Transition Post

I have so much to say. When I re-instated this blog over a year ago, I had the intention of getting right into all of it. And yet, now, it's a year and two months later and I'm still mulling... simmering... considering.  

There's a lot to catch up on, and the perfectionist in me has kept me from starting at all because it will take too much to blog it all sequentially. 

So instead of starting at "the beginning," I am diving in. 

This is where we are now and I will blog as I am so inspired. Hopefully one day I'll get it all in here.

The Silver Lining, part 2

In the last post, we covered the idea of the "silver lining" as "a sign of hope or a positive aspect in an otherwise negative situation." And I shared a silver lining story from a trip I took to Israel in 2013.

On that same trip to Israel, there was another silver lining for me. A "sign of hope" that was a beacon during the difficult times I went through those next few years. That's what we're going to talk about here.

One of the traditional places we always go to in Israel is the Western Wall. This is the only remaining part of the Jewish Temple and is an important location of prayer for both Jews and Christians, due to the scripture in 2 Chronicles 7:15, "Now My eyes will be open and My ears attentive to the prayers offered in this place."

Western Wall (touristisrael.com)

So always when we go to Israel, we will collect prayers, written on scraps of paper, from friends and loved ones who have petitions for God that they would like to have placed into the Wall. 

Drew wasn't joining me on this particular trip, so he gave me his prayer, written out ahead of time, for me to take when we went to pray at the Wall.

Normally, I would jot out a brief list or short prayer, fold it up, and be done with it. But for some reason, I was stuck on getting my prayer written out. 

I didn't know what to say. What to ask for. There was so much. 

I needed a job. I needed to write my dissertation. I had no idea what I was going to be facing on the other side of grad school. I could barely see in front of my nose. I needed so much. 

How do you express everything you need and hope for, to God, on a tiny piece of paper. 

I just couldn't.

So, I waited. And waited. 

And waited.

And then it was the night before we were going to the Western Wall. 

I knew I needed to get this done. 

I gathered my supplies - my bible, a small piece of paper, and a pen - and sat down on the bed to write. I would try to start writing something and feel "no." I would try to start a list and think, "no, not that." My mind was blank, and every time I tried to think of something, I hit a wall (no pun intended).

So finally, I sat back, and prayed. Quietly in my heart. "God, I don't know why this is so hard, but can you please help me to know what to write."

And then it came to me. And I wrote:

"Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name..."

The Lord's Prayer. I wrote out the entire Lord's Prayer. I'd never done that before. But there was something about Jesus telling us to "pray like this" that made it seem really appropriate. At the end, I wrote a few more things from my heart, folded it up as small as I could, and added it to my bag for the next day's journey.

As we went to the Wall the next day, we were given prayers from others who couldn't be with us. Each of us took a handful of others' prayers to the Wall and prayerfully deposited them. After I'd deposited those prayers, I took out Drew's prayer and my prayer and held them tightly in my hand. I hadn't read his - it's such personal thing, it didn't seem appropriate to - I just held it in my hand and prayed over them together before I placed them in the Wall.

But as I went to place them into the Wall, I felt hesitant. I felt like I was supposed to read his prayer first. I really struggled with this for several moments. It didn't seem appropriate. Surely that wasn't the right thing to do. But I really felt strongly that I should read his prayer before I placed them in the Wall.

So, slowly, and almost apologetically, I began to unfold the little scrap piece of paper that was his prayer.

And I read:

"Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name..."

In Drew's handwriting. In his prayer. He wrote the entire Lord's Prayer. By hand.

I was stunned. 

Tears began streaming down my face as I knelt there, absorbing the shock of this small, and yet significant, miracle. Drew had written the Lord's prayer, by hand, as his prayer. At least a week prior. We never discussed it. He never told me. I never read it. But the night before, I too had sat and wrote the Lord's prayer, by hand, as my prayer for the Western Wall.

This might be unsurprising if the Lord's Prayer was something we often said together as a family, or was a frequent go-to prayer for us. But it wasn't. It was nothing more or less significant to either of us as any of the other scriptures in the Bible.

