Waiting for Spring

My grown-up self has never been fond of winter. Growing up in Texas, I was eager as any kid to see a REAL snowfall, enough to make an actual snowman and go sledding. In my memories of Christmas visits to exotic places like Wisconsin and New Mexico, my brother and I romped in snowdrifts with cousins and stomped through woods with my dad and aunt to chop down a tree for decorating. I have no memory whatsoever of cold temperatures, only of the sweet delight that came from being out in the wild, wonderful, beautiful world of winter.

Then I grew up and realized how much I despise being cold, how much I dread the loss of the sun’s light and warmth and comfort. Though at times I can live vicariously through the children’s exuberance, I mostly dislike the bundle-everyone-up routine before we leave the house, invariably searching for lost mittens, hats, and boots while struggling with reluctant zippers. Truly I could spend all winter inside my house and never step foot outside…if it weren’t for so many extra bodies in the same house, driving me to eventual insanity with their boundless energy and boisterous voices (to put it mildly).

Winter is fabulous—in December, when snowmen and Christmas lights are part of the magic of holiday festivities. But then January comes, with dreary, colorless days. I’m already tired of sub-freezing temperatures, dirty gray snow, icy wind, and face-numbing dashes from the house to the van to the store and back. I long for spring, for the freedom to take a walk without cumbersome winter gear, for the ease in taking or sending children outside to play without concern for frostbite.

Spring. New life. New hope.

The fact that Verity is due toward the end of winter has not escaped me. Truly we are in a season of winter, sorting through all kinds of nuanced emotions, tracing trails of thoughts that we have never before had to follow. And I cannot deny that this winter is hard. Dark and cold, depressing and even oppressing at times.

But. We do not grieve as those who have no hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13). And we encourage one another (verse 18)—or at least allow ourselves to BE encouraged—by the words of truth.

“Shall we receive good from God, and shall we not receive evil?” Job 2:10

“In the day of prosperity be joyful, and in the day of adversity consider: God has made the one as well as the other…” Ecclesiastes 7:14

I am grateful for an eternal, unchanging God, my Rock in tumultuous, changing circumstances. I am grateful He not only hears my cries…He also knows and understands my pain and confusion.

“Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in time of need.” Hebrews 4:14-16

I am grateful for loved ones who allow me the freedom to cry and rant and wallow in the pain and difficulty of fear and uncertainty—and yet gently remind me (or pray for the Holy Spirit to remind me!) that God will use every facet of this journey in order to conform us to the likeness of Jesus and to bring Him eternal glory.

I am grateful that I can sit in the presence of a holy God, unafraid and unashamed to spill out my true thoughts and feelings.

I am grateful that He loves me enough to never let me go, and even if I’m angry and acting and feeling unlovable, He still holds me close.

I wrote in my prayer journal a few days ago:

I don’t really find much solace in prayer these days….I go through the spiritual motions of following you, because what else can I do?? To whom else would I go?? There is no one else in heaven but you, and earth has nothing for me [Psalm 73:25]. You have the words of eternal life [John 6:68]. I may not like what all the words say at every point in this journey of life, but I acknowledge you alone are Truth, you are Sovereign, you are GOOD. And so I follow. I obey. My heart may not be leaping for joy, but I’m not leaving.

We walk by faith, not by sight…we walk by faith, not by feelings. Thank God for the gift of faith!

And thank God for the gift of Spring. For it WILL come. And we will appreciate the warmth, the sunshine, and the signs of new life all the more because of the cold, dark days of winter.

Whatever happens with Verity...we know the truth. And the truth sets us free and allows us to rejoice in the new life God has given us: literal life on earth as we bring forth another child into this world, but even more important, eternal life with Him, a life that will make everything on earth fade away as we step out of the darkness of winter and into everlasting spring.

Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning…

You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent. O LORD my God, I will give thanks to you forever! Psalm 30:5b, 11-12

Morning may not be here…yet…

I may not be dancing…yet…

Spring hasn’t arrived…yet…

But I’m learning there is no shame in allowing myself to weep in the winter.

Of Demon Bugs and Broken Alabaster Jars

Written in my journal October 28, 2016, at a beautiful setting for our fall ladies' retreat:

I'm at the retreat center now, sitting outside on a beautiful late afternoon, feeling the wind in my hair, the cup of hot tea on my lap, and little Verity dancing in my belly. I'm on a wooden bench in front of a simple wooden cross. The lake behind and below this little overlook is entrancing with its endless ripples moving in the same wind that sways the branches above me and tosses leaves beneath me.

It is extraordinarily peaceful. I long to fully enjoy this quiet solitude. But I am irritated by these stupid little stinging black bugs! They have been a source of evil distraction since I first sat down, causing me to don my sweater despite the warm temperature. I've swatted and murdered a growing number of these diminutive demons, but their constant presence is definitely marring this experience! I had hoped for some poignant, reflective moments, maybe a rhema word from the Lord. And while I have searched out some Scripture and used my Blue Letter Bible app for a quick word study, so far this hasn't been the spiritual awakening and/or renewal I was envisioning!

