And there it is again...

Grief. Just when I almost forget about it, there it is again. I've had a number of those experiences recently. Yesterday was another one. I took my monthly day of solitude at the Montage; it's one of my favorite places in the world. Here are some excerpts from my journal yesterday. I only share this with you to keep it real and normalize the journey for those of you who are still struggling with infertility, of which I include myself.

"Something surprised me as I walked to 'my spot' at the Montage this morn - I've faced so much grief and loss in this place the past 2 years. Walking these grounds. Sitting in 'my bench' triggers the pain I've processed here. Every month for nearly 2 years when I came to this sacred space, my soul was bleeding, crushed, wounded, begging for mercy and relief. So much sadness, wondering, and desperation in those last years in my 20s.

"And now - so much fullness and gratitude. There were days sitting on this bench when I didn't know if there would ever come a day when my spirit would feel light and overjoyed again. The darkness was that overwhelming. It is unlike any other pain from my story. My fullness does not mean the pain has evaporated. It's now a dull irritation more than an all-consuming flood. The pain is now moments triggered by something/one versus an ever-present companion.

"The fullness and gratitude define my life not exclusively because of our Ethiopian babies, not because of the external blessings, but because of the radical transformation in my soul. I am changed. The Montage is a reminder to me of that truth. The Montage is a reminder of healing - my wounds, dashed dreams, exploding expectations, and sin redeemed. The Montage is a reminder of redemption - wrongs made right, intimacy reclaimed, identity reconstructed, hope redefined. The Montage has become a beautiful postcard of my healing path.

"I am broken and healed, emptied and full, expectant and grateful."

Although I could not be more excited and fulfilled that we are adopting 2 little ones, there is still that grief that we cannot conceive. Maybe the only part that's still painful for me is the fact that we might not ever have a little Brian & April. There might never be a little person who's a unique expression of our love and commitment to one another. I'd always dreamed about what 1/2 of me and 1/2 of Brian would look like. Maybe it's still a dumb desire after the miracle of adoption, but it still stings.

So, today, if that pain exists still for you or might exist for someone you love, I hope my story gives you a little more insight as to why. Still healing...

Hope Is...

A smattering of really smart, deeply moving, and spiritually profound descriptions on hope (from Dan Allender's The Healing Path). Instead of reading through these quickly, savor them like a fine wine...

• When hope dies, vitality, passion, and creativity are lost.
• Waiting stirs the soul's deep struggle with hope. We think it pleasant to hope, but in fact, nothing is more difficult than to hope. Hope lifts us up and gives us a view of how much ground must still be traveling on our journey. It allows us to see the horizon, usually far beyond our reach.
• God lets us wait - not to punish us, not because he has forgotten us, but because our waiting is the crucible he uses to purify our hope for him.
• Biblical hope leads one to wait with eager patience.
• Hope makes us playful, free, and inventive. Hope is not naive desire but a calculated risk that declares, whatever the loss, it is better than remaining where we are.
• When the storms come, we typically respond to them by raging against the gale or turning away from the loss, resigned and despondent. Most choose the latter option, because once we relinquish desire the loss does not seem so severe. But resignation is always a betrayal, not only of desire but also hope. Hope is the quiet, sometimes incessant call to dream for the future...Hope cannot be killed, not ever, but it can be drugged numb and sleepy...Biblical hope is substantial faith regarding the future. Hope looks at the shattered remnants of the soul hit by the storm and envisions not merely rebuilding, but rebuilding a life that has even more purpose and meaning than existed before the loss.

...and I'm only a little more than half way through the book! I may blog on some of this more later. But today I pray for you and me that when storms of pain head our way that we would choose to rage against the gale and fight for home. And as we fight for hope that we'd become more playful, free, inventive, creative, and passionate people. More of who we were created to by. Knowing more of the one who created us.

Hinds' Feet on High Places

Hinds' Feet on High Places is a great modern-day allegory about the role pain plays in our lives. I choked up today reading it today from Dan Allender's book The Healing Path...

In this parable God calls Much-Afraid to make a journey to the high country with two companions, Suffering and Sorrow, who will help her on her sojourn. Stunned that God would call her to travel with such unattractive friends, she pleads with the Shepherd. 'I can't go with them,' she gasped. 'I can't. I can't. O my shepherd, why do you do this to me? How can I travel in their company? It is more than I can bear. You tell me that the mountain itself is so steep and difficult that I cannot climb it alone. Then why, oh why, must you make Sorrow and Suffering my companions. Couldn't you have given me Joy and Peace to go with me, to strengthen me, and encourage me and help me on this difficult journey. I never thought you would do this to me!"

And so has been my past two years...