I signed up for grief art. I don’t usually do that: sign up for things I have never done with people I have never met.
But something (or someone) compelled me. The Hospice group that provided care for my mom in her last two days life offered me bereavement services. I received mailings from them: a lovely brochure, sweet looking grief counselors, and a myriad of different opportunities. I was drawn to the grief art. I hadn’t done art in so long, and I love to be creative. I would also receive a free flower pot and rosemary plant. Sign me up! But I hesitated and thought the business of life would brush the opportunity under the rug where it would be forgotten. Then I wouldn’t have to put myself out there.
Months went by and I couldn’t get the grief art out of my mind. I really thought I was supposed to be there. So I called and signed up myself and my neighbor who had recently lost her dad. The only problem was my neighbor didn’t know anything about the grief art…yet.
A couple weeks was all I had to devise a plan. Get a card. Find a gift. Search for appropriate wrappings. Drop a sympathy gift and card (asking her to come with me to grief art) on my neighbor’s front step.
She enthusiastically and immediately agreed to go. I was so surprised!
Greif art, here we come!
We arrived on the day of the event to find a large room with quite a few people already gathered. There were flower pots, all kinds of markers and paints plus everything you could think of to glue on your pot at the many “gluing stations”.
An artists dream!
Then the food started to arrive. Carts and carts of food! Oh yeah, lunch was included. I could hardly eat anything for the excitement I felt at being creative again.
My mom was on a mission at the end of her life, to complete as many adult coloring pages she could and give them away to bless others. Her colorings became more and more bold with brighter and deeper colors. I thought of the amazing pictures of hot air balloons that she had colored and passed out to different family members. I wanted to recreate that on my pot.
We were supposed to design our pots to give honor to our loved one. When you have art to concentrate on, conversation flows easily. I had lovely conversations with my neighbor and the lady who sat beside me. I asked one of the older gentlemen who his pot was for and he replied, “My wife.”
“What is her name?” I asked.
“Connie,” he said the with such love. He could say no more for the raw grief and tears that came with just uttering that precious name. I was arrested by tears and couldn’t say anything either. What could I say? But I looked at him with the compassion of God and nodded my head. I hope he received the message that I could not speak out loud.
“I see you. I have sympathy for you. I understand your grief, at least an infinitesimal part of your grief, and I applaud you for coming here today.”
I worked the entire time until the sweet grief counselors seemed ready to leave. All that time and I didn’t create a masterpiece. But I was happy with what I ended up with. Similar to my mom’s coloring but softer and lighter (like me). It makes me happy to look at it, and it reminds me of my mom.
I set it up on my kitchen window sill, along with the sunflower jar that used to nurture the tiny yellow flowers that brought my mom such joy. It was the only kind of plant that I could buy for my mom that wouldn’t die. The sunflower seeds would sprout and grow in water and wouldn’t shrivel up in the 80 degree habitat mom lived in. A Mother’s Day gift for mom last year.
Today is mother’s day. I received a rose at church this morning. A brilliant rose of yellow whose petals looked like they were dipped in crimson. I got it home and knew I had the perfect vase for it. It was a vase of my mom’s that I have totally forgotten about. This week I was able to attend the funeral of my best friend’s mother-in-law. My best friend has been with me since first grade and she knew my mom better that most. With all that she had to do, she remembered to bring the vase to give to me at the funeral. She explained that this vase had been sitting in her mother-in-law’s window sill for many years. My mom had stopped by her home long ago to bring her flowers in this fiery vase. Now it was in my possession.
It was as though I had received a gift from my mom from beyond the grave.
I have the hope that my mom is living in indescribable joy right now!
I know that Jesus is taking care of her body, soul, and spirit.
I have to remind myself that I don’t have to carry the burden of being her firstborn and her power of attorney anymore. I am free to enjoy my Mother’s day with my children without worrying if I am visiting my mom enough and getting her a gift that is sufficiently meaningful.
Yet here I am, on Mother’s Day, thinking about her and writing a blog about her: about the everyday joys of bright colors and art that make her present in my ordinary, worn, dirty, and precious kitchen.
“If we could figure out a way to get you here to Hawaii, could you come for a week?”
This text came to Chris and I in early January. It was our lifelong friend Jesse. He and his family are missionaries with YWAM in Kona, Hawaii.
We didn’t know what to say to such a generous and preposterous offer! Chris and I, parents to 6 children still at home, couldn’t go to Hawaii! Chris had been out of work for months and was searching for a new job every day. I oversaw homeschooling 5 children and provided care for my toddler and special needs adult.
A few days passed and I felt faith rising.
My God is God of the impossible!
I didn’t want to close the door on a miracle. I asked our 23-year-old son, Cadin, if he had a spring break from college coming up. He did! In less than two months! He said he would sleep at our house and watch over the children. He still had to work his job in the evenings, but our oldest daughter, Areli, said she would cover those hours. Even Ashlyn’s occasional caregiver was willing to work more.
We began planning! If God was going to give us a trip to Hawaii, He must have provision for our daily needs. He must have a new job for Chris that would approve a week of vacation right off the bat! God did! God did!
I was expecting this trip to be full of fun, rest, and restoration after our difficult season. My mom passed away on Christmas day after 4 excruciating months of decline and difficulties. Chris’ younger brother passed away unexpectedly just 10 days later. Our bank accounts got hacked and caused us all sorts of problems. I had the duties of the executor of my mom’s estate to perform while every person, organization, and government agency seemed determined to resist me. Our upcoming trip to Hawaii was a beacon of Hope!
God got us there! While picking up our luggage at the open-air baggage claim, Kay welcomed us with leis and ushered us to their vehicle. It was dark, but the air was warm and humid. Jesse drove us to their home (Pineapple Place) and we saw a large, beautiful home in a gated mountain community. We were shown to the ohana, or guest apartment.
I was amazed by how big and lovely it was. I was expecting a bedroom in their house, not a private apartment! They left us with food to eat and a gift basket. We unpacked and got ready for bed with a feeling of family, friendship, and space to rest.
Six days of Adventure, Rest, and God Encounters!
Day 1: YWAM Kona and Tourist attractions
We woke up with the sunrise to revel in our new tropical paradise.
Jesse gave us a tour of the YWAM base. I had been a YWAMer myself and had heard the miracle stories. It was a privilege to see it in person.
Then we all drove down to historic Kona to see the sights the tourists would see.
Jesse and Kay told us about Hulihe’e Palace which was a summer palace for Hawaiian royalty and Mokuaikaua Church which was the first church on the island. It was built by the first missionaries with the king’s blessing since he had embraced Christianity. We walked through the King Kamehameha Kona Beach Hotel which contained the amazing art of Herb Kane, a painter of Hawaiian history. Jesse pointed out one painting that depicted the queen standing at the active volcano and rebuking the goddess Pele in the name of Jesus. As the queen read the Bible and nothing bad happened to her, a generation was delivered from fear of the angry “goddess” who would destroy with lava.
The hotel contained their favorite place to get shave ice and we tried something new! We walked out the back of the hotel to see the beach at Kailua Bay and the Historic Kailua Village across from it.
Their youngest daughter, Evie, had hula practice, and then we ate lasagna out on the lanai with a spectacular view of the jungle and the ocean beyond, which seemed to dissolve into the sky.
Day 2: YWAM, a Resort Beach, and a Double Date
We went to the Kona base again and Evie took us on a tour of the YWAM Sustainable Technology Research farm. It was amazing, full of new and old farming methods. They has so many plants and animals, hydroponics growing enough lettuce to supply the base salad bar, and a herd of sheep that roamed the sixty acres of undeveloped land. The sheep are also an excellent food source in a crisis; expert Evie informed us.
We ate lunch on base and then visited The Banyan Tree Cafe. Then we drove 45 minutes to a resort beach. It was so amazing and the weather was perfect. We sat in the shade and tried spam musubi for the first time.
In the evening we went on a double date to Kai restaurant which was situated right on the ocean.
Jesse insisted that we go to the historic Kona Inn for a spectacular mud pie.
Such a blessing to talk with good friends! Jesse and Kay had enjoyed their time in Hawaii and reflected that it had been so beneficial for their girls. They lived in tiny dorm rooms on base for 3 years and were constantly reminded that they had to find a home off base. The real estate is crazy expensive in Hawaii, and they couldn’t find anything that they could afford. A normal house and yard for a family of four cost millions! They kept praying and believing that God had a plan. We had been joining them in prayer for years for the perfect house because…
Our God is the God of the impossible!
