No.

God said no.

I want to say that I'm glad that He answered and that I know that this must be best, but it doesn't feel that way.  I feel abandoned, forgotten.  I know William does even more so.

I know that God's ways are not our ways, that He has a purpose in saying no, that this path is what He has for us.  All things things are true, but they don't stop the hurt that my heart feels right now.

Maybe another door will open, maybe not.  Either way, I'm praying for the strength to walk in faith even when my heart feels broken.

An Open Letter to the One I Love

Dear William,

It's hard to believe that we've been married almost a year.  I've heard that the first year is the hardest and I hope that's the truth because this year has been rough.  We've been hit so many times with so many things that, to be honest, sometimes I'm surprised we're still together.  Don't get me wrong - I'm GLAD we're still together!  It's just been hard - for both of us.

Love is not what I thought it would be.  It's a lot more work and a lot less romance.  It's a lot of give and take.  It's a vulnerability that I don't think either of us was ready for.  To quote, dcTalk, "Love is a verb."

I do love you.  It's a choice that I make, even when I don't want to love you.  I'm not the wife I want to be and I'm certainly not the wife you want me to be.  We both came into this with expectations for ourselves and each other, none of which have been completely realistic.

I wish we were in a different place than this, but I have hope that God can change our circumstances, our marriage, our lives.  He brings beauty from ashes, raises the dead and parts the Red Sea.  He can make something beautiful out of our marriage.  God can change us. He can change our marriage.  He can make all things new.

May we start over anew as we move beyond the first year of our marriage.  May God do a mighty work in us and may His name alone be praised!

Lucy

"She lived alone and few could know when Lucy ceased to be, but she is in the grave, and oh, the difference to me."

Sometimes I feel like the Lucy in Wordsworth's poem, like no one sees me or knows me, but I'm glad to know that I have a God who always sees the violet, the faint star, the one who lives alone.

Even when I feel alone, I'm not.  I have a Savior who will never leave me.

Even when I'm faint of heart, I'm not powerless.  I have the Holy Spirit to strengthen me.

Even when I'm frail and easily crushed, I'm not without the God of the universe.

I am frail like the violet and faint like the star, but I am not alone.  I am weak, but He is strong.  Life is hard, but God is good.

Prayer

I need God to answer in a big way.  I need God to strengthen my husband's faith, to give me wisdom to walk through these trials and to be glorified in all the things that seem to be going wrong.

We said in sickness and in health - he's sick.  

We said for richer or for poorer - he has no insurance and he's trying to get a full time job, but it doesn't seem to be working out.

We said for better or for worse - all I can say is that the two above combined lead to worse.  

I know God doesn't work on my schedule...that I can't expect Him to work like a Santa in the sky, but I also know that He is able to change all of these things or change me through these things.

If anyone out there sees this, please just pray for Lucy and William.  Pray that we will see God glorified in these circumstances.  God knows who we are even if you don't.  

Confession

I'm struggling to forgive my last pastor.  The specific examples as to why I feel this way have no place on something so public as a blog, but it is safe to say that, in my understanding of Scripture, he has failed to shepherd the flock in his care and he has instead been harsh, demanding and has promoted his own political gain rather than the Word of God.

As I watch the brutal aftermath in my life, in my husband's life and in the lives of our friends from that church, I can't help but remember James 3:1 and the admonition to be careful because those who teach will be held to a higher standard.

It isn't my place to judge this pastor; God will take care of that in His time.  Yet, I find myself deep in a battle in my soul when it comes to forgiving this man.  The hurts he's left run deep.  This mess has affected many lives, caused several to grow bitter towards the church in general and has been a difficult road for my husband and I as newlyweds (we lost the community that supported us through our courtship).

Pastors, be careful, be on your guard and keep James 3:1 on your mind as you lead your church.  You can be a good shepherd, following the Good Shepherd, or you can be destructive and damaging.  I don't believe that there is an option in the middle.

You can stand for the Truth without crushing people, but I don't believe you can crush people while also standing for the Truth.

Hide

When I was a little girl, I had a little corner in my room, between my bed and the wall, where I would go when I was upset.  There, I couldn't be seen unless someone took the time to come all the way into my room.

We moved when I was twelve and I'm pretty sure I had abandoned the corner by that time, but lately I find myself longing for it.  I just want a little space that's all my own, where I can go, curl up with my blanket and hide.

Life just keeps coming from every direction.  Nothing horrible, but when you add it all up, it can be a lot.  I know that it's not outside of the hand of God, that He's here with me and that He is using the things in my life to make me more like Him.  But, knowing all of that doesn't mean that I still don't want a little corner to retreat to from time to time.

Alice

She died alone in the summer of 1973.  No one knew for several days.  Her body couldn't even be donated to science (as she had instructed) because of the summer heat and the length of time it took to discover that she'd passed away.  The few things in her small one bedroom apartment were dispersed and her money divided among the charities and ministries she held dear.

I used to fear ending up like Alice, dying alone, unmarried and childless.  I pitied what I perceived to be the end of her story.  I hoped that I wouldn't end up like her.

Then, in the summer of 2010, one of her letters, penned in 1924, made its way to me.  Since then, she's become almost a dear friend, a mentor, a co-laborer for the Gospel.  I thank God for Alice, for her faithfulness to the Word of God and her relentless passion for the Gospel.  I've been blessed by her words and challenged by them more times than I can say.

