my love story

When I was 19 years old, I stopped dating. I had had plenty of boyfriends (I know, 19 is young to have had a lot of boyfriends) - and I had experienced plenty of heartache. So I promised myself my next boyfriend would be my husband. 

When I was 24 years old, my sister made me join catholicmatch.com. She came to me and asked if I would make a profile so we could just see who was on the website. We laughed and laughed as we filled out questions from "Do you believe in papal infallibility?" to "What is your favorite title of Mary?" and "Who is your favorite saint?" We basically filled out my profile as a joke, not really writing anything in my "About Me" or uploading any pictures. We honestly just used my profile to see what kind of guys were online. By the end of the night, after laughing until we cried, my sister turned to me and said, "I really think you should sign up. I have a good feeling about this." I fought her on it, but finally agreed - almost as a joke. For a week, I would text or call her every day to regale her with hilariously awkward stories of very odd attempts at communication from random guys all over the country. My biggest qualm with the way they were trying to pursue me was that most of them would skip emailing me first and jump straight into "chatting" with me (a la facebook chat). It would overwhelm me to get a chat request from a guy I had never seen, never had the chance to see if I was interested in them at all, and would just jump straight into an online conversation. 

A week into it, I got a very sweet email from a man named Michael. He was a red-head from Denver, and although I stated explicitly on my profile that I was not interested in long distance, he acknowledged this in his first email and said he was interested in getting to know me anyway. I chatted with him that night, became facebook friends with him right away, and three weeks later he was on a plane to California to take me on our first date.

On our first date, I was interested in him, but didn't know if there was enough of a connection to truly start pursuing a long distance relationship. I found myself praying the majority of the day: "God, if you want me to continue getting to know this man, please show me something - please get my attention." We had spent all day together - going to Balboa Island, praying at a cute little chapel together, going ice skating and getting dinner, and I still was unsure if this was worth the incredible difficulty of long distance. 

After dinner, we went back to my car, and it was dead. He loves this story, so he could take hours telling every single detail. But suffice it to say, we had to pull an all-nighter at Denny's, waiting for AAA to come and replace my car battery. This man took such good care of everything while we were both exhausted and frustrated. He was so patient and kind through the whole thing, and allowed me to sleep in my backseat while he took care of the logistics with AAA. I was in awe of his selflessness and ability to take such good care of me, even when I wasn't his girlfriend or even a good friend for that matter. It was only a first date. 

(At a certain point at Denny's, I told him I couldn't stay in cute date clothes anymore so I put on some sweat pants and slippers I happened to have in my car. I made him take this selfie for posterity - even if there was only the tiniest chance that he would be my future husband - I would want a photo!)

Well, God answered my prayer loud and clear. I saw something in Michael I had never seen before so clearly: a man of God who is incredibly patient, kind, selfless, thoughtful, and someone who is stable and strong. It was so apparent to me that these were all the qualities I needed and was looking for - so I allowed him to pursue me. 

On December 31, 2011, I finally had my first boyfriend in five years. Nothing like I expected, nothing I thought I wanted - but everything I needed and that God desired for me. 

And I started falling in love with this amazing, holy, selfless, thoughtful, generous, kind, good man. He makes me laugh, he dances with me, he sings to me, he kisses me on the forehead, he gives when he has nothing left for himself. He takes care of everyone around him with no thought for himself. He is strong and stable when everyone around him needs him to be. He is the best man I have ever known.

I've moved to Denver twice in our relationship. Once for the summer of 2012 and then again in January 2013, which was supposed to be permanent.

(We have taken so many road trip selfies it would be overkill to post them all.)

The first time I lived in Denver, I had the most amazing time. I had a full-time job working at a children's theatre company, I was living with my best friend from high school, and Michael and I were just having the best time living in the same city. So I decided to teach for one more semester in California, and then quit my beloved job and move to Denver permanently.

But then I got sick. My hormonal disorders and depression hit us both like a ton of bricks. In California, I had set myself up with a job I loved, near my family, with a schedule that ensured I got enough sleep and had enough time to relax. My issues with mental health were held at bay for years and didn't show themselves until all of those band-aids were ripped away and all I had was Michael. A new city, no roommate, no family, no close friends, new job, and not enough money to live comfortably. I think anyone would have some sort of freak out. But I lost it. He finally made the selfless decision to move me home as quickly as possible, knowing it would be the best place for me to recover and stay healthy. He also knew this meant he would have to leave his life in Denver and move to California one day as well. 

This man has taken care of me every step of the way in this relationship and in my struggles with my health. He was with me my darkest night, when he found me on the ground and lifted me up into bed and soothed me to sleep. He made sure to fly out and hold my hand as I went in for surgery and prayed over me up until the last moment. He is the one who taught me how to fight for my life. 

