It's a New Day

A few weeks ago I put on my best game face, bit the bullet and went back to weight watchers. Inspired by the transformation of Jennifer Hudson and spurred on by some medical issues I'm now facing as I approach my mid-30s. Three weeks in and I've lost 6.6 pounds. Yay me!

Date Night

What is the traditional "date night"? Is it Friday or Saturday night? In our house, it can be any night of the week. Tonight I have a two part date...neither of which is with hubby. Right now I'm sitting with my best boy watching Olivia on Treehouse. He and I usually enjoy the quieter activities, daddy is the real entertainer. Later I'm heading out to a movie with TL who got free tickets. I'm all for free! Perhaps hubby and I can enjoy an extra late part 3?

Mobile blogger

Well well well...finally I feel I'm in the 21st century! After a long hiatus from blogging, I feel ready to take it on again. I want to write a book, not sure what about yet. Surely my years of experience at...life, if nothing else, should qualify for something. Stay tuned!

Lunch with Hubby

Every couple from time to time deserve a break. Ours today was a quick lunch at a "family" restaurant without Malachi. A mid-day date. Rarity indeed. Neither of us could quite remember the last time we did it. It was quite reminicent of the "good" old days pre-Malachi.

Don't get me wrong. We both love Malachi unconditionally and without regret. He is the common centre of our universe. But it was fun to sit across at each other and hold hands like teenagers and not have to keep reminding someone to eat/sit down/don't bother other people. On most occassions, dining out with little Mister is a dream compared to how I've seen other people's kids behave in public. However, considering I only have an hour to drive, be seated, order, wait, eat, pay the bill and drive back to work...3 year olds don't quite understand just how short 60 minutes are.

So we sat, ordered, waited, ate and paid the bill and chatted like 2 adults should and the hour flew by. Since we can't remember when we were able to do it last, I thought I should commemorate it with a post so next time we'll remember.

My (almost 4-year-old) "BABY"

Last night while whispering in the dark with hubby, the reality of Malachi's growing up hit me.

And I cried.

Why?

It's more than just hormones. More than coming to grips with not having another child. More than a longing to hold onto his babyhood a little longer.

He knows his birthday is just around the proverbial corner, 3 months from tomorrow to be exact. One month from tomorrow he's going to go to the 4-year-old room at daycare to join his friends with birthdays earlier in the year who have gone on before him. They have different toys and only 2 teachers. Maybe he'll even start leaving Doggy home.

And a few days after that he'll be graduating highschool and moving out with his friends.

And the week after that he'll be dropping by after his honeymoon and telling us how he and his new bride are planning to start a family.

Then he'll discuss nursing home options for his father and me.

STOP!!! Stop the world I want to get off!!!

So the basis for my tears last night, I've concluded is that everyday Malachi needs me a little less than he did the day before.

Since he's completely spoiled and babied by me and my mother, he's only just recently taken an interest in dressing himself. Now he only wants to dress himself AND pick out his own clothes. He'll ask if he needs a sweater and have an opinion on which one to wear. He'll put on his own sneakers too...and usually on the right feet.

He's too busy to eat. There's too much to do! Go outside, play in his room, watch Treehouse or a movie. "Can we go to Brookie/Madison/Nathan's house?" is a common question. And he's growing like a weed. I can barely pick him up anymore.

He still sleeps with a nightlight but says he needs the humidifier too since Dr. Elli told him to use one. Well, since Dr. Elli told him it must be necessary!

Yes, he's quite the little man. And at this rate, in a few months he'll be looking at nursing home options for himself! *sniff*

The business (busy-ness) of LIFE

I've often thought: "What if I could clone myself?" and make SEVERAL copies. Then at the end of the day meld all these copies together so that all the memories, experiences, knowledge and sentiments will be kept together in my mind only. And then the next day start all over again. I'm thinking that if I could do this, say once a month, I could keep on top of it all and, as a bonus, keep what little sanity I have left. But I digress...

We had a very busy June: vacation, my birthday, mom's birthday...her 60th! Father's day. Compounded by Bennett being out of work since before our vacation because he lost the transmission in his truck and me starting a new job (!). I can't believe it's the 29th when it seems like the month just started yesterday. Technically I guess we lost the first 9 days since I don't keep track of the date, time or even day of the week when I'm on vacation. It's a wonder we didn't miss our flight home. What a great vacation we had.

