GOD IS VERY NEAR. . .

To the broken-hearted.

Found out this week I've miscarried my baby. Very sad, but all in all, I see God's hand of comfort. He prepared me through Sondor's sermon last week. He talked about how everyone needs to have a "Good Life Crisis." One thing I just reread in my notes that's having a profound effect on me is "People in pain are in a perfect position to experience God." The first night I found out, I have several very comforting and vivid dreams of the baby in Heaven with Jesus. I also had an extremely strong sense of God's tangeable presence. I pray this for everyone going through loss or grief or disappointment. When I called a good friend to tell her the sad news, seh asked me, "Do you feel guilty." (This pregnancy wasn't exactly in our plans.)

And I could confidently say, "No." I know that even though the news of the pregnancy was unexpected, children are a blessing from the Lord. When I told a friend before I'd taken the test I suspected I was pregnant, they'd said, "Oh no. I don't think God would do that to you."

The fact of the matter is, God didn't DO anything to me. He LET it be. I know that I know that I know that I wanted and loved this baby with all of my heart and soul. During the ultrasound, when I couldn't see anything moving, nor the heartbeat, I felt God whisper the tempo of a beat in my heart...these words over and over: "This one's mine."

So today, I praise Him for renewed patience with the children He's blessed me with. Though they are His, too, He's letting me borrow them for their time on earth. Sacred, precious gifts are they and you can bet I've hugged them a lot more often and a little tighter every day since we got the sad news. So this baby had a purpose and I know part of that purpose was to help me not to take my others for granted. To be thankful for every single day. A reminder that I'm triple blessed.

And. . .I am safe in suffering because I have a God who knows exactly what it feels like to have to watch a child die. So this baby reminded me not only of the sacrifice of Jesus, who willingly gave Himself for all of us, but of the sacrifice of God, who sent His only son to die for us instead of sending the globe spinning off its axis and forgetting about all of us.

I watched the surreal life today. I'm heartbroken at China Doll. Now, granted, I know "Reality TV" is often staged, but this woman cried and was heartbroken because all she wanted was for her ex boyfriend to tell her he loves her. So one of the other dudes on the show goes in to the closet where she's hiding and treis to comfort her and she automatically begins to latch onto him with her hope and love.

She's no different than the rest of us. We are made to need love. But the only perfect love is God's and I pray someone tells her there is a man who will never stop loving her. I pray He reveals Himself to her in a profound and life-changing way. Jesus is the only person who will never disappoint us and he will never, ever stop loving us.


I also found out the same day I didn't final in another contest. This business of writing is sort of like the process of grief. I mean, when a story you've poured your soul into to create, gets rejected, it feels like a profound personal loss. There's teh normal stages of grief. Anger, despondency, denial, depression then eventually acceptance. I admit I did have a fleeting thought, "Why am I doing this to myself?" Pursuing publication is a painful process and honestly, I have a full life, so why bother? Why slash my veins and bleed my heart over the pages just for someone to say they hate my story. Yes, I entertained the thoughts to give up for about half a day.

Then the characters in my heart started to speak. God whispered, "you can't quit because you're doing this for me. It's worship unto me."

I'll tell you, I got right on my computer and pounded out another chapter.

Why?

Because God has given this to me and somehow, it blesses Him when I give it back to Him. So if I never get published, I'll whine and moan and probably yell and cry.

But I'll never give up because I know now that I'm doing it for all the right reasons. To know that somehow through all the heartache of rejections, and contest losses, that God has managed to purify my heart and my motives...makes it worth every slice of pain.


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"It's part of a new meme that is travelling through the blogosphere. The idea is if you're tagged, you need to choose 3 (or more if you like) occupations from the list below and then finish the sentence for each that you've chosen.
"You then tag three more people who must do the same. You can add more occupations to the list when you pass it on but you must choose your 3 from the list provided by the person who tagged you. You're also asked to trackback to the blogger who tagged you if you know how."
Here's the list:
If I could be a scientist…
If I could be a farmer…
If I could be a musician…
If I could be a doctor…
If I could be a painter…
If I could be a gardener…
If I could be a missionary…
If I could be a chef…
If I could be an architect…
If I could be a linguist…
If I could be a psychologist…
If I could be a librarian…
If I could be an athlete…
If I could be a lawyer…
If I could be an innkeeper…
If I could be a professor…
If I could be a writer…
If I could be a llama-rider…
If I could be a bonnie pirate…
If I could be a service member…
If I could be a photographer…
If I could be a philanthropist…
If I could be a rap artist…
If I could be a child actor…
If I could be a secret agent…
If I could be a comedian/comedienne…
If I could be a priest...
If I could be a radio announcer...
If I could be a phlebotomist...
If I could be Paris Hilton's stylist...
If I could be a movie producer...
If I could be the CEO of Microsoft...
If I could be an accountant…
If I could be a scientist,

I'm choosing the one that cheered me up when I read it:

"If I could be a gardener. . .all the flowers wouldn't tremble when I place them in my cart at the garden center as if they'd just been sentenced to death row, and my mother in law wouldn't have to show me for the hundredth time which green thingies are the weeds and which ones are the flowers.

I'll add to the mix:

If I could be a Mime. . .
If I could be a Spec Ops solder. . .
If I could be an Ambassador. . .

I'm tagging Margaret Daley, Brenda Coulter, and Mae Nunn.


Squirrel