The day he asked me to be his girlfriend, I shared with him that I have PCOS and may never be able to have children. He looked at me and said, "That doesn't change anything." Later in our relationship, I shared with him that my last relationship fell apart when my boyfriend at the time found me sobbing uncontrollably on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night. My last boyfriend got so scared that everything changed after that, until we eventually broke up. I told him my fear of this being my story for the rest of my life: no one would be able to put up with me. No one would be able to handle my issues. No one would want to carry this burden. He said, "If I ever find you on the bathroom floor, there'd better be enough room on that floor for me." He is the one who has pushed me to be my best self. To find the right medications. To go to as many doctors as I need to until I find the right ones. He is the one who has gone to countless therapy sessions with me to support me and work through our own struggles. He is the one who has held me during panic attacks, wiped my tears away, helped me breathe during anxiety attacks and made me smile when I'm feeling hopelessly depressed. He is the one who prays with me when I am so mad at God that I can barely breathe. He is the one who makes me better. In every way possible.

He is the one.

This amazing man has somehow found me worthy of being his wife, and asked me to marry him on Pentecost Sunday. He completely surprised me (as you can tell by my lack of nice clothes, make-up, or having washed or styled my hair!), which is exactly what I wanted. On Saturday, we went to Balboa Island - our first date spot - and had an incredibly romantic date. I kept waiting for him to propose, but he never did. I was at peace with whenever he chose to ask - so I let it go. The next morning after Pentecost Mass, we went to the alcove with the Blessed Mother - Our Lady Queen of Angels, placed our hands upon her feet, and prayed a Hail Mary together. I got up to leave, and turned to see Michael on one knee. He asked me if I would marry him, to which I said yes-yes-yes-yes-yes-yes! These photos were taken after the proposal, a few women in the church asked us to re-enact the moment, but my reaction was still completely genuine - I was in absolute shock and couldn't stop shaking from surprise and excitement. After we were done, we asked the priest to bless us and bless my ring - so we were prayed over and blessed right away as we begin our preparation for marriage. It was beautiful and perfect, reverent and prayerful, on the Church's birthday, no less. The birth of Christ's bride.

The engagement story and my stunningly beautiful ring (which he had my little sister help design) and proposal are incredibly exciting, but what matters is that we are getting married. We are preparing to participate in such a beautiful sacrament, and I am so humbled by God's grace through all of this. We are currently praying a novena together for trust and for our ability to keep our eyes focused on Christ. I can't wait to plan my wedding, but more than anything - I can't wait to experience being married to the best man I have ever known.

reflection friday: a love story

It's been a while since I've done a Reflection Friday - so it's time to do another! As I've mentioned before in this blog, 2010 was an incredibly difficult year for me. I lost my grandmother that year, my family had to put our dog down, I was having an incredibly bad year financially, my roommate and I had an extremely toxic living situation (with one another, not the place itself), I had people hurt me in ways that are not worth putting into words. I was aching deeply, and it was affecting everything that I did. 

I have worked at my current job for almost five years now. I've talked about it before, but to remind you - I'm the music director at a performing arts high school. I could write a book about how this school has changed and impacted my life. I've grown up there - literally. When I graduated from college, I got a phone call from the musical theatre teacher at this school. We'll call it HSPA (High School for Performing Arts). She called me 5 days after I graduated offering me a job and I accepted. I had prayed and prayed that God would just throw something in my lap after graduation, because I was clueless. Graduating with a degree in drama didn't give a whole lot of direction - so I prayed and trusted, and God seriously came through.

So I started working at HSPA, intending only to be there for one musical. Here I am, almost five years later, and my students and co-workers have made me into the woman I am today. There are many, many stories of how this job has impacted my life and I know I will never be able to tell them all. Or even thoroughly express how deeply and intensely these moments and my students and co-workers have changed and enriched my life.

But this one moment is one I will never forget and one that touched me so deeply that it completely changed my life and re-set the course I was on. It reminded me of God's grace, His beauty, His love.

For the last few months of 2010, my students and I were working on a production of Little Women. My students at this point knew me well enough to know something was going on. I was not doing well. I was so depressed and in such a dark place, and no matter what I did, my students knew me and knew I was not okay. Our show opened in December, right before Christmas, and it went beautifully. My students sang their hearts out and made me so proud. And then we had our cast party - our traditional party that we have after the closing night of every show. We go to a cast member's house and eat and chat and celebrate our show and each other. This particular cast party, I had a friend come with me. I walked him out to his car and spent a few minutes saying goodbye.

When I re-entered the house, all of my students - every single one - were standing in the foyer of the house, waiting for me. Right when I walked in, all of them joined in song. Just for me. No one else was in the room. They were waiting for me. And they sang, in overwhelmingly beautiful harmony, the song of my heart - my favorite Christmas song:

Fall on your knees

Oh hear the angel voices

Oh night divine

Oh night when Christ was born

Oh night divine

Oh night, Oh night divine

And I remembered then when Brandon had asked me what my favorite Christmas song was. He knew. He knew that my heart needed this. My students singing and praising God with their voices just for me. 

