Surviving Death

*** NOTE:  The following is an account of something very emotional I went through; please be warned if you have a tender heart.  You may need tissues.  I pray God will guard your heart with a spirit of peace as you read. ***


Sometimes you know it's coming; like the rumble of a distant train.  The far-off whistle.  It gets closer.  It passes.  The noise, the enormity, the power, it's still overwhelming but you had a chance to brace your senses.  Sometimes, though, there's no warning...

Like heading down a main thoroughfare and all is well until life hits you like a Mac truck from a side street at 70 mph.  No way to brace yourself, you just have time to look before you're hit.

Life's trials.  Some you see coming; some you don't.

I realized in August of 2011 I was pregnant.  I was troubled because I really didn't want to be pregnant but found I was also upset with myself for not being joyful.  After all, God says children are a reward and a blessing.  There's so many people who WANT to be pregnant, and here I am, grumbling because I AM. I have to admit, I'm not sure I ever completely surrendered joyfully to this pregnancy and in some ways, I think I am still wrestling with it (but more on that later).

We found out in time to put it on our 2011 Christmas cards that we were looking forward to welcoming Tobias (our fifth boy) to our family in May of 2012.  So many friends and family had been praying we'd finally add a girl to the mix but I had resigned myself ahead of time, to avoid disappointment, that it was another boy.  We were content and spent the next couple months trying to convince our other boys not to be disappointed he wasn't a she!  (One of them, despite several reiterations, continued to tell anyone who would listen, that he was having a sister).  We had boy clothes, boy bedding, boy toys... we know boys so life would continue with familiar rhythm.

My fifth pregnancy was going nearly as text-book as the previous four.  The only exceptions were that I'd had the most severe morning sickness in the first trimester I'd ever had and a varicose vein that was throbbing if I didn't have my leg elevated or full-length support hose on (note: full-length maternity graduated support hose are an ordeal to get into, way too warm for Florida weather, and are by no means any kind of sexy... but they make a huge difference if you have circulation problems!)  Besides that, my weight gain was minimal, baby was growing, we were both healthy, and all was going normal.

With my OB's blessing, two of my boys, and my support stockings, I had to take a cross-country trip to Seattle in February.  My dad's wife had gone into hospice care, nearing the end of her battle with cancer; I wanted to see her before she passed and try to comfort my dad as he faced what was coming.  It was a nice trip, despite the reason, and the boys and I got some wonderful time with family and friends.  I was honored to be a vessel for God and pray peace and encouragement into my dad's sweet wife as she prepared to meet Jesus.  We flew home and back to life as usual...

A couple weeks after I had got back, my husband settled into bed, wrapped his arm around my round belly, and asked if "Toby" (as we were already calling him) was moving.  Not thinking much of it, I said no and assumed he was comfy and resting (most likely waiting for me to be nearly asleep before he started his nightly acrobatics!).  I didn't ponder it further, went to sleep, then had a pretty typical day following.

It was a Wednesday night.  There was youth group and then my husband had to attend a meeting with the church leadership.  There were a lot of problems going on, stress levels were high, and a lot of things were coming to a head.  I went home to put our kids to bed and one of the youth, my best friend's daughter, came to help.  After we got the boys settled and sat down on the couch, my young friend asked if the baby was moving and could she feel him.  I told her he wasn't and our conversation moved to other things.  My mind, however, did not.  It was in that moment the memory banks began to spin backward...

How long had it been since he'd moved??  I remembered the night before... Had it really been THAT long since he moved?  What kind of mother was I that I couldn't remember WHEN I last felt him!  The embers of panic began to smolder but I kept myself calm.  I went through checklists in my head of where I was when he last kicked me, what things I could do to get him to move, reassurances that he was probably fine and I was overreacting.

The panic wouldn't go away.

I can't remember if I asked my best friend when she came to pick up her daughter or if I texted her later,  sharing my concern, but I went and called my mom and poured a bath immediately.  I texted my husband.  No matter which way I lay on our bed, he wouldn't move.  I texted my husband again.  In the bath, he wouldn't move.  I sobbed prayer upon prayer as I went through my bath.  I dried off, dressed, and called my mom again.  She said call the hospital.  They said I was probably fine but go ahead and come get checked.  I called my best friend.  She came immediately.  My last resort... a cold pack from the freezer against the corner of my belly where I could feel him laying.  Nothing.  I called my husband.  He had finally gotten the texts and now my call and was heading home immediately while the pastor prayed.

