Moving in the Rain

It had been raining all day. California is experiencing a drought, but on the day we needed to move, it rained.

We had 3 days to pack up and move. (3 days!!! I may have even needed to resort to throwing all our clothes onto blankets, rolling the blankets and throwing the blanket-wrapped clothes heap into the u-haul. Desperate times, desperate measures.) We ended up moving in with my parents short-term while we wait to buy a house. I think the combination of knowing how difficult it would be to move a family of four into my parents’ house plus the sheer enormity of the task of packing an entire house on short notice had me varying between taking lots of deep breaths, pacing, praying, and occasionally leaking tears.

After a long day of moving, I was sitting in my car driving my daughter to what we would call home for a few months. I was wet to my skin after walking through a downpour to the car. Five minutes into our drive, the clouds broke and it was as though the rain had wiped the sky crystal clear.  We saw constellations and all the little in-between stars.

Addy began to sing a song of her own making. “Let them glow. Let them glow. The stars are beautiful. God put them in the sky for us. Let them glow…”

I was quiet, content to listen, savoring her fleeting youth. After a while I said, “Oh. I like that song, Addy. Can we sing it again tomorrow?”

Then Addy said something rather profound. “No, Mom. This is the song for today. I can’t sing it a different day. Each day gets a new song.”

This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it.

This day, this hard day, where I feel stretched to breaking…

This day, this Jonah day where I can know change is upon me, not just nipping at my heels but overtaking me…

This day has a song worth singing.

This day has gifts that can only be found and received today.

Warm California rain sliding down my skin.

The smell of damp earth and mustard flowers carried in on the wind.

A field of a thousand geese

The sight of a tulip tree through rain drenched stairs. 

A former intern and dear little sister in Christ coming to watch my kids and her wanting to spend the whole rest of the day with me, even in my frazzled state.

Being present to hear an Addy original song.

Generous parents. A place to stay on short notice. Knowing I could be packing up a house for the last time in a good long while…

As we turned onto the bridge that would take us to our temporary home, I thought of how much my life feels up in the air, out of my grasp. A place to live, a church to call home… all up in the air, beyond my control, just floating there out of reach. I long for things to settle. I long for things to stop changing.

The grand adventure Christ leads us on asks us to pick up our cross daily, asks us to lay down our life, asks us to live unsettled. I place my life in Christ’s hands and then it’s no longer in my hands. (Profound, I know.)

Each day we change. Those babies that used to fit so sweetly under the crook of my neck have expanded the length of my arms and are not so easy to hold anymore. In the span of one year, we have now moved twice, my husband has become a cop, I have become a cop’s wife, our church has moved… so.much.change.  

Yet the Lord is here, with me. Each day is different and new. Sometimes we change in subtle shades and sometimes the Master dips the brush into a new color and paints with bold, surprising strokes on what might have seemed a monotonous canvas.

Whether changes are subtle or surprising, God is here. And He is good.

This day is the day that the Lord has made. And I can rejoice in it.

Each day gets a new song and I will sing it.

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

The One Where I Am Back from a Long Break and Talking About Things Like Trust

I am back!

I have no idea if you want to shout, but I sure do: 

“YAY!!!”

I am grateful for the time away. I may be embarrassed to admit just how much cleaner my house stayed and how much more prepared-for our family meals were. I got bit by the reading bug and read something like 8 novels in two months’ time.

Just in case you missed these faces...

Jed totally busted his mouth on a brick fireplace the day before this picture. And the grass is in focus over the boy, but taking pictures of a 2 1/2 year old boy isn't exactly easy.

These last few months have felt like a bit of a whirlwind. The last week of December, we got word our landlords were selling our place. We hadn’t even lived here long enough to fulfill our one year lease.  This started us looking into places to live and realizing, at least in our area, the rent market had jumped up. Just to make sure we were making an informed decision, we sat down with a mortgage consultant just to see how far away we were from being able to buy our own home. As it turns out, we are far more ready (at least financially) than we had realized. So for the last month and a half, we have been showing our condo (or do I say our landlord’s condo?) and trying to find a place of our own.