But that day, it was the most significant scripture I could imagine. 

As I knelt at the Western Wall, my husband halfway across the world, reading his words, that were Jesus' words, that were my own words, it seeped deep into my heart: "This is the man I have called you to be with. Do not be afraid. This is right."

I was stunned. 

I am still stunned. It sounds like a made up fairy tale, and I might not have believed it, yet I was the one kneeling there watching it happen. 

After the shock wore off, I was just so grateful. Why God would give me such miraculous confirmation like that was beyond me, but I was amazed, and so thankful.

We had been married for six years at the time. Long enough for the shine to have worn off, but we were still doing really well, I thought. We were weathering graduate school together. Surely if we could do that, we could do anything!

Little did I know that in four months I would be pregnant. That I would have severe morning sickness while working four jobs. That, a year after I was kneeling at that Wall, I would be defending my dissertation and then giving birth two weeks later. That my baby would be sick and struggle to live, and that I would suffer post partum depression severe enough to challenge every piece of resolve I'd ever had. That, in my own mind, I would have to battle with the words "this isn't going to work."

If you had told me all of that was coming down my trail, I would not have believed you. I would have rebuked you like you were the devil himself.

I thought, as I was coming out of graduate school, that I was coming OUT of my battle. Out of my struggle. To a life, finally! To a wonderful, happy, go-back-home-to-my-friends-and-family-and-finally-have-the-life-I've-always-wanted life.

But, you see, that's not really how life works. Don't hold your breath where you are, thinking there'll be more air to breath on the other side. That's not how it works. We are not promised anything.

And yet, fortunately - miraculously - God had prepared a silver lining for me. 

Before I knew I would need it. Before I could understand the depth of struggle I was about to face. He laid out before me, in a way so miraculous and so beautiful, that I could only acknowledge it came from Him, an assurance that my heart would never be able to shake. 

This is the man I am supposed to be with. Do not be afraid. This is right.

And now that I'm further down that road, I can tell you without hesitation, how incredibly grateful I am that God made a way to help us through some of our darkest days together. My husband is, without a doubt, the only person on this earth that I would want to spend the rest of my life with. 

We are learning more about ourselves everyday. Neither of us is the same person we were when we got engaged thirteen years ago. And yet, somehow, we are more perfect together now than we were then. 

[Amen. -ds]

The Silver Lining, part 1

In trying to figure out what to call this installation, I immediately thought "silver lining." Not wanting to misrepresent where I was going with this, I googled the definition just to make sure it was an appropriate fit: "A silver lining is a sign of hope or a positive aspect in an otherwise negative situation."

A sign of hope.

It's perfect.

1. "Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
   Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
   Leave to thy God to order and provide;
   In every change, He faithful will remain.
   Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heav’nly Friend
   Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end."
2. -Be Still, My Soul (hymn)

So, we've covered the highlights and the lowlights circa 2014. Before we get into more of my current journey, I want to share the silver lining from that time period as well. The foundation of hope that has anchored me through this long, arduous season.

God's faithfulness has always amazed me. Life is crazy hard sometimes and people are, well, just crazy. But there has always been hope that surpasses the crazy, knowing that somehow, even in the middle of all of the heartbreak and confusion, God has led and provided help before I even knew I needed it.

Drew and I had the wonderful opportunity to go to Israel together in 2010. My Pastor frequently leads trips there, and I've had the privilege of being able to go several times - always at very pivotal moments in my life. At the end of our trip in 2010, Drew told me he felt like I would be going back on the next trip. I honestly didn't have much desire to go (we were both about to go back to graduate school), so I just let it go as an "okay, we'll see." As it turned out, that next trip - in 2013 - would be, yet again, a very pivotal time for me.

Two very important "silver linings" came out of this trip. I'm going to share one of them here. 

(Stay tuned for part 2!)

