Tuesday, November 2, 2010

What do you mean Holland? I signed up for Italy!

You may be familiar with "Welcome to Holland" an essay written by Emily Perl Kingsley about having a child with a disability. I received a copy when I was teaching and it is often given to new parents of children with special-needs. But when I read it, it also fit quite well with my experiences of infertility and living as a family of two.  We are daily learning how to live in Holland instead of Italy.  The loss of all our dreams of going to Italy is difficult.  But we've slowly learned that Holland can be great too!

The essay is a metaphor about the excitement for a vacation to Italy that becomes a disappointment when the plane lands instead in Holland.  This is the part I often quote:
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life you will say, “Yes, that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned.” And the pain of that experience will never, ever, ever, go away. The loss of that dream is a very significant loss. But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland.

Here's the full version:
When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum, the Sistine Chapel, Gondolas. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all very exciting. After several months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, “Welcome to Holland!” “Holland?” you say. “What do you mean, Holland? I signed up for Italy. I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy.” But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland and there you must stay. The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place full of pestilence, famine, and disease. It’s just a different place. So, you must go out and buy new guidebooks. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met. It’s just a different place. It’s slower paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around. You begin to notice that Holland has windmills. Holland has tulips. And Holland even has Rembrandts. But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life you will say, “Yes, that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned.” And the pain of that experience will never, ever, ever, go away. The loss of that dream is a very significant loss. But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland.

Friday, September 3, 2010

Ephesians 3:14-21

People often ask what my favorite Bible verse is.  When I was younger, I always wondered how anyone could have a favorite verse.  There were so many from which to choose!  But I suppose that as you journey through life, you have experiences and patterns that make certain verses more meaningful to you.  And I love that different passages mean different things to every person . . . we're all different.  So this is a passage that touched me in a very special way 17 years ago and it continues to minister to me along the way.  I love it! 

I love this version of it especially . . . the New Living Translation.  I love the mental pictures it creates.  And I love "that Christ will be more and more AT HOME in your heart".  Love the "at home"!  I love that the love of Christ "is SO GREAT you will never fully understand it"!  So true.  And "he is able to accomplish INFINITELY MORE than we would ever DARE to ask or hope." He does more for us, more than we could ever imagine!  I could expound on this for pages, but maybe that will be for a later post.

When I think of the wisdom and scope of God's plan, I fall to my knees and pray to the Father, the Creator of everything in heaven and on earth. I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will give you mighty inner strength through his Holy Spirit. And I pray that Christ will be more and more at home in your heart as you trust in him.


May your roots go down deep into the soil of God's marvelous love. And may you have the power to understand, as all God's people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love really is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is so great you will never fully understand it. Then you will be filled with the fullness of life and power that comes from God.


Now glory be to God! By his mighty power at work within us, he is able to accomplish infinitely more than we would ever dare to ask or hope. May he be given glory in the church and in Christ Jesus forever and ever through endless ages. Amen.
**This is a photo I took in Orange Beach, Alabama from one of our favorite condos.  The spot down there by the rocks is where Paul (Matthew's brother) and Allysia Eppinette were married.  I've visited this beach for almost 36 years now.**

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Laughter Through Tears

In the midst of this turmoil that I wrestle with in my heart and mind, while I am still waiting for answers to my questions, while I still don't understand why, while I continue to quake under this refining process, help me not to cause another to stumble.  Help me to reach out through my pain to comfort someone going through a similar experience.  And hardest of all, Lord (because it reminds me that you haven't chosen this miracle for me yet), help me to rejoice with someone who has just been given the miracle of a baby.  Also, please help me to react with love when others say things that are hurtful about this, my SOFTEST SPOT.
This quote from Debra Bridwell's book The Ache for A Child was given to me in the beginning of our infertility journey.  A new friend wrote it in a greeting card.  I can't explain why it meant so much.

Maybe it was because I barely knew her and yet she was reaching out to me.  Maybe it was because it was my first exposure to a book about infertility.  Maybe it was because she didn't write any of those silly platitudes that people often say at those times.  Maybe because it was honest, "I can't promise to understand ALL your feelings because everyone's journey is different.  But I am a good listener."

Maybe it was because it was in a funny card and laughter through tears is my favorite emotion.  The front had a picture of a woman holding a beautiful snow globe and it said, "Here's a helpful technique for managing stress during difficult times:  First, get one of those glass snow-domes with a happy little snowman and an idyllic, peaceful winter scene . . . (open the card) next, get a HAMMER!"

It made me laugh and it made me cry.  And I really do cherish those moments.  So I put the card in my Bible and have read it millions of times.  I had no idea at that time what a journey it was going to be!!