We have to move this week. I started packing… um… last night (yeah, I know. I’m freaking out too). We are moving in with my parents until we can find a house. We are pretty sure we found the house for us, it’s just that it’s a short sale (which, by the way, I do believe it would be more way accurate to refer to them as long sales.)

Have I ever mentioned how much I stink at change?! All this moving business coupled with one other major change (which I will tell you about when I am able. And no, I am not pregnant. Though likely that would be a perfectly reasonable question at this time in my life) has left me feeling a bit like I am almost teetering on the edge. I have been able to put into place much of what I had learned last year when my world flipped upside down with a move, a church move, and my husband starting a career in law enforcement in the span of a month. I am walking forward not paralyzed by change, and that, friends, is a victory all by itself.

At the start of a new year, I like to think back at what God did and then make a prayer or a goal for where I know God is leading me in the next year. I had been listening to a song on repeat for almost a month, rolling over the words, comparing them against the words that might define the way I live.

“Spirit lead where my trust is without borders, let me walk upon the waters…Take me deeper that my feet could ever wander, then my faith would be made stronger…”

Before the move, before viewing houses, before all the change, before all the uncertainty. I made this my prayer: God, I want to trust You. Really trust You. I want to learn to walk upon water.

I keep thinking of the phrase “trust without borders.” A border is a marker, a line, a this far and no further. It implies laid out plans, blueprints. It also seems to imply what is within reason and what is not. It gives God a specific region of your life and heart and secludes Him from others: whether it’s not forgiving that person that “straight done you wrong,” not giving change to the beggar you are certain will use it for drugs, or even thinking that God can lead you to the dream you have for your life but prohibiting Him from trials that might prepare you for the dream.

I think of Abraham. God told him to “Get to a land that I will show you.” No borders, no road map, just one step at a time listening for God’s voice to tell him which way to go next.

God told Abraham he would be the father of many nations, that Sarah would bear him a son… and all this after it was physically possible. God later told Abraham to sacrifice his one and only son, the son that he was promised, the son that was a miracle in itself. And Abraham obeyed.

Trust without borders.

Of course, God had never intended to take Isaac. God wanted to be first in Abraham’s life… to captivate Abraham’s heart rather than the many gifts God had given Abraham. I think God wanted to captivate Abraham’s heart far beyond Abraham’s ability to reason and rationalize too.

So I guess what I am trying to say is that I do believe I have been afforded an opportunity to trust. To walk out on an open sea that is uncertain and a little stormy. To keep my eyes on Jesus when I want to give into the torrential flow of questions streaming through my brain, most of which start with the two words “What if…”

What if it doesn’t work out? What if we get in over our heads? What if we can’t find anything? What if we get it all wrong?

This self-professed over-thinker has been clinging to Psalm 139.


“…You have enclosed me behind and before,And laid Your hand upon me.Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;It is too high, I cannot attain to it.
Where can I flee from Your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, You are there;
If I make my bed in Sheol, behold, You are there.
If I take the wings of the dawn,
If I dwell in the remotest part of the sea,
Even there Your hand will lead me,
And Your right hand will lay hold of me. 
If I say, ‘Surely the darkness will overwhelm me,
And the light around me will be night,’ 
Even the darkness is not dark to You,
And the night is as bright as the day.
Darkness and light are alike to You...”

Where can I go that He is not? 

No matter how my geographical location changes or where we go to church or whether we get it all right or all wrong, God is with me.

I cannot escape His presence.

For some reason, for this first-born girl who has perhaps worried far too much about “getting it right,” that is really comforting.

Okay, and now I must go since there are mere minutes left before the sleeping bear I call my son awakens from his slumber and clamors through the house until I agree to just sit underneath him. (He's kind of going through a clingy phase...)

I can’t wait to share more with you about all the happenings here… and I even have some recipes in the works. Though I will say, all this sharing I can’t wait to do, may have to actually wait… till I pack this entire house and move! (Pray for me, friends!)

So looking forward to more of this. It is so good to be back!

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

Oh, and one more thing, since I am excited and can't keep it to myself. In the wee hours of Sunday morning, I became an AUNTIE!!! :)

Here's that song I was quoting. Oceans by Hillsong United

If you are reading from your email you will need to click HERE to see the video on youtube.