Her story isn't over, though her earthly life is.  Her story isn't over because God is still answering her prayers for missions and for ministries, because God is still using her words and because her story is a thread in God's tapestry.

Alice didn't die alone.  She died in the arms of her true love, Jesus.  On the day when His tapestry is complete, I'll rejoice with her as we celebrate His works.

Nagging

I hate my mom's nagging.  She gets things in her head and wants them done immediately.  If they aren't done on her time table or to her liking, she won't let up until things change.  I determined as a kid that I would be nothing like her.

Oh, how I wish I could say that I'm not.

You see, marriage has brought out a nagging streak in me.  A nagging streak that I detest, but one that lurks in the depths of my sinful nature nonetheless.

I nag my husband to help around the house, but even worse, I nag him about his food choices or even to be more romantic (in the ways that I want of course) and in the process, I forget to let him do things on his timetable.  

I neglect to respect him and fail to give him the credit for the things that he does do.  I only see his faults and his flaws in accordance with my standards and I forget that I am not the one who should be judging him in the first place.

Journey

I'm still new to this married thing (coming up on six months), but the one thing I've learned so far is that it is a journey.  Some days, it is a journey with my best friend (those are GREAT days!!).  Other days, it is a journey with a man I've committed to love, but who drives me crazy (not-so great days).

We've had a slightly rocky start to things, that I will admit.  Between the usual of growing accustomed to living with another person, we've had health issues, family issues and employment issues.  Before marriage, I never understood how Kim Kardashian could end a marriage after only 72 days, but now, I do.

It isn't that I don't love my husband.  I do.  It isn't that I have any intention of leaving him.  I don't.  I'm in this for the long haul.

I've just learned that marriage is hard, that my idea of being frugal and his are not the same, that we don't have the same sleep schedule, that we don't process bad news in the same way, that we don't like the same kinds of food and that we grew up with different cultural norms.  This is not a storybook; it's real life.

This is a journey.  It's a journey to get to know one another, but even more than that, it's a journey for each of us to grow in Christ likeness.  Each day, I see more clearly how sinful my heart is and just how much I need Christ.

I don't know where this journey will take us, but I am glad that we're on it together.  It's good to know that we have the same Guide and that He has it all under control.

Bitterness

Not long ago, my husband and I were deeply hurt by the actions and words of someone we had previously respected.  Now, as we search for a new beginning, I struggle to keep the root of bitterness from taking hold in my life.  My sinful heart wants to blame that person for so many things, to lash out and to tell anyone and everyone who will listen the depth of my hurt.  But, I know that that is not what I am called to do.

Bitterness is common in my family.  I come from a lineage of 50+ years of multi-generational family feuding and, while I don't believe that sin is hereditary, I do see trends in the sins of family members.  I can't change the past, but my branch on the family tree has yet to be completed and I can choose a different course than the ones that have defined five decades.  

So, I am committing to pray for the one who hurt us.  I commit to pray that that person finds joy in Christ and that God will be glorified.  I commit to find every possible means to forgive that person, so far as it depends on me.  

Trust for that person is gone and, without repentance and obvious change, cannot be restored, but saying that I forgive means, for me, that I choose to live without bitterness and that I choose to see that God can still work in that person's life.

The plan

About a month ago, I read a book entitled Embracing Obscurity.  The author, who chose to remain anonymous, points out the tendency we all have to seek out the approval of others and how that tendency directly contradicts the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

I've long been a people pleaser and, as my first post on this blog points out, much of my life has revolved around gaining the praise and approval of others.  The timing of this realization came in the midst of some trials and several twists that have me realizing that the course of my life is not going to go according to the plan I intended.

The plan itself is irrelevant, save for the fact that it mostly revolved around what others thought of me and what I wanted for me.  But, due to the many years I dreamed of it, letting it go and watching it slip away have been difficult.  I'm crushed, weary and broken.

Yet, as I see my plan crashing and burning before my eyes, I also have hope.  I don't have hope that these trials will just vanish, but I do have hope in a God who brings beauty from ashes.  I see Him working in the little things: in my deepened desire for His Word, in a pastor who has shown concern for my trials, in seeing the depth of my sin more clearly, in a friend who continues to speak the truth into my life and in my husband's acts of kindness and love.

I don't know how this will all end, but I do know that these trials are shaping me and my relationship with God in a way that nothing else ever has and, for that reason alone, I thank God.

Me

I once had grand ideas, thinking that I would change the world and do something great with my life.  I've since settled into adulthood, finding that the daily life of a donor database diva (as I was once dubbed) doesn't quite live up to the dreams and ideals I held to in childhood.

Truthfully, some days I think that the child version of me would find the adult version of me quite boring and unimpressive.  The child version of me had visions of practicing medicine in remote places, teaching school, feeding the hungry, solving ancient mysteries and discovering the cure for cancer.

But, despite her philanthropic leanings, the child version of me was truthfully selfish.  The child version of me did want to help, but she wanted to help so that others would see how great she was, how smart, how talented, how helpful and so on.  Her first concern was what others thought of her.

I still wrestle with the voice of the child version of me.  I wrestle with her as I begin this blog.  For you see, I want to write some of the thoughts and ideas that I'm working through, but I want to write them for the glory of God and not for the purpose of making anyone think more highly of me.