Due to amazing provision - winning a fellowship in 2012 - I was able to pay for the trip in full. But, when the time for the trip came - June 2013 - I was out of a job, with no job offers on the horizon. I had one year left of my PhD program, with only one major task left - to write (and defend) my dissertation. That should go well enough, I thought; I just needed a job to help pay bills in the meantime.

So, broke, and with no job offers on the horizon, I went to Israel. My meals were covered, but anything else I bought had to be put on a credit card (which was already strained), so I tried to be very careful. It made what I hoped would be a fun trip into a very stressful time. I didn't let anyone know my financial situation and tried to keep to myself while everyone else shopped.

Several days into the trip, we were near the Sea of Galilee, in one of the small, now-abandoned villages, having a little service. Our next stop was going to be Safed, an artists' colony with a row of amazing shops full of every kind of art imaginable. It is beautiful, and - potentially - expensive.

Safed (Tzfat)

Pastor was leading a short service and time of prayer, when he felt impressed by God to say something contrary to his normal inclination. I will paraphrase...

"The Lord is telling me that He is going to pay for it. Now, I wouldn't normally tell you to do this, but He's impressing upon me that whatever you want to get - He's going to pay for it. So don't you worry about it."

Y'all.

I started looking around like, "Are you for real?? Is he saying this? Is anyone else hearing this?" 

Not because he was telling us to get what we want. But because I literally had no money. And no one else knew that, except God. And here God was speaking through my Pastor telling me that it was going to be okay, that He was going to take care of it. 

I was stunned. 

So stunned that I just started crying. Like, sobbing - super awkwardly. 

And everyone's just like, okay, well... okay... (cause, y'all, no one knew!) ...and I'm like, "y'all... you don't understand..." 

So I told them:

"I have been worried sick for days about how every little thing I have to buy is going onto an already strained credit card while I have no job on the horizon and here we're about to go to this amazing street full of art and beauty and I can't even think about it and yet, here God is, reassuring me that He's going to take care of it!" 

I didn't even care about the "buy whatever you want," I was just so thankful to hear Him speak to my heart that He was going to take care of it. 

It lifted such a weight off my chest.

So on we went to Safed, and my heart was SO excited. I was going to buy something. Anything. I had no idea what, but I knew I wanted it to be special. I walked through every shop on that street, one by one, searching for my gift from God. I was ready for it. I was looking for it. 

But I didn't find it.

I worked my way back down the street again, back toward the bus. Evening was falling and it was almost time to leave. I still hadn't bought anything and was feeling anxious, but still only wanted to find something truly meaningful.

The last shop I walked into was a small jewelry shop. Every piece was a handmade work of art. They were truly stunning. I began to look through the rings and noticed they each had a story of meaning. They were beautiful. I picked one up that I immediately fell in love with. It didn't have a description on it, so I asked the artist about it. They described exactly what I felt when I saw it.

"It's about beginnings and endings, how one thing starts out small and grows and grows and then leads to the next thing."

That was it. 

That was for me.

I was in this period of unknown, finishing my PhD program, needing a job, not knowing where life was going. I had been in a difficult process (i.e. grad school) and I was moving on into only-God-knew-what. I had no idea what laid before me. (Hint: four months later I was going to be unexpectedly pregnant.)

I bought the ring, heart soaring.

For the rest of the trip, the strain and stress I'd felt up to that point was replaced by peace and reassurance that, no matter what happened, God was going to take care of it.

So I bought whatever I wanted.

In moderation, of course! But, I asked myself, if I were to never return to Israel, what would I want to have from here. And that's what I got. 

A string of elephants that I'd always admired 

(I made EK's mobile from this)

A communion set

A prayer shawl

A piece of art

Nothing excessive. Just, joyful. And resting in the assurance that God would be true to His word.

Why?

I had no reason, other than blind faith, to go on. But I believed. It was too coincidental, too perfectly timed, too just-what-I-needed. I knew it was God. And I knew He would be faithful to His word.

Shortly after the trip, I got a call for one of the jobs I'd applied for. It was a temporary - one semester - teaching job, but it was something. They needed an answer right away, so I took it.