Finally, over a year ago, someone contacted Jesse and Kay about a rental house that had been managed by a YWAM couple. The couple would rent out the extra rooms and apartment to other YWAMers. This couple was moving and wondered if Jesse and Kay would like to take over their rental home. The miracle of Pineapple Place began! Jesse and Kay had been in the beautiful home for a year and loved that they finally had space of their own, a yard with a pool, and an attached apartment. They could charge a lot of rent for the apartment, but they wanted to keep it available for visitors like us and missionaries suffering from burn-out or trauma. Jesse and Kay had both been trained in the Le Rucher style of personal debrief. They themselves went through a debrief in Cyprus some years back after 20 years on the mission field. It helped them heal and led them to take a 1 year sabbatical which led them to YWAM Kona. During our visit, we witnessed how Jesse and Kay are parents grounded in wisdom, shepherding the youthful missionaries all around them.
Day 3: Lazy day and a Movie
Chris and I had gotten in the habit of standing in the yard in our bare feet at sunrise. Then we would put on our sneakers a take a walk down the neighborhood lane which we called “the jungle walk”.
We took the day slowly, reading books and talking. We got to talk with our friends about hardships, prayers and miracle answers. Jesse talked more about their difficult time in the Middle East which led to their need to debrief. Later he sent Chris and I a text with a scripture.
“The foundations of the city walls were decorated with every kind of precious stone. The first foundation was jasper, the second sapphire, the third agate, the fourth emerald, the fifth onyx, the sixth ruby, the seventh chrysolite, the eighth beryl, the ninth topaz, the tenth turquoise, the eleventh jacinth, and the twelfth amethyst.” Rev 21:19-20
We forgot to ask what that was about.
Kay made us a lovely meal of grilled chicken and roasted veggies and we ate on the lanai. Jesse, who adores movies in the theater, insisted that we go. GOAT was recommended by their daughter, Jaydn, who is very talented in all things media and movie related. I totally enjoyed it!
Day 4: Jesse’s Famous Five Star Island Tour
We started out early with a caravan of two vehicles since two of the renters at Pineapple Place wanted to go.
First stop: Kona Joe Coffee, a large plantation with a stunning view.
Second stop: Pleasant Meadow Farm, where they are famous for their specialty macadamia nuts, dehydrated 3 times. They give free samples, so we lined up to receive an explanation and a taste of 15 different flavors. Of course we had to bring some home to the children.
Third stop: a scenic overlook of the coast.
Fourth stop: Punalu’u Bake Shop, “The Southernmost bakery in the USA.” Their specialty is malasadas (Portuguese doughnuts) and little, cute souvenirs which may or may not have been made in Hawaii.
God Encounter #1
The time between stops allowed for some life-giving conversations. Jesse explained why he had sent the scripture about the jewels. He had been praying for us and asked God why we had to suffer so many hardships in our lives.
God told him, “Because I wanted to give them treasures. Every trial produced a jewel for them.”
Jesse was starting to tear up and explained, “I just felt so strongly that God has such a reward for you, that in heaven I will be jealous of all the jewels you will have to lay at the feet of Jesus.”
His words and emotions touched us deeply, and I marveled! How could a man who had given his life on the mission field think that our little, difficult lives could produce such glory? It must have been God! I felt like I had gotten a peak behind the veil of this life. The fact that we have a friend who would pray for us like that is a priceless gift!!
Fifth stop: Black Sand Beach complete with sea turtles. We enjoyed a lovely picnic!
Sixth stop: Hawaii Volcanoes National Park
My understanding is that the large volcano is called Kilauea but it has a crater that fountains lava every 15 days or so. It was supposed to erupt when we visited but waited until we were back home to put on a show.
We drove to the Volcano House where many famous people had stayed like Teddy Rossevelt and Robert Louis Stevenson. Such a lovely view of the volcano!
We drove to another location and walked a path to look down into a cold crater that was open for hiking. Then we hiked through a lava tube.
Seventh stop: Ken’s Pancake House, a local diner famous for Sumo meals. Each time one of the massive $30 meals came out of the kitchen, an employee would ring a bell 3 times and every server would yell, “Sumo!” followed by a gong. That sounded like fun so a few of us got Sumo meals and shared.
Day 5: Tide Pools and a City of Refuge
God Encounter #2
Chris had been reading scriptures and passages from his devotional to me almost every morning. I told him that I loved it!
This morning he read Prov 31 to me. It hit me in a new way, and I felt the Holy Spirit talking to me. I had disqualified myself from about half the chapter because I didn’t have maid servants to provide food for, or money of my own to consider a field and buy it, nor did I recognize any of my work as profitable.
“Let’s change that. Open your mind and believe,”
I heard the still small voice whisper. So I wrote each virtue of the noble woman in my journal but replaced “she” with “I”.
Kay packed us a lunch and we all took a picnic to a lava rock beach with tide pools. It was fascinating to discover all the creatures that lived there.
Then Kay drove us over to the Pu’uhonua o Honaunau National Historical Park to walk through an old Hawaiian village that had been a city of Refuge and a burial place. She shared her knowledge as we observed the Totems and Yellow Tangs swimming close to shore.
Chris and I had a date night of dinner on the water and souvenir shopping.
Day 6: The Gentle Beach and God’s voice in the waves
Jesse took us to his favorite beach, Kua Bay Beach. It was beyond gorgeous with gentle water and soft sand. The lava rocks you have to climb over to get to the gentle beach are NOT fun in bare feet, however. Chris and I explored the coast and saw a sea turtle riding inside of a wave, encapsulated in crystal aqua marine.
Jesse and Chris decided to go swimming, and I thought I would just take time to listen to God’s voice.
God Encounter #3
I was dipping my toes in the ocean and heard God’s voice in the waves. Refreshing, cleansing, and life changing words. But this is a story for another time.
After dinner that evening Jesse and Kay drove us to the airport, and I felt a bit heartbroken to say goodbye.
I had rested and had fun with best friends.
I had encountered God. I had seen behind the veil. I had a “deep calling to deep” conversation with Jesus.
I had renewed hope for the future and an assurance that…
Our God is the God of the Impossible.
Since we have been home, we have become aware that Jesse and Kay need to raise more support to keep their ohana open to minister to people in need. We had been blessed beyond words, and we didn’t even go through the 4-5 day Le Rucher style personal debrief. I believe this type of debrief allowed Jesse and Kay to heal. They now bring that healing to others. They have such a gift of family, hospitality, wisdom, and connection to the Holy Spirit. They recently hosted a missionary couple who were kicked out of their country after 18 years of service.
They host many people at Pineapple Place, and their guest book is full of gratitude and love. Here is a quote from this year,
“Mere words cannot express our deep, great gratitude for inviting us & investing in us & listening to us & and providing for us. Yet words, your words were used to start our healing. Showing us that the Lord Jesus can be trusted – that he loves us and loves justice. We are so grateful, hopeful, and beginning to believe we do have a hope and a future; that our losses -though significant- do not define us. Our identity is in Christ – He knows us and He heals us and He really loves us. Thanks for showing us the truth.”
The extra $1400 they need to raise in monthly support seems huge, but we know…
Our God is the God of the impossible!
Do you want to be a part of the impossible becoming possible?
Use this link to find out how to give. Thank you! Mahalo!
During the Encounter weekend, I heard the Holy Spirit more clearly than usual, tying together all He had said before and bringing it into focus so I could understand more completely.
The first issue He addressed was my writing. I haven’t had the time or energy for it in the past few years. Many ideas would press in yet getting them out through my fingertips into a computer seemed impossible. I had only written one article for my blog in the past year. Would I ever write another article again? I doubted the power of my testimonies and if God could do any good through them. I even began to fear putting my family at risk by keeping our stories and photos on a public platform. When the annual bill came from WordPress for my website, I thought it would be wisdom to wipe my blog clean, delete it, and be done with it.
I was praying for wisdom while doubting that I could hear God’s voice clearly.
I did hear Him say, “You can at least believe all the things that I have told you in the past.” He reminded me of my journals full of His words, scriptures, and promises. He reminded me of the two prophecies I had received in the past year at church.
The first was from Vinny during the baby dedication prayer. He told me, “You have a book in you.” I thanked him but just thought to myself, “How nice. We will see if that is true.”
The second was from a woman I didn’t even know at the Women’s event in December. She gave a word to my close friend which seemed very accurate. Then she turned to me and said, “You are a teacher, and you have great wisdom. You are going to write books and books and people will come to you and say, ‘I read your book, and I was inspired.’ ”
Sitting in the Women’s Encounter on Friday night, I was praying, “Holy Spirit come! Come more than you ever have before. Let me hear your voice more clearly and understand your direction for each day.”
He began to gently show me how He had come, but I had consistently pushed Him away. Every time I dismissed encouragement from other people about me, my life, and my writing; I had dismissed Him. I had made a habit of dismissing His words when I thought I was being “humble” or “realistic.” I began to repent.
I was not sure how to start writing again, and then I saw the email with a link to submit a testimony! I don’t want to rehash my own dysfunctional thoughts or bad decisions anymore. I am tired of myself, tired of writing about myself. I want to grieve, breath, and heal in my own hidden place rather than write my stories to share with the world.
God said, “That is shame talking. That is not me.”
