What do I know?

The past few months have been some of the toughest months of our lives, and while I have been hesitant to acknowledge any of it through avenues such as blogging and Facebook, I feel pulled to share. So sharing is what I am going to do. I usually try to keep my posts light-hearted and my hope is that those reading my posts will be blessed in some way; usually through some laughter or an otherwise overlooked chance to appreciate where you are in life. I am also amazed at how my blogging has sort of evolved into a family journal I can share with our children someday. My hope is that this post will share some truth with the blogging world…or simply those who stumble across my blog.  :)


Deep Breath. My heart has been broken…twice. Jimmy and I have been so eager to grow our sweet family and as things often go, it has not been in our timing.

In May Jimmy and I learned we were expecting. We were elated. We promptly ordered Pearce the dearest, coolest, “Big Brother” shirts and paraded him around friends and family to announce our news. I started planning Pearce’s ‘big boy’ room and how we would welcome this new life into our family. I fixed my eyes on the due date of January 25th. I celebrated the fact that morning sickness was not nearly as bad as it was with Pearce, and counted down the weeks until we got to see the wonderful heartbeat of our baby.

At nine weeks things did not go as planned. Following some mild spotting, my doctor ordered an ultrasound to ease my mind. I will never forget the way my stomach dropped when the tech turned the ultrasound screen away from Jimmy and I. Right there, I knew… But I hoped. Hours later we learned that our celebrated addition was not what we thought. Our pregnancy had actually ended weeks before, with an empty sac and a genetically faulty pregnancy. I felt foolish. Did I share with others too soon? Was it something I did? Was my praise for the milder morning sickness just a farce? And the hardest question of all: How do I mourn the loss of something I never actually had?

The weeks that followed were raw. I remember crying on my closet floor because I simply wanted to be alone, and I needed the world around me to stand still. I was desperate to close my eyes, plug my ears and stomp my feet as the world around me kept moving. I was still standing in the ultrasound room, but everyone else had moved on. But with darkness, comes morning. And with the morning, comes mercy. Scripture tells us that “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness” Lamentations 3:22-23. I have no idea how we got through the emotional rollercoaster that followed the loss of our baby, coupled by an insane plummet in hormones. I seriously thought I had lost my mind.

About 6 weeks later we learned that we were expecting another little one…due April 28th. We were thrilled, but cautious. We told a small group of friends and asked for prayer. Prayer for peace, a healthy pregnancy, and for continued healing. My heart was guarded but my mind was so hopeful. I actually remember verbalizing the relief I felt to Jimmy, as surely a miscarriage wouldn’t happen twice. I had already proved my ability to carry one healthy pregnancy…sweet Pearce. But after a series of frustrating doctor’s calls, frequent blood work, and about 5 ultrasounds my doctor told us what we were dreading: this too, was not viable. My pregnancy was diagnosed as ectopic, and treatment was needed. I was given two injections of a chemotherapy drug called methotrexate: the purpose was to burn out the pregnancy and treat rapidly developing cells. I cried. I was distraught with the concept that I was ending a pregnancy … because dangerous or not, this was a child we wanted. My doctor assured me that this was not an option but necessary, as ectopic pregnancies are life threatening and cannot be carried to term. I still cried.


In the aftermath of this season I find myself asking lots of questions. I have been angry because, dang it, life just hasn’t been fair to us. I want to know why God would allow this to happen…why He didn’t miraculously heal these two little lives….why I even got pregnant in the first place….and most of all, why us?

 It amazes me how quickly our grateful hearts can turn bitter. The same God who so graciously orchestrated the blessing of our precious Pearce hasn’t changed…but my perspective has. I am no longer patient, I am planning. I am not waiting, I am worrying. I am no longer trusting, I am throwing tantrums. My hands are no longer open and ready to accept God’s sovereignty, they are accusing as I point my finger at our God and place blame on the blameless. I hurt deeply and want so badly to taste the bitterness that suffering brings.


I began to question my faith. Is Jesus who He says He is? What sort of Father would let his children suffer? If God really is in control…why hasn’t He healed me? What kind of God demands such glory that He allows us to suffer so that He can be glorified? I even spent forty five minutes one day researching how dinosaurs fit in the Bible, thinking that would provide some proof I needed to see. (FYI…there is lots on the subject) But the truth is…who am I to ask such questions? Who am I to challenge the Creator of the universe? I have grappled with this for weeks. But you know what? I believe the Lord welcomes doubt as it is just another way He can be glorified.

And there is a silver lining: I am growing. In all honestly, I am doing all I can to prevent spiritual growth during this time. I want to stay angry. I want to feel sorry for myself. And I want to blame someone for the unjustness we have felt. But dang it; no matter how hard I push, I am still being held. And as He often does, The Lord really convicted my heart this morning.


I have always loved this song, but today the lyrics spoke to me on a different level. I cannot help but feel this song was written just so I could hear it on this day as I drove to work in my cozy town of Tulsa, Oklahoma.



What Do I Know of Holy?

I made You promises a thousand times

I tried to hear from Heaven

But I talked the whole time

I think I made You too small

I never feared You at all

If You touched my face would I know You?

Looked into my eyes could I behold You?



What do I know of You

Who spoke me into motion?

Where have I even stood

But the shore along Your ocean?

Are You fire? Are You fury?

Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?

What do I know? What do I know of Holy?



I guess I thought that I had figured You out

I knew all the stories and I learned to talk about

How You were mighty to save

Those were only empty words on a page

Then I caught a glimpse of who You might be

The slightest hint of You brought me down to my knees



What do I know of You

Who spoke me into motion?

Where have I even stood

But the shore along Your ocean?

Are You fire? Are You fury?

Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?

What do I know? What do I know of Holy?


The truth is: I know nothing. Just like the author of this song, I ask so many questions. And rather than listen to the Lord, in my arrogance, I feel the need to explain my point of view.


As if I know better.


I know nothing of the God who created life and I know nothing of the One who has numbered our days.


But I try.


And in my weak, half- hearted attempts to find the answers I am seeking: I truly believe the Lord meets me here. He holds us in the midst of our disbelief and doubt. He loves us in spite of our unlovable hearts. And in time, His graciousness is revealed as we get to live His perfect plan for our lives… A plan that began with creation, was tainted by sin, but was restored to wholeness by the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

So I am waiting here as I slowly transform my accusing, pointed finger into open palms, ready to accept the Lord’s sovereignty.