As they sang, I melted to the floor. I sat down and wept and looked at my students, giving every ounce of the love in their hearts in the best way they knew how. Through song. My heart was so healed that night.

I had convinced myself - or the enemy had convinced me - that I was unworthy of love. That no one loved me. I was alone. I was worthless.

But looking in these children's eyes, there was no. possible. way for me to deny that they love me. That I am worthwhile. That I am not alone. I am so loved, whether I feel like I deserve it or not. How can you deny the love of children? It is so pure, so innocent, so full. (And yes, teenagers are still children. It is the dichotomy and mystery and beauty of teenagers and what I love the most - they are just as much children as they are adult. It's an amazing thing to witness and be a part of.) 

The love of children is life-changing, life-giving, grace-giving-to-the-point-of-drowning-in-it, pure, whole, beautiful. Just beautiful.

And my life was changed. I have never been so sure of how loved I am than in that moment. And that was the moment I knew everything was going to be okay. That if they love me, God must love me, too. 

December 12, 2010 -- my facebook status from that day

There is nothing in this world that could have healed my aching heart like all my students singing "O Holy Night" just for me. "To learn and never be filled, is wisdom; to teach and never be weary, is love." Thank you for picking my heart up every time the weariness starts to take over.

To teach and never be weary, is love. Yes. But to teach and be weary and never give into weariness, that is even bigger love. And to see past your own weariness and love someone else through theirs? That is the biggest love of all. To be shown that kind of love will change your life forever. My heart is forever grateful to know that kind of love. The love of children looking past their own needs, their own wants, their own troubles. Oh that I can learn to love people like that.

"The soul is healed by being with children."

--Fyodor Dostoyevsky

currently vol. 3

Hello, blog. It's been a while. I didn't stop writing because I was having a hard time this time, which is good news! I don't have a real reason, other than maybe feeling uninspired to sit down and write. I haven't even been keeping up with my reading - I finally sat down and read all your blogs. Every single one. I love the blogs I follow and I don't want to fall behind! So instead of me attempting to find something inspiring to write about, I'm going to start back up with linking up with some of my favorite girls! Anna Kate at Home Away From Home and Jenna and Mary at A Mama Collective.

So I am currently...

Thinking about: 

So right now I'm trying to figure out what to do with my life -- do I want to dive head-first into performing? Stay teaching? It's been a crazy few months and I'm trying to discern what God wants from me, although I'm starting to think He's asking me what I want.... and I'm still trying to figure that out. I'm also thinking about the fact that I'm waiting to hear about a show right now. Waiting to know if I've been cast in a show I auditioned for. It's weird. Seriously, just weird. I got out of the whole "theatre world" (the performing side) for the last five years to teach high school kids how to become performers. So now I'm back in the game, going to auditions and picking songs for myself and learning dances and competing with 20 blonde girls who look like me. I ran into two of my high school students at this audition - one of them sang a song I gave her when she was my student. The other was called back literally for the same exact thing as me - she was my competition. What a weird thing. I taught these girls how to do what they are doing, and now they are my competition. What a trip. It's a weird world to re-enter - the world of auditioning and performing. I don't know if it's what I want or not, but I'm in it for now and I'm just going to enjoy it. I found myself going into "teacher mode" at the audition - answering my old student's questions about her clothes and whatnot, and then I remembered - wait - we are up against each other for the same job! Weird. All I can say. Weird. So I'm just waiting for the cast list and I have another callback coming up soon. It's all in God's hands.

Also, my man flew back to Colorado today. I miss him already - but we were blessed to see each other every weekend in March. It was wonderful. Maybe that's why I've been blogging less!

Reading:

Honestly, nothing at the moment. I've picked up so many books recently and have put them down for too long. The only book I have invested in and still pick up is Dark Night of the Soul by St. John of the Cross. It has helped me so immensely and resonates with me and where I have been for the last year so deeply. I will have to post about it in depth when I'm done with it - it's very dense so I'm taking it little by little.

Listening to:

This song, non-stop.

The slideshow doesn't mean anything to me - I didn't even watch it, to be honest. But this song. I sing it on repeat in my car on the way to work. It just brings me joy and touches my heart. 

"It's a long and rugged road - and we don't know where it's heading. But we know it's gonna get us where we're going. And when we find what we're looking for, we'll drop these bags and search no more - 'cause it's gonna feel like heaven when we're home. It's gonna feel like heaven when we're home."

Watching:

My sister and I are each working on our computers, sitting on my bed, with the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills reunion on my TV. It's a slumber party and it's fabulous.