I repented for finding the voice of the stranger and the voice of the accuser easier to believe than the voice of my Good Father.
“Where the enemy sought to empty you for your shame, I am filling you for your glory. I will shame the enemy.” A quote from the weekend addressed this shame.
There were many things that Haley said that named my struggle. My notes from Saturday read like this, “Love is not guilt. Don’t love because of guilt or out of guilt. When I live in guilt and shame, I divide myself. I need to obey the LORD whole heartedly. I need to be where He has told me to be and not feel guilty for where I am not. The will of God is not easy. I don’t have to hold my family together. Trust God.”
God began to show me many things. The heavy burden I have been carrying is called, “grief” and “guilt.” For years I have been practicing small moments of grief as I encountered sad situations that I felt powerless to change. Examples would be: watching Ashlyn crawl in a way that harmed her joints because she couldn’t walk, caring for a sick child whose pain I could not take away, watching another child believe what YouTube said about a subject more than he believed God, nursing my baby as much as I could yet seeing him remain skinny and hungry.
God told me, “I don’t want you to grieve, I want you to praise me because you know that I am bigger than the situation.”
I really tried to do this. Charles spoke on Sunday mornings about strongholds, “A mindset impregnated with hopelessness from which we accept as unchangeable situations that we know are contrary to the will of God.”
He was talking right to me. I tried to rise above the circumstances, to see as God sees. But I failed and continued to live with small episodes of grief each day. Every time a child would come to me with a request that I couldn’t fulfill, “I am sorry,” would come out of my mouth. Each time I made supper late or not at all, “I’m sorry.” Each time a guest came over and saw that state of my house, “I’m sorry.” Each time I arrived somewhere late or never showed up, “I’m sorry.”
During the women’s encounter I heard God say, “I don’t want you to say, ‘I am sorry’ anymore. You don’t have to please anyone but me.”
Of course God wants me to ask forgiveness when I have sinned or wronged someone. He just didn’t want me to carry sorrow for every time I couldn’t fix the situation like ONLY GOD COULD.
I have been giving every bit of guilt and shame to Jesus, over and over again. I have been giving my sorrow to Jesus, over and over again. I still say, “I am sorry” quite a few times each day out of habit. Every time I say it, I realize that I am still grieving over something. I also make the other person sorry and more prone to self-pity.
I am practicing other things that I could say.
“You can’t get a shower this morning because the bathroom has been occupied for the last two hours? Great! This will make you stronger!”
“You can’t read the book that you want because your brother is reading it. You are learning patience!”
“You don’t like the dinner I made tonight? How wonderful, there will be more for the rest of us!
“You think we are weird parents because we have weird rules that no other parents have? You will thank us someday!”
I know, I still need a lot of practice. Just writing those sentiments out made me realize that they are not quite right. (Another reason for me to start writing my stories down. It forces me to take the thoughts floating around in my head and put them in a logical order. It forces me to look back into my journal, the Bible, and the recordings so I can remember the details I had forgotten. It helps me to process and take steps forward!)
My alternatives for, “I’m sorry,” lack a certain compassion and encouragement. As God told Haley, “You may have to get it a little bit wrong to get it righter.”
One night Aria, my six-year-old, came to me with a very long story about why BOTH her knees were hurting and why she was so sad that they were STILL hurting. I started formulating one of my typical responses when I was under pressure to get supper ready and felt powerless to help her hurt knees. But instead of saying, “I am sorry your knees are hurting. There is nothing I can do about it. Just sit on the sofa and rest,” I felt the Holy Spirit in me pull her aside to the sofa. I snuggled with her and words started coming that I had not premeditated.
“You know, Aria, that God is healing you. He gave you the most wonderful knees. You have ‘wonderfully well and blessed and highly favored of the Lord’ knees. He meant for your knees to last your entire life. You are young and you will heal quickly. God, thank you for Aria’s knees and that you are healing them. She will be running and jumping and dancing in no time.”
Aria started to smile. We both felt encouraged rather than sorry. She gave me a hug and said, “You are the best mom ever.”
Wow! So much better than, “I’m sorry.”
I am trusting the Holy Spirit to lead me and fill my mouth as I break up with grief and sorrow! It is not up to me to fix every problem and meet every need. I will trust Him to do it.
I haven’t written very much in the past 3 years. I haven’t posted anything on my blog since 2023. I have so much inside, and it is time to get it out. I fear exposure and being too vulnerable, but I also know my story is not just my own. I know there are others out there who have lived through a hard, hard season and may be haunted by the trauma left behind.
I want to tell my story of God’s goodness in it all!
The year 2023 started with many God encounters. I experienced the love of God as my father and my mother in deeper ways than I had before. Jesus started opening my heart to His romantic advances. I had knowledge of this divine romance, but had little experience with it. Jesus was wooing me! Waves and waves of His love would roll over me culminating at the Women’s Encounter in March (called Waves) when I discovered that I was pregnant at 47 with baby 11. I was so thrilled! Intimacy produces good fruit, doesn’t it?
I had so much faith for this season. I prayed that God would redeem all trauma from my 10th pregnancy and birth. I prayed for supernatural healing and for the best pregnancy and birth yet! I heard through a couple sources a word from God, “I will give you all that you have asked for (1 Kings 5:8).”
I asked for a homebirth that would redeem the nightmare homebirth turned ambulance ride from 5 years ago. But the health care professionals I reached out to labeled me “high risk.” God worked a miracle! I friend introduced me to a “Crunchy Mama” Facebook page which introduced me to a “Homebirth” page which introduced me to a midwife who was currently pregnant with her 10th, in her 40s, and had successfully delivered many women like me at home.
I struggled to get through the first trimester, but that is always the case for me. I was looking forward to the second trimester and taking the family vacation we had already planned for June. That beautiful, glorious vacation at a house along the Loyalsock Creek began my descent into despair. I had been hoping to be full of energy for every family outing, but I had to push myself to do anything. I still was nauseous from the first trimester, but the aches and pains plus varicose veins from the third trimester were already upon me. I had picked out the cutest outfit to wear on a date with Chris, but alas, I was already too big to wear it! Feeling old, big, and ugly; I still looked for a God encounter.
God speaks to me on every vacation we take, and this year we had revisited the area where I had first spotted an eagle. I had purchased a photo of the eagle at the Hills Grove General Store right before I walked outside and saw the eagle in person! That was six years ago, and what a wonderful adventure it has been, learning to soar with God above the earth. I tell all about it in previous blog post , and part 2
We planned a trip to the same store which is now called the McCarthy Mercantile. It looked much the same, but no eagles inside or outside! That was on Tuesday. On Wednesday I was talking to God about seeing an eagle again. It had been such a long time since I had seen one. We were leaving Saturday morning, and I didn’t want my God encounter to slip away. I was standing by an open window, listening to the rushing water of the creek outside. What a calming sound.
“This time it isn’t about the eagle. It is about the water,” I heard God say.
Oh, it was so good to hear His voice! But what did He mean? I loved the symbol of the eagle dearly and missed it. I pictured the waterfall that Much-Afraid beheld in Hinds Feet on High Places. The water was joyfully leaping down the mountain, to be broken on the rocks and to flow ever lower until it met with the expanse of the ocean.
“Am I supposed to be like that? To go lower and lower and to pour myself out like a drink offering? To not care if I live or die. To be happy about sorrow and suffering?”
This thought was not nearly as thrilling as soaring like an eagle. Even though I knew that God is always good and loving, I felt discouraged.
“This isn’t what I wanted, what I was hoping for,” I whispered to Him. If He offered me comfort, I did not hear it.
As the second trimester was nearing the third, I couldn’t resolve my severe anemia, and I blamed it for all my weird symptoms like shortness of breath, extreme fatigue, and an unsteadiness that hindered me from walking in a straight line. I was supposed to be out walking, but I felt like I couldn’t walk! I was supposed to be doing exercises, but I felt like I could hardly move. I finally received an iron infusion and prayed that it would work since my midwife had been threatening to transfer my care to Divine Mercy Hospital.
It worked, at least my bloodwork said it did. But I felt no different. I wondered how I was going to get through my third trimester with this feeling and my core muscles already threatening to give out on me completely. Despite God’s love for me, one thought kept returning.
“If God loves me so much, why would He want me to suffer?”
In September I had a dream that felt very spiritual. In my dream, I was on vacation in the mountains at a Christian Retreat Center. I was sleeping so much that I hadn’t even seen the mountains. I saw two of my other friends heading out for a hike, and I didn’t want them to think that I couldn’t handle my pregnancy, so I rushed to follow them. My five-year-old daughter Aria joined me.
When we stepped out to take a walk, we found ourselves viewing a cityscape like New York City. We were in a high rise with floor to ceiling glass and the view was amazing! I saw some very large birds flying among the skyscrapers and stepped closer to the glass. Could they be eagles?
One bird started flying straight for me and in excitement I thought, “This could be my God Encounter!”