A Little Update And Why I Might Need a Social Media Break

An update:

Two weeks ago, my husband and I went away for our eighth anniversary. It was such an awesome time! We found a hobby that we love doing together (nature/hiking/bird watching), we asked some of those really deep questions that I don’t think we’ve asked since we were dating (like “Where do you see yourself in 5 years?”), we stayed up late, we slept in… ‘twas glorious.

The day after we got back from vacation, I had surgery on my sinuses. That was not glorious. I seriously overestimated my own abilities to recover from surgery and spent at least 4 days recovering and another week of feeling kind of crummy. I had actually scheduled something for two days after surgery thinking I would be fine by then (ha!). I am now much better. And hallelujah! I can breathe!

These pictures were from our adventure in Lake Tahoe. I will spare you the picture of me post-surgery ;)

My heart:

I know I haven’t been the most faithful or the most frequent blogger. I stumbled into writing and found myself loving piecing together words, telling stories, throwing my questions onto the white space of a Word document and seeing God somehow answer back. I think I have said it before, writing is a key-tapping word dance between me and God.

But it’s not just writing or relationship with Christ, I have loved connecting with you. I am not quite sure how it happened, but blogging has given me some of my most treasured friendships. It’s given me encouragement and camaraderie with other writers, moms, women, Christians. I can’t tell you how thankful I am for the space you’ve made for me in your life, even if it’s just the tiniest space in your email box and the occasional encouraging word. Thank you!

Lately, I have become negative. I have found myself trying to turn my relationship with God into a production. Like I want Him to speak so that I have something to write on the blog. I have forgotten the value of sacred—that maybe God wants to be intimate with me and doesn’t want the whole world to hear about it the next day. (Don’t kiss and tell?)

On the flipside, I think God has given me a message and a book to write, but it’s like I am back in my college days the night before a paper is due… I have found I want to write everything but what God has given me to write. I think I might be terrified. What if I fail? What if it gets rejected? What if I can’t complete it? It just seems like such a huge and daunting task and really who am I to think I could write a book that people should want to read? I think I need to put on my big girl panties and just write it.

I have found myself so full of negativity towards social media. Not because I don’t love connecting with you all. In fact, my source of angst is my own personal Facebook newsfeed. If I am completely honest, it feels like everyone has an opinion or is sharing an article in which someone has an opinion, everyone is promoting someone or something.  It just seems so loud, and I don't want to add to the noise. I think somewhere along the way, I started trading knowing people with just knowing about people. I long for the days when I could show up to my group of friends and just catch up without anyone stopping someone mid-sentence, “Oh yeah, I saw that you posted about that on Facebook.”

This isn’t me saying Facebook is bad. This isn’t me preaching to you or offering an opinion on Facebook usage. This is me saying, I think I’ve got some unhealthy ways of thinking and seeing. I think I have developed some bad habits. I think for my own emotional and spiritual health, I need to step away.

I know I am offering a lot of different reasons why I am taking a break because I want you to know me and know my heart even if it means you see that it needs a lot of work (because I think of us as being in this together). But really, explanations aside, I know in my knowing place that God is calling me away. I also know that He said 40 days. Not because it’s some kind of profound or Biblical number, but because it’s what I heard God ask of me.

That said. I have no idea what’s on the other side of 40 days. I like to think I will be back… and with great clarity and gusto and maybe even a book proposal completed. :)

So, I am saying a brief farewell. BUT, can I just say how much I value each one of you? And how if you would like to stay connected, be my friend, I would LOVE that? Seriously, and I don’t just say this, you can email me. I would love it! I am not taking a break from people or email, just stepping away from Facebook and posting blogs. (My email: amandaconquers at gmail dot com)

I now get the chance to wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving, a Merry Christmas, AND a Happy New Year all at once. And I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I will be holding you in my thoughts and prayers this season.

So, that said, how can I be praying for you?