Shortly after that, I got a call about another job I'd applied for. This one was a part-time teaching job, but had long-term options. I'd already committed to the first, but needed this one for it's longevity, so I took it too.

Shortly after that, my advisor let me know that my department chair worked out a small teaching assistantship for me. It wouldn't require much - some grading for a class or two. But would be added stipend. 

On top of that, I was able to continue working weekends on-call at the hospital as I had been for several years.

So I went from having [one weekend on-call job] with no other job offers, to having FOUR jobs for the semester. Four part-time, but paying, jobs.

It was a lot, but - hallelujah - it was provision. 

I was so grateful.

And y'all, the real miracle here is the part that is the most uncomfortable to share (isn't that how it goes)... so, bare with me, and please know I'm not sharing this to brag or gloat, but to show how God can provide in ways that we didn't even know we needed.

Remember I said my credit cards were strained? And I was charging all my Israel purchases on them...

So, I got these four jobs. Because of that, we had enough funds to pay off every last credit card debt that semester. That shot my credit score up 100 points (that's a lot!), right. at. the. very. same. time. we found out we were pregnant and were going to need to buy a house. 

I just thought God was letting me know He was going to take care of me while I was writing my dis. I was finishing up grad school, going into the "great unknown," trusting God to help. 

I didn't know I was going to be pregnant. 

And very sick.

I didn't know we were going to need to buy a house. 

With no money and terrible ('til then) credit scores.

I didn't know how deeply difficult things were about to get after EK was born.

I just knew I found a ring that spoke to me of God's promise about endings and new beginnings, and how He was going to take care of everything.

It was the silver lining - the sign of hope - that I was going to need for years to come.

Let's catch up - part 2. The lowlights.

There's a LOT to summarize from the last nine years, so I'm going to try to break it up a bit.

Here's part 2 - the lowlights.

In the last post, I touched on the highlights - bought a house, had a baby, got a job, finished my PhD... 

WOW. 

That's a lot of awesome stuff. 

For a lifetime. 

And all of that hit for me in about a six month time period in 2014, right as I turned 30. 

Even reading those words, I'm like, wow, that girl has it all together. I want that life. 

Oh. Wait. 

That's *my* life. Uhhhhhhh 

Yeah. 

When you only hit the highlights, it's easy to look like a success. But guys, none of that mattered to me at all. I was devastated and broken. 

Let's hit the "lowlights" for some perspective. 

May to August 2013 - my assistantship ended and I had no job going into my last year of grad school; I went to Israel because I felt God calling me there, but I was broke (literally) and lost. I had no idea what to do.

August-December 2013 - I worked four part time jobs, while pregnant and throwing up constantly, while writing my dissertation, while looking for a house to buy (with no money and no real job)

January to June 2014 - I got a full time job! ...as a (introverted) teacher, with opinionated nursing students. Hugely pregnant. Still writing my dissertation. 

June 2014 - passed my defense! Literally nine months pregnant. In June. In South Carolina. (i.e. miserable). Finalizing the dissertation edits until my water breaks, two weeks later. 

July 2014 - EK was born! I finish edits on my dis while home on [unpaid] maternity leave. Trying to get my sick baby to eat. 

She was jaundiced and wouldn't wake up to eat. We had to wake her every two hours and syringe feed her; she wouldn't breastfeed. It took nearly an hour just to feed her. Then I'd pump while she slept, wake her up, and do it all over again. I got eight hours of sleep (total) the first week after she was born. The doctor made me feel like it was my fault she was losing so much weight.

I had severe post-partum depression that went unrecognized. (PSA: not all PPD looks like wanting to leave your baby out in the snow. We have a LONG way to go on getting this recognized, normalized, and treated properly in our society.) 

I had just moved into my new house, back in my hometown. But I was alone and had no help. No one volunteered to bring us meals. No one came to help. A few friends would come over and hold EK for an hour while she slept, and then EK would cry for two hours after they left. (PSA: holding a sleeping baby is not a good way to help a new mom).