Somehow that seems all too appropriate. I sit at the foot of the cross, longing to fully worship my Jesus but instead swatting at the demons of fear and anger, whose legions continue to torment me even though through Jesus I live in a place of rest and peace. I realize--NOW--as I write this--that these horrid little bugs, stirred up by the recent harvest, will linger through these warm, mild days, finally dying in the cold and dark days of winter.

As I think about the darkest times in my life up to this point, I realize that my deepest worship, the truest worship I have ever been capable of offering, has come in the cold, dark days of winter: times of death, loss, pain, hardship. And the doubts and fear? Gone. Dead. Completely overshadowed and overcome by the One who is worthy of all my worship, not because of what He did or didn't do in that season, but simply because of WHO HE IS.

I don't know what our "winter" with Verity will look like. All I know is, my current struggle with the demon bugs is all too real. Yet I say with Job, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him" (Job 13:15). I hate the unknown, the uncertainty, with a passion. It's where the fear and frustration live and grow. But one thing I know--when the winter comes, I will yet praise Him. And the praise will slay the demons.

God...I have to trust you more than I need to explain you. I choose to continue offering myself to you. I want answers...I want a reason...but so much more than that? I want YOU. And I want you more than I want a sense of control. When my fingers tighten around the bottle you're asking me to pour out, then Lord--give me strength and courage to break that alabaster jar and let the extravagance overwhelm me and all who are near enough to inhale that fragrant offering. Make your name glorious, Jesus...my beautiful Savior.

Worship in the Storm of Suffering

Last Sunday morning I wrote the following to my prayer circle:

This morning I am torn. I long for music, prayer, corporate worship, and hearing from the Lord through His servants. But I dread facing our church family--some of whom already know [about Verity's diagnosis], but many others who don't. I can't stay home and hide forever. But I am not sure I'm ready to face this in a large group setting. We are very much in prayer about how and when to share publicly; our biggest desire is to bring the sacrifice of praise to our loving Father, the fruit of lips that confess His holy name. Salvation is found in no other name!

One of my dear friends, mentors, and ministry and prayer partners responded with this, below, which I share with her permission. It was a fitting response, especially in light of the fact that we celebrated the Lord's Supper during our church service (I did, in fact, end up attending the service with my family, sans mascara and with extra tissues in my pocket).

Oh my sweet friend. You are in a type of no man's land of sorrow and grief...I started to write something more and then received a picture of our Lord Jesus on the cross. Often we hear, and as believers we agree, that we are to walk with our Lord in His suffering....today I had the image of Jesus having to yield his flesh to the perfect will of the Father and He had to do so to the point of death. I saw a bloody, bruised, and brutalized Jesus. 

So how does this apply to the life of little Verity? She is God's perfect plan for you and Ted. You are carrying life, a sign of the love between the two of you and of the oneness of your relationship with God. You praise Him for life and you are continuing to praise Him not only with your lips, that sacrifice of praise, but with your continued devotion to Him as you walk out His plan in the midst of sorrow, grief, and the pain of a broken heart. You are actively yielding your flesh to walk out His purpose, to fulfill His plan. Jesus had to yield His human flesh to pay the price, to bring the gift of salvation. You are wrestling...not against God, but rather that wrestling of desiring to bring that sacrifice of praise in the midst of your sorrow and suffering and how to do that in a way that honors Him. My temptation is to retreat to my Father's arms in times of grief and not let humanity in to observe my pain and suffering. I know He will give me rest but then I thought about Jesus...His suffering was visible...he groaned, cried out, was tormented, and felt abandoned by God. And then the victory..."into your hands I commend my spirit...it is finished." 

We are able to walk through the whole process and celebrate the perfect plan of the Father revealed in the suffering of Jesus. We know the end of the story. It makes reading it easier....I know that you are fully human and God loves you with an everlasting love. He has placed [Verity] inside of you, to grow and be nurtured by you, protected by you, loved by you. He has made her visible to the world through your growing and changing body. He has also given you knowledge that her life is compromised and she might not live to birth. This is contrary to what we  expect when bringing life into the world...and Jesus' suffering and sacrifice is contrary to what most people expect when thinking of the Son of God. The question is why did God choose the sacrifice of His only son to bring salvation to the world? Wasn't there another way? Why is this God's plan for Verity? For you and Ted and your family? As your flesh groans, you ARE praising Him. Each word you share about your desire to bring honor to God is praising Him. As you share your sorrow and still walk through the process (yielding your flesh) to His purpose you are praising Him, as you love and desire this little girl, IT IS an act of praise in our fallen world. Sharing with your church family and allowing them to see the reality of the yielding of the flesh, in the midst of pain and sorrow, to the perfect will of God is a high calling...one for which you have been well prepared.