A Lament

Today I'm choosing to remember all that God has done.

But first I will lament. (Humor Me)

Today is the official due date for Ella Grace Thurman.

But there will be no delivery today.

There will be no newborn cries.

No pink and white dress.

No polka dots or balloons announcing her arrival.

I will get no epidural.

I will not push or be prepped for another c-section.

There will be no congratulations.

John Owen will not wear an "I'm the Big Brother" shirt.

There will be no wrinkled pink skin

Or eyes to wonder at their color.

Today will just be---silent.

BUT (And I wish I could proclaim this "but")

I will lament no longer.

Someone said (today actually) that when we obey God, we see Him.

Today I remember the supernatural, large, incredible, indescribable

GRACE OF GOD

I experienced during my pregnancy with my daughter.

Today I rejoice at the greatness of God

At His reality

At His realness

At His mercy

At His truth

At His kindness

At His glory

I received a knowledge of our Creator, of the great Conductor of Life when He first formed

my daughter in my womb, revealed the knowledge of her birth defect and eventually called her back to Himself that I did not have before.

Nor could I have this knowledge without the deep, deep, deep, deep pain of hearing your daughter will die, praying, no begging that she be healed, and then hearing silence as an ultrasound tech listens for a heartbeat.

There are no mountaintops without valleys.

Some valleys are deeper than others.

But there is sweet, sweet knowledge of our Savior to be acquired for those willing to keep their eyes

open to the pain and see the Father through it all.

God does what God does for His glory.

I rejoice that He chooses to use me.

For my daughter, Ella Grace Thurman, September 30, 2010

Counting It All Joy

I follow several pastors on Twitter.

Recently I have read many posts and blogs that mention hurting people.

People with brain tumors. Children with brain tumors. Others with cancer or hurting.

I've wept for them.

I've prayed for them.

I've wanted to call each one of them and say, "I've been to the valley of the shadow of death and I've found His Grace is More than sufficient."

But you know...there are hurting people all around us.

One of my greatest sins is being so caught up in myself and my life and my routine that I miss opportunities to share the burdens of others.

I hope if you're reading this and you're hurting that you see God's grace in my life--even if it's just through my words.

I hope you can also see that NOTHING, and I mean NOTHING else matters except Glorifying Him.

I hope you can know Him--really know Him.

Because He is indescribable.

Choosing to See God First

Today was a BSF day for me (and John Owen).

This is what I came away with (I have to say it was MUCH needed).

The speaker asked us a question: Do we see God first or our struggle first?

That's quite the nugget!

I understood in the moment she asked that questions, that most days I see my struggle, my pain, my sorrow first and then I later look to God.

You see, when I choose to see God first--my Afflictions are Eclipsed by His Glory!

And that is something to be excited about!

Counted Worthy

Oh February... the month of hearts, flowers, candy, and love.

I have to be honest again and say that I've been struggling with my fleshly desire to wallow in my sadness and the need to walk everyday in God's truth and grace.

Because the truth is there is no time to spare on this earth for my self-pity or wallowing.

Here I am with a hope and a future and billions of people all over the world live each day without it. 

Most days this isn't a struggle for me, but as we draw close to February 23rd, my brain keeps reminding me that it will come and go as just a regular day.

There'll be no visit to the hospital, no labor pains, no anticipation or joy of holding her for the first time, no comparing her face to John Owen's.

February 23rd will just be February 23rd. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, "Most men live lives of quiet desperation." 

As I've walked this journey ordained by God, I've often thought of my past and ways in which I may have hurt others with my careless words or my lack of speaking to their pain and sorrow, my ignoring it because it wasn't mine.

In my own desperation, I feel like I'm drowning in the emptiness and ache that is always with me. 

But then the truth of the Gospel sounds clearly and loudly--I have a hope in Christ. This life is merely a journey and one day (hopefully soon) it will be over and my eternity will begin and in my eternity my tears will be wiped away, my emptiness filled completely, my ache removed, my heart healed.

As I walk this journey on earth, there will be days when I'm swallowed by my grief, but I never have to end my days in the depths of despair. I have only to look up and see that He counted me worthy to suffer that He may be glorified in this world.

And that is something to rejoice over.