I already knew.

I put on some comfortable clothes.  I couldn't decide whether to pack a bag; it was early enough in the pregnancy I hadn't done one yet.  The tears came in waves.  My husband rushed in and changed his clothes.  My friend arrived to stay with the children.  She had been crying already as she prayed.  We all hoped I was wrong.

As we got on the freeway to the hospital all that came to mind were hymns.  I did not grow up in church and I had only started learning any of the old hymns over the previous few years.  But, the words came.  When I didn't even know what to pray, words of praise and faith came in singing sobs all the way there.  I knew what was looming.  I knew Christ had felt what I felt... dread of what I was about to have to experience with no way around it but with an odd peace that I cannot describe.

We arrived at the hospital and had to tearfully explain to the check-in desk why I needed to get to the maternity wing.  (It seemed like every staff person from the door to the discharge had to ask what was going on... I felt like I explained it a hundred times).  Every one of them reassured me that all was probably ok and we'd be heading home, just fine, in no time.  Comforting smiles.  Attempts to hide their own concern that I might be right...  I felt sorry for them.

The poor little triage nurse in labor & delivery who had to do the initial ultrasound.  I actually apologized to her.  I know things like this are the hardest part of their job.  She tried to find the heartbeat.  Said the equipment must not be working right.  I knew.  I've been dopplered so many times.  I know that echoing sound as the sensor searches my belly.  I also knew how easy it had always been before this to find every baby's heartbeat.  I knew.  I prayed for God to rescue me.  He spoke into my heart "My beloved, I cannot... but I will be WITH you through it."  It was like the Holy Spirit squeezed my hand...

One of the midwives came in to do a confirmation scan.  I felt bad for her to be the one to say "I'm so sorry."  I felt bad for them now having to prepare themselves emotionally for my delivery.  They were all so kind.  Gentle.  Loving.  Patient.  The care team was a blessing.

It was all so surreal; so vivid and yet such a blur.  They said I had already begun to dilate, an indication my body already knew before I did.  They got me a room, an IV, a drip of pitocin to bring on labor.  They promised to do it slowly.  They offered to add something to my IV so I could rest while it progressed.  I couldn't decide.  I wish now I hadn't.  Or, at least asked for only half the dose.  While it was nice to let my brain go numb and doze off for a while, the drug left me foggy long after that.  Somehow I knew I should avoid the drugs but I didn't.  I would have liked to be more cognizant and aware than I was after delivering.

I don't remember what time it was but the contractions wouldn't let me sleep.  I didn't take long before it was time to push.  Then, it was all done.  They said his cord was attached to the placenta at the bottom, not in the center as is normal.  They said he probably got big enough that at one point he got comfy on his own cord, went to sleep, and never woke up.  They said when it happens it only takes about two minutes.  No way to foresee it.  No way to prevent it.  No way to undo it.

We held him.

We cried.

The nurses cried with us.

He would have looked just like the others.  Dark hair.  Cupid's bow lips.  Same nose.  So tiny.

They put a little gown on him with a hat so we could hold him a while.  Even more surreal; a very odd mix of emotional thoughts dancing with the analytical and logical.  Thoughts of what might have been and now would not be along side thoughts that this is not him, he is with Christ.

The care staff was wonderful and we were given a beautiful memory box, his footprint, a little flannel heart of the same material as his gown.  The nurses took pictures and even put them on a disc for us.

I was discharged less than 24 hours after arriving and we were home before dinner.  I would be thankful for my own bed and my husband's cuddles.  As soon as we got home we gathered our boys and shared, in words they would understand, what had happened.  They cried with us and asked a lot of questions that we did our best to answer.  This process repeated itself several times over the course of a couple weeks and tapered off.  Save for one aspect... Our eldest.  At almost 8 years old he "regressed" in some behaviors in the week following our loss.  We were befuddled at what was going on.  Thankfully my mom had flown in to visit for a week and got him to open up.  He was convinced his baby brother had died because he'd been praying for a sister.  He felt a deep guilt because he believed he was to blame.  We all took some time to love on and pray with him, reassuring him that there was nothing he could have done to make this happen nor prevent it.  It was a tender opportunity to share God's mercy and sovereignty as best we could to such a sweet, tender heart.  Not surprisingly, the behavior issues were remedied at the same time.

