faith

A friend recently lost their baby during delivery.   Their faith through the entire thing has me floored. Grounded.  Jaw open.  In awe.  It’s beautiful.

… and challenging.

 

what doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger

“Faith must be tested, because it can only become your intimate possession through conflict. What is challenging your faith right now? The test will either prove your faith right, or it will kill it.”

From today’s devotional on My Upmost for His Highest.

I understood this concept from the begining.  When things happen, people turn to God.  We see it numerous times in the Old Testament, we see it in recent history (after 9-11, churches were packed).  Do we see it in our own lives?  Probably.

I don’t want to be like the Hebrews, who turn to God during strife, and forget about Him in times of peace.  It seems to be a fact of human nature.  As much as I don’t want to be … I am.  I am learning to appreciate trials because they keep me focused on what’s important.

Which really, is what they are meant to do.

 

I don’t think the two are supposed to be linked. Forgiveness is an act made being fully aware of what is being forgiven. Being able to forgive while remembering, knowing, it’s hard stuff. But it also means that if/once forgiveness is truly given, the memory does not cause strife, but serves as guidance for the future.

I posted the above on a friend’s Facebook page, in response to her status update.  It’s made me pause to consider where I am, and where I was.

Forgiveness is a difficult thing for me.  There’s a myriad of reasons for this, but it boils down to fear and security.  Many of the issues in my marriage, I believe, were compounded by my inability to truly forgive.  It took years to understand what that word means and how it functions… then longer to put it into action in my life.

 

I have 8 minutes before I have to start work.

Today’s main focus?  Getting the house clean.  My in-laws are coming over for Christmas breakfast.  It’s a tradition we started a couple years ago.  Last night Mark and I drove to Redwood City to pickup proper tea, sausage, pudding (not what’ youre thinking), and rashers.

The tea is the most exciting part to me.  Barrys & Lyons are the best black tea.  My world has completely changed when it comes to tea, and that’s my husbands fault.  I’m ok with that particular world upset.  Sadly, they are high in caffeine and I rarely indulge myself.

Barrys makes a decaf.  They sold it in the import store.  My heart is happy.  In fact, I’m enjoying a cup right now.

Bliss.

Yesterday was interesting.  Instead of cleaning all morning I painted.  Serves a similar purpose and was satisfying.  Then Ezekiel’s funeral.  For such a sad thing, the service was filled with hope.  D&M held it together in a way I wouldn’t think possible.  I’m so proud of them.

I wonder what today is like.  Funerals don’t change what’s happened, but the act of closure often creates new breath the next morning.  Does the air feel a little crisper?  The bite harder than it was, and in that, a reminder of life?  Or does the weight still burden them and dull their senses?  I don’t know what I would do, in their place.  How I would act, think, feel.  I don’t know, but I know that I can pray and cry for them with a Mother’s heart.  Even now.  And I know God hears.  I know He’s there.  And I know that this too will not go to waste.  Every experience, God uses.

And from that day the name of the city will be “The Lord Is There”

 

Does this too come from God?

All these things are swimming around in my head.  A baby is swimming around in my tummy.  Hum.  I’m going to ramble for a bit.

A friend of mine is just a few weeks ahead of me in her pregnancy.  Last Friday she delivered preterm.  A little boy.  Apparently there was a problem with the cord not transferring nutrients from the placenta.  While he was 27 weeks when delivered, his development was more in the 23 week mark.  Because of the cord issue they decided he had a better chance out here than in there.  The doctor believed that leaving him in the womb would be fatal within a day or two.

He must be so small.

I’m going to be in that part of the bay Friday and will hopefully get a chance to check on the parents and child.  It will be good to be there and get a chance to pray for him.  I don’t know that physical distance makes a difference in prayer… the bible talks about laying hands on people… but there is something human in the connection that makes.

My little one is doing ok, as far as I know.  She’s getting big enough that I can feel the smaller movements.  The shifts and turns.  It has become a comfort to feel her.  Talk to her.  To have her respond to me.  There’s so much that is tied to her.  Dreams that I’ve been having recently.  A dream that I had in the past.  Despite all that, my Mom reminded me this morning that all she has to do right now is be a baby.  To grow, stay healthy and be a child.  It was a good reminder and it eased my heart.