The eagle flew right up to the glass and hovered there. It was much larger than I had first thought. Horror filled my heart as I saw what the eagle really was. It was covered with fluffy white feathers, and one wing had been mangled. The bloody twisted bones protruded where the feathers had been stripped. But it’s face! Not the face of an eagle but the face of a man. A man with chalky white skin and pink and red makeup drawn haphazardly around the eyes, like a clown you would see in a horror movie. Oh, how I wished that Aria wasn’t with me to witness this dreadful sight.
I saw the expression on the ghastly face. It was smiling at me. No, smirking at me. It knew something I didn’t know and was wickedly happy about it.
Mocking me as though it was saying, “So you have trusted God? I am going to enjoy picking you apart bit by bit.”
I woke up with a start and didn’t know what to think. The next few days the face of that eagle would flash through my mind and each time my trauma response increased. Finally, I sought God and asked Him to explain it to me.
He answered in His gentle way, “That is how you are seeing me right now. You feel sorry for yourself because you feel mistreated by me. You wonder if I am good and you wonder if I love you. Take that belief system to the ultimate end and you get a God who delights in torturing you. That is not who I am.”
I felt ashamed! Yet unable to get out from under it. Finally, I told Chris about the dream and how I felt about God telling me that it is not about the eagle this time but the water. He helped to bring me out of my hormonal haze and show me reality. He saw the water as a very positive thing. He sent me a video of water flowing over a dam so I could hear the sound whenever I needed it. When I listened to it, I heard, “Nothing bad has happened.” I was fearing and worrying over many things, but none of them had manifested…except my sorrow and suffering. How to bear up under it?
Pastor Charles had been doing a series on Strongholds, and I realized that I had one: a mindset impregnated with hopelessness about situations contrary to God’s will that I had accepted as unchangeable. I was sitting in church listening, but pain in my back and neck wouldn’t allow me to stay any longer. I had to get up and go to the bathroom. A dear friend and prayer counselor, Lori, was in the ladies’ room, and she asked me how I was doing. I probably mustered a “pretty good” or “ok”, but actually I was in the depths of despair. Lori looked me in the eyes and said, “Are you depressed?” I don’t think I have ever answered “yes” to the question before, but I did this time.
She whisked me off to her prayer room and, oh the tears and wonderful words of God that were released there. It was a lifeline to keep me going.
I texted Chris, who was still in the service, about where I was. He forgot to check his phone, so after the service, he had many of the women scouring every nook and cranny of the church to find me. He was worried enough to organize a search party, and I felt so loved!
The rest of my pregnancy became about trusting moment by moment, getting as comfortable as I could, and sleeping. I was able to sleep 14 hours a day and still felt exhausted, but how glorious was the sleep! I began to visualize how I wanted my labor to go. The bulk of the contracting and dilating would happen while I slept. I would wake up to discover that my baby had dropped into position. He would slide out easily. I wouldn’t be pregnant anymore! I could eat whatever I wanted! I could sit and nurse to my heart’s content! I could meet this mysterious little man who flipped and twisted and laid himself out diagonally inside me.
At 38 weeks I received a phone call from my midwife. She explained that my bloodwork came back with some very bad numbers, and she was worried that I had a condition I had never heard of before (some rare form of preeclampsia). She used a lot of words, but I understood almost none of them. She wanted me to pack a bag and go to Divine Mercy to be induced immediately! I wanted to collapse in bed and wail, but I had visitors sent by Ashlyn’s case worker to set up care for her. I got through the meeting and received another call from the midwife.
“I called Divine Mercy. They told me that your bloodwork isn’t as bad as I thought. I can monitor you until you deliver, and if your blood pressure doesn’t go up and your bloodwork doesn’t get worse, you should be fine. But you must take your blood pressure twice a day, eat protein every hour, and double your water intake,” she said.
Now I had many more hoops to jump through to secure my homebirth but…phew! I was incredibly relieved!!
This baby was going to come early…any day now, I just knew it. He was so heavy and so low, he just had to be ready. My midwife had explained that mothers of many babies tend to go late because their bellies have been overextended and the baby isn’t in line with the birth canal. I faithfully taped up my belly as far as I could manage with kinesiology tape and tried not to bother with how itchy it was. Everyday I went to bed with the expectation, “This could be the night.” Every morning, I woke up pregnant. I experienced contractions while I slept. Just mild ones that wouldn’t wake me up but would be in my dreams. Finally at almost 40 weeks, I stopped thinking that baby Camden would come early and just said to myself, “I made it through this day, I can make it through another,” and would fall asleep in peace. Now I was getting stronger contractions at night that would wake me up, but I was able to go back to sleep.
Finally on Dec 4th, only 3 days overdue, the glorious morning came when the contractions didn’t stop. I experienced a redeeming home birth that played out much like I prayed that it would. Except that it wasn’t easy or pain free. It was the most painful of the 11.
And there was a little trouble afterwards with a sudden flow of blood that convinced the midwife and my husband that I was minutes away from dying.
This prompted a 911 call and a flurry of activity that changed the entire atmosphere: from relaxed and comfortable bliss to frantic and jarring fear. Thankfully, I quickly stabilized, and the ambulance was canceled. Chris said it was the prayer team he had assembled in a matter of seconds. The midwife said it was Camden who saved me as he nursed and looked at me with wide eyes. I said I was never going to die and felt just fine (until I tried to stand and walk).
Overall, it was a beautiful, fast homebirth to a robust and healthy boy! I was so thankful!
There was the small detail of a strange man pushing his way into my bedroom to ask me questions while I nursed my baby, still laying naked on my bed. The ambulance hadn’t been canceled after all! That indecency haunted me for months afterward.
I finally asked Chris, “Why didn’t any of you think to cover me in that moment?”
“You should be glad to be alive! You need to remember all the miracles God has done for us,” he would reply. And he would list them again and again. I wrote them down and meditated on them. It was truly stunning what God had done for us!
Yet I found myself weeping often: when Camden wasn’t gaining enough weight, when I recovered so slowly, when I noticed how hard it was on the rest of the family, when I felt like a burden, when I wasn’t even good at my main job – nursing. Finally, Chris called Lori and had her talk to me while I lay on our bed, exhausted. Again, I was able to release tears and trauma and except His love.
That was the turning point where I left depression behind and embraced this new season before me. I love the newborn stage and tried to enjoy every minute: through homeschooling, through nursing and making of homemade formula, through Chris’ transition from a good, steady income with health insurance to owning a business with no guarantees. We also had so many good times with our children and many opportunities to experience grace.
Summer and then autumn came again. I felt God leading me to homeschool my two high school boys in addition to the other 3 younger children. I had never done high school before because it was just too difficult. It is just like God to give me this assignment while I was still feeling like my pregnancy had left me much weaker than before. He believed in me.
I had pruned my life down to the essentials: sleeping, eating, praying, taking care of my family and then cleaning, cooking, and homeschool if there was time. It was hard to get the family all to church. Hanging out with friends became a very rare treat. I had dropped out of women’s prayer. I wasn’t posting any blog articles or interacting much on social media. In October I felt compelled to dedicate Camden at church. I just had to release a spoken testimony about this miracle baby, or I was going to bust! He was happy, healthy, and developing perfectly.
A few days after Camden’s first birthday I was able to attend the Women’s event in December. It was very powerful and Marcey started us out with a quote from “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe”.
Aslan said to Lucy and Susan after his resurrection, “Climb onto my back, we have far to go, and little time to get there.”
I pictured Grace carrying me all this time. That was the only way I was going to get anywhere important.
Marcey said, “This will be the ride of our lives. It will be hard, but I don’t want you to disqualify yourselves. We need all of us. We need to surrender to Him.”
She was speaking right to me and igniting a fire. I didn’t just want to survive; I wanted to run my race again and let Grace carry me to places unknown.
Each woman had been given a little journal with a personalized word printed on the inside. My word was, “UNBROKEN.” I pulled mine out and started writing.
We watched a clip of the movie and Aslan was talking again after his resurrection, “If they [those who had killed him on the stone table] would have understood the power of sacrifice, they would have interpreted the ancient prophecy differently. When someone who has committed no treason, willingly gives themselves up, the stone table will crack, and death itself will begin to move backwards.”
The power of sacrifice – the phase seemed to burn into my mind.
“Is that what you have been doing in my life the past two years?” I asked God. Each moment of weakness, pain, depression, shame, and seeming defeat that I had gone through…could it be that there was power in it? My sacrifice to carry my 11th miracle child contained within it little gems of power to bring God’s glory to the earth? I didn’t realize it at the time, but perhaps my feeble attempts to praise God and follow Him through the sacrifice were like little altars, the smoke of sweet-smelling incense rising to heaven and pleasing God?
A vision of the evil eagle from my dream popped into my mind again. It still plagued me from time to time. It brought shame when I remembered it, because I thought it was just my subconscious mind showing me how I viewed God, a reminder of how far I had fallen from my lovesick devotion prior to becoming pregnant.