ASIDE:-------------------------

Now. This is where it's starting to look [/feel] like I'm complaining. It's SUPER uncomfortable to write. Not because the memories are painful - I've worked through a lot of this already - but because I keep wanting to put a positive spin on it. 

But it wasn't positive. It was devastating. 

And I believe that it's important to take in the full picture. We can't just look at a person's successes. We end up comparing our failures to their successes and it feels gross and unbalanced. It feels like we're never good enough, and our life is somehow broken because it's imperfect.

But that's the thing. 

Life IS imperfect. For everyone. Always.

So, for context here, the "lowlights" are just as important [or, more] than the highlights. 

That's where the real story is.

Ok, onward. This is the hard part.

----------------------------------------

The years after EK was born rank as the most difficult time in my life ever. (And remember, this was AFTER my PhD nightmare.)

I felt so alone. 

I needed so much help and didn't know how to ask for it.

I came home to my community, to find it in shambles. 

My family fell apart after lies started coming to light. Sexual assault that had been hidden and lied about. Trauma against people I loved that other people I loved refused to acknowledge or stand up for. This wasn't my story, but it devastated all of us, and added to the pile of grief and despair I carried.

I started seeing a therapist. 

At the time, this felt like heresy. 

Raised in a conservative, evangelical background, you don't go to a therapist for help. 

You go to God.

But I was desperate.

 

I had God. I loved God. I knew Him. We were good. 

Everything else? 

Not. Good.

I knew I couldn't keep living this way, and my only option for moving forward was to get help. I was to the point of feeling suicidal and it terrified me.

My dad gave me the greatest gift I could have asked for. When I opened up to him about how desperately I needed help. How I felt like my marriage was falling apart. How I didn't know what else to do.

He told me: "You know, we see a heart doctor when we have heart trouble. We see a lung doctor for lung problems. I don't see why we shouldn't see a mind doctor when we need help."

And y'all. 

That was the key I needed. 

It was simple, but profoundly perfect to help me get over the stigma enough to reach out.

I thought I was at the end of myself then. But it was just the beginning of a deeply difficult season that I still find myself forging through.

A season that is becoming the most amazing journey I could never have imagined.

It's heartbreaking that it takes so long. Getting to the point of finally breaking down enough to reach out for help. So much trauma. So much devastation. Before it finally feels like we're broken enough to get help.

This is why I talk about it. 

And why I will keep talking about it.

We ALL need help. 

 

Yes, I need God. Desperately. Everyday of my life.

But I also need you. 

And my friends. And my family. 

And my doctor. 

And all of my doctors.

We wouldn't look at someone with a broken ankle and tell them to believe harder or pray more.

You don't have to wait until you're desperate, with no hope left, before you can reach out and ask for help. 

We were not designed to walk this road alone.

 

Let's catch up! The Highlights.

Hello there! 

It has been NINE. YEARS. since I last posted. Just wow. 

Y'all. 

Okay. 

Where to start? 

Let's hit the highlights.

A quick run down of major life events in the last nine years... 

November 2012 - passed my comps, am officially "ABD" (all but dissertation = "PhD Candidate" = ALMOST THERE)

May 2013 - grad assistantship ended; the only thing left to do is write my dissertation and defend 

June 2013 - trip to Israel (cause that's a great idea when you're broke and have no job, right?) 

August 2013 - SSR in Montreal; my last conference in grad school 

August-December 2013 - worked four (yes, four) part time jobs while writing my dissertation, shooting for a May 2014 graduation 

October 2013 - Got [unexpectedly] pregnant (ha! take that, reproductive physiologist ;)

November 2013 to January 2014 - lots of morning/daytime/nighttime sickness; scrambling to find a house before baby comes 

January 2014 - got a full time job teaching Anatomy and Physiology at the local tech school 

February 2014 - moved into our dream home, lovingly dubbed "Stowe Manor" 

June 27, 2014 - passed my defense (!!!) 

July 13, 2014 - EK was born

I blinked. 