We met with a local funeral director who took care of everything that the church did not.  Paperwork.  Cremation.  An urn.  A memorial.  Music.  Words to say.  Scriptures to share.  All of it, so surreal.

*******

The most profound thing I experienced through the entire thing was "peace that surpasses all understanding".  It was inexplicable.  I'm not sure I've felt God's presence so tangibly at any other stage of my life.  I could almost feel Him holding me up when I didn't think I could do it myself.  I don't think the question of "why?" ever entered my mind.  I had (have) such an absolute belief that the first thing my boy ever saw was the face of Christ.  I believe unshakably that he never experienced pain, fear, hunger, or sorrow but instead only knew God's love, peace and joy beyond the warmth, safety and love we tried to convey to him as he grew.

I learned through this that tragedy will, at some point, strike every one of us BUT tragedy does not need to be tragic.  While Tobias' life was cut short according to our expectations, God showed us that even in just 32 weeks, his little life had purpose.  I have a new testimony, a new purpose, I have discovered a new depth of faith, and I have experienced God's peace, all in ways I would have missed if all had gone according to our idea of "normal".  I can reach out to an entirely new group of people that I couldn't before.  (And, incidentally, have been embraced into a group I never knew before... I found out that stillbirths actually happen to about 1 in 200 women; when Toby passed I was shocked at the number of women I knew coming out of the woodwork to share their own story and offer comfort)

God has taught me a lot in the last several years about surrender.  This was the most intense test yet.  Through it though, He showed me that we must never hold on to anything (or anyone) so tightly that losing it (them) would shake our faith.  This is another post for another time, but we nearly lost our fourth boy at birth due to a completely different issue and in the year following God allowed me to ponder long and hard on life, death, His absolute sovereignty, and how much control we do not have.  In the moments leading up to my fourth son's birth the Holy Spirit reminded me "You talk about how your days are numbered; remember his are as well.  Some people get 30 minutes, some 30 years, some more, some less.  I am in control."  It was that experience, that, while nothing can prepare someone for a stillbirth, that was as much a preparation I could have had.  By the time I was in the car heading to the hospital I already felt the still, small voice, whispering "surrender" in the most comforting way.

I cannot fathom how I (or anyone else) could survive life's tragedies without faith that God works all things together for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28, paraphrased).  There have been some other, less epic, trials over the last year but this has brought such perspective.  It has given me a plumb line of sorts, a keel, a genuine depth of peace, that every trial is part of His plans for our lives.  That's not to say that God wanted me to lose my son; but rather He knew it was coming and had a plan to use it for glory, not despair.  He wants to do the same in your tragedy.  Nothing surprises Him, nothing catches Him off guard.  Your prayers will never find Him sleeping.  He is with you through it, holding you, even when you don't realize it.  He will always win with the cards you've been dealt, no matter how bad the hand looks.  No matter how impossible it looks, trust Him to use it.  Don't try to figure out how or decide what the best thing is for Him to do.  His ways are not our ways, His thoughts are not our thoughts.  All that matters is that He promised.  He didn't say how or when.  Life's tragedies will come.  If we try to hide from them, prevent them, or just wring our hands while we mourn what hasn't even taken place, then we'll miss out on blessings beyond measure.

Like the lyrics to the children's song "Going on a Bear Hunt" that say "Can't go over it, can't go under it, can't go around it, gotta go through it!", such is life.  It is a bittersweet adventure but He is inviting us to even survive death.

It's Been a While

It's been more than a year now since my keyboard and I spent much time together.  For any who I may have upset by my hiatus, I apologize.  I had a whole lot of "life"bombard me in the last year and while writing would have been very therapeutic, I was too raw to put much of it down in uplifting eloquence.