Saturday – Left home at 10, flight at noon, 3 hour layover in Toronto and arrived Vancouver 7pm, supper with Marcella, Scott and their 2 daughters at around 9…body still on NL time (1:30 am)

Sunday – woke super early b/c still on NL time, church in New Westminster (Emmanual) at 10. Brunch in Surrey. Shopping in Fort Langley. Back to New West for church at 6pm.

Monday – took ferry to Nanaimo on Vancouver Island, did the touristy thing there, drove to Victoria, found internet café, booked cheap room then hopped on a bus and checked out the bunny rabbits at U of V (they really do multiply like rabbits!), got back to our car then hotel and then CRASHED.

Tuesday – up and at em by 10, brekkie at McDs, more touristy stuff (horse and carriage tour, wax museum, miniature world, shopping, under sea garden, Craigdarroch Castle), took ferry to Port Angeles, WA where we lucked into another cheap (but thankfully clean and included breakfast) hotel

Wednesday – up early again to get (free) breakfast and on the road to Seattle. Beautiful city. Walked waterfront, went through Pike Market (again, awesome!). went to mall to get Monorail to Space Needle. Did tour of that, Malachi played on rides outside. I shopped at gift store…really nice gift store. Back to mall. Spent oodles of money on kids at Children’s Place. Taxi back to waterfront and car. Three hour drive back to Surrey.

Thursday – day trip back to states for more shopping (me shopping, can you believe it?) with Marcella and pastor’s wife from Grand Prairie (she came for the ladies’ retreat) then to Hope for the retreat. Ten of us stayed in a huge old house decorated with old furniture and appliances but with modern stuff too (coffee maker, thank God!) and the beds weren’t archaic either which was good. Sister Donna Linville was the speaker. She is awesome! Really really funny. She kind of reminded me of Sis Stone (she’s a large jolly type of lady) but her stories are genuinely funny (as in not just to her, haha). Night service only on Thursday and we all stayed up late in the big living room of our house chatting in our jammies! We were the only ones in the house and the people who run it don’t even stay in it; their house is next door and they just bring in breakfast and leave it in the kitchen.

Friday – Service at 10:30. Drove into Hope for lunch at a really quaint little coffee shop called The Blue Moose; coffee sizes are Small, Tall and Moose. Too cute. Yummy sandwiches and desserts. We had the afternoon to ourselves. Turkey supper and then night service.

Saturday – morning service then we were given a bag lunch to hit the road with. I drove back as far as Chilliwack with Marcella where Bennett and Malachi met us (they had a ball while I was gone and barely missed me at all!) and we went to the zoo then drove to White Rock beach (BEAUTIFUL!) and dipped my feet in the Pacific ocean!

Sunday – church in the am then lunch at Jamie’s house, back to Marcella’s for a nap and church again then back to Jamie's house for a bit and a SURPRISE little impromptu birthday party for moi! I thought that was really sweet.

Monday – we planned to drive up to Whistler but we were so tired from doing so much going we slept really late and just hung out at a mall in Surrey for the afternoon and then took a ride on the sky train and went to North Vancouver and had supper at the little market right where you get off the seabus and walked around the shops there. We took the ride back and spent half the night packing and the other half chatting.

Tuesday – we got up at 3:30 am to leave for the airport at 4 for our flight at 6 to come home. We had a 3 hour layover in Toronto again and got home at 9 – totally exhausted!

And that's just a brief description of everything we did. To do it right we needed a month to do justice to all the places we saw and things we did. I would have loved to have a day or two to explore each of Nanaimo, Victoria, Seattle and Vancouver. The most I saw of the actual city of Vancouver was from the skytrain and driving from and to the airport. We got to know the city of Surrey pretty well as well as New Westminster. I could totally see myself living there. The mountains are absolutely spactacular. Gros Morne pales in comparison.

The Journey of Childlessness

April 24–May 1 is National Infertility Awareness Week. Please pray for our sisters who so desperately desire children, but are unable to conceive. Pray that their hearts will be filled with God's grace, goodness, and compassion. And pray that our actions and words will bring healing and not guilt or more pain and sadness.