I now understand the daunting task that is trying to take a family picture. This was THE ONLY picture where we were all facing forward-ish. Also, I feel the need to point out the location of my iced coffee. After going through 10 takes looking for a decent one, I died laughing when I saw that... as if it couldn't get worse. Just keeping it real, friends, and wishing you a happy holiday even if it isn't a photogenic one ;)

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

Okay… now I know I said I wasn’t offering an opinion about Facebook, but in between writing and editing this post, I came across this video about loneliness in our social media age. It really makes you think! 

(If you are reading from your email, click the link above; otherwise, the video is embedded below)

The Innovation of Loneliness from Shimi Cohen on Vimeo.

What Gratitude Means to Me

I think I first heard the phrase at Ann's.

Life is not an emergency, but a gift.

I say it when I am running late and my kids are pokey little puppies noticing every blessed flower on our walk to the car. I say it when my foot flirts with the gas pedal as though time is a thing that can be raced. I say it when my kids defy their bedtimes and I feel desperate for time that is quiet and for myself. 

I say it because the best gift I can give is the gift of being present. I say it because time is fleeting and cannot be held and because my kids will only be small once. 

I say it because I've almost missed those gifts before... 

I am over at Kayse Pratt's today sharing about one of those gifts that I almost missed... (it involves McDonald's, a pity party, and the day my daughter asked Jesus into her heart) and what gratitude means to me.

Would you hop over and join me? I'd really love to see some familiar faces over there. Is it okay to admit that even though I'm behind a screen, I still get nervous everytime I post and those nerves get amplified when I am guest posting? Yep.

Click ---> HERE<---to join me.

Of Dogs, Fishing Poles, and Awkward Christian Dating (Part 2)

This is the second part to a short story about the occasionally awkward business of Christian dating and the tale of two dogs and a fishing lesson. It's told from my real life.

If you missed Part 1, catch it here. 

If you are returning, I had left off in the middle of a fishing lesson that was not going so well. Enjoy the conclusion. :)

Ryan showed me the cast one more time.  He explained slowly and thoroughly.

I listened intently as if my fate depended on it. I practiced the motion. I pep-talked myself.

You can do this, Amanda. Focus. Think about where you want it to go and send it there. You can do this.

I really liked Ryan, and I thought Ryan wanted a girl who could fish.

I wanted to be that girl.

At the very least, I didn’t want to be the klutz sending the poor guy up the tree for misfired hooks every five minutes.

I gave it my best effort. I pulled back and swished forward, letting go of the reel at the right moment. I watched that hook go straight out in front of me headed for shallow water. It wasn’t far enough, but it looked like progress. Before I could celebrate my decent form, one dog went bounding into the water.

And then I felt a pull on my line.

The dog yelped. My eyes got wide. “Ryan! The dog is pulling on my line. I think I got the dog!”

“You… What?!”

“What… what… what do I do?!” I stuttered as I forced words to form on my lips.

“I don’t know. Don’t reel it in! I got to find where the hook is.” Ryan’s words were agitated and worried.

The dog swam in circles before coming back to shore. Then she ran around the clearing like a squealing pig in a pin being chased by kids at the county fair. Before we could catch her, she bounded back into the river and swam into deep water, whimpering the whole way.

We called for the dog. We reasoned with her. We begged her. Finally the dog swam back. We were intent on figuring out where the hook was.

We searched for the line… followed it with our eyes… till we saw where the line ended.  

It seemed to be coming from…

{I am not quite sure how to put this…}

The dog’s anus.

Ryan’s eyes got so wide they seemed to bulge out of his head. “Amanda!” He paused. “You hooked the dog in her…” His loud voice turned to a whisper, “butthole?!”  A look of horror washed over his face as he uttered that last ungodly word. I might as well have been showing up to church in black leather bondage clothes with thigh high boots, black lipstick and a whip with the way he looked at me.

He took a deep breath. “Amanda. Those are really nice dogs. What if the dog is seriously injured, and we get sued or something? I can’t believe this is happening.”

I tried to speak. Nothing came.

“Okay, well, we got to get this dog pinned down so we can remove the hook. I’ll take her at the front, you come at her in the opposite direction so she can’t get away.”