When I first stopped writing in November of '11 I was struggling with the worst morning sickness five pregnancies ever produced.  Having four boys prior and many friends and family hoping for a girl, I tried to keep it to myself how terribly ill I felt so they wouldn't take it as a sure sign of our family finally getting a baby girl.  After the Christmas season we prayerfully made the choice to homeschool our oldest boy (watch for a post about God changing my heart in that area!), which then of course required more of my daytime focus and caused more night time exhaustion.  February brought a trip to the west coast to try and comfort my dad and say our farewells to his wife as she neared the end of her battle with colon cancer.  Two weeks after my return would begin the real roller coaster ride that defined our 2012...

March 22, 2012, our fifth baby, Tobias, was stillborn at 32 weeks.  The cause is unknown but speculated to have been where his cord was attached to the placenta (marginal insertion, for all you medical types out there).  I'm still crafting the post for this one because it was so painful but so profoundly spiritual at the same time.

Two weeks later my dad's wife passed.  Two more weeks, a friend from church passed.  Two more weeks, our church was divided and split.  Two more weeks, another friend from church passed as well as some friendships suffered with the division.  Somewhere in all that God called my husband to resign his position within the church and for us to move to a new church home.  (There will probably be posts about all that as well...)

About two months brought four deaths, one church split, and many broken hearts.  Our world was upside down.  Thankfully we knew right where God was leading us for a new "home" but there was time that we needed to breathe, recover, heal, find our footing and process the hard lessons in surrender, boldness, humility, grace, forgiveness, and perspective.  Several months later, my husband in a new position with our new church family, a new school year (where we are now homeschooling all the boys), a visit from my mom and step-dad in December, and now, a new calendar year...  I believe we are getting settled in our new normal.  I can't fathom how we could have got through all we did without the "peace that surpasses all understanding".

Where I grew up west of the Cascade mountains, it rains.  A lot.  Not like the kind of rain here in Florida... as if God just up-ended a bucket over our heads... No, it drizzles.  For days.  Weeks.  Even a month or more solid of gray, gloomy, drizzle.  However, the summers are absolutely PERFECT!  Low humidity, comfortable temps, light breezes, breathtaking sunsets, life in full-bloom...

I know a lot of people outside the Northwest don't understand why anyone would want to live there.  (In fact, there are people IN the Northwest who don't understand why they themselves choose to live there!)  Ministry, parenthood, homeschooling, they're all similar...  So many tough days that it's easy to question why you do it.  It's the beauty.  Even though the ratio of beauty to gloom, numerically speaking, is at a significant deficit, the beauty is so beautiful that the gloom is worth it.  The promise of sunshine is enough to get you through the rain storm and the rain storms often intensify the brilliance of the beauty on the other side.

Glimpses of Heaven to get you through the trials of life.

Rays of SONshine between clouds of tribulation.

God has held me in my storm, He has set my feet on dry, solid ground, He has made me promises.  He will do the same for you, dear one.

Wrestling With Surrender

I'm homesick.  I have been for a long time.  I grew up about an hour from Seattle in western Washington and my whole family is still there.  I left home in November of 1997 and except for moving back for a year in 2006, I haven't even visited yearly during the last 14 years.  Thanks to Facebook I keep in touch with the majority of my family and childhood friends and I talk with my mom daily but I miss them terribly.  I also miss the scenery and climate (yes, even the rain and gloom!).  If you've never visited there I highly recommend it someday; I've traveled a lot in 14 years and I believe it's the most beautiful place I've ever lived (the second would have to be the Yorkshire Dales).  Furthermore, I grew up spending a lot of time with extended family.  We spent many a weekend on my late grandparents property riding bikes or horses with our cousins, playing softball games in the pasture or frisbee 500 in the driveway.  My kids asked the other day "What are 'cousins'?"  I didn't know how to explain (especially since they're actually second cousins!)  

Because I don't want my husband to feel bad for "keeping me away" I have been praying that God would take away this desire for Him to eventually call us back there.  When I solemnly shared with my husband that God had not done so he suggested that instead of praying for God to take away my homesickness that I instead pray for joy right where I am.

That's when the tears broke loose...  He's right.  I didn't cry about praying for joy though; I cried because of the revelation I had in that moment.  I realized that while I was serving in the Navy that everything was "for a time" (basic training, schools, each assignment, etc.) that was usually pre-determined.  Now that we're in ministry I'm realizing that it's all indefinite.  We don't know where, when or for how long God will take (or leave) us anywhere.  I realized He may never lead us back to Washington.  I realized that it's not just the little, everyday things that God asks us to surrender.  

