Kiss Your Miracle

Lately I’ve become more aware of the things I say, mainly because my words often come back to me out of Sky’s mouth. The other night she was having a bath and I’d just finished washing her hair, one of her most dreaded activities. As she rubbed the water out of her eyes she said, “See Skylar? It’s not so bad!” Yesterday I was trying to make dinner while she fussed and whined and held onto my legs. “Calm down Skylar,” I told her. Suddenly she stopped and said to herself, “Take a deep breath.”

It’s great to watch Sky’s brain at work, taking in new words and trying them out for herself. It’s also a little scary to think about how closely she’s listening to everything we say. She makes me want to be more careful. And she makes me laugh a lot. Grief over my dad’s death has become much more intense lately. I’m not really sure why it’s hitting me so hard now, other than maybe the permanence of death takes time to absorb. I am so grateful for Micah and Sky, the energy they draw out of me, and the laughter they fill our house with every day.

“Don’t allow yourself to live at the mercy of our culture.” I drove home Saturday with Beth Moore’s words in my head. Adam had given me the day “off” and I’d spent it with his mom and sister at our church, one of the host sites for Beth Moore’s simulcast on insecurity.

Beth spent most of the day describing what a godly, secure woman looks like. This woman is free to focus on others because she’s not preoccupied with how she looks, how she’s coming across, or what people might think of her. She’s not easily offended; she understands God’s grace in her own life and she quickly extends that same grace to others. She has a certain peace about her that comes from her identity. When God says she is His dearly loved child (Eph. 5:1), she takes him at His word and lives like it. She doesn’t need others to fill her cup because God has already done it for her.

By the time Beth reached her last point, it almost went without saying. A truly secure woman in our American culture is not typical – she is exceptional. According the Bible, believers are supposed to be different from nonbelievers. God says that we are fearfully and wonderfully made, that His grace is sufficient for whatever hardship we face, and that we are more than conquerors in Christ. If I believe what He says, then why do I so often feel anxious, irritated, and exhausted? I don’t know that there’s a simple answer to that. Each one of us is a unique combination of God-given personality, past experience, and current circumstances. I don’t have the ability to analyze myself accurately. All I know is I have plenty of room to grow and I at least want to be sure I’m moving in the right direction.

Beth pointed out that a secure woman doesn’t get that way on accident. When insecurity creeps in and threatens to overwhelm her, she must intentionally put off her old self and put on her new self. She can’t wait until she feels secure. She needs to renew her mind with scripture first and then act on it, trusting her emotions will line up with her decision to live securely in God’s arms.

As I drove home my mind was on Sky and Micah. I don’t want my children to watch me go to church, read my Bible, and then live just like everyone else in the world. Not after all God has done for me.

“Let the beloved of the Lord rest secure in Him, for He shields him all day long, and the one the Lord loves rests between His shoulders.” – Deuteronomy 33:12

If the book of Job teaches us nothing else, it’s that some stretches of life are harder than others. Sometimes tragedy isn’t just one major event – it’s something big in the middle of a long string of difficulties.

The “something big” in family was my dad’s death on November 3^rd, 2009. But this week my sisters faced another struggle – the decision of what to do about their cat, Val. At thirteen years old, she’d gotten very skinny and sick. The vet diagnosed her with terminal cancer and suggested the cat be put to sleep before she suffered too much pain. After lots of tears and deliberation, my sisters agreed. To the non-animal lovers in the world, an old cat’s death isn’t a big deal. But this cat was part of our family for years, and her terminal cancer diagnosis came just five months after our dad’s battle with terminal cancer.

I don’t particularly consider myself an animal person, but during our infertility, Adam and I decided to get a kitten. We went to the pound and picked out a little orange and white tabby with amber eyes. We named him Kona for the place Adam and I first met. And from day one, Kona loved us. He wasn’t a typical cat who kept to himself. When I’d walk in the door from work every day, he’d come racing around the corner to see me. When I graded papers, he’d climb all over me. He was a faithful little something-for-me-to-love during that too quiet time in my life. I might not have had a baby, but at least my arms weren’t completely empty.

Then Kona disappeared off the back porch. On the day of my Grandma’s funeral. We were also in the middle of an IVF cycle, which we learned a week later hadn’t worked. A few weeks after that my doctor found skin cancer on my face. My Grandma had died, Kona was gone, and despite spending over $10,000 on IVF, I still wasn’t pregnant. Instead of seeing a baby doctor, I found myself making a series of appointments to have the skin cancer removed.

My Grandma’s death and our failed fertility treatments were tragic to me on a large scale. I could sense God challenging me to trust Him through my pain, knowing those events were part of a larger plan I couldn’t see. But Kona’s disappearance seemed different. I wondered how it could possibly have a purpose behind it. And the timing of it seemed cruel.

