on Saturdays because everything is so crowded. So..it's suffice to say that I am just fine with moving my birthday to beloved Monday. Monday is Austin's day off and everyone else is at work and we have practically no waits, no lines, no worries....the world is our oyster. When all my facebook friends are complaining about having a case of the Mondays, I'm happy as a lark. In this stage of life, I've learned that I will just be happier if you can be flexible and adjustable while still being responsible and structured. It's all about balancing expectations. It used to seem so weird and wrong to not have a normal Friday night to Sunday night weekend, it used to seem unfair to reschedule my birthday, one baby used to seem like so much work. Our life is kinda crazy, kinda weird, and kinda the perfect representation for us. Structured, but not the typical way. 

Now, how do I hide this blog post from myself on those days that I want normalcy?

Struggle or surrender

So, if you have been following my blog over the past couple of years, you know that I have been very honest about the good, the bad, and the funny parts of my life. I have been mushy and lovey about my awesome husband. I have used my misfortunes and misadventures to get a laugh. I've told you about my tat (yea I'm hardcore haha). I've been transparent about the pain of my miscarriage and my battle against self loathing and body image after having my son.  Well I had an amazing sweet silly baby girl 3 months ago (after much impatience for labor to start) and I have been determined to stay out of the chains I once found myself in. I prayed hard before her birth that I would not be defined by the size, shape, or weight I was left in. I sought out accountability to keep my actions in check. I have even decided that every time I go to try on clothes at stores I will first look myself in the mirror and audibly say "This doesn't define you. The way these clothes fit or look is not your identity." I have been more honest with my husband and confessed to him when I find myself feeding lies during the day. I have taped scriptures all over the edges of our bathroom mirror to replace lies with Truth. And with all this...it is still hard. Thank the Lord that I do feel like I am on the winning side of the battle this time, but the other day in worship at our church I found myself thinking "I thought it would be easier to fight against this stuff." But that's the thing, fighting sin is fighting sin. Engaging in war is far far better than just surrendering myself to being a prisoner, but that doesn't mean it is easy.

Once when we were newly married, Austin was trying to explain men and their constant battle against lust so that I could understand a little better. He told me that every man struggles with lust. And if a man isn't struggling against it, then he is surrendering to it. But struggling doesn't mean losing. Struggling can mean winning....but that victory doesn't come easy and it doesn't ever bring that struggle to an end. As long as we are on earth, men will have to make the choice to surrender to Christ or surrender to lust.

I think for most women, at least for me... as long as I'm here on earth I will have to choose to surrender to Christ or surrender to every lie about my body in connection to my worth and my value. I'm winning, but it is a constant wrestling match. I know that there will be seasons of life when the fight isn't so bad and won't really need much attention from me, but right now that fight has to be intentional. That is just where I am. It feels good to fight. It feels good to take the side of Truth. It feels good to not be a victim to the Enemy's lies and my own self hatred. It feels heavy and wonderful to know that the way I fight now, will be the heritage of either love or hate I can leave my daughter. I can show Lily how wonderful it is to be thankful for the personality, heart, dreams, talents, and health that God blessed her with.

**In the midst of all this fighting I have been endlessly searching for podcasts and books and any resources I can find from Christian women I respect about this very thing. What I am finding is that there is so much out there for our daughters and teenagers, which is awesome! But just because you get married and become a mom doesn't mean you don't need a little help out too. No one really talks about that, I think because 1.As moms/wives we honestly do have much more demanding our energy and don't have to face bullying from our peers about our bodies anymore, but 2. We aren't helping each other out! The response I got after sharing my story after the birth of our son was mostly from wives or moms! Hello! That tells me a lot. It tells me that we aren't doing a big part of our job as the body of Christ. Sometimes you wake up and need encouragement and sometimes you wake up and feel equipped to encourage, so stop being so quiet! 

A loves K

If you're like me, before you're married you want the man you love to love you for your heart first, then your brains, then your body. That's great, that's how he should love you. But after having two kids, I couldn't have been happier with the list of "why I love you"'s that Austin spontaneously listed for me on a lazy Mother's Day sunday afternoon. Numbers 1-11 were all physical and I couldn't have been happier. The remaining 9 were deeper than surface level and held much more meaning, and I love those too--don't get me wrong. I still want my husband to love my heart and brains...but...

Dear Katy Wells,
When you wonder if you will love your future life with Austin as much as you have loved your adventures together so far--you will love the future more than you can comprehend and the adventures won't slow down, but they will change. When you wonder if he will love your dreams and take them on as his own and chase them with you--he will. When you feel like you don't have a talent to call your own, he'll help you discover it. And--this one is important--when you take for granted that he even thinks your ponytail is cute...stop and thank the Lord that he loves the way you look now and he will still love the way you look a little down the road and I'm sure he will way way down the road too. You have a good one. A really good one. 


Sincerely,
Katy TULLOS

Please have a laugh at my expense, please

So if I have to be in total annoyance and discomfort because our daughter refuses to get a move on....I'm going to share a story about it! (And no...I'm not past my due date, I still have two days before I hit week 40 but I'm not good at waiting!)

