Really, it's my choice. I get to decide every day if I will embrace my life where it is and let God heal my heart, or if I am going to indulge in destructive or empty soothing. I can choose to open my Bible and read it, then work out, eat well, and pattern a healthy day, or to sink back into myself and fall apart.
Well, the last year has taught me that it is entirely possible to fall apart and not break. I am not the one holding the pieces together, God is. Sometimes, we have to break before we can really heal, too. I am used to relying on myself for most everything. I am pretty determined and motivated when it comes to challenges I perceive in my life. I've always pushed hard to be better than the standard and to rise higher than just enough. And I have finally reached a point where I cannot move forward on my own power any more. That's the best place of all to arrive. It means that you stop and let God have you finally.
We perceive loss as something terribly wrong. Really, it's part of life. Loss is part of existence. The past year of my life has been a momentous occasion leading to a lot of personal loss at one time. Counting the losses isn't important, but letting them mark you and make you stronger IS important. Letting God hold your heart and give you strength you don't personally possess is the key.
Today, I went to the OB-GYN and had a very interesting visit during which I learned that I have a single uterine fibroid tumor, and the lactating that began in September FINALLY stopped! The lactating started when I had a miscarriage and didn't stop for some reason (possibly due to the tumor, possibly something we'll never know). The doctor said the tumor probably won't prevent us from getting pregnant, but it's known that they grow more when exposed to estrogen...and I have plenty of that going on right now, so she wants me to get it checked out every year just to make sure it's not getting crazy. We're not trying to get pregnant now, but that doesn't mean we don't hope to have babies some day. I also know we want to adopt, and as one of my friends has said to me, "Maybe this means we're supposed to adopt more people than if we were able to have kids." It's true. God has plans and we live them out. His plans are good and we are meant to trust them. That doesn't mean it's not hard. The same friend also shared that she knows several women who've had fibroid tumors and also have had children. God brings encouragement when we are hard-pressed to move on.
I spent most of this week worrying about the news I would hear at the doctor today. I kept reading on medical blogs that the only cure for fibroid tumors (really) is to have a hysterectomy. You can have them removed before trying to get pregnant and you then basically hope the baby grows faster than the tumor and that the tumor doesn't take up the baby's space. That on top of still trying to process the miscarriage we have been through has been a lot. The thought that my body might just kill babies is heavy. But it doesn't mean I can't heal in the middle of it, and healing looks different for all of us.
I crank up my "inspirational" music category and I lie on the floor and listen to it, or I go to the gym and RUN because I am free to do so and it feels so amazing. I am going to process all there is in my bag of the past to work through and I am going to become stronger, more beautiful, more unique, and more wise from the experience.
How many people can say they moved around the world to find out they had reached the end of themselves? Well, that's my story, and we each have a story that makes us unique. Those stories can break us to bits, or we can become whole in the middle of them. That doesn't mean we don't break anyway and then become better than before. In my weaknesses, God can show through.
I got a surprise today at the OB when I went in for the ultrasound. The woman asked me to drop my pants and put on a gown....for an ultrasound?! I thought that was an on-the-stomach kind of thing. Turns out, it's a whole lot more invasive these days and no one told me. The surprise was the final straw for me. I cried throughout the entire appointment. I mean like full-on sobbing. The poor technician kept explaining it was standard procedure and I kept telling her it wasn't her fault and wasn't even really just the single event. I finally just looked at her and said, "If you knew what my life has been like in the last several months, you'd know why I am crying. I just can't stop it." They wanted to know if I've been a whole lot more emotional lately and I had no idea, so much has been going on, it's hard to even know. (And, PS, for any of you who haven't had an ultrasound lately, if they say "pelvic ultrasound" go ahead and ask what that means, I was totally blown away and wished someone had told me. I think knowing would have made it not a problem.)
It struck me that in the USA, we are SO uncomfortable with tears. We don't know what to do, they just don't happen openly in our culture. I was SO embarassed that I cried and began to wonder why. I think I needed to cry, just get it all out there and let it go a little bit...but seriously, in public? Guess I had no choice. I decided to add it to part of how I am healing. Letting the tears go was the best thing today. Tomorrow it will be different. I think part of what we need to do is let each day be wholly different than the day before and accept that we need different things at different times and that's alright.
Today, I choose to heal. I choose to run, to work in my garden, to spend time in silence, and time with my music blaring inspiration into my ears. Thank God for His provision.
In this scatter-blog, I also want to say a word about Guinea-Bissau. It's a small country in West Africa that I am smitten with. God loves that country powerfully and I know it in how He's let me love the place. Today, they had a nasty military coup and our friends are there in the middle of it. We have dear African friends in the middle of it, as well as some who are out of the country and are as blind and worried as we are, and American and Brazilian friends there as well. Please pray for God's protection for the children of the orphanage. Pastor Felix is in the USA right now, he left Bissau yesterday for a chaplain training in Virginia. We know the church must be needing a leader and he must be concerned for his home. We know God loves Guinea-Bissau and wants to see it whole.