I agreed. A minute later we had the dog pinned. The fishing line had wrapped around her back leg and her tail. We couldn’t see a hook. (Hallelujah!) As Ryan worked at removing the line from the dog, I followed that thick clear thread to see if I could find the hook.

It was under a root in the shallows of the river. Thankfully, no where near the dog’s behind.

I am not sure how to properly salvage a date that’s been interrupted by a dog being potentially hooked in its arse. I thought maybe it could be one of those cute stories you tell your grandkids around the Thanksgiving table. (“

Let me tell you sonny. I fell in love with your grandmother that day… the way she couldn’t fish to save her life and almost hooked an expensive dog in the rumpus… I just knew she was the girl for me.”

Yeah. Not so much.)

Ryan just looked at me like I had committed some kind of grievous sin.

Thou shalt not improperly cast and thou shalt not hook or appear to hook a dog. Thou shalt get major negative points for hooking a dog’s anus.

I told a few awkward jokes in an attempt to lighten the situation. He was ready to go home. He said his parents were expecting him.

It was 2 pm on a Saturday.

We walked that dirt path atop the levee back to my house. There was an awkward silence that hung in the air, and the smell of sulfur seemed especially noticeable. The dogs were at our heels, black coats gleaming in the sunshine. They seemed to be bounding about chasing butterflies, not a care in the world, almost mocking me as I was so full of caring about what Ryan thought of me now.

When Ryan left that day, I think I knew our Bible studies were over. 

I ran into him a few months later on the college campus. After some how-are-you, how-are-your-classes small talk, I asked how him and God were doing. “Great.  I am engaged to be married now and I just know she’s the girl God has for me.”

I wanted to ask if she fished.

:)

How I envisioned the date going...

How the date actually went. :)

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

Four years later, I fell in love with a man who is a little clumsy himself and who rolled on the floor laughing with me when I told him why I just can’t bring myself to fish. The abrupt ending to the Ryan-Amanda relationship might have seemed embarrassing and a bit painful… but I so appreciate that I am married to a man who doesn’t panic in the face of trials, who is still able to find his sense of humor. Michael likes me and all my clumsy. It’s a good thing too, because I have a whole lot of it. :)

Life has not been one perpetual glorious sunset ride since we wed, but there have been moments of absolute magic and moments of struggling and learning how to overcome. 

Oh, and a whole lot of laughing

at

with each other.

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

I actually have a couple marriage posts planned for next week like the things I would love to tell my newly-wedded self if I could. (well, provided I get them completed before I leave for vacation.  Did I mention we are getting away for a few days for our anniversary?! Yay!!) Stay tuned, friends!

To make sure you never miss a post, sign up to receive my posts by email a couple of times a week by clicking -->

HERE

. 

Photo Credit:

First Picture is of a painting called

Courtship

by Yeend King

,

Second Picture

Of Dogs, Fishing Poles, and Awkward Christian Dating {Part 1}

Next week I am celebrating my 8

th

anniversary. I was thinking back through my memories of relationships before I fell in love with my husband and how fortunate I am that I often had some kind of awkward situation that would end a relationship prematurely. This is a story of one of those awkward situations and one good reason I am grateful for the man I married.

I was just shy of eighteen. I was newly on-fire for God and the most consuming thought I had involved meeting “the one.” You know that one amazing guy that God would have in store for me… a love story of epic proportions where we would “just know” and go riding off into the sunset and live happily ever after?

Yeah.

At the end of my senior year, I met a guy named Ryan at my college placement exams. He was leaned up against the railing outside the modular room during our break. He was handsome with his messy brown hair, big brown eyes and a sporty physique. I might have been too shy to talk to him, but then I noticed his shirt: Jesus Saves.

He’s a Christian!

(Okay, and with that thought I was also thinking he could be “the one.” Yes. I was so that girl.)

Our conversation led us to naturally do what any two zealous young Christians who were crazy about the opposite sex but had just read

I Kissed Dating Goodbye

by Josh Harris would do…

we met for a Bible study.

We met weekly at a Starbucks all through the summer before my freshman year of college.