Thankful for:

God's unending love and mercy. The fact that I am starting to be able to see and experience this grace and mercy for the first time in a very long time. Even if it's just a whisper right now.
My sisters. Especially when one can come over for a slumber party and just sit in bed with me and watch junky TV and just be together.
My boyfriend. The amazing example of love, selflessness and kindness that he sets for me. His pureness of heart. I am so blessed to have someone like him love me so much. It's so humbling.
My job. My high school students who bring me so much joy and who teach me so much every single day.
Musical theatre. Performing, playing, singing, dancing. It doesn't matter. I love it, and I am thankful for it. I am thankful to watch young people fall more in love with musical theatre every day and work so hard to put on amazing shows and become incredible performers.
Being able to have perspective on auditions and callbacks and know that at the end of the day, none of this reflects my self worth or my talent, and none of it will take away my joy. I wasn't ready for this five years ago, and I'm thankful God gave me that time to be a teacher. To learn. To grow.

The list I could go on forever - suffice it to say, I am thankful. So thankful.

My view at work. Page 1 of my piano music -- one of my favorite things in the world, getting ready to start a show. I love it.

do not be afraid. keep on speaking. do not be silent.

There is so much to write. So much to say. I've been listening to this song on repeat this afternoon so I encourage you to hit "play" while you read. I hope this song makes you want to live a little bit more today - I know it did for me. "Let's go to sleep with clearer heads, and hearts too big to fit our beds - and maybe we won't feel so alone, before we turn to stone." Beauty.

I finally took the plunge and announced my blog on my facebook page. So far, I've kept my blog pretty closed to the "blogging community", and haven't shared it with many people who know me personally. The response so far has been overwhelming.

The reason I started this blog was because I felt called to it. That's the truth. I felt God tell me that I needed to write my story down, so that someone would know they are not alone. I've always had the gift of transparency - God has gifted me with a fearlessness in sharing my heart, my story, my thoughts, my feelings. I've never really known why. I am unashamed to be me. To cry in public. To sob in public. To tell people that I'm mentally ill. To tell people "I love you" a million times before they ever say it back. To tell strangers how I'm really doing, even when they were just making small talk. To ask strangers to tell me how they are really doing. I'm not afraid. Thank You, God.

But with this fearlessness has come pain. I of course have been betrayed, I have been hurt, I have been used, I have been mistreated and disrespected, I have been hated. But I will keep going. I will keep sharing. I will keep choosing to be fearless.

Because when I am fearless, God somehow uses that to allow other people to step into bravery and tell a part of their story they have never spoken aloud before. To tell me that they struggle with depression. That they doubt God. That their mother is going through chemotherapy. That no one knows they are mentally ill, and they wish they could just speak it out loud. That they have always felt alone. That they feel guilty because they are so unhappy.

Oh, my friends. How you have touched my heart. You will never know how deeply you have touched my heart. I sit here and write and weep. Because God is allowing us to speak life to one another. Shame has no place here. Shame cannot survive when we speak our truth to one another and overcome it with love and understanding. Shame is defeated when we let in the Light. Shame cannot breathe when we choose to breathe life into one another; when we uphold one another's hearts in the Truth. The Truth of God's love for us, and the truth of our love for one another.

The truth is that we are so worthwhile. In every struggle. In every sleepless night. Through every night of tears, through every manic episode, through every day of chemotherapy, through every day of job searching. Through the days of feeling friendless. Of feeling worthless. Of feeling like everything is pointless.

Every story matters. You matter. Your story matters.

Do you hear me?

You matter.

Your stories have touched my aching heart and I am so deeply moved.

My beautiful friends, be unashamed. Be fearless. Be unashamed of who you are. Be unashamed of your story. Be unashamed to tell it. To tell people that you are suffering. To tell people that it's okay that they are suffering, too. Because the truth is, we are all suffering. We will continue to suffer until we go Home. And the only way to survive it, to live it, is together. To love each other to death until death brings us new life. 

"Do not be afraid; you will not be put to shame. Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated. You will forget the shame of your youth and remember no more the reproach of your widowhood."

--Isaiah 54:4

"Overhearing what they said, Jesus said to him, 'Do not be afraid. Just believe.'"

--Mark 5:36

"One night the Lord spoke to Paul in a vision: 'Do not be afraid; keep on speaking, do not be silent."

--Acts 18:9

Oh, my friends, how I love you. You are not alone. You are never alone. Let us live unashamed. Fearless in Christ. Do not be afraid. Keep on speaking. Do not be silent.

if grace is an ocean, we're all sinking

So yesterday, Michael and I got in a huge fight on my lunch break at work. I had already had an awful morning with my 8th grade and 6th grade classes, and he called me on my lunch break and gave me bad news. And I was so, so angry with him. We fought and fought and in all the fighting, I forgot to take my medication. I take all of my pills at 12:30 PM every day. But I was too busy fighting to remember. So I didn't. I took them at different times, I took them hours late, and my body got so confused. My brain got so confused. And I paid the price with a massive episode.

I think this episode was bad enough that maybe the details are too much for a blog post. I have no problems sharing, but my intention is not to throw a pity-party, to scare people, or to make people feel uncomfortable. So just know that it was a bad one, but I got through it.

So I'm okay today. Back on track and on time with my medication, reminded once and for all that my entire world needs to stop for 5 seconds every day at 12:30 PM so I can take my pills and be okay. I am okay.