There's several scripture passages that come to mind lately.  One is Abraham laying Isaac on the altar... oh how he must have felt leading up to the moment where the ram appeared!  I also think about all the times Jesus told people what they would have to leave behind or sacrifice to really follow Him (family, friends, careers, comforts of home, all that was familiar)...  I think I can relate.  It's so much easier to say "I want what God wants" but there's a very painful battle that we each face when the proverbial rubber meets the road.  Do we truly want what God wants?  Are we fully ready to surrender all?  Born with sinful hearts every one of us has to make the choice to die to our desires; even ones that seem healthy.

Who knows but God whether He will send us back to the west coast some day...  For the sake of peace though, since it is not now, I have to hand it over, being careful, of course, of that fine line between true, joy-filled surrender and fatalistic, begrudging pessimism reminiscent of a child's tantrum.  I think of a situation the other day when a particular toy was the source of conflict between my boys.  When I asked for the toy to be handed over the boy in possession threw it towards me with an attitudinal "Fine!  Take it; you don't want me to have anything!"  Which, of course, is not true but oh how our sinful hearts have a propensity for selfishness!

What has God been asking you to surrender?  Is it pride?  Control?  Comfort?  Fear?  A relationship (or lack of one)?  Something (or someone) else?  None are ours to withhold, though the enemy will tell you otherwise.  Pray today that God will show you where you are keeping something back and hindering your ability to serve Him in the full measure of your capacity.  What is the one thing that you fear would turn your world upside down if He takes away or fails to grant?  That's your "Isaac".   Do not, however, fear the altar, for freedom, blessing and a deeper measure of faith await you there.

The Matrix

At the weekly, ladies' bible study I attend, we were talking last week about how limited our perspective is.  How we see "time" only as linear, how self-centered we are amidst our challenges and how hard it is to wrap our finite minds around an INfinite God.

It's almost like we have blinders on that give us a very narrow, tunnel vision.  In our carnal, human nature, this is where our perspective is confined.  The more we allow the Holy Spirit in then the wider our scope becomes.  Sometimes, we get a glimpse of how much bigger the "grand scheme" really is and it's mind-blowing.  I'm sure if we could see/understand all of our lives from God's view that it would send us into mental over-load and shut-down.

One thing I thought of as the group of us discussed the concept was the movie The Matrix.  I'm not a huge fan (I felt that the story line and character progressions were just ok and that the ending of the trilogy was rather anti-climactic) but one thing did impress me:  The makers of The Matrix trilogy were cinematic innovators.  They used so many camera angles simultaneously that they were able to, sort of, pick up an entire scene, and rotate it.  Pondering this then reminded me of watching my husband manipulate a Rubik's cube; twisting, turning it over, taking note of what needed to move where for every piece to fall into place.

None of this is to trivialize God's sovereignty in any way, shape or form but instead to illustrate, in a very pathetic way, how complete God's purview of every detail really is.  He is not linear in His concept of "time".  He is not narrow in His scope of view.  He is not limited in His control.  In fact, He is not limited.  At all.  In any way.  And, unlike my husband with the Rubik's cube, God NEVER toys with us.  Every move is intentional, provisional, purposed and... loving.

So many people ask, and from our human perspectives, this is a valid question, "Why, if God is so loving, does He let bad things happen to good people?"  (Or, depending on how embittered we are, "do to")  As if God is ignorantly passive, or, worse, like a cosmic bully, chasing us as ants with His magnifying glass and sunlight.

On the contrary, every single trial, struggle, storm or tragedy we have endured (or will yet endure) has a purpose.  Our lives and our destinies are meant for the growth of God's kingdom.  His plans for us will always be for other people.  Your experience, testimony and resulting strengths and/or weaknesses, at some point, will be an encouragement to another person who thinks they are alone, without hope and lost.  Allow God to twist and turn you, use you, trusting that He knows exactly where and when He wants you, that no struggle comes upon you unless through Him and that very often, even amidst the trial, someone is watching, amazed at God's peace and power manifesting in your life.  