We would read the same passage of scripture through the week and take turns leading the discussion. Sometimes we would bring other people, but most of the time, it was just the two of us. Ryan and Amanda.

One day towards the end of the summer, I was complaining to Ryan about the 2 miles I had to drive down a dirt road to get anywhere.

At the time, my parents were renting a house in the middle of a pear orchard (and the middle of nowhere for that matter) while they were waiting for their house to be built.

As I began describing the house, I mentioned it’s location: right on a branch of the Sacramento River.

Ryan’s eyes lit up. “Wait. You live next to the river?”

 “Yeah. Like right on the river. Like I could walk outside, pick up a rock, and throw it into the river.”

His big brown eyes got even bigger. “Dude! Do you fish it?”

I told him how my family didn’t fish. He paused and then looked at me a little sheepishly, “Could I come fish?”

As calmly as a girl with a giant crush on the guy who wanted to come to her house could muster, “Yeah. You totally can come fishing.”

“Awesome! I’ll bring an extra pole and teach you how to fish too!” He didn’t bother with containing his excitement. I think I wrongly proportioned that excitement more to me rather than the fishing.

This seemed like forward motion to me.

More than a Bible Study. Finally!

Now before I tell you about that “date,” I need to tell you a little more about where I lived. Our house sat right up against the levee. The levee was topped with a wide dirt path that went on for miles in either direction along the river. It was lush land. Pear orchards surrounded the house. Over-grown blackberry bushes flanked the sides of the levee. Giant oaks and poplars drank thirsty at the river’s edge. When the sun peered through the trees, it would catch dust particles and render them golden. It was a beautiful place. It might have been worthy of the lofty term “enchanted” if not for the hyper dogs that lived next door and the subtle stench of sulfur in the well-water caused by the agriculturally rich soil it sat in.

The house had one neighbor that shared the clearing in the pear trees. This neighbor bred hunting dogs: hound and lab mixes.   

At the time, our neighbor had 2 full-grown pups. They were beautiful dogs—shiny black coats, long legs, thick feet.

They had the energy of a toddler 10 minutes after his first experience with candy

. Once they chased a squirrel under my dad’s brand new pick-up. The dogs tore and tore at the underbelly of the truck trying to get at the squirrel, resulting in a mess of wires and not a single electronic function left in working order. My dad was not a big fan of those dogs.

Sunset on the Sacramento River

Enchanted woods by the river

……….

Ryan arrived on a hot August noon carrying two poles and a tackle box. He wore a t-shirt, basketball shorts and a sheepish grin. After greeting each other, we immediately got down to business: finding a fishing spot.

We walked up the levee and began searching for a decent clearing where I would have room to learn to cast.

As the levee took us along the back of my neighbor’s house, the two dogs bounded around us. They were leaping, sniffing, and licking and could not be persuaded to return home.

When we found a decent clearing, Ryan got the poles ready and gave me a lesson on the parts to the fishing pole and how to cast.

My first try, the line didn’t go anywhere. My second try landed in the bushes immediately to my left. My third try landed in the bushes to my right. My fourth try, the hook got caught high in a birch tree.

In the midst of this, two dogs ran around us, followed each cast, sniffed at our hands and the tackle box with interest.

After climbing out of the tree he had just tried to get a hook out of, Ryan was clearly frustrated. He explained and re-explained the arm and wrist motion. My mind got it; my body was not cooperating. I have always struggled with my coordination. Seeing his frustration I said, “How about I try one more time? If I can’t get it, I’ll just keep you company while you fish.”

...................

Click here to find out what happens on that final cast.

 Nothing could have prepared me for how wrong it could go.

When Life Fractures Your Faith

Can I tell you all about something?

It’s not pretty. It’s hard. And it’s hard to talk about. I think I am needing to write my way through it, and, for some reason, I feel compelled to share it. Maybe someone out there needs to hear this or at least know they aren’t the only one. Or maybe it is that I’m the one that needs to hear something from one of you who has been here before.

(On that note, I also need to kindly ask you to refrain from offering medical advice or family planning opinions. I am talking with my doctor about it. And I am just not sure I am comfortable with that dialogue or ready to have it here.)