So this is what I have to say today.

Life is so hard right now.

But yesterday, I played a game with my 1st graders that was so much fun I temporarily forgot that I was in the middle of a huge fight with my boyfriend. We walked back to their classroom singing a song we learned from Ghana, just because they loved it so much they couldn't stop singing it.

Yesterday, my co-workers listened to me as I shared with them how upset I was that my boyfriend and I were fighting. They listened and loved me so that I could get my head back on straight to teach my 1st graders.

Yesterday, my 5th graders saw that I was struggling and they behaved perfectly all afternoon. They saw my pain and they gave me the best gift that they could. Their quietness. Their calm. Their peace. Their joy.

Yesterday, my 8th graders needed a lot of discipline. But when I sat with them and spoke to them like adults, they listened. They really, really listened.

Yesterday, I danced like a lunatic in front of my choir class because I know it makes them giggle. Their giggles brighten up my day immensely.

Yesterday, my assistant at work listened and supported me like he always does. Oh, I am so grateful for that man and our friendship. I don't know what I would do without him. If only he was there all the time, instead of a few hours a week.

Yesterday, my roommate listened as I shared my heart and vented about my frustrating day. She listened and loved me and sent me a text message today encouraging me just the way I needed.

Yesterday, even though Michael and I got in a fight, as soon as I started having an episode (they start pretty much instantaneously), the fight was dropped and he loved me so hard and so deep and so true. He stayed on Skype with me all night, singing to me until I fell asleep. I love this man.

Yesterday, the only thing that brought me peace was Michael praying over me as I screamed and cried. I have not prayed in a long time. But in my madness and tears, I think I let God in for the first time in a long time.

So here I am, so tired today. But I see grace today. I have new eyes today. And I am trying to let God in and let His grace keep me afloat. Because His grace is everywhere. I just have to look for it.

And we are His portion, and He is our prize

Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes

if His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking

And heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss

And my heart turns violently inside of my chest

 I don't have time to maintain these regrets

When I think about the way He loves us.

Oh, how He loves us.

my own currently

Linking up with Anna Kate and the girls at A Mama Collective like I do every Monday - only this time I'm not following format. So here it is. My "currently."

Oh, how I wish I could sit down and just write a beautiful and inspiring blog post today.

But, oh, I am struggling.

Struggling to see past my current reality. Struggling to feel hope. Struggling to feel like I'm not drowning. Struggling to breathe.

I have been unhappy for quite a while. Really unhappy. I will never stop living in gratitude, and choosing thanksgiving over wallowing in self-pity, but I am not doing well.

After my surgery in November, I was so hopeful that that was the answer. Once we realized my uterus was full of polyps and my hormones were going crazy, we removed them and life was going to be different. My PMDD would start to regulate itself - maybe I would only have one period a month instead of two and my moods would change!

And don't get me wrong - things have been better. I have not had a single manic episode since my surgery, I have not threatened or wanted to hurt myself, I have not blacked out and failed to remember my own words and behavior the night before. And for this I am beyond grateful. But I think maybe a part of me had hoped I would be all better. The joyful, radiant, vibrant girl that I know myself to be would magically return.

But I'm not her. At least not yet. I'm suffering, and I am unhappy, and I couldn't tell you why.

Maybe it's the fact that all I want is to be married and a mother and that is still months and years away. Maybe it's the fact that I really feel trapped in my job. Maybe it's the fact that I don't like my current living situation. Maybe it's the fact that I'm so alone where I live - no community, no friends - only my TV and my job. Maybe it's the fact that I'm so overworked and exhausted all. the. time.

And I am so far from God. I have isolated myself from my friends and from Him. In December, I asked Him for help for the first time in a long time. I lied on my bedroom floor night after night in hysterical tears, screaming at Him, begging for help. And it never came. So I stopped asking. And I'm having a really, really hard time asking again. I know I'm not supposed to do it alone, but when you ask and He just turns away, what then? What next?

Everyone has been saying this is my dark night of the soul. So I bought myself the book Dark Night of the Soul by St. John of the Cross. I am ready to pick it up, I know I need to. I have also been told repeatedly by priests in confession to ask for the intercession of Mother Teresa. I know this is not a coincidence. Every priest I go to talks to me about Mother Teresa. She didn't experience any consolation or sense of God's presence for most of her life - and she never stopped praying or doing God's work. I ask for her prayers constantly, but I am certainly no Mother Teresa. I feel so selfish, like such a failure - like I am being so childish, just wanting God to make me feel better. But I'm telling you,  I can't do this anymore.

My therapist today has suggested I see my doctor again and change my anti-depressants or change the dosage again. My mom wants me to see my OB/GYN again and go on birth control finally. Both scare me a little. Is all of this because I am imbalanced? Am I depressed? Or am I supposed to make life changes that will make me happy? Am I inherently unhappy and chemically not ok or is it life situations that are just making me feel unhappy? With mental illness, it's so hard sometimes to see the difference between true, genuine sadness versus your brain just keeping you from being happy and maintaining itself in a state of depression. It's so much to go through in my mind and my heart, that I just feel like sitting still. I don't even feel like walking forward anymore. How much can one girl take?