I heard a whisper from God, “Your enemy showed you his face. He thought he could take you out, take your baby out, take your family out. Not once did he pluck you out of my hands. Your life and purpose were secure the entire time. You remain UNBROKEN.”
Peace began to chase away the shame. I asked God what I should do with the image of the devilish eagle. I began to surrender to God and saw a rushing river. The water was so dark, it was black. I couldn’t see how deep it was or where it was going. The eagle circled above the river. Dark water in the form of great black arms reached for the bird. The water pulled my enemy down into the river and the eagle was completely consumed, never to be seen again.
I prayed, “I surrender to your river, your living water. It feels like a risk – I can’t see the bottom; it is so dark. I can’t discern where it is going. I don’t know what will happen to me. Will I sink, swim, or float?”
It seemed like I received an immediate answer from the LORD as Yadira’s voice broke through, “This is a new day. You have been tested and purified. You have been given a double portion of faith. A new assignment. You are being commissioned for a new assignment. Surrender to whatever God wants.”
Last year at this time I wrote about “How God Encountered Me at the 2022 Women’s Encounter.” I ended the article with a look into the future, “I know that I will find Him in unexpected ways in the midst of the ‘Waves’, The Women’s Encounter March 24-25, 2023.”
That was an understatement! I found God in extremely unexpected ways…here is my story…
I was so excited for “Waves”, the Women’s Encounter in March 2023. Not only could I take in the presence of God in the worship, hear His voice through the preaching, and connect to other women, I could also pray on the ministry team. I looked at my calendar about a week before, and I realized that I would be experiencing my time of the month all Encounter weekend. Not ideal, but I had no worries.
On Thursday I thought my period was coming early. Out of the blue, a wave of sorrow crashed into me. I wasn’t even aware that I had wanted to be pregnant, but just then I felt empty, alone, and forsaken. Immediately I was bombarded by thoughts like,
“I am not as important without a new life inside. I am not as valuable. I could disappear right now, and no one would notice.”
Despite fighting against these thoughts, I fell into a depressed funk, so different from my previous excitement and hope. Friday night of the Encounter arrived, and I was still expecting my flow to start any moment.
Worship was beautiful. Jesus came to me in a vision. He and I were standing on a beach, face to face. The waves were lapping at our feet. It was just Him and me. No earth, no universe, no other people. I had never done anything right or anything wrong. I had been stripped to my most elemental being, the being He had created. Nothing was required of me except to receive His love. Yet I couldn’t help but love Him back! Suddenly it didn’t matter if I was carrying the tiny seed of a child, or if I was empty. He loved me. Just me. Always and forever me. And I was His perfect match.
Peace washed over me. Little thoughts still skirted around the edges of my mind, in and out of the peace.
“What if I am pregnant? Will I be strong enough? What if I am not pregnant? Will I be sad? What if my fertility is at its end? What if it isn’t?!!!”
I received my scripture, Matt 6:33-34 (MSG):
“Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God provisions. Don’t worry about missing out. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met. Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.”
I viewed the rest of the weekend through incredible peace. At the same time, I had babies on the brain. Yadira spoke about “This time next year.” What incredible things would God do in us by this time next year? I kept thinking, “Maybe I will have a baby at this time next year.”
Sue spoke about the WAVES (Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service) during WWII when women were released and activated to help in the war effort, to do things that women had never done before. I kept thinking of women returning to their homes with unexpected pregnancies or other unforeseen circumstances to embrace motherhood in new and amazing ways.
The first woman I prayed for during the ministry time said she wanted to have a baby. I was so excited and said, “That is one of my favorite prayers. I have faith for that!”
Saturday morning came and still no period. I was a bit distracted and didn’t even know what was coming out of my mouth during the prayer times. I found out later that at least one woman felt that my prayer for her was a word from God that gave her fresh fire for her ministry. This just proves that God really can speak through anyone at any time if He wants to. I also got to pray for two wombs to be filled!
Sunday morning came, still no period. Our family went to church, and when it was time to take communion, I found two wafers in my small container. I felt that communion was significant, and it was healing me.
During the lovely sunny afternoon, Chris announced to me, “I can’t wait any longer. I am going to pick up a pregnancy test right now!”
Soon we were both in the bathroom watching two confident lines burst forth. Chris and I just looked at each other with equal parts awe, wonderment, and shock.
Funny how two little lines can change everything for all eternity!
Excitement and some fear came rushing in. My last pregnancy and labor, five years prior, had been very difficult and traumatic. I asked Chris if he would fast and pray for me and the baby. His eyes became misty, and he gave me a heartfelt, “yes!”
Still on a high from the Women’s Encounter, I felt that this pregnancy would be a redemption of all that went wrong last time. This became my constant prayer. Since my encounter with Jesus had been so amazing, I was expecting this pregnancy to be glorious, easy, and fun!
I started to feel more tired, dizzy, and forgetful. I had cramps off and on with spotting for weeks. All the emotionally charged fears began to come.
I tried to remember my verse, “Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow.”
After Easter, I felt my normal first trimester symptoms. They were different and worse than ever! Perhaps it was the severe anemia. Soon I had the sick feelings of the first trimester and all the aches and pains of the third trimester manifesting at once, and it was only June! My due date was Dec. 1st.
I began to think that this pregnancy was going to be the hardest thing I had ever done.
I began to lose heart. I began to believe the voice of the Accuser that told me that I was a wretch for going back on all God had shown me. Soon I was battling depression. I was accusing my own loving Father by saying, “I am willing to carry as many babies as you have for me, but why do I have to suffer so much to do it? I thought you loved me. Why do you want me to suffer?”
I encountered many good scriptures about suffering, but hope and joy seemed hard to find. I could sleep for 14 hours in a day and still be exhausted. Every time I went to lay in my bed, I would see the little glass bottle from the Women’s Encounter on my headboard. It contained sand and a single word, “Stronger.” God showed me so many scriptures about strength and how strength comes from God. I would say to myself with the small amount of faith I had, “God is making me stronger and stronger” and then I would surrender to His arms and to sleep.
I tried to live in the presence of Jesus, in His love. I got little glimpses, but it seemed much harder than before. I wished I had already learned the lessons from the various speakers at the Waves Encounter.
Patty had shared about how God can rescue His promises from the depths of the grave. When we face trials there is the temptation to trade what we know (the faithful love of God) for what we don’t know (why did this trial or tragedy happen). I had fallen to that temptation and now I felt that God had betrayed my trust in the worst possible way. Disappointment was my constant companion.
A friend of mine who does prayer ministry helped me through this. She encouraged me to let God love me in my disappointment, to let Him love me through my feelings of betrayal. He wasn’t shocked or angry about how I had reacted to suffering. His love remained the same. He wanted to love me no matter what shape I was in, no matter how I raged against Him.
I could relate to what Katie had shared at the Encounter when she felt lost at sea during a hard season. She found that Jesus was in the boat with her. He was crying with her. He understood her emotions and she could trust Him. I was relearning that simple truth.
After the most painful contractions I had ever felt, my baby boy was born on Dec 4th, strong and healthy. The following weeks were full of joy and sorrow. Depression threatened me again as I searched for the bliss of childbirth and nursing. I would talk to Chris about it and start crying, “It just hasn’t been what I was expecting. Labor was hard. Camden isn’t nursing well. The midwife is concerned about his weight gain. I am sooooo tired!”
Chris got in the habit of talking about all the little miracles that happen before, during and after birth.
“Just think about the miracles today,” he would tell me, and I remembered Janelle’s testimony at the Encounter.
“Gratitude is the way forward through grief,” she had said. So gratitude became my habit again. I stopped begging God to do what I wanted. I began to ask for grace to be and to do what He wanted. I asked Him what He was doing.
After some time passed, my pain went away, my baby was nursing like a champ, and he and I were sleeping at night.
I began to see:
The answers to my prayers.
The fulfillment of His Promises.
The little miracles that revealed His love for me.
I had a healthy pregnancy at age 47.
I gave birth at home with only 4 hours of intense labor.
My baby was healthy and strong, with an APGAR score of 10!
I watched as God redeemed all the trauma from the last pregnancy and birth.
Looking back on last year’s Encounter, I think that the more impactful the encounter, the more glorious the vision, the more earth-shaking the revelation; the harder the subsequent journey.
Why? Jesus knows what we need to become like Him. He knows what is coming next. He wants to love us, encourage us, and get us ready for deeper places with Him.
I have found that the only way to keep my peace during the journey is to surrender to the waves of His love. To let them carry me where He wills, knowing that the promise is sure, and the reward is better than I can imagine.
WARNING! This article contains graphic descriptions of a nasty stomach bug as well as graphic descriptions of the stripes of Jesus. Not for the sensitive reader!
