The problem with pain

God has provided a clear path for our family..so why do I still hurt?
I have been experiencing something very new and very real lately-- pain. Pain so deep, there are times it takes my breath away. I know that we have much to be thankful for, and it is comforting to know that we will soon begin a new chapter in our lives in Chicago...but I can't erase the last year of our lives so as to avoid thinking of everything that "almost was".

We moved to Minerva ready to serve, ready to connect and ready to settle. I never in my wildest dreams imagined living in a small country town in the middle of Ohio...but everything seemed to be coming together so perfectly, it was the obvious step. We had been married several years, had started a family and were ready to settle down. I was ready to step away from teaching for the time being and support Randy in any way that I could while doing the other most underpaid job in the world- being a mom:)

Something I have learned about myself over the years is that I struggle with trusting and a voracious desire to control. In the beginning of our marriage, this played out in my ability to teach and have that "stable" salaried job. This caused a lot of contention between Randy and I..thankfully, that has changed a great deal..especially over the last year. Needless to say, it was something I could do- something I could control..something that gave me "safety".

My perfectionism has also been an out-working of the same inward issue--everything has to be done a certain way...every detail of my job, my life...even my house and how I organize certain things. Life has always had a certain "order" to it.

Living with family- having half of our earthly possessions in storage for almost 2 years was quite a challenge for a person like me. Trying to be a self-sufficient family when you live with 3 other adults was a challenge and not having any marital privacy tends to wear on you after a while. I think that it was tolerable only because I had a healthy hope for the future..the idea that, "it will all be worth it when this is over."

I still have this hope...but am carrying some battle wounds. Having relationships and your hopes and dreams for the future ripped away from you in such a cruel and unjust way is painful. What makes it worse is that we have committed to walking away in the most Christ-like way that we can. This means...we are leaving quietly. Not only does this drive me insane because I want to shout from the rooftops the truth of what happened at this church, but also, because almost all of our relationships, our ministry, our whole world was cut off at the knees before it had really gotten started.

It's an inescapable pain. The kind that causes restless sleep and hits you like a brick wall the second the dreams have cleared from your head each morning. My heart aches so much there are times my chest actually hurts.

This pain has manifested itself in more than one way... the birth of our beautiful Sophia was quite eventful if you've read the previous blog. The birth was so fast, there was no time for any medical intervention. Now, I know that women have been doing this for thousands of years, but when you are truly caught in a situation like this, panic sets in. I think I have been struggling with a bit of "post-birth" trauma since then. The pain was so intense, and no one could do anything for me. I just had to... endure it...I stared into the faces of the doctors, nurses and Randy and suddenly knew...this is it. I have to fight.

Even as all of the details of our move are worked out, I still have days where I feel that we are just "enduring" it...Randy keeps reminding me that that is exactly what Christ did for us...The other night before bed, I was sharing all of these connections with Randy, and he reminded me of who I called on for help during the birth...It was Jesus. Over and over again... I called on Jesus. I couldn't save myself, Randy couldn't...even the trained professionals couldn't... He was right.

It was the deepest most profound experience of my life. A situation where there was truly nothing left except dependence on God. I say I have faith...I call myself a Christian...but until I had nothing left, I still was trying to face life on my own strength--alone. I'm embarrassed to say that it took something so extreme to learn this lesson, but I am so thankful that God cared enough to allow it.