All By Myself...

My husband is leaving in seven hours and thirty-two minutes. For two weeks. Ten days, to be more precise, but for all practical purposes, two weeks. He'll come home for four days and then leave again. And this 10 days gone, 4 days home, 10 days gone, 4 days home, 10 days gone cycle will continue pretty much indefinitely. And I support him and our decision to do this 100%, but that doesn't make saying goodbye much easier. I usually don't like to post my raw, unedited, emotional thoughts on my blog, but today, it just seems the right way to express my current feelings.

I know I should feel blessed that my husband has a job, a very good job, that so far he really enjoys. I know I should feel thankful that I am married to a hard-working man who is so committed to providing for us. I know I should be glad he isn't in the military and that we won't be separated for months on end. I know I should be reminding myself that this is temporary. I know I should appreciate these things, and I do. I really do.

But right now, it hurts. Right now, I don't care if I sound like a big, whiny baby. I don't want him to be gone for two weeks, and I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be away from him for even one night. I know what it's like when half of me is in another state in a hotel and I'm...here. I know my identity is not so tied to him that I'm not my own person, but being separated still feels...wrong. And I hate it.

We will be okay. Rest assured. I know the absence will make our hearts grow fonder, and I know we can see each other via FaceTime almost every night...which will be the best part of our days. I will keep reminding myself that this is temporary. He won't be doing this traveling gig forever. Our best estimate is that he'll be doing it for two years. And having an end date (no matter how accurate it is) totally helps. Because if I thought for a second that he would be gone every two weeks for the next thirty years, I would not be able to let him go.

We can do this. I can do this. My days will be busy and full of spending time caring for my niece. Some will fly and others will drag. I will feel independent and bold some days and timid and scared on other days. I will have girls' nights and my Financial Peace class. I will have Pinterest and movies and crafting and blogging and designing. I will have church and Jesus.

But it will still be hard.
I'm not ready, and I never will be. But I will be okay.
____________________________________________

"I lift up my eyes to the mountains – where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip – he who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord watches over you – the Lord is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all harm – he will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore." - Psalm 121:1-2 NIV (emphasis added by me)

I lift my eyes up unto the mountains
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from You, Maker of Heaven
Creator of the Earth

Oh how I need You, Lord
You are my only hope
You're my only prayer

So I will wait for You
To come and rescue me
Come and give me life

– "I Lift My Eyes Up", Strong Tower, Kutless

...leave to thy God to order and provide...

I often have a hard time with things not going as planned. Not that I consider myself to be a complete planner, but I would rather have a Plan A and be flexible with it than no plan at all. For example, my days off. When I have a day off, completely unscheduled, I get exactly NOTHING done. I stay in lounge clothes. I don't necessarily shower, and sometimes I forget to eat. It's sad, but it's true. I don't get the house clean or the grocery shopping done, unless I planned to do that.

So I generally run with a limited outline in my head of what the next few weeks, months, and years will or should look like. I probably should keep a day planner, but since graduating from college, I don't. Anyway, it generally helps because I like having goals. Goals are great. But, many times I try to make plans involving people or things outside of my control, things I never should have planned in the first place. And then when they don't turn out the way I expected, I just do not handle it well. At all. It's like I set myself up for disappointment.

I know better than to be this way. There are lots of verses in the Bible that remind me not to try to be in charge, but Proverbs 3:5-6 pretty much says it all.

Proverbs 3:5-6
5 Trust in the Lord with all your heart, And lean not on your own understanding; 6 In all your ways acknowledge Him, And He shall direct your paths.

I know these verses very well. I memorized them in elementary school. But I still need reminders. Because sometimes I read a Bible verse and think, yeah, yeah, I know that I should do ____. But sometimes the concepts are abstract, like trust. Your own understanding. Acknowledge Him. And if I don't take the time to absorb it, I move on because I didn't listen to what God was saying to me or even to apply it to my life. Maybe it's just me, but music (especially hymns) speaks into my life so often and gives me the reminders I so often need. For example, I'll be doing something like checking Facebook and listening to my hymn station on Pandora in the background, and bam! A phrase will just hit me.

I love the song, Be Still My Soul anyway, but the line "leave to thy God to order and provide" has never jumped out at me before. In the middle of a time when my plans were not occurring in the order I wanted them to and also when I knew I couldn't provide for some of my own needs, I heard this line of this song in a whole new way. I can plan and set goals and make lists and budget, but God is ultimately the one who orders my days and provides all of my needs and my wants even before I know what they are.

 

This image is now my desktop background, so I have constant reminders that it's okay to set goals but I need to allow God to micromanage my life.