It’s been placed on my heart that her name has to mean strength.  Or something related.  So the search continues.

Yesterday was going to be an important day for the nursery.  Mark was finally going to put the crib together.  Sadly, a side piece had split in shipping and everything had to halt there.  I knew I should have unpacked the box when it was delivered.  I chose not to because Mark wasn’t going to put it together until that weekend (which was delayed, obviously) and I didn’t want to temp myself to find an alternate way of assembling the thing.  So now, I have to wait for at least a week for the replacement to come in.  Blah.  Yesterday I was quite annoyed.  Luckily it was rather short lived, heh.

I’m trying to grow as a person.  To be less selfish.  The most difficult area for me is my marriage.  To give and not have expectations of anything in return.  My husband has some needs, some issues, and other things which are yet to be classified.  I have to help/support/aide/etc in these things.  I have to give him what he needs without expecting anything back.  I can’t weigh my own input into this relationship based upon his output.  How is that managed?  How can I continue to pour out without being poured into?  If I perceive that my needs are not being met, can I, in turn, meet his?

The only way to do this, is to be poured into.  My only consistent source is God.  People fail.  They too have their selfish issues.  They forget to call.  They flake.  They make mistakes.  They don’t pay attention.  It’s just traits that make us human (and in that, they are beautiful).  If I lean upon God and allow Him to fill me, then there will be more than enough for me to provide for my husband.  More than enough for me to provide for my child.  More than enough for me to provide for whomever and whatever gets placed in my path.

He is the source of my strength.  He is the source of my peace and my joy.  Perhaps not happiness, but always there must be a joy.

Recently two people from my past told me how different I am.  It wasn’t in a good way… at least, I didn’t take it that way.  I’ve grown up.  I’m not the free spirit they remember.  To quote one “we haven’t spoken in so long – it is not the Stina I remember, so carefree, – it’s like I’m reading someone else’s blog.”  The other was my ex.  When I told him I was pregnant we hadn’t really been caught up on each other’s lives.  I filled him in on the past year, including my miscarriage.  He said I wasn’t the free spirit he knew.

It’s not possible to avoid change (and it shouldn’t be avoided).  Change is good, in its own right.  What constitutes that change and its effects are what have the potential to be negative.  Growing up is good.  Being more responsible is good.  Experience is good.  But at what cost?  My carefree free-spirit personality was something I valued about myself.  It was a core to my personal identity.  It got me into trouble sometimes.  It caused me to hurt people sometimes (not intentionally).  But it was me.  It defined me and how everyone saw me.  It was how I coped with all of the crap that happened in my life.

If I don’t have to that cope… how am I?  How am I dealing with the waves that come at me without end?  The pains, the hurts, the disappointments, the death, the struggle.  Even the joys.  How do I process those if I can’t let them go into the wind from a green hillside?  How do I breathe?

Does this too have to come from God?

 

today

This morning I met Chris. Chris was standing on the corner with a sign “Will work for food”. For good measure, it had a little Jesus fish. It is difficult for me not to be callous when I see that. I think that the Jesus thing is just to solicit a response – one that involves food or money. I had to check myself. People matter. Period. I had the joy of chatting with him in the parking lot and knowing he’ll have a few good meals.And it was good.Next on huge things for this morning – I wrote a letter to my Aunt. It was addressed to Aunt & Uncle, but really – it was to her. I must have tossed half of my writing tablet in attempts to straighten my thoughts and figure out what to say. Finally – I just wrote and let it be what it was.And it was good.

As for the rest of the day? In celebration of Joel’s birthday, we are lunching at Val’s and will all be suffering heart failure due to clogged arteries. I will not be eating much there – so perhaps I’ll live.

I’m hoping to head into SFO later today. Mark’s family is Irish. Today is the St Patty’s parade in the City. There will be celebration afterwards.

It’s 12:50pm and all’s well.