The pain of multiple miscarriages changed my perspective about God and faith.
Jean E. Jones

My gynecologist's certainty gave me confidence: In a booming voice, incongruously deep for his small stature, he assured me that my baby was well, and I needn't be worried over an earlier miscarriage. So my husband, Clay, and I joyfully celebrated the three-month milestone marking the pregnancy as safe.
It seemed life was unfolding just as we'd hoped: We'd married, Clay had completed seminary, and soon after his graduation, he was offered an associate pastorate. With a baby on the way, we once again had reason to celebrate.
A week after that prenatal visit, we headed to a beach-front hotel for a church staff conference. After a laughter-filled dinner full of excited chatter and congratulations over expecting our first child, I excused myself and sleepily returned to the hotel room. There, sitting in a stark white bathroom, I stared in shock at a bright red streak.
No, no—this couldn't be happening.
The unfamiliar room, with its too perfectly arranged furniture and jarringly cheerful seascapes, amplified my disbelief. Mechanically, I crawled into the strange bed. I tugged at the cold sheet and foreign blanket, desperate for any bit of comfort, then pulled my Bible near.
"God, you know I've begged you to protect this baby," I prayed. "God, please! I can't cope with another miscarriage. Please heal my body and stop the bleeding. Please, don't let me lose my baby."
A couple hours later, Clay came in. He saw the anxiety in my expression and wrapped me in warm arms.
In the morning, we quietly drove home. By evening, labor began and I fought with everything in me to stop it. But by daylight, the battle was lost.
Difficult years followed, as my dream of motherhood shifted from joyous hope, to desperate pleading, to the grief of impossibility—and finally, to settled acceptance that it wasn't to be. Looking back, I can see that contentment with childlessness was a journey with four major milestones. It began with changing what I mistakenly believed was a faith-filled response to difficulties.
Milestone 1: Developing an "open-eyed" faith Like many Christians, I'd memorized verses such as "all things work together for good" (Romans 8:28) and "give thanks in all circumstances" (1 Thessalonians 5:18). When bad things happened, I'd quote these verses, express my gratitude that God would eventually make everything right, and push away my questions. Trying to trust God, I did something akin to closing my eyes, putting my hands over my ears, and saying, "Lalalala—just have faith—lalalala."
Giving thanks through the first miscarriage wasn't as difficult because the pregnancy was unplanned. Clay was still in school, and I had a new job; I concluded it wasn't the time for us to have children. The second miscarriage was different: We were ready to start a family, and I couldn't identify any "good" that might result from our loss. Nonetheless, I quoted verses, thanked God, and made every effort to stay positive. "It must be God's will, so it's fine with me," I told my friends.
I thought I was doing well spiritually. At least, I didn't feel angry with God. Actually, I didn't feel anything toward God. That vaguely concerned me, but I wrote it off as emotional exhaustion.
Then one afternoon, I discovered that a houseguest had stacked my get-well cards out of sight. Furious, I wanted to scream, "How dare you move my things without asking me?" I grabbed the cards, slapped them on the coffee table, and sank into the sofa.
What's wrong with me? I wondered. Slowly I realized I might be angry. And worse, I might be angry with God. Is that even safe?
I picked up my Bible and scanned the concordance for "anger." Passages described God as slow to anger and full of understanding and compassion. Perhaps it's okay to tell God what I'm feeling.
I went for a walk to be alone with God and came upon an empty schoolyard.
"God, I think I might be angry," I prayed, stuffing my hands into my jeans pockets. "It's possible that I might even be mad at you."
A dried-out patch of dirt caught my eye. Its barrenness irked me: There should have been grass in that spot, not scraggly weeds. I kicked at a rock that was partly buried in the dirt.
"God, I am angry. How could you allow another miscarriage when I repeatedly told you that I couldn't handle it?"
Emotion-charged words began to flow freely. I pressed God with every question: "I'm your child—why did you let this happen to me?" I exposed every fear: "I won't be able to enjoy a future pregnancy! And how can I face those church members who think my miscarriage was due to a lack of faith?" I expressed every hurt, particularly that I felt inadequate as a woman. And I listed every reason why I thought God should have intervened.
"Everyone else can have children—why can't I?"
As soon as those words came out of my mouth, I knew I'd misspoken. Many women cannot have children; some also have no husband. Then it hit me: I'd felt entitled to motherhood. This was the root of my anger. I felt God had denied me a "right."
I stepped into the street to avoid a row of oleanders, glancing at the glossy evergreens full with clusters of red, pink, and white flowers. They bloomed almost year-round despite scorching temperatures, drought, and poor soil—the same soil that only a few steps back barely supported a scattering of weeds. Is this what you want from me, God: to grow and blossom despite tough circumstances?