Empathizing with the Pain of Loss

One aspect of my personality is empathy, which gives me a strong desire to feel the pain of others and somehow try to ease that pain. Usually its pain I've never even experienced in my own life. Other times, its pain I know only too well. Sometimes it makes me a softy. Sometimes it means I cry during movies when things happen to fictional characters or people I don't even know. I'm such a Golden Retriever, it's not even funny.

In the past few years, I have had several friends experience miscarriage. On Monday, I just found out another friend was going through it. As someone who has not yet become a parent, I can't even imagine the pain of losing a child, let alone one in the womb. The "Why me, God?" questions must be so difficult to face, especially when the miscarriage occurs after so many people knew you were pregnant...to have to face people and tell them you lost the baby. I can't imagine how difficult that must be. The desire to curl up, hide from society, and become numb would be so strong for me.

I recently heard this song, by Natalie Grant called "Held." It's by no means a new song - it came out in 2005 - and though I've heard it many times before, only recently did I actually listen to the lyrics and look them up. I nearly balled my eyes out. Had I not been at work, I probably would have.

Held

by Natalie Grant

Two months is too little / They let him go / They had no sudden healing
To think that Providence / Would take a child from his mother
While she prays, is appalling / Who told us we'd be rescued
What has changed and / Why should we be saved from nightmares
We're asking why this happens to us / Who have died to live, it's unfair

:: Chorus ::
This is what it means to be held / How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive / This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was when everything fell / We'd be held

This hand is bitterness / We want to taste it and / Let the hatred numb our sorrows
The wise hand opens slowly / To lilies of the valley and tomorrow

[Chorus]

:: Bridge ::
If hope is born of suffering / If this is only the beginning

Can we not wait, for one hour / Watching for our Savior

[Chorus]
We'd be held

This is what it is to be loved and to know / That the promise was when everything fell
We'd be held / This is what it means to be held.....

How perfect. How it must break the heart of God when these terrible sorts of things happen to people. Many people ask why bad things happen to good people. I always think that is such a crazy question. I'm non-confrontational, so I never say anything. But really. What is the definition of a good person anyway? We're all sinners, those who are in Christ and those who are not, have all fallen short of the glory of God. It says so in the Bible. Even people who don't believe that know that no one is perfect. We're saved because of what He did, not because we believe in Him and are somehow magically turned into "good people." The promise was not that bad things wouldn't happen to us anymore. As the song says, "The promise was that when everything fell, we'd be held."

I read or heard somewhere, though I can't for the life of me remember where, of a Christian couple who had a baby girl who was born somehow handicapped. I don't remember the specifics. They went through the "why us, God?" questions and eventually gained what I think is an awesome perspective. What if there were a total percentage of babies that had to be born handicapped? What if God gave that to you to bear in order to spare from someone else? If you knew there had to be a total number distributed between all mankind from now to the end of time, as a believer, would you not volunteer for the job? This couple took on this perspective. The fact that they were given a baby that they had the financial, spiritual, and physical ability to care for became a blessing. God gave her to them to take care of her instead of someone else.

I think the same thing could apply to miscarriages or really any pain we experience that we deem unfair. Not to diminish the pain felt, but to gain a new perspective on it. What if there were a total number of miscarriages that had to happen throughout time? What if God gave it to you to bear rather than to someone He knew would not be able to carry the burden or endure the grief. The Bible doesn't actually say, "God will never give you more than you can handle." Sometimes He does allow you to be in situations that you don't think you can handle, but in reality, those are the times He wants you to rely on Him to carry you. If He didn't let those sorts of things happen to you, you'd think you handled everything in your own strength. Why would you even need Him? Really, isn't that what the Bible is saying in Psalm 71:20-21? "Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth you will again bring me up. You will increase my honor and comfort me once again." Also, Lamentations 3:31-33 "For men are not cast off by the Lord forever. Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to the children of men."

It probably seems easy for me to say. I've never actually experienced great pain in loss. Sure I've lost loved ones, actually only once, but there's a world of difference between losing an 80 year old grandfather and losing a child. I was VERY close to my grandpa, and oftentimes now, I will find myself thinking about him and how much I miss the presence of such a wonderful man of God who without a doubt loved me and my family with a Christ-like love. I don't think that pain can even compare to the grief of losing a child who had been growing inside of you. I only know from what I've heard, the strong bond between a mother and a child, especially in the womb. Even though I may never know this pain, I try to empathize anyway and my heart just breaks for people going through something like this. I mean for most people, a funeral helps bring closure to the grief they experience, but there is no funeral for a miscarried baby. No real closure. So, I pray for them. I try to encourage them and be there for them. I pray for them some more. I thank God for his blessings. I see the strength in these women (and their families) and am actually encouraged by them. I hope and pray that if I'm ever in their situation or even a similar one, that I will exhibit the same strength and reliance on God that I see in them. And maybe I'll look back on this post and be reminded of God's promises.