Thank you for reading, thank you for praying!
Erica
Well, the last year has taught me that it is entirely possible to fall apart and not break. I am not the one holding the pieces together, God is. Sometimes, we have to break before we can really heal, too. I am used to relying on myself for most everything. I am pretty determined and motivated when it comes to challenges I perceive in my life. I've always pushed hard to be better than the standard and to rise higher than just enough. And I have finally reached a point where I cannot move forward on my own power any more. That's the best place of all to arrive. It means that you stop and let God have you finally.
We perceive loss as something terribly wrong. Really, it's part of life. Loss is part of existence. The past year of my life has been a momentous occasion leading to a lot of personal loss at one time. Counting the losses isn't important, but letting them mark you and make you stronger IS important. Letting God hold your heart and give you strength you don't personally possess is the key.
Today, I went to the OB-GYN and had a very interesting visit during which I learned that I have a single uterine fibroid tumor, and the lactating that began in September FINALLY stopped! The lactating started when I had a miscarriage and didn't stop for some reason (possibly due to the tumor, possibly something we'll never know). The doctor said the tumor probably won't prevent us from getting pregnant, but it's known that they grow more when exposed to estrogen...and I have plenty of that going on right now, so she wants me to get it checked out every year just to make sure it's not getting crazy. We're not trying to get pregnant now, but that doesn't mean we don't hope to have babies some day. I also know we want to adopt, and as one of my friends has said to me, "Maybe this means we're supposed to adopt more people than if we were able to have kids." It's true. God has plans and we live them out. His plans are good and we are meant to trust them. That doesn't mean it's not hard. The same friend also shared that she knows several women who've had fibroid tumors and also have had children. God brings encouragement when we are hard-pressed to move on.
I spent most of this week worrying about the news I would hear at the doctor today. I kept reading on medical blogs that the only cure for fibroid tumors (really) is to have a hysterectomy. You can have them removed before trying to get pregnant and you then basically hope the baby grows faster than the tumor and that the tumor doesn't take up the baby's space. That on top of still trying to process the miscarriage we have been through has been a lot. The thought that my body might just kill babies is heavy. But it doesn't mean I can't heal in the middle of it, and healing looks different for all of us.
I crank up my "inspirational" music category and I lie on the floor and listen to it, or I go to the gym and RUN because I am free to do so and it feels so amazing. I am going to process all there is in my bag of the past to work through and I am going to become stronger, more beautiful, more unique, and more wise from the experience.
How many people can say they moved around the world to find out they had reached the end of themselves? Well, that's my story, and we each have a story that makes us unique. Those stories can break us to bits, or we can become whole in the middle of them. That doesn't mean we don't break anyway and then become better than before. In my weaknesses, God can show through.
I got a surprise today at the OB when I went in for the ultrasound. The woman asked me to drop my pants and put on a gown....for an ultrasound?! I thought that was an on-the-stomach kind of thing. Turns out, it's a whole lot more invasive these days and no one told me. The surprise was the final straw for me. I cried throughout the entire appointment. I mean like full-on sobbing. The poor technician kept explaining it was standard procedure and I kept telling her it wasn't her fault and wasn't even really just the single event. I finally just looked at her and said, "If you knew what my life has been like in the last several months, you'd know why I am crying. I just can't stop it." They wanted to know if I've been a whole lot more emotional lately and I had no idea, so much has been going on, it's hard to even know. (And, PS, for any of you who haven't had an ultrasound lately, if they say "pelvic ultrasound" go ahead and ask what that means, I was totally blown away and wished someone had told me. I think knowing would have made it not a problem.)
It struck me that in the USA, we are SO uncomfortable with tears. We don't know what to do, they just don't happen openly in our culture. I was SO embarassed that I cried and began to wonder why. I think I needed to cry, just get it all out there and let it go a little bit...but seriously, in public? Guess I had no choice. I decided to add it to part of how I am healing. Letting the tears go was the best thing today. Tomorrow it will be different. I think part of what we need to do is let each day be wholly different than the day before and accept that we need different things at different times and that's alright.
Today, I choose to heal. I choose to run, to work in my garden, to spend time in silence, and time with my music blaring inspiration into my ears. Thank God for His provision.
In this scatter-blog, I also want to say a word about Guinea-Bissau. It's a small country in West Africa that I am smitten with. God loves that country powerfully and I know it in how He's let me love the place. Today, they had a nasty military coup and our friends are there in the middle of it. We have dear African friends in the middle of it, as well as some who are out of the country and are as blind and worried as we are, and American and Brazilian friends there as well. Please pray for God's protection for the children of the orphanage. Pastor Felix is in the USA right now, he left Bissau yesterday for a chaplain training in Virginia. We know the church must be needing a leader and he must be concerned for his home. We know God loves Guinea-Bissau and wants to see it whole.
Thank you for reading, thank you for praying!
Erica
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