It started with Annalise complaining that her belly hurt at bedtime. She seemed so tired that I was sure she would fall asleep and feel better in the morning. A few hours later she came down from her room to say that her belly still hurt. When I took her to the bathroom, she immediately threw up violently in the sink. I cleaned up the mess while Chris tried to comfort her. Soon she was back in the bathroom, but this time she made it to the toilet. This happened two more times and we were sure she had thrown up everything she had in her stomach. Still, I felt that I should sleep in the living room with her so we could both be close to the bathroom.
I tried to create makeshift beds while comforting my sweet seven-year-old. She is usually very healthy, and she just wasn’t used to getting sick. As soon as I got her settled down to sleep with a bowl next to her, I lay down in the darkness and wondered if I would be able to sleep on the hard floor. Annalise was only asleep for an hour before she woke up groaning.
“Go to the bathroom! Go to the bathroom!” I spoke with urgency.
She tried but the bowl got the most of it. This happened a few more times, and sleep seemed out of the question.
“That’s the last time, Mama. I don’t have anything left,” Annalise said bravely. We both tried to sleep again. It wasn’t long before Annalise was vomiting in the bowl right next to me, and I could feel the splashing. I got her to the bathroom, spoke tender words to her, cleaned everything, treated the room with essential oils, and tried to rest again.
“That’s the last time, Mama,” Annalise said as she practically crumbled onto her bedroll and pillow. I thought surely, she would start feeling better! Her body must have gotten rid of all the sickness but now.
Wrong! She continued to throw up yellow bile while experiencing diarrhea at the same time. I had to give her two showers in the middle of the night when she seemed almost too weak to stand. We went back down the stairs as I supported her.
My sweetheart, Annalise, had learned the drill by now. She would go to the bathroom, throw up in the toilet, flush the toilet, rinse out her mouth, collapse in the floor, and fall asleep immediately until the next wave hit her. I lay anguishing and praying, “Jesus, have mercy on my sweet girl. Touch her and heal her!”
It felt like torture to me! I knew it must be food poisoning or a very powerful bug, and her body was doing what was necessary to heal. If I had been a new mom, I would have been consumed with worry.
Being experienced nursing sick children, I have learned several important truths:
my children always recover,
the sickness always lasts longer than I think it should,
even so, the sickness is always over in a very short time.
I have also learned to listen to the Holy Spirit.
I could hear Him whisper, “It is well. Be at peace.”
By morning, I had lost count of how many times Annalise had vomited, but it was at least 22. I have never seen a child of mine get sick like that before! Annalise never showed any signs of being severely dehydrated (such as no tears in her eyes or saliva in her mouth), and I knew the best place for her was resting peacefully at home. We both slept for a few hours, and I didn’t even get up to make Chris’s sandwich before work. I slept through all the normal morning activities.
Finally, Annalise sat up and begged for water. “This is a good sign! Perhaps she is better!”
It is so important to not give water or food too soon after throwing up, so I was cautious. Annalise gulped down the tiny bit of water I gave her. The next half an hour was filled with her tired little voice, “Can I have more water now? Is it time now? Please!”
After half an hour, I relented and gave her some more, and then more. She seemed fine, so I gave her some more. My heart sank when I heard her in the bathroom, violently getting rid of all the water she just drank.
“Ok this is getting serious! Time for battle!”
I began to bind and loose and command and decree! I made essential oil roller bottles to rub on her belly and feet. I gave her Epsom salt baths to detox and rehydrate her.
Annalise did not throw up again! Praise God!
She slept for a few hours. She was thirsty when she woke up, so I followed the advice I had read in Mommy Diagnostics. I made some ginger tea and only gave her a few teaspoons every half an hour. Her stomach had shrunk and couldn’t handle anything more. By bedtime we had finished the cup of tea. I continued the essential oils all day.
She slept peacefully in her bed the entire night!
The next day she was so hungry yet didn’t want to eat anything. I convinced her to drink a little bone broth which gave her nourishment in a very digestible form. She ate tiny bits of food throughout the day and was just fine, other than being weak and exhausted.
By the next day she was still tired but starting to play in small bursts. We had turned a corner!
That night some of the children slept in our pop-up camper. Cooper came into our room in the middle of the night to tell us that he had just thrown up. He spent most of the night in the bathroom but thank God he was old enough to take care of himself. He wasn’t as sick as Annalise had been, so by the morning his only symptom was exhaustion.
Then I found out that Aria, our three-year-old, had been snuggling with Cooper until he had gotten sick.
“Jesus, don’t let her get sick!” I prayed. I wondered if this bug was going to go through the entire family and how long it would last.
The following night Aria woke us and said, “It feels like there are bugs in my belly!”
I got up as fast as I could and ushered her into the bathroom. She was feverish and wore a grimace.
“Do you need to throw up?” I asked. “Here, let’s go to the toilet.”
Three-year-olds don’t always know they are going to throw up before they do. How was I going to manage all night with Aria? We couldn’t go to the downstairs bathroom and sleep on the new carpet in the living room. She would throw up all over it! The only logical choice was to spend the night with her in the upstairs bathroom. Even though it is a spacious bathroom, there is no place to lay down. I tried to sit on a bath chair and hold her on my lap to comfort her, but that was anything but comfortable! Her long legs were hanging down awkwardly, her body was hot with fever, and she couldn’t stay still.
“The bugs in my belly are jumping!” Aria said. “My arms and legs hurt.”
This was followed by squirming and groaning, “Oh I wish this never happened to me,” she said with all the agony her cute three-year-old voice could muster.
“This is not going to end well,” I thought to myself, anticipating vomit to explode from her little body at any moment.
“Jesus, please heal her!” I prayed.
Aria insisted on getting back into her bed because she was so tired. All my mothering instincts told me that this was a BAD idea. I have scrubbed vomit off mattresses and carpets before, and I dreaded doing it again. However, I didn’t have any better ideas, so I put her in her bed with a bowl right next to her. I pulled out the trundle mattress and moved it out of the splash zone. I lay down, anticipating another night like I had had with Annalise.
Quiet descended upon the room as Aria fell asleep and her two sisters, miraculously, never woke up. I lay thinking about Aria’s sadness and groaning in the bathroom. I remembered what it felt like to have a stomach bug that attacks you with pangs of pain and nausea. It will abate but then comes back again in earnest, threatening to take over your insides until you have very little control. I hated that feeling! I hated that Aria was having that feeling. I wished I could take that feeling for her.
Then I thought, “Jesus DID take the suffering for us!”
During Holy Week I was listening to Give Him 15. I was stuck by a description of the beating of Christ before the crucifixion. April 15, 2022 (givehim15.com)
This same description can be found in the Give Him 15 post for today (Good Friday 2023).
From Gethsemane, Messiah was led to a mock trial, after which He was beaten mercilessly with a cat-o-nine-tails. This procedure was so brutal that some recipients didn’t survive it. The leather cords, tipped with sharp metal, tore at the flesh of the victim ripping off pieces of flesh. They not only lacerated the back, but wrapped around to the front of the victim’s body, including the face. It is hard to describe this lashing without being too graphic for most readers. Suffice it to say that when finished, the victim was often unrecognizable.
The soldiers also beat Christ with their fists and spat on His face. To mock Him as “the King of the Jews,” a crown made of thorns was placed on His head and pressed into His skin, causing great pain and more loss of blood. When the ordeal was finished, Messiah was so mangled and covered with spittle and blood that He truly was unrecognizable. “Many people were shocked [astonished; appalled] when they saw him. His appearance was so damaged [disfigured; marred] He did not look like a man; His form was so changed they could barely tell He was human.” (Isaiah 52:14; The Expanded Bible) The added punishments and torture, much more than the average victim of crucifixion was afflicted with, can only be explained as the fury of hell, trying to snuff out the life of the Son of God.
Yeshua received this for you and me. Isaiah 53:5 and 1 Peter 2:24 tell us it was through this beating that we can be healed. Place your faith in this today. Receive healing by placing your faith in His substitutionary sacrifice.
Give Him 15
I realized as never before how much pain, suffering and sorrow Jesus endured. He endured it so I did not have to, so Aria did not have to. Jesus hates pain too! Jesus hates Aria’s pain more than I do!
I prayed, “Jesus, you experienced this suffering already. Why should Aria have to go through it? Please take her sickness.”
I felt the presence of Jesus enter the room. Peace surrounded me and my three girls. None of the girls made a peep that entire night! And in the morning, Aria woke up in perfect health. No fever! No aches! No bugs jumping in her belly! That was a miracle! No one else in our family got sick after that. The trial was over, and Jesus had shown me His miraculous healing power that comes from His great love for us.
It is hard to believe any of the news being reported. It all seems fake and surreal. We are living under an administration that was neither chosen by the people nor chosen by God. They are proud of the fact that they oppose the ways of God at every turn.