In the span of two months, I have had two miscarriages.

Two.

Both times, my husband and I were practicing the method of birth control that has worked for us for years.

Both times, I tested before my missed period. (Perhaps I am just far too in tune with my body, but I seem to have “spidey senses” when it comes to pregnancy.)

Both times, I miscarried within two days of my discovery.

I have been wanting more babies but sensing it wasn’t time (It kind of helps sensing it when your husband tells you he is not at all ready). 

Each time I saw that extra line on the stick, I thought God was blessing us with a surprise.

Maybe I am alone on this. But I love surprises.

I have a brother who is almost fourteen years younger than me, my parents' later-in-life surprise blessing. I have two dear friends who got pregnant after thinking they had permanently shut off the possibility of pregnancy. I’ve seen the miracle. I’ve seen the way that the family stretched with joy and love. I’ve seen the abundance of blessing in the unexpected.  

I am not quite sure how to put this into words, but I have been so angry over the miscarriages. There is white hot rage underneath this skin. How and why? And just why?! I felt the darkness of depression pulling at me. I’ve felt my faith rock.

It feels like some kind of cruel joke.

I don’t understand the point. I don’t even understand exactly what happened.  Did life happen? Did I lose something? What is wrong with me? Surely this isn’t normal?

It’s isolating. It’s really hard to talk about.

It’s also really hard to process.

I want to grieve, but it feels like I haven’t “earned the right,” like I didn’t lose enough. Like it was a second-rate miscarriage.

I am learning that while I might want to pick up my broken heart and set it next to someone’s heart like my dear friend’s who miscarried a very wanted and tried-for baby in her 11^th week and had complications that dragged out the whole ordeal for weeks. Grief is not a substance that it can be compared. Broken is broken. And while my rational mind might want to say that I am less deserving, that I can’t cry as much or as hard. My heart is broken. I need to heal. I need to grieve.

I remember breaking my arm when I was in the third grade. I had gotten this great idea to show my older, cooler friend that I could swing with “no hands.” It took about two seconds to discover how not bright that idea was. I flipped backwards, arm meeting the ground first. My right ulna was broken all the way through.

I remember the healing process for that break. The emergency room. The overnight sling. The two different casts and the three months of wearing them. I remember doing homework with my left hand and taking my baths with my arm above water, wrapped in plastic.

I also remember the pain of having my arm set back into place. My mom remembers the scream of her quiet, keep-it-all-together child ringing through the waiting room. Setting was by far the most painful part in the process, even more painful than the break itself.

I think grieving can be like that. It is a process. Life, trials, people collide with our plans, our hopes, our dreams and just leave us reeling. Sometimes our ideas and beliefs get fractured in the aftermath of loss and need to be set back into place. 

Setting is that painful place, that place that is full of why’s. It’s that place of broken plans and dreams. It’s that place where you can walk away from God’s promises and live fractured or you can chose to live by faith rather than by what you see. It’s that place of re-realizing that God’s ways are higher and sometimes we just don’t get to understand this side of heaven. It’s a place of letting go, of surrender, of trust. It’s a place of realigning with what the Word of God says.

I can tell you I have gone through “the setting” in this process. I may have even yelled out in pain and frustration at God. But I am walking through it. I have reached out to some friends. I have chosen to fight that darkness instead of allowing it to fill my life.

I just want to leave you with the two things that seemed to minister to my heart.

Psalm 126:5-6 "Those who sow in tears shall reap with joyful shouting. He who goes to and fro weeping, carrying his bag of seed, shall indeed come again with a shout of joy, bringing his sheaves with him."

I am clinging to this promise, reminding God of it. I am sowing my tears, I’m not holding them in. And I am waiting to see what God will do.

I went to Women of Faith in the midst of this and heard this song by Mercy Me. I can’t even tell you how much it ministered or how much it felt like I could have written this song from my own life. If you have ever experienced deep pain and loss, just. listen. to. this. song.

Thank you for letting me share here. Seriously, thank you!

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

Psst… I should be back this week with a story that involves a fishing line, two dogs, and the reason I do not fish. It may even leave you rolling with laughter ;)