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.  For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.  “For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it."  (Isaiah 55:8-11)

At Random

I know, I know... it's been a LONG while since I last posted.  If any of you are still out there reading this, thank you.  I have to admit that the morning sickness and fatigue (coupled with our frenetic pace of life) have been getting the best of me.  Lately, if I find myself not driving, cooking or helping with homework, I've taken as many opportunities as possible to spend quality time in my comfy chair or my bed.  I've really felt bad that I haven't posted anything in so long and found myself pondering if I should have ventured into the blog world at all (gotta love the whispers of the enemy in your ear, right??).  In the last few days, however, I've had some new topics start popping back into my head and, at least for the moment, the desire to write is actually greater than the desire to grab a quick snooze before dinner.

In addition, I've recently been introduced to the addicting site, Pintrest.  If you do not already have an account I recommend (HIGHLY) that you avoid it at all cost.  It is a wonderful and evil site all at the same time.  It is a site where every nifty craft ideas on blogs the world over, beautiful artwork, captivating photography, fashion/health/beauty tips, party ideas, decorating, music, celebrities (and so-on, so-on, so-on...) are all compiled by others who have "pinned" links to the site.  You then get to create your own "pin boards" (or categories) to then spend hours scrolling through brilliant idea, helpful tips and plain, raw cuteness.  After seeing some of the ideas I thought of things I've done that may be helpful to others so I may begin posting more than just my thoughts here.  You will begin to find things I wrote and shared in the past, recipes I've concocted and ideas I've come up with to make life with many children slightly more sane.

I plan to try adding different pages to this blog (though I have yet to learn how) so stay tuned for some changes.  I also promise to try and make posts more regularly again (though I can't guarantee it based on how up/down I've felt of late!).  Thanks, again, to anyone who's still reading this.  It's a humbling encouragement to know that what God puts on my heart is blessing someone.  Until next time, then, may you be well blessed.

Joy Comes in the Mourning

10 years ago...

Maybe the subject has become a dead horse to some but for this little patriot, the 10-year anniversary of the 9/11 attacks called me to reflect.  I watched a few documentaries over the weekend, watched my husband share a video and devotion at church on Sunday, prayed, cried some tears and pondered what it all meant in the grand scheme of life.

With my hormones kicking into high gear it intensified the emotions I felt through all the commemoration.  At some points I felt a contented peace that there haven't been any more sincere efforts of that magnitude since then, I felt sorrow for those who lost loved ones, co-workers, friends, comrades, brethren, I felt a hint of fear regarding if/when/where terrorists may strike again, and I felt rage; a resurrection of a seething, righteous anger that someone had the gall to do what they did to so many people.  I'm sure the gamut of emotions we are processing as a nation and generation is very much akin to what was felt after Pearl Harbor, and, if we venture outside our own scope, that of the Japanese after Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

It's all part of grief and the healing process.  I was pondering grief today and God gave me a picture of a darkened room, closed off and hushed with heavy drapes and dust.  We have a choice to make in that room; we can choose to slowly open back up, begin to draw the shades and let the light in or we can withdraw and disappear into it, cocooning ourselves in sorrow.  Forgiveness works in a similar manner... it's a choice to either let in the light or remain shrouded in darkness.  It reminded me of the old woman, Miss Havisham, in Great Expectations and the room in which she spent her days, missing out on life, her heart and emotions locked away in a time capsule of pain.

Psalm 30:5(b) seems fitting: "...sorrow may last for a night but joy comes in the morning."  If we allow God's light to flood into our grief then we find His hope, promises and forgiveness.  Joy is not the same as happiness; happiness is temporal and dependent on circumstances.  Joy is the peace that "surpasses all understanding" because of the victory we know we have through our identity in Him.  It is likely that every one of us will face more unhappiness (ranging from minor irritations to major tragedy) than happiness in our lives.  With Christ, we can have peace and joy amidst it all even when we're not happy about it.  It is especially in those trials that we can learn fully what joy is so that, quite literally, that joy comes in the mourning.

The Comfort Zone

Well, it's been two weeks since my last post and a crazy couple weeks it's been.  We just finished the second week of school and we're still adjusting to the schedule and the homework as we continue to work through our eldest son's behavior issues.  (Of which we are seeing improvements, hallelujah!)  We're also dealing with some things between extended family and church (respectively) that have kept me distracted, and, admittedly, less prayerful than I should have been.  Additionally, the pinnacle of distractions to top this all off has been finding out that we are expecting our fifth baby.