Just like the king of Assyria in Isaiah 37, God is asking them this question, “Whom have you been defying and ridiculing? Against whom did you raise your voice? At whom did you look with such haughty eyes? It was the Holy One of Israel! (NLT)”
Not only are they raging against conservatives, Trump supporters, Christians, and those who believe in our constitution; they are raging against THE HOLY ONE OF ISRAEL! Surely He will defend His holy name.
All that matters right now is God’s perspective. What is He seeing? What is He saying? What is He doing?
It may seem that our role is difficult to define. What should each one of us be doing right now? Praying in our secret place? Preaching the Kingdom in the streets? Calling and writing our representatives in all levels of government?
God gave me an answer that will guide me through my life, through the highs and the lows, through abundant blessing and crushing defeats, through ruling over my inheritance and living under a hostile regime.
“Stand with me. Be with me wherever I am. Go with me wherever I go. Do whatever you see me doing.”
I imagine myself being found in Christ. My small frame is decked out with the full armor of Christ, yet I am hidden and overshadowed by His mighty form. He has trained my hands for war and makes me mightily in battle. Still, He is infinitely larger and more powerful than I. I can hide in him, yet stand with Him. If people fight against Him and revile Him, they will do the same to me. If people are open to Him, they will be open to me. If I suffer with Him, I can also share in His glory.
In my small life with my small sphere of influence, I ask the Holy Spirit to show me what He is doing in each relationship and in each circumstance, and I try to do the same.
How can I make a difference in my nation? I stand my ground, stay in my rank, and listen to His voice. I will pray what He prays, speak what He speaks, and believe that He can use my little part to do the impossible.
I was praying with some family and friends days before the inauguration. God led me to a scripture in Isaiah 49.
your destroyers and wreckers depart from you. (BSB)
I heard Jesus saying to the United States of America, “I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN YOU!”
How encouraging and comforting that Jesus cares about our country!
He has not forgotten His covenant with the USA. He has not forgotten a single word He has spoken over our nation. He will fulfill every one of His promises and purposes for this nation. He has heard the prayers of His people.
Then Jesus became more intense as I heard Him whisper, “I have NOT forgotten you!” I saw him whispering in the ears of those hidden in darkness with no hope.
The Lion of the Tribe of Judah is whispering and ROARING!
“I have not forgotten you!”
The God of the Angel Armies is tenderly speaking!
“I have not forgotten you!”
The Captain of the Hosts is courageously announcing!
I felt in that moment that His rescue plan was unstoppable, His purposes were irresistible.
NOTHING CAN HOLD BACK WHAT HE IS ABOUT TO DO!
How can I stand with Him while I wait patiently for Him to act? Two scriptures gave me an answer.
2 Chronicles 20
God caused a multitude of the enemies of Jehoshaphat to turn on each other and wipe each other out. Not only did God save his people, but He Gave them more spoils that they could carry away. What happened right before the victory? His people gathered as the prophet had instructed them to do and sang,
“Give thanks to the Lord, for his love endures forever.”
2 Chronicles 5:6-14
11Then the priests left the Holy Place. All the priests who were present had purified themselves, whether or not they were on duty that day. 12And the Levites who were musicians—Asaph, Heman, Jeduthun, and all their sons and brothers—were dressed in fine linen robes and stood at the east side of the altar playing cymbals, lyres, and harps. They were joined by 120 priests who were playing trumpets. 13The trumpeters and singers performed together in unison to praise and give thanks to the LORD. Accompanied by trumpets, cymbals, and other instruments, they raised their voices and praised the LORD with these words:
“He is good! His faithful love endures forever!”
At that moment a thick cloud filled the Temple of the LORD. 14The priests could not continue their service because of the cloud, for the glorious presence of the LORD filled the Temple of God.
And what happened before the glory of the LORD filled the temple? The priests had purified themselves and then they sang,
“He is good! His faithfulness endures forever!”
As we wait for His victory, we can trust Him. As we long for His glory to fall, we can believe His prophets. As we wait for the light to shine into the dark places, we can draw near to Him. As we pray for His dear ones to be saved, this is what we can do:
Purify ourselves!
Thank God!
Praise God!
Worship God!
Remind ourselves of His Goodness!
He will not forget, and His steadfast love endures forever.
Areli, Aria, and I had a wonderful time in Texas. When we returned home I was still living in the wonder of the love that God had shown me there. I tried to process it, understand it, find scriptures to support it, make it part of my every thought, and believe it in my every cell.
A very curious thing had happened in Texas. Aria had refused to nurse. I thought that perhaps it was because I didn’t have my usual nursing pillow and everything around us was different. I did get a few good nursing times with her in our hotel room…when she was totally asleep. Surely she would resume nursing normally when we were back home.
Within a few weeks of returning home, Aria stopped nursing completely. I couldn’t coax her, though I tried and tried. It was totally fine of course! She was 15 months and eating all kinds of wonderful food.
I just thought I had more time, time for her to be a baby, time for her to need me, time for us to snuggle. All of a sudden my time was up.
A week went by and my nursing pillows were still out, my bedroom was still in disarray with pillows stacked on the loveseat in the just the right way for nursing.
“I need to put the nursing pillows away up in the attic. Now is my chance to make my room pretty again and get rid of all these random pillows.” I thought.
The thought made me want to cry. I didn’t want to be done nursing! The sorrow hung with me and it was stronger than when my other babies had weaned. Perhaps it was because with the other babies, I knew in my heart that God had more babies to give me. This time I do not have that assurance. I could be done nursing…forever.
I really did feel that the timing of this was from God, that He wanted me to go deeper with Him. So I allowed myself to feel the pain, to explore the pain, with the help of the Holy Spirit. I realized that I was only eating for one again. It didn’t feel important anymore what I ate. Do I really deserve the best food and supplements? Just me? I am not as important as Aria. In fact, if I am severed from my children, am I valuable at all?
I realized with sadness that I was not, at least not in my own estimation. Being a mother of many children was never my aspiration growing up. Being a mother at all was sometime I had given very little thought to. But after I married Chris, we both realized we loved children and we thought would like to have six. God blessed us with more children than we had imagined, and I grew to love this destiny that God had for me. I had found my meaning and value in it.
Then all of a sudden I saw a picture of myself in my mind. It was just me, just Anne, floating in an empty universe. No husband, no children, no past, no future, no accomplishments, no good works. Just Anne.
“Did Jesus really die for just me? Does He love just me?” I wondered.
My resounding answer was, “NO! How could that be?!”
Of course I knew that theologically He loved just me. Plus He had personally shown me His love! So why was it so hard for me to believe it? I went through the next two days pondering this question, filling with self-hatred, teetering on the edge of despair and depression.
I realize now that I should have taken the focus off my own feelings and my unworthiness. I should have been praising God, trusting Him, and speaking out the words He had spoken, even if I didn’t feel as though I believed them.
Again God led me to the empty universe. There I was. Just me. Again the question, “Did Jesus die for just me? Does He love just me?”
“No, I am so unworthy!” I answered. The emotions that surfaced were so deep, so raw. It was as though they had been buried for a long, long time. They reached back to a time in my life of which I have no conscience memory, yet stemmed from an event that I have recently became aware of. Compared to the sorrow I was now feeling, all my previous emotions had been superficial. Finally God had reached down to the root of the matter, the original wound to my spirit, the original lie that I believed.
He had gently pulled off all the band aids that I had so clumsily put on just to keep living. Old and infected scabs were being scrapped away and the wound was fresh and bleeding.
“I am not worthy! I should not even be here. I do not deserve your love.” I told Jesus.
Jesus answered back.
Always Jesus answers me this way, but I do not always hear.
Always Jesus answers YOU this way, whether you can hear Him or not.
Can we open our ears and try to hear?
Jesus answers;
I love you.
I love YOU!
I have always loved you.
Before you existed, I loved you.
I have loved you for every moment of your life.
I will ALWAYS love you.
You cannot change that.
You cannot cancel out my love with your disbelief.
The prince was kneeling before his father, the king. This was a good and wise king. His kingdom was vast and his subjects were too numerous to count. His dominion was full of prosperity and peace.
“How much like me this son of mine is,” the king thought to himself. “He has grown into such a fine young man. He will be wanting to take a bride soon.”
“Father,” the young prince began as though he had read his fathers thoughts, “I have found my true love. I have come to ask your permission to pursue her.”
“Very good my son! Who is she?” the king answered with a hearty smile.
“Her name is Marie.”
“Marie,” the king’s smile faded. “Her name means ‘bitterness’, and it describes her well. She lives outside of the boarder of this land, in our enemy’s territory. Her life has been hard, and I fear that there is very little beauty or joy left in her, even though she is still young.”
“This I know, father. I met her once on my way to the Outer Lands. She was rude to me. She was dirty and dressed in rags. Yet there was something about her that has captivated me. I feel that there is a treasure beneath the filth. Every night I have dreamt of her, and I cannot forget the haunted look in her eyes. Perhaps my love could banish that emptiness and transform her from ‘Bitterness’ into ‘Full of Grace’.