It’s been almost five years since that difficult summer and I know now that God had two miracle babies planned for me just a little bit later. I’m still not sure why everything happened the way it did – whether God took Kona away for a specific reason or if Satan was trying to kick me while I was down.  But I do know that God wants to bring good things out of every bit of pain we face, and that’s exactly what He did for me, long before I got pregnant. The combination of everything happening at once that summer turned me into a heartbroken mess and I knew I couldn’t handle it all on my own. It led me to finally open up to my family and some trustworthy friends about the infertility, and to humble myself and ask for help, for prayer, and for compassion. It also brought Adam and me much closer together.

More than anything else, I began to sense God’s presence like I never had before. It might sound strange, but I remember sitting on our bedroom floor in tears and suddenly feeling like Jesus was sitting beside me. The Bible says that Jesus was a man of suffering, and familiar with pain (Isaiah 53:3). I was emotionally devastated, but I knew I wasn’t alone, and that no matter what happened to me next, Jesus would still be with me.

I would never want to relive that summer. But those circumstances led me to an intimacy with God that challenges me even now. I often wonder if I’m still that close to God or if I’ve become distracted.

My thoughts are on my sisters today. I hope they sense God’s comfort. And even though they might not understand what He’s doing right now or even years down the road, I hope they can someday say He brought good things out of this dark time in their lives.

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.” – Isaiah 43:1b-2a

Ever since my father’s cancer and death in November 2009, I’ve wanted to move from Florida to Michigan to live near my family. Adam and I have been in Florida for almost seven years now and we’ve loved it, mainly because his family is all here and they are wonderful people. But we only get to see my family a few times a year, and especially now that my dad is gone, that doesn’t seem like enough.

We’ve talked about moving many times, but we own a home here and Adam has a good job working in his father’s business. Florida’s been hit especially hard by the recession and it’s a horrible time to put a house on the market. Michigan’s also one of the only states with higher unemployment than Florida. Logic says moving now would make no sense.

Then last week Adam came home from a small group meeting he’d had with several other businessmen-friends. He looked at me very seriously and said, “If you want to move to Michigan now, even though I don’t have a job lined up and we haven’t sold our house, I’m willing to go.” I sat there for a minute. I do want that. But whenever I’ve prayed about it, I only feel uneasy, like God is quietly telling us to stay put and wait for His timing.

When I expressed that to Adam he said, “Well then, we should plan a visit north for you and the kids. If you want to go every other month, you can.” When I mentioned our budget, which doesn’t have room for loads of travel expenses, he said, “I don’t want you to worry about that. You lost your dad this year and you’ve lived far from your family for a long time now. I don’t know what that feels like. I want you to have time with them, even if we don’t live there.” It was hard for me to talk through the tears rolling down my face. But I managed to say to thank you. And in that moment, a bit of the sadness that’s been pulling my head down the past few months lifted.

The next day an AC repair man visited our house and left us with a large bill – much higher than several round-trip tickets to Michigan would cost. Then the AC went out in my car. Air conditioning might be a luxury where you live, but in Florida it’s not. A house without it will have warped cabinets and woodwork from the humidity, not to mention sweaty, grumpy home owners.

What do those two unexpected bills mean for my plans to go north? Nothing. Adam and I believe in living debt-free when possible, so we wouldn’t be comfortable traveling on credit cards. We also want to be wise and keep an emergency fund in the bank. But there is a fine line between saving out of wisdom and saving out of fear. I know God wants us to be smart and use common sense when it comes to money. But there is also a time to make plans in faith, knowing God will provide the money for what He’s leading you to do.

The Bible tells us that everything in this world will pass away except faith, hope, and love. So like Pastor Colin Smith says, I want to focus my life on the things that will remain. I can’t imagine getting to heaven with regret over how much money we spent to be with family if love was our motive to go. I’m grateful my husband feels the same way and that he’s willing to sacrifice for it to happen.

“Three things will last forever—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love.” – 1 Corinthians 13:13

It’s one thing to talk about my problems once they’ve been resolved. Writing about my experience with infertility isn’t usually difficult because it’s over now. But sharing about something I’m still dealing with is a lot harder. After I wrote a bit last week about feeling down (Blue), I sat at my computer for a while, debating – do I really want to put this on my blog for anyone to read? Eventually I decided not to overthink it and posted it.

I’m not sorry I did. I’ve always known that God has blessed me with sweet, generous friends and family, and all the comments and messages were encouraging (I promise I didn’t start a blog just so you all could build me up when I’m feeling down, but thanks for doing it so much!). No one called me a complainer or told me to “just” do this or that and everything would be wonderful again. But even before I looked at the comments, immediately after I put up the post, my mood lifted. Things didn’t seem as overwhelming as they had an hour earlier.

It’s interesting how God specifically places power inside weakness. I don’t like being vulnerable, but when God is pressing on me, leading me to open up about something, it always works out best when I do it.

“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” – 2 Corinthians 12:9