Hesitantly, I began to thank God for his love and faithfulness—only a truly loving Father would allow his child to come beat on his chest. It was difficult at first, but I recognized that in his infinite wisdom, God had allowed a circumstance that would cause me to grow. While I still couldn't identify any specific good that would result from my loss, now I could acknowledge, by faith, that God would indeed work it out.
This change in me was subtle, but significant. In the past, whenever trials occurred, I closed my eyes to the problem, thinking it was good to shut out anything that might challenge my faith. But while closed eyes can't see problems, they also can't see God.
When I "opened my eyes"—presenting my problems and questions to God rather than hiding from them—I began to find answers and understand God better. As a result, my faith in God's goodness grew.
Milestone 2: Choosing God's will After the second miscarriage, my doctor boomed assurances that there was still nothing to worry about. I asked if there was a point at which having a child became less likely. He answered with too much finality, "After five sequential miscarriages, it's impossible."
A third loss soon followed. Avoiding my eyes, he ordered numerous tests. Weeks later, I sat eagerly at his desk, awaiting answers that would fix everything. Still evading eye contact, he said nothing had been found except a low hormone that couldn't be replaced without causing birth defects. I'm not sure how I managed to reach the car before bursting into tears.
Reluctantly, I began to face that we might not have children. I felt I'd always meant it when I told God, "Thy will be done." And while I wanted to submit fully to God's will, I couldn't quite let go of my desire to be a mom.
One day, while asking God to help me surrender my will, I remembered another prayer from years before. As a young Christian, on realizing the totality of God's forgiveness, I'd prayed with immense gratitude, "God, if you never answer another prayer for me, that's fine. Salvation is enough."
Now I felt God whispering, "Did you mean it?"
Instantly, I was ready to answer. The miscarriages—even childlessness—were miniscule compared to the enormous and costly gift of salvation. Resolutely, I told God, "Yes, I meant it. Salvation is enough." When I chose God's will over my own, I took a big step toward contentment.
Milestone 3: Seeking an eternal perspective Clay and I discussed adoption, but the cost was out of reach on a pastor's budget. Besides, what if God had a special ministry in mind for us? We ruled adoption out.
I wondered if my life could be fulfilling without children. As I searched the Bible and prayed, I realized that having children was not eternally valuable in itself, while having one's faith refined is of great value to all believers (1 Peter 1:6-8). God so valued my faith that he used the losses to expose and remove impurities, such as false beliefs and fear-based responses. Plus, by faithfully enduring hardships, I'd gain something forever valuable: an eternal glory that would far outweigh earthly losses (2 Corinthians 4:17). The more I grasped this eternal perspective, the more content I became.
Milestone 4: Offering sacrificial praise At the fifth miscarriage, I mourned not just the loss of the baby, but the loss of ever bearing children. The lessons I'd learned were helping me to cope, but one question still stymied me. So I prayed: "God, Psalms 37:4 says if I delight myself in you, you'll give me the desires of my heart. I am delighting myself in you. I don't understand. Why aren't you giving me the desire of my heart?" Once again I sensed a question to me: "What is the greatest desire of your heart?" My answer came with ease: "Following you, God."
At that moment, I realized all of life involves choosing between conflicting desires. Our choices reveal what we value most. I suddenly understood sacrificial praise (Hebrews 13:15) in a new way: choosing to praise and glorify God by relinquishing something costly. I wanted to offer sacrificial praise, but finding the words was hard, so I pictured my prayer.
I imagined placing my desire for children and the question, "Why?" in a box. I wrapped the box with pale green paper and tied it with gold ribbon, then placed it at the foot of Jesus' cross, shining softly through a dark night at the bottom of a hill.
I praye, "This is my gift to you. On Resurrection Day, if you want to open this gift and show me "Why?"—that's fine. And if you don't, that's fine too—I think answers won't be a priority when I'm overjoyed by being with you."
As the days went on, every time I hurt, every time I yearned, I brought this picture to mind and prayed, "This is my gift to you."
I expected not to see many reasons during my life for why God chose this path for me. With "Why?" in the box, I no longer looked for answers. But the years have shown it to be a path of character growth, a better understanding of God, and special ministries, including caring for abused children that couldn't be placed in families with children. Surprisingly, I can honestly say the blessings have already been more than worth the hardships.
Copyright © 2010 by the author or Christianity Today International/Kyria.com.
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