Monday, May 17, 2010

Digging Ditches Part 2

"Thus saith the Lord: Make this valley full of ditches."
2 Kings 3: 16

**Excerpts from Digging Ditches by Helen Roseveare.  For background see my last post.**

The Lord started to re-focus my heart from the ever-deep desire to live on the mountain-tops, to the realization that God's work is mostly done in the valleys.


So the next stage of my life's journey was established on that promise.  That it might not be easy, that there will be heartaches and deep problems on route, I was well aware.  He did not promise me a bed of roses without thorns.  But He did promise me that others would be blessed if I would obey and trust Him.


So I was to learn to go deeper down to "dig ditches" that were often unseen and unrecognized by others, but which God promised to fill with blessing for others.  My first instinct was "Okay, God, I'll dig you a Suez Canal!" but that was not what he asked for!  My Lord wanted just daily small obediences; He wanted me to do whatever needed to be done next without needing to be thanked or recognized, without a pedestal or a halo.


"You dig that ditch daily and I will fill it daily!"


He wants me to dig ditches, hundreds of little, often unconnected, ditches. Preaching, teaching, visiting, sharing, chatting, being available without seeing any special blessing, these were the ditches I dug.


I was not being asked to dig a Suez Canal, just a multitude of small ditches, each one individually important.


The digging might well involve blistered hands and a sore heart.


Was God asking me to live a day at a time, and do each small task as it arose without asking for one long-term goal?  Ditches?  It's not what we trained for!  We have no proper tools!  It's beneath our dignity!  Of course, without the ditches, the water God wanted to send would have been wasted.  The ditches were essential to contain the promised blessing.


And another ditch was dug and another blessing poured out by our gracious God.


And I must keep on digging ditches until my valley is full - without regrets, without looking backwards, (nor to be planning endlessly for tomorrow and the what-might-be of the future) but rather with joy and expectation waiting for the glorious appearing of our great God and Saviour.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Digging Ditches Part 1

I've mentioned in my last post that I have two favorite books.  I talked about Disappointment with God here.  My other favorite book is Digging Ditches by Helen Roseveare.  Dr. Helen Roseveare was a missionary to the Congo from 1953 to 1973.  In 1964 she was taken prisoner by rebel forces and she remained a prisoner for five months, enduring beatings and rapings. She left the Congo and headed back to England after her release but returned to the Congo in 1966 to assist in the rebuilding of the nation. She helped establish a new medical school and hospital (the other hospitals that she built were destroyed) and served there until she left in 1973.  

She wrote Digging Ditches later in life (subtitled: The Latest Chapter of An Inspirational Life) after her earlier "mountain top experiences" as she was trying to figure out what the next "big" thing God had for her.  As a result of an illness of her own, she was asked to take a leave of absence of sorts from full-time missionary work; thus, leaving her in a position to seek God’s will for her life. In her pursuit, she landed on 2 Kings 3:16. God gives us valleys and we are to dig ditches. This book is about those ditches that she must dig, while holding onto His promises to fill them, even if she never sees how.

What hit me about this book is the realization that every life isn't filled with these continual really big moments or accomplishments that receive fame, thanks, or praise.  Millions of Christians live their life day to day digging ditches, trusting that they will be filled with life-giving water.  There was a time when I was always trying to find that big thing that God wanted me to do, this major accomplishment that God created me for.  But what if there's isn't this huge event or moment that He has planned for me?  What if I'm suppose to bring glory to God in all the seemingly mundane things I do on a daily basis?  What if it's about talking to people and sharing life with friends?  What if it's about comforting someone when they hurt?  What if it's about doing my job with a smile because someone walking in the door needs one?  And what if I never see or hear about the results of my obedience?

Monday, April 12, 2010

Misery

C.S. Lewis writes:
Part of every misery is, so to speak, the misery’s shadow or reflection: the fact that you don’t merely suffer but have to keep on thinking about the fact that you suffer. I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief.
I praise the Lord that I am no longer at this point in my life.  But I remember for many years this is how I felt.  Not only did I always think about my pain, but I thought about the fact that I was always in pain.  It was mentally exhausting.  If you are walking the path with someone who is in pain right now, I hope this gives you new insight and little more compassion.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

But It's Not Fair!

Disappointment with God by Philip Yancey is one of my two favorite books. I could read it over and over and over again. And I think the entire book is worth quoting. But this is the part I've been reading lately. It's about fairness. Fairness is very important to me. And I often hear myself saying, "But that's just not fair". For years I cried out to God, "God, you're not being fair. This isn't fair!". These excerpts have meant a lot to me through the years.
I challenge you to go home and read again the story of Jesus. Was life ‘fair’ to him? For me, the cross demolished for all time the basic assumption that life will be fair!