So first of all I need to give mad props to Hannah Slay, this girl brought over Chili's queso and salsa with a 12 pack of decaf Dr Pepper yesterday for a Galentines day of sorts while our hubbies worked. It was fabulous. A pregnant woman literally could not ask for more. While I was shuffling in the queso I told her where I'm at. I think this sentence pretty much sums it up for me. "Literally every moment that I'm not in labor I'm annoyed." Those who know me know that I tend to be "animated" (as I like to call it) or "dramatic" (as some of you like to call it). Either way I am still happy at the core and very joyful...but also...I mean come on...its annoying to wait! It's especially annoying when you are tormented by the memory of labor and delivery being the most painful and difficult thing you have ever done, but also excitement of the best reward and the highest high on Earth when your child is "out."

So the second thing you need to know is that Austin, my amazing husband, has become quite the sleep talker/mover in the last 9 months. Maybe its a sympathy thing? I'm pretty positive I'm the one who is supposed to have weirdness when sleeping. Anyway, about a week ago Austin had this very sudden "twitch" or something in his sleep and I guess his hands were over his head and he hit our headboard so hard. I woke up terrified and he immediately calmed me down and explained that it was him. In that moment when my heart was racing more than it has in the past 7 months (give or take) I thought to myself "good grief I think I might get scared into labor." But alas...we were not so lucky.

So...last night Austin passed out asleep on the couch (something which I should disclose...NEVER happens) so we headed to bed early. Since I wasn't too sleepy (and still annoyed that another day had passed, but really happy because one of my best friends did get to welcome her baby boy into the world) I killed time playing on my phone---ouch...ouch...dude my belly is rock hard---ouch....ahhh, relief. WAIT! That was a contraction! Started in my back and moved forward-check. Started gradually and got worse and then tapered off-check. Lasted about two minutes-check. Rock hard uterus-check. HALLELUJAH! I'll wait for one more before I start writing down times. tick tock tick tock...18 minutes later--ouch ouch...rock hard belly...ouch...relief. YES. 10:18pm. Eighteen minutes of "flood it" games on my phone later...ouch ouch-rock hard...ouch...ahh. YES. Then only ten minutes...then I started drifting to sleep. I was so tired, and I knew that the next one would wake me up and until then I really needed to rest. It took me ten minutes to settle my mind down and fall asleep again...but by that point I was so tired that I didn't fully realize that since I wasn't in another contraction yet, I was probably not going to be. Anyway, after finally falling asleep after listening to Austin sleeping so peacefully for over an hour....I was dead asleep and then ...OUCH! But no. NO. Not that kind of ouch. The kind of ouch where someone just punched me in the butt. I thrash my head very dramatically to look at Austin and he is still sleeping. Ok, this is ridiculous, but I guess he is sleep...punching or something. Whatever. Close my eyes....OUCH...another punch and then "BOO!"
Yea "boo"...are you freaking kidding me?! You are really doing that whole if-I-like-you-I'll-be-mean-to-you-flirting...in your sleep?? Oh Austin. I sit up and say "What....(dramatic pause) are you doing? Wake up." Austin (as cute and innocently as can be) "I'm scaring you into labor." Me: "Are you awake? You had better not be awake." No response. (I should add that it is typical for him to respond with something ridiculous in the moment and then not remember at all in the morning and think the whole ordeal is hilarious.) Me: "You had best not remember this in the morning." (aka you better be sleeping, cause that and only that can save you.)

Words cannot describe how mad I was. And of course this morning my sweet husband tells me good morning and offers to bathe Lyric for me. First, I take him up on it and tell him good morning. Then I ask if he remembers last night. Of course he doesn't. And once again he thinks it's hilarious. He then proceeds to blame me, that perhaps I dreamed it. But then incriminates himself by adding "that's weird though cause a couple of times before bed I thought about trying that while we were watching TV."

I don't know if anyone out there can relate to this waiting game, or if anyone thinks that this is remotely funny. But it is ridiculous, so I had to share it. Please get a good chuckle out of our ridiculous-ness. And if you have any labor inducing tips...use the comment box!

I have a reason to sing

I have a reason to sing
 I LOVE the song "Desert Song." If you haven't listened to it, do so. If you haven't jammed out to it in worship or on a drive alone in your car, you are missing out. During my deepest and saddest mourning of our miscarriage I sang "all of my life, in every season, you are still God. I have a reason to sing, I have a reason to worship" because I knew it was true, not because it felt true. But now, on the other side of the storm of grief, I feel it to be as true as I knew (know) it was. Something devastating did happen, the worst sort of news had been delivered and I had a reason to sing! At first I sang with hope, hope of things to come, hope that one day I would sing and feel again. Now I can sing with joy.



I wrote the previous paragraph months ago. Going back and rereading drafts that were never completed, I came upon it. I have been able to sing with joy for awhile now. Joy that I feel. Now as I am waiting (not with great patience) for our daughter to come into the world...I sing for joy. But I am so thankful that my joy doesn't require her existence. I am so tearfully thankful that I had a reason to sing before I got what I wanted. I'm so glad that one day I can tell our son and daughter that in the face of heartbreak they can sing. They have a God who loves them and who defeated death for them, and that their hope doesn't have to be in the temporal pleasures they experience now. I'm so relieved that I know the hope and truth and joy and rich rich love that came out of our loss. I'm so humbled that He chose to show me the greater depths of His sacrifice and His love-- out my hurt, out of my heartbreak, out of my shock, out of my tears. I look back on the past year (nearly to the day), and I so cherish all the change. 



The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me,
because the LORD has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor;
he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;
to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor,
and the day of vengeance of our God;
to comfort all who mourn;
to grant to those who mourn in Zion—
to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the LORD, that he may be glorified.
(Isaiah 61:1-3 ESV)