“Son, consider your decision well. Do you truly think that Marie will be a princess befitting our glorious kingdom? Will she make a fine queen someday, able to rule at your side?” the king questioned.
“I know that my choice seems irrational, even reckless. Presently she would make a horrible queen. But I love her, Father, with everything in me. I love her! I know that I can save her from her life of misery and her bitterness. Please let me try.” The prince closed his eyes and bowed his head, awaiting an answer.
The king’s deep voice quavered with emotion, “Son, I am so very proud of you.”
The prince lifted his head suddenly. He searched his father’s eyes, the eyes that always seemed to hold the answers. The king went on.
“You see, Marie was born in this Kingdom and royal blood flows through her veins. She was meant to be your betrothed. I knew that she could become a woman worthy of you, my noble son.”
“What happened to her?” the prince asked with a new passion in his eyes.
“She was kidnapped at a very young age and carried away as a slave. She has lived in the enemy’s land, misused and deceived for all of her life. She may be saved, but there is no guarantee. She does not recognize her dishonorable condition, because she has never known the beauty of our kingdom. She may become offended by your purest intentions. ”
The words of the king seemed to ignite a fire in the already love-struck heart of the prince.
“I must go to her! Father, I must show her that she is loved. That she is worthy. That she is destined to be a queen! Please Father, let me go into the enemy’s territory.”
“You must understand, son, that your quest is noble and born out of true love. But you will suffer. You will suffer all that Marie has suffered…and much more.”
“I know,” the royal son replied in a passionate whisper, “Somehow I have always known. But my suffering is a small price to pay for Marie…for my love. To live here in the glory and abundance of our kingdom without her would cause me greater suffering.”
The prince paused as if the very thought of a life without his love was too terrible to express. He stood to his feet and raised his voice, “I am ready, Father. I must go to her!”
The king stood as well and enveloped his son in a strong embrace.
“You are right. You ARE ready. Marie IS worth the price. I will miss having you here by my side, but I am confident in the future. A future where both you and Marie are reigning with me. This quest is your destiny.”
The prince thought he saw a tear roll down the strong cheek. The King continued in a whisper now.
“This quest…it will cost you everything.”
As I watched this scene unfold on the stage of my mind, I knew that my assumptions were changing.
My paradigm was shifting.
My world was transforming.
This prince wasn’t afraid or reluctant. He was confident and bold. He was longing to go into hostile territory. Like a courageous warrior, he was willing to suffer and to die for the object of his love.
This prince was Jesus.
This Marie was me.
Photo by Kenny Luo on Unsplash
I was the prize that fueled His courage.
I was the treasure that energized His passion.
I was the pearl of great price that He sold everything He had to obtain.
He pursued me like a man pursues His bride. And He found me. He saved me. He turned me into “Full of Grace.”
He is still wooing me. He is still fighting battles for me. I am not yet a queen worthy of His great Kingdom. He is relentlessly pursuing me until I truly know who I am and whose I am. I feel Him teaching me His ways day by day. I feel His patience and His passion. I feel His delight and His desire.
He is pursuing each and every one of us, but only a few of us are aware. The rest go about their lives oblivious of the glorious kingdom for which they were born, the love that chases them.
Men and women all through the ages have encountered this love-sick warrior prince. Sometimes they caught just a glimmer of His smile, just a glimpse of His fiery eyes. Other times they have been washed by His love, wave after relentless wave until they were happily drowning in it.
Some have written about it. One such man is Cory Asbury. I found in the words of his song “Reckless Love” a confirmation of my own experience.
When I was Your foe, still Your love fought for me
You have been so, so good to me
When I felt no worth, You paid it all for me
You have been so, so kind to me
And oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God
Oh, it chases me down, fights ’til I’m found, leaves the ninety-nine
And I couldn’t earn it, and I don’t deserve it, still, You give Yourself away
Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God, yeah
There’s no shadow You won’t light up
Mountain You won’t climb up
Coming after me
There’s no wall You won’t kick down
Lie You won’t tear down
Coming after me
One night I was able to steal away to the prayer room at church. I got so caught up in my love for Jesus that my words just came spilling out in a passionate prayer.
“Jesus, you are everything – all we want. You are the goal, the prize, the destination, the journey, and every step in the journey. You are everything!”
I felt a small twinge of guilt. I offered up a silent prayer, “Sorry Holy Spirit. Sorry Father. I didn’t mean to forget about you.”
Then I saw the Father smiling down on me with pleasure, just as any good father would do while witnessing his son and fiancé being clearly head over heels in love with each other.
Photo by Joshua Rodriguez on Unsplash
“You have chosen well, my son,” I heard him say.
I was shocked to hear this. I simply don’t see myself the way the Father does, the way Jesus does.
I am so thankful that He will never be satisfied until I do.
I am so thankful that He won’t let me go. That the fire in His eyes and the burning in His heart will never be diminished.
Jesus is the prince.
I am HIS PRIZE.
YOU ARE HIS PRIZE.
He will never give up us.
If you have never encountered this love or long to encounter it more, listen to “Reckless Love” and ask Him to reveal himself to you. This is a prayer that he has suffered, died, and now lives to answer.
My oldest son, Cole, is in Marine boot camp right now. Actually he is in the middle of the Crucible, and my mind is going crazy. I am trying to remember him in prayer at all hours of the day and night without letting my thoughts lead to worry…
and the worry lead to impatience…
and the impatience lead to “what ifs”…
and the “what ifs” lead to panic.
I thought back to October of last year when he first told me that he wanted to join the Marines. He didn’t talk about the benefits or the pay. He said he wanted the brotherhood, the character development, the challenge. At first I wasn’t sure I wanted my son in the military, so I asked God about it. He gave me peace and the impression that this would be the very best thing for Cole. Pretty soon I was feeling that joining the Marines would be the most important step for him to take after High School. I had been praying for a long time that Cole would find a positive focus for all of his teenage energy. Finally he had found it!
As a mom, I can worry about absolutely anything! So my son had made the very wise choice to pursue a career in the Marines. But what if his enthusiasm waned? What if he got in trouble and became disqualified? Boot camp was a year away. What if he didn’t make it there?!
On October 28, 2017 the worries were getting the better of me. It was the Saturday morning of his very first Marine work-out. One of the stipulations of the delayed entry program was that Cole had go to the recruiting office once a week to prepare physically and mentally. A recruiter was going to pick him up early that morning to take him to the work-out. I had to leave even earlier to make a trip to the farm. There was dew on all the blades of grass and all the colorful leaves. The sunlight peaking over the horizon was like white gold glittering on every water droplet.
I wanted to enjoy the beautiful drive and the peaceful time alone…but I was feeling guilty and worried. Cole was NOT a morning person. What if he didn’t get up in time for the workout? I should have stayed at home to make sure that he did! What if he wasn’t serious about this Marine thing? What if all God’s plans for his future got derailed?
A song on the radio washed over my mind with the power of the Holy Spirit.
“Death could not hold you, the veil tore before you.
You silenced the boast of sin and grave.
The heavens are roaring, the praise of your glory.
Yours is the name above all names.”
The worries were replace by a picture of Jesus on the cross, conquering death and sin, then rising again victorious, becoming the Savior of the world. I saw the Good Father allowing His beloved son to come into this world that did not love or receive Him. All of hell was working against Jesus and much of the earth and mankind as well. A million different things could have gone wrong. Countless roadblocks stood in the path for Jesus to become all He was destined to be, to accomplish all He was meant to accomplish.
Yet the Good Father was able to keep Jesus and guide Him perfectly. He could do the same with my children.
“You mean I really don’t have to feel responsible for making sure my children achieve their purpose here on the earth? That I could really just trust you to do it?” I asked God, trying to let go of years of ingrained thought patterns that always led to worry.
“You know that you never could, no matter how hard you tried. That is why you worry. That burden is not for you to carry. Just trust me,” came the whispered answer.
When I arrived back home, Cole had already left for his workout. I didn’t need to worry!
Cole and I a year ago after he swore in to the Marine delayed entry program.
Now he is almost done with boot camp, just hours away from becoming a Marine. I didn’t need to worry. But I still did. About EVERY little thing over the past year. I decided that I had to remind myself of all God had spoken to me.
When I went back and read my journal entry for October 28, 2017, this is what I had written.
“You are the Good Father who puts his children in this world and then brings them through the crucible victorious.”
I had written that before I knew anything about the Marines. Long before I understood that they had the toughest and longest boot camp out there. Before I had any idea that the culminating event of Marine boot camp was called The Crucible; 54 hours packed with missions to accomplish, obstacles to overcome, 45 miles to be hiked, and very little sleep or food to be had.
I had been prophesying and I didn’t even know it!
So as I am imagining every possible thing that could go wrong with Cole out there in the rain and the cold and dark of The Crucible, I chose to remember;
I can trust the Good Father with Cole and his destiny.
God will bring him through The Crucible Victorious!
grace is my superhero 