This week, I've gotten my first speeding ticket, I've gotten into my first car accident, and my debit card was reproduced and money was stolen from my bank account. It's almost funny... in a sad, ironic way. How am I supposed to look at all of that on top of everything else and just keep walking? I've been feeling like life is one big blizzard and I've been taking one step at a time with my head down, just making it through one step at a time. I'm just starting to feel like the blizzard is too big. The snow is too deep. I want to just stand here and freeze.

But I know myself.

I will not give up. Even if I want to. I don't think I know how to give up.

So I will keep walking. And I will keep trying to let God in, even if I don't know how to anymore.

not yet a mother

I follow a lot of mom blogs. I mean, a lot. I don't have any kids, I have never been pregnant, I've never given birth. Why do I follow them?

Because I yearn to be a mother. I long so deeply and desperately to have my own child, to love someone that deeply and relentlessly. To be forced to be that selfless. To be able to have a husband and see him and myself in a beautiful little soul.

But God keeps saying, "Not yet." Not yet, not yet, not yet.

Now, I get told a lot, "You're so young. You have so much time!" I'm not saying that at age 26 I'm running out of time. What I am saying is that when you know what you want to do for the rest of your life - and it's what you want with every ounce of your heart and soul - you want to start doing it as soon as possible. But motherhood is not like a career. You can't just decide to get the degree you need or apply for the job you want, or put your resume together and start putting one foot in front of the other. Sometimes you just have to wait. And wait. And wait.

First things first: I need to be married. Which, of course, is another aching, yearning, longing desire of my heart. To share the rest of my life with my best friend. To love someone else so deeply that his life and his holiness and his happiness are more important than my own. To come home to my favorite person every single night after work and fall asleep next to him. My heart aches for this.

I am blessed to be in a relationship with a man who I know God is calling me to marry. Michael and I have been together for over two years now, and we are both waiting for God to open the door for us to get engaged. We live in two different cities, and are just waiting for God to allow him to move here. And although I know we both want to get engaged and want to be married, I am dating a man who has such a strong trust in the Lord and is truly waiting for God to let him know when the right time is. So I am trusting God and trusting Michael and simply waiting in joyful hope.

There are just so many days where my body literally aches to be married to him. To come home to him at the end of a long day at work. Instead, for the most part, I come home to an empty house. I microwave myself a quick dinner, because let's face it, cooking for one isn't too much fun. Then I turn on the TV and maybe read some blogs, do some lesson planning for work and go to sleep. There are, of course, evenings when I plan girls' nights with my friends, or when I'm home with my family. But for the most part, my evenings are spent with my TV, which is fine for now, I just want my best friend.

And I want babies. I want kids. I want little ones to love until my heart could just burst. I read blogs about marriage and motherhood, wanting just a glimpse of what life is like for women who are in that part of life. And so many of these blogs are beautiful and joyful. But so many are about the challenges, the exhaustion, the weariness, the pain. And I hear it. I obviously can't say "I understand," but I sympathize.

I guess what I want to say is that I want moms and wives to remember what it felt like before. One day, during those times when I have kids and I want to pull out my hair and give up and just scream, I want to be able to look back and read this - to remember how much I ached and longed for it. Remember the days you begged God to hurry up, because the waiting was becoming unbearable. Remember the days you went home alone, night after night, aching to be next to someone. To have a true teammate that you could wake up next to and face the world with. Remember the days when all you longed for was someone else to take care of other than yourself. Remember the days when you prayed and prayed for your future children, hurting because you are still waiting to meet them and hoping they will come soon.

When I was 21 years old, my doctor called me and told me I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. I had no idea what this meant, until I looked it up on the internet, and the only thing I saw in this ocean of information on my newly diagnosed hormonal disorder was: "PCOS is the leading cause of infertility in our country." I sat with my roommate on our couch and cried for hours. In one moment, my dream of being a mother felt like it was taken right out from under me. But through prayer, I finally came to peace with the idea that even if I couldn't have my own children, I could adopt. And I will adopt. My heart is so big and aches for children so deeply, that I knew in that moment that I was going to adopt one day, regardless of if I could have my own children or not. My heart wants to take in every child that needs a home. Perhaps if I discover I am infertile one day, I will discover that God gave me this heart for a reason.

But I know now that every single pregnancy I ever get to experience, God willing, will be a celebration. Even the throwing up, the sleepless nights, the aches and pains, the swollen ankles, will be a joy. Maybe it seems like it's easy for me to say because I've never experienced it. But I'm telling you - I. can't. wait. I can't wait for the crying babies, the exhaustion, the weariness, the snotty faces, the spit-up, the sore breasts, the crazy hair days, the kissing boo-boos, the pull-your-hair-out days, the temper tantrums. I can't wait for the smiles, the snuggles, the rocking to sleep, the never feeling closer to someone than when you're breastfeeding your baby for the first time, the loving someone more than you could ever imagine, the joy of hearing your baby's first word, the seeing the combination of yourself and your husband in one little person.