Jesus offered no immunity, no way out of the unfairness, but rather a way through it to the other side.


God will sometimes seem unfair from the perspective of a person trapped in time. Only at the end of time, after we have attained God’s level of viewing, after every evil has been punished or forgiven, every illness healed, and the entire universe restored, only then will fairness reign.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

At All Costs


To be commanded to love God at all costs, let alone in the wilderness, is like being commanded to be well when we are sick, to sing for joy when we are dying of thirst, to run when our legs are broken. But this is the first and great commandment nonetheless. Even in the wilderness – especially in the wilderness – you shall love Him.
- Frederick Buechner from Secrets from the Dark: A Life in Sermons.
In 1997 driving across the Jimmie Davis Bridge on my way to work, I was struck by this.  Not just struck.  I was moved, I was touched.  I was overwhelmed with the understanding of how and why I could have pure joy and love for my heavenly Father when my mother was 12 hours away dying a painful death.  I can't explain it.  I can't put words to it.  But this chapter in Buechner's book comes so close.
It was there, in that wilderness, that for the first time in my life I caught sight of something of what it must be like to love God truly.  It was only a glimpse, but it was like stumbling on fresh water in the desert, like remembering something so huge and extraordinary that my memory had been unable to contain it."  "I did not love God, God knows, because I was some sort of saint or hero.  I did not love Him because I suddenly saw the light (there was almost no light at all) or because I hoped by loving him to persuade him to heal the young woman I loved.  I LOVED HIM BECAUSE I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF.  I loved him because the one who commands us to love is the one who also empowers us to love, as there in the wilderness of that dark and terrible time I was, through no doing of my own, empowered to love him at least a little, at least enough to survive.  And in the midst of it, these small things happened that were as big as heaven and earth because through them a hope beyond hopelessness happened.
There are a few moments in time that I remember so vividly...the sounds, the sights, the smell, the feeling.  This moment on that bridge is one of those for me.

(You should read this whole book or at least all of Chapter 14.)

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Joseph and Hope

Our twins, Joseph and Hope, would have turned 8 years old today if they had made it into this world.

From a book I read on their first birthday:
My baby’s life was not long enough to have any pictures to carry in my billfold, but was long enough to fill my heart with wonderful memories. I was never hurt by my child’s rebellion, was never embarrassed by my child’s actions, and I never had to discipline him. This was my child who brought me only joy all the days of his life. Thank you, God, for that kind of child; it was a gift only you could give.
And from a letter I wrote them:
The amount of joy you brought us in such a short time is amazing. I do not regret loving you as much as I did. And I am so thankful that I did not spend my pregnancy dreading the worse or worrying that something would happen to you. If I had, I would have not been able to feel the joy that I did. I do not regret that you existed because even with the immense pain we felt in losing you, at least we knew and loved you for a while. I hope that you could feel and know our love for you.
Joseph and Hope are experiencing more joy, more contentment, more happiness, and more satisfaction and love than this world could every have given them. My babies will never experience the emotional heartache of suffering, or the physical pain of sickness and injury in this imperfect world. They are enjoying in totality the wonderful presence of God in a very perfect heaven.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Thoughts from a Hike

Today I spent the day hiking to a waterfall, communing with God and remembering Mom…she left us 12 years ago today. As I hiked, a number of thoughts came to mind comparing hiking to life. If I were good at this sort of thing, I could take these thoughts and turn them into something profound about this journey we call life. But I'm not good with metaphors or analogies or illustrations...see, I don't even know what they're called! But I'm going to put my list here and let you make your own connections.
  • If you start out thinking you won’t get wet or muddy, you’re wrong.
  • Sometimes you step on a rock that is very unsteady.
  • Crossing seems to be easier if you go fast…slowing down to contemplate makes your feet slip more.
  • Using a hiking stick to help balance makes all the difference.
  • You keep thinking this would be so much easier with a companion. It’s nice to have someone by your side through the rough waters.
  • A pack on your back can get very heavy. Sometimes you wish you could just throw if off.
  • When you come to a crossing that you can’t figure out, sometimes it helps to sit up on a rock and read and wait for someone else to come along. You watch them cross and if they have difficulty, you wait for someone else. After you’ve watched a few people cross, it’s easier to see the best way.
  • It’s possible to drop something more valuable (camera) while trying to grab something less valuable (water bottle).
  • The first obstacle you encountered seems so small when you return from the rest of the journey.
  • The trek back is so much easier, maybe because you are more confident having made it all the way up.
**The waterfall picture above is one I took today.  It was beautiful!**

Friday, January 22, 2010

Journaling

I often mention that I am not a writer. I often find it difficult to put words together that truly express what I'm feeling. So throughout life I have been drawn to authors and people who can take thoughts, express them in words and convey the feeling.