It's today. January 29, 2021. 

Haha

Oh, I'm not actually kidding... 

Y'all. 

When I told my Pastor we were pregnant, he looked surprised (we all were!) and then said, "well, it's going to go by fast now." 

And man, 

was he right. 

There are so many stories to tell. 

The last seven years have been grueling in ways I never imagined life would be. 

Like, life's hard. I get that. I was in grad school for my PhD for heaven's sake. I knew life wasn't going to be easy. But man. As EK has become fond of saying, "I did not see that coming." 

We have come a long, long way. 

And I know there's a long way still to go. 

There's a lot that happened between 2012 and 2014 that, looking back, I now see as God's hand, preparing me for the tough road ahead. I'm so grateful. I wouldn't have made it this far without His help and guidance each step of the way.

Here we go!

there's no place like home

It's been a while... There are many times when I have thoughts contemplated and inspiring enough to sit and write a blog. And then I use it up in a wonderfully orchestrated conversation with my Hubs. And then I no longer feel inspired to write. I guess he's my outlet now. I like that. So, Hubs has gone off to a conference. Last year, I went off to a conference in Portland, and left him home for five or so days. And let me tell you, I'd much rather be the one traveling than the one left at home. After [nearly] four years of marriage, this is the first time he's really gone off and left me home. And I'm surprised to realize how lost I feel without him here. Though many people may not know this about me (or perhaps it's one of those things that is so obvious to everyone else, but not to me)... I am an incredibly dependent creature. I suppose that isn't an "attractive quality" for one to have. Perhaps it's viewed as a weakness. "Buck up! Be independent!" But, I gotta tell you, I like being dependent. I like relying on my husband. Having him to share things - everything - with. And I don't mean for this to be oh so sappy or anything like that. But I do have to say, I was quite surprised by the huge void I felt, with him out of town. And, yeah, we're just awesome together. But it doesn't help that there isn't anyone else in this city I really connect with. He leaves, and I look around and realize that, without him here, I'm alone. The town feels so claustrophobically small, my reaction is to a pack a bag and head to my parents. For better or worse, I spend all of my time split between work and my husband, fitting in church time however I can. This has left no room for much time with other people outside of work, or hobbies... or even house cleaning or cooking for goodness sake. And it doesn't help matters that my house and I are not on good terms. I often have a hard time getting to sleep even when Hubs is home. Forget trying to sleep when he's gone. All the lights in the house were on, and I was curled in a recliner in the farthest corner of the living room... watching the third season of the West Wing. The entire third season. Which took me from about 6pm to 7am the next morning. And after realizing I wasn't going to get any rest even after the sun came up, I packed a bag, gave kitty a mondo mound of food, and headed to work. As soon as work is over, I'm headed home. To my real home.

I will boast all the more gladly...

(I wrote this post yesterday morning and never published it. Here it is anyway.)

So I can't help thinking about how much I've been moaning on here about my long hours lately. I realize that it's not really nice to hear someone complain about, well, anything.

And I suppose part of me hopes that someone will see all my effort here and have some sort of empathetic response (let's just be honest here). And then it's also nice just to process some of this ... process. But, really, there's only so many times I can say, "I'm in grad school and it's hard!"

So, in honor of being fair and balanced (oh, Fox News...), I would like to say that even though I'm exhausted and it has been a lot of hard work, ... well, (... I'm sure I'll come up with something positive here...)

It's not really about the hours. That's just an easy way for me to communicate how much effort this is taking. A tangible, measurable input.

The exhausting part is the imposter syndrome. It seems grad school is designed to very clearly display how inept you are, and then tell you to get over it. And by tell, I mean demand. And by very clearly display, I mean talk to you like you're a two year old.

I wish I had other things to talk about. Nicer, warm and fuzzy type of things. But this is where I am right now. It's my process. And sometimes it's refreshing to not have to always put on a pretty face.

On a positive note (see, I knew I could come up with something), I officially began IVF yesterday. My five years ago self would be very jealous.

"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me."