We are surprised and happy but still trying to let it fully sink in that we have now filled our minivan (which we swore we'd never drive) to capacity.  Our quiver is quite full (or perhaps we're just fully quivering!) and our "rewards" from God will now outnumber our hands.  I'm still trying to process it all.  Just as exercise is the only way to fitness, so too is testing the only way to strengthen one's faith and, as such, I'm realizing how content I've been in my weakness.  I didn't realize before today that I had a comfort zone to get out of.  I think I've actually developed a level of pride (the kind that goeth before a fall) in being a mother of four and holding it all relatively well together.  I often get compliments on their behavior in public, I can, if necessary, get a shopping trip done with all of them and I've grown quite accustomed to hearing "Wow, your hands are FULL!" and "How do you do it??" (to which I always just point skyward and answer "God.")

When Eric and I got married I began taking birth control because we didn't want to have kids right away.  Within the first couple months I began to hear that nagging, "still, small voice" saying "Trust me."  To which I responded with an incredulous "HAHahaha!  No."  The voice did not relent for a good two weeks and I finally came to my husband and said "Honey, I think God wants me to stop taking birth control."  At that point his eyes about popped out of his head as he nearly shot whatever he was drinking through his nose asking "WHAT?!?"  I explained "Well, I feel that He's telling me to 1) let my body function the way He intended (especially since birth control always made me feel terrible) 2) that babies, no matter what anyone tries to do, happen only in His time 3) that He won't give us more than we can handle without Him and 4) that we should enjoy each other freely as a form of worship to Him."  He pondered this for only a moment, cocked his head to one side, shrugged and said "Ok."  I think I threw the remaining pills in the trash that day and have never taken them again in almost nine years.

Ten months later we conceived our first son.  When he was almost six months old we were surprised to conceive our second (which I struggled with at first as well until someone, thankfully, put me in my place about it!), the third boy was conceived another six months after number two was born and then we got afraid of each other.  People have always asked if we were trying for a girl to which I usually reply "We weren't TRYING for any of them!"  We managed to avoid pregnancy for almost three years at that point but were actually thrilled when number four joined the mix.  Now, baby number five will join us in May, only six weeks before our eldest turns eight.  Five kids in eight years...  If you had told me what it really was that I was committing to when I threw those pills away less than a decade ago I probably would have laughed to tears or passed out.

One of my favorite verses to quote to myself is "For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love and self-discipline" (2 Tim 1:7).  However, at this moment, I'm wrestling with fear...  Several aspects of it, in fact, along with a lot of questions in the form of whys, what-ifs and what-nows.  I'm also wrestling with guilt/conviction for even feeling afraid and questioning God's sovereignty.  Hormones certainly don't help.

The spiritual side of me knows that God will provide for this child no less than He has the others, that He has ordained the timing, and that He is using us for some grand purpose that spans beyond our pitifully limited imaginations.  The earthly side of me is volleying all the temporal concerns of money, transportation, health, logistics, psychology and the ridicule we will certainly face.  (During my fourth pregnancy I had someone ask me in the grocery line if I was trying to be like the "Octo-mom" and several well-meaning siblings in Christ have contradicted the bible in telling us that we need to be "wise" and "do something about it")

I was listening to a talk the other day on the radio where a woman whose name I cannot remember had made it her prayer (paraphrased) that God's will be done even at her expense.  It brought me to tears because I felt the wrench of conviction that I was not (am not) in a place where I could pray something similar with sincerity.  I so want to want what God wants but for the first time in a long time, I wish He wasn't taking me there.  I want to be leaving a legacy of faith as I walk through this life, I want to be the child of God that leaves Him pumping his fists in the air, beaming with pride (just as I do on days when my eldest comes home from school with a green star in his notebook), I want to live for Him wildly unhindered.  Unfortunately, I don't want to sacrifice, I don't want to be refined and I don't want to be persecuted.

Now, though, it's time to decide... which of those desires is greater?  In my heart, I know already but at the moment, the wrestling match continues.