My Dad is one of those. I've been aware from a young age that Dad could put words together in sermons and prayers that communicate effectively, that others can easily relate to, that "touch" people. I recall that often he would finish praying and I would think "that's exactly what I want to say but couldn't figure out how to say it" or "that's exactly what I'm feeling". I'm so thankful for him and that I get to have him as my Dad!

From a very young age, I began keeping journals, but most often not with my own writings but with scripture, poems, prayers and quotes that touched me, that moved me, that struck a chord deep in my heart. (I have an art project I did as a child from a poem I copied from Highlights Magazine about a teddy bear. And I still have a few pages from notebooks that have sappy adolescent poems from Seventeen Magazine!)  

I'll spare you the teddy bear and sappy poems, but I will often put some other journal entries here . . . 1) because I've been reading and re-reading some of them for many, many years and they continue to mean something to me and 2) because they are usually a good launching point for me to expand on some of my own thoughts.

I hope you'll find some you can relate to also.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Are there really that many?

In the grand scheme of things I live a pretty sheltered life. My circles have always involved friends from work, church, Christian small groups, college friends, a few professional organizations and neighbors. So while my circle of people aren't overwhelmed with the horrific and traumatic aspects of life, they all still have pain. Are there really that many different hurts for these groups of people to which we should be sensitive? I didn't really think so (as shared in the last post) but let's make a list:
(There are a lot of varieties and differences in sensitivities so I'm listing many separately that might often be grouped together.  For example, the way women and men deal with a particular situation can be vastly different.)

Wives going through infertility treatments
Husbands going through infertility treatments
Couples who miscarry
Wives who miscarry
Couples who have a still-born
Wives who have a still-born
Couples who can't have children (all treatments are finished and will not have biological children)
Husbands who can't have children (all treatments are finished and will not have biological children)
Wives who can't have children (all treatments are finished and will not have biological children)
Parents of couples who cannot have children (would-be grandparents)
Single men who want to find a wife and be married
Single women who want to find a man and be married
Couples who have special needs children
Couples who have terminally ill or very sick children
Women who have had an abortion
Men whose partner had an abortion
Men and women whose mother or father died when they were younger
Men and women whose mother of father died when they were older
Men and Women who were abused as a child
Men and women of divorced parents
Men and women whose parents, siblings, or family are not believers
Men whose wife cheated on him
Women whose husband cheated on her
Divorced Men
Divorced Women
Men fired from a job
Women fired from a job
Men who can't find a job
Women who can't find a job
Men with terminally ill parents
Women with terminally ill parents
Men whose father never showed them love
Men whose mother never showed them love
Women whose father never showed them love
Women whose mother never showed them love
Couples waiting through the adoption process
Husbands who abuse drugs or alcohol
Wives who abuse drugs or alcohol
Men and Women who are terminally ill
Men and Women who have chronic physical pain

And that's barely touching the surface! Put yourself in any one of these situations and you can understand how so many people are often hurt by our words, conversations and actions.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

We all have pain...

I remember the moment in time when I realized this. I was having a pity party for myself and thinking how unfair it was that I had to bear this pain and others didn't. Then my husband pointed out to me that everyone has pain. It just doesn't look like my pain. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt as much. I, of course, shot back, "Oh yeah, tell me examples." As he began to go through a list of friends and the pain they each bear, it hit me. Wow! Yep. We all have pain. (It seems so simple now, but at the time, it was quite a light bulb!) You may not know or understand my pain, but you probably have a pain that I can't relate to either.

It was at that moment that I prayed that throughout life that I would be sensitive to the hurt of others, that I would figure out what that pain is and try my best to relate to it and validate their feelings. I recall all the times of sitting in a group and feeling like no one cared that certain topics and conversations were tough. I prayed that I would be the person in the group who might sense the sticky-ness of situations and either change the subject or start up another side conversation to divert attention. I also began to notice other people who would do the same thing, whether intentionally or just because it's part of their personality. I am always drawn to those people and appreciate them and their sensitivity so much. And I'm so thankful for those people that the Lord has put in my path throughout the years who have diverted conversations on my behalf.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

You have to start somewhere...

It's quite overwhelming to start this process and this blog. I have so many thoughts and history swarming in my head. I've written them in various places throughout life . . . another blog, emails, journals, websites, etc.  But I know it will be good to get them out in one place. Maybe not always in a logical order, but I'm fine with that. And maybe it will be a healing process as well. And maybe it will help me figure out where I can go from here. Because I honestly don't know. I do know that despite moments of sadness which I've accepted will always be a part of my life, I'm overall very happy and content where God has me now. I think back to rougher times and am in awe that I am able to write that last sentence. Praise the Lord!