Just remember. Remember this. Remember now. Remember the longing. Remember before.

my word for 2014

The last time I picked a "word for the year" was in 2011. I chose hope. 2010 was a year of great loss for me in many ways, and I ended the year in heartache and sorrow. I chose hope and chose to look to Christ in 2011, knowing that He would deliver me. And He did. (He's good like that, you know?) 

2013 was the most difficult year of my life, and this blog has only dipped its toe in the pain I've experienced. I don't mean to throw a pity-party, only to be honest. I have been struggling lately with feeling completely disconnected from God. From being so drowned in my own sorrow and pain and anger that I can barely breathe, barely pray. And it's affecting my relationship with my boyfriend, it's affecting my ability to work, my ability to be any semblance of "myself". I am really struggling. 

And I realized that I am being suffocated by fear. I am so afraid. I feel like a failure constantly, like nothing I do is good enough. The smallest mistakes seem like the end of the world to me, like I am worthless. I am afraid that my boyfriend and I are not going to get married, so I cling onto him in terror, so afraid of losing him that I think I might actually lose him because I'm holding on so tightly. I'm afraid of being horrible at my job every day, like I'll never be good enough. The list goes on and on.

So I had to choose a word for 2014 that is the opposite of fear. I looked up antonyms for "fear" and I found courage, boldness, bravery, confidence. Those didn't resonate with me. 

I thought and prayed and I decided that, to me, the opposite of fear is freedom.

But that wasn't the word. Freedom means "no hindrance or restraint," "the state of not being imprisoned or enslaved," "the state of not being subject to or affected by"....etc.

Nope. That's not it. Freedom is a powerful word, but it seems to me too open-ended. Too vague, too ambiguous. I needed something with more direction, more focus - more purpose.

This. This is my word. 

liberation:

noun

1. the act of setting someone free from imprisonment, slavery, or oppression; release.

2. freedom from limits on thought or behavior.

The difference? Freedom is a state. Liberation is an act.
2014. A year of action. A year of liberation.

Lord, liberate me from my fears, from the chains that have me bound to sorrow, pain and sadness. Release me from oppression, from my slavery to sin and anger. Free my thoughts and my actions so that my life and my love for You can have no limits, no boundaries - so that I am no longer chained down by fear. Liberate me, Lord.

"The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still."

--Exodus 14:14

truly He taught us to love one another

My family and I have the privilege of doing the music at our church on Christmas Eve for our 5 pm Mass every year. My mom organizes the whole thing and conducts, while my sister and I sing and my dad and brother play guitar and cajon. This year, as I sang O Holy Night during the Offertory, these words pierced my heart in a new way.

Truly He taught us to love one another

His law is love and His gospel is peace

Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother

And in His name all oppression shall cease

As I sang these words, this is all I saw.

The altar servers led the gift-bearers down the middle aisle, in slow and meaningful reverence with the crucifix held high. My eyes were transfixed upon Jesus on the cross coming ever-so-slowly closer to me as I sang about His love. And there it was, right in front of me. This is how He taught us to love one another. By laying His life down.

O Lord, hear my prayer, and teach me to love.

i love you, i love you, i love you

"I am your God, I have molded you with my own hands, and I love what I have made. I love you with a love that has no limits, because I love you as I am loved. Do not run away from me. Come back to me -- not once, not twice, but always again. You are my child. How can you ever doubt that I will embrace you again, hold you against my breast, kiss you and let my hands run through your hair? I am your God -- the God of mercy and compassion, the God of pardon and love, the God of tenderness and care. Please do not say that I have given up on you, that I cannot stand you anymore, that there is no way back. It is not true. I so much want you to be with me. I so much want you to be close to me. I know all your thoughts. I hear all your words. I see all of your actions. And I love you because you are beautiful, made in my own image, an expression of my most intimate love. Do not judge yourself. Do not condemn yourself. Do not reject yourself. Let my love touch the deepest, most hidden corners of your heart and reveal to you your own beauty, a beauty that you have lost sight of, but which will become visible to you again in the light of my mercy. Come, come, let me wipe your tears, and let my mouth come close to your ear and say to you, 'I love you, I love you, I love you.'"

--Henri J.M. Nouwen, The Road to Daybreak: A Spiritual Journey

it was then that i carried you

One night a man had a dream. He dreamed he was walking along the beach with the LORD. Across the sky flashed scenes of his life. For each scene he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand: one belonging to him, and the other to the LORD. When the last scene of his life flashed before him, he looked back at the footprints in the sand. He noticed that many times along the path of his life there was only one set of footprints. He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times in his life. This really bothered him and he questioned the LORD about it:

"LORD, you said that once I decided to follow you, you'd walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life, there is only one set of footprints. I don't understand why when I needed you most you would leave me."

The LORD replied:

"My son, my precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints...

It was then that I carried you."

Most people have heard of or read the "Footprints" poem, and I hesitate to post it because of its over-use. But I hope you keep reading.

There is a night that I return to often in my memory. A night that I will never forget, because it was the night that I was at the lowest I have ever been, and hopefully will ever be. 

It was the night when I discovered what true love is.

When I moved to Denver to be near my boyfriend, Michael*, we were so excited about being in the same place after dating long distance for a year, that we didn't think through how challenging it would be. Take the normal challenges of quitting your job, moving away from your friends and roommate that you love, leaving your family, and starting over and add onto that a mental illness and you've got a recipe for disaster. I just didn't know how sick I was. Denver showed me.

I had a job that I hated, I couldn't make ends meet financially, I was living alone, my family was 1,000 miles away and I had no kindred spirits. No friends beyond friends -- people who knew me, loved me, and were safe. The people I met and knew and befriended in Denver were amazing and I don't mean to  toss that aside. But being so sick, so depressed, living in such darkness, I just needed people who understood and loved me no matter what. But all I had was Michael. 

And he became my rock. My confidante. My best friend. My everything.

And he never abandoned me. Not when I would scream at him for no reason. Not when I would fight with him over nothing at all. Not when I would cry desperately for his attention when he had other things to do. Not when I threatened to crash my car on my way home because I couldn't stand to be alive. He never left and never gave up.

But this one particular night, it was worse than ever.

Michael and I had made plans for the evening to get together and watch a movie. I was counting on him to come over, but what I thought was a set plan was a "maybe" to him -- a simple miscommunication. But I couldn't handle it. My mind took this as this ultimate rejection, the deepest pain possible. It's not something I could ever explain. Everything seemed to come crashing down in that moment. I just felt so desperately alone and sad that I couldn't take it anymore.

I tried to get out of my work clothes and into my pajamas, but as I got undressed, the weight of the world and all my pain and sickness and darkness crumbled onto my shoulders and I fell to the floor in hysterical tears. I couldn't stand up.

I lied there crying in my underwear for I don't know how long. I tried to get up to brush my teeth, but on the way to the bathroom, I collapsed again. I saw the bottle of sleeping pills on the bathroom counter and I thought, "What would happen if I took as many as I could?" What would happen? Would I finally be able to die and stop feeling like I was locked in a prison cell? Would I finally be able to breathe? I couldn't handle the weight. I couldn't handle being so desperately sad that it was physically crippling. 

Clutching to my faith in God, I reminded myself once again that I would never, never do that. With whatever determination I had left, I crawled back into my room, forcing myself to move one inch at a time. This took every ounce of willpower I had.

When I got through the door, I collapsed in a heap on the floor. I somehow managed to call Michael and say, "I need you."

Before I knew it, Michael came to my apartment and saw his girlfriend, lying on the floor with no clothes on. So desperate, so miserable, so vulnerable, so broken.

No words were exchanged. Michael came to me right away and with all the love in his aching heart, he swooped me up off the ground into his arms and carried me like a baby into my bed. He dressed me and rubbed my back as I finally drifted off into sleep, the safest haven I had from my sickness.

He saw me in my brokenness and loved me anyway.

It was then that I carried you.

Michael has blessed me with the gift of a selfless love that is the truest reflection of Christ's love I have ever seen. He saw me in my weakest, darkest, ugliest place and loved me anyway. Not only did he love me, he carried me. He picked up my burden and took it upon himself.

But the beauty is that Michael is not Jesus, and He cannot be my everything. Part of the reason Michael suggested I move home in April was because he had become my everything. He needed to step out of the way for Christ to come forward, for Jesus to be my everything once again. 

I weep at Michael's love for me. I weep at his giving nature, his compassion, his selflessness.

And I think of what this shows me about Christ's love. Michael's love for me is absolutely insignificant next to Christ's. And when I think of that... my goodness am I overwhelmed.

Jesus' love for me is never-ending, infinite, selfless, giving, compassionate, nurturing, unconditional, understanding, empathetic... It is the love of a confidante, best friend, brother, father, husband... all in one. I am overwhelmed at the thought that anyone could love me that much.

But how can I deny it when He has given me the gift of a mirror that I know shows only a fraction of this love? 

It was then that I carried you.

Jesus was there that night, carrying us both. I cannot imagine the heartache my sickness has caused and continues to cause Michael. It is something I will never understand and I have a hard time forgiving myself for it, although I know it isn't my fault. But Jesus carries him as he carries me, through the suffering, the sorrow, the darkness. 

I am humbled and overwhelmed and at peace knowing that, even in my brokenness - no, especially in my brokenness - I am in the arms of the Man who loves me the most in this world.

Jesus.



*names will be changed in this blog to protect privacy