Empty Tomb

The resurrection is incredibly hard to believe…but it’s even more difficult to believe that those closest to Jesus would not crack under pressure and torture–that they would agree to face horrible horrible deaths in order to propagate a lie.

That Peter, the one who denied him three times before the rooster crowed, would be hung on the cross upside down–because he had SEEN the risen Lord.

That James, who didn’t believe his brother was the son of God, would change his mind and believe.  (Thanks pastor, great new insight today.)

The twelve could have avoided horrible deaths if they would only admit that Jesus didn’t rise and appear to them….and UNSEE what they had SEEN.

I have hope due to the empty tomb.  That empty tomb fills me when I am empty.  I pray that I can be a light to others’ lives.

 

 

 

Cornerstone

The cornerstone of my faith is:

While Jesus was hanging on the cross in excruciating pain (created by humans) he said, “Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do.”  Luke 23:34

This is truly Amazing Grace, and it makes me want to follow.

Redemption and resurrection are available to all.

Happy Easter.

The Emo Pendulum and Canine Wisdom

I am swinging back in the “okay” direction, thank God.  Birthday celebration with Hubs was really nice.  Sushi and saki preceded by a ride in a convertible and an adorable card did the body (and mind) good.

I know I’m still going to have difficult days, but I think the hormones are easing out of the equation.

Today, I find peace thinking that there is nothing I (or my doctor) could have done to save the baby at eight weeks (or even less, maybe death was sooner than I thought).  I find peace in realizing that nothing I can do, think, say, or pray will bring that baby back.  All I can do is live here and now, learn, be patient, and be kind to others (whose circumstances I don’t know).

In some ways, I continue to have an inner dialogue with Little One.  Thanking Little One for the growth and eye-opening ideas that he/she and his/her predecessor set into motion.  I’ve made many surprising decisions in preparation, and I think those decisions will benefit the One that Comes and Stays.

I guess it’s normal to continue to have a dialogue with a spirit passed.

• I still mentally call and email ‘Cita, who passed in January.
• I still hold my BBull dog who passed two years ago (and mentally walk him through my old neighborhood).

There was nothing I could have done to bring ‘Cita or BBull back.  I can only move forward from here and honor the things they taught me.  Neither of them would want me to stop–they didn’t.  They moved on to experience the fullness of God.

And, yes, I think dogs experience the fullness of God.  In my mind, it’s likely they are on a higher spiritual level on the Other Side (like the angels).  They deserve God’s fullness as a job well done for demonstrating unconditional love, forgiveness, joy in the now, and dependence on a higher power for providence….to us, the “rulers” of the world.

I think I’ll let my two Spirit Guides take me for a walk…..

Aftermath

Yesterday was my birthday….and it was awesome.  Phone calls, facebook wishes, gifts, out-to-eats, and a wonderful surprise trip to Birthtown to see my folks.  A whirlwind–and exactly what I needed.  I felt tremendous love and joy.  (Highlight included a special birthday call from Sister in Law–I was borderline giddy.)  I was able to get my mind off taboo subject miscarriage and feel support and love.

Now I’m back, and I feel almost lower than before I left.  I had hope of restoration/healing while being in Birthtown, and it was great while it lasted.  Maybe the anticipation of the visit over-inflated my spirits.  Maybe I’m moving to a different stage of grief.

Now, I’m back home, and I think my hormones are still haywire.  Tonite is supposed to be the birthday celebration between Hubbs and I.  I wish I could snap out of it and find the peace I felt on Monday after visiting the doctor:

• God knows what he’s doing.  Trust him.
• This is not our time for a baby.
• Enjoy the last year of life before becoming parents.
• I am healthy and normal–Recuperation will yield in the winter or next spring

Now, I’m just an emotional mess.  I don’t feel like Hubs can step out of his experience and imagine how I feel.  I couldn’t deny that life was growing inside me–especially with so many restrictions!  Now it’s just “poof/gone” and I am supposed to suck it up and move on.  In many ways, I know that we will both be better parents in 2013, but I am still sad.  I wish men could experience our rollercoaster of hormones for just one week–so then they would hug us when we are plagued with them (and not run away).

I have to face my in-laws on Easter and Hubbs has a different perspective on familial sharing.  I don’t want to feel like I’m sitting there with a big, fat, painful secret.  Somehow I feel more support in sharing, while Hubbs feels like if people know, they will make judgements, have pity, or get upset.

I might just have to call Mother-in-law anyway if my emotions don’t get better.  I have a cousin (by marriage) who endured three losses before her daughter was born.  I need to talk to someone that is real–not just a chatroom name on the internet.

Birthtown….Reprise

• I love you like a person.
• You frustrate me and drive me crazy.
• I’ve been co-dependent, but I’m finding a way:
• A way to love you without extinguishing my own fire,
• And let YOU be who you are–who you always were.
• In order to grow, I step away
• And think of the ways it didn’t work.
• But when I stumble,
• You are constant.
• You are there, taking me in.
• You are in my blood–undeniably.
• You strengthen me like Tara
• And make everything okay.
• Thank you
• For allowing me to visit
• For agreeing to be here
• If I need you–
• But not forcing me to stay

I didn’t understand this the first 400 times I saw it, but now I do.  Thanks, Tara.

You didn’t ask

I haven’t seen  you in a month.  You didn’t ask how I was doing, yet I listened to your ups and downs.

How much do I talk and not listen when people are aching to share something with me?

Lord, let me ask engaging questions about people’s lives.  Let me care outside of myself.

Voice in my Ear

How many times have I wished and wished for a message from God?  Lots and lots–and I’ve wanted Him to be clear with me, pllllease!

Since I’ve moved to ATL, I’ve felt disconnected and floating, trying to grasp at my new identity.  I’ve felt like I don’t have girlfriends, but the “enemy” has been toying and manipulating me into thinking I need more.

This week a highschool friend, a college friend, and a brand new friend all rallied around me (at separate moments).  The highschool friend and the brand new friend live in ATL area, and the college friend lives 3 hours away.  All three of them are in wildly different stages of life, and their political preferences run the gamut.  They are all beautifully genuine and incredibly thoughtful–these are the only (yet most important) similarities of the three.

As they spoke in my ear, their voices hit a harmonic .  I know this harmonic was the voice of God, and it finally sunk in.  God had been speaking to me for a tiringly long time, I just decided not to listen to his voice.  I realized that my lovely girlfriends are each in different stages of life, each living her own stage: its ups, its downs, its triumphs, its “growth opportunities.”

I finally accepted that it’s time to focus ONLY on MY PATH–not where others are on their paths.  God may be singing a different note with me than he is with my friend, my coworker, my sister-in-laws, and facebook friends (who doesn’t feel comparison pangs with their facebook friends?).  I realized that in pursuing everyone else’s life path, I’ve been missing out on the one that is UNIQUELY MINE.

My Dear Art Professor said,

I know you want to paint like Bill (my archnemesis art rival and source of mondo jealousy).  You need to give that up.  You will NEVER paint like Bill, and Bill will NEVER paint like you.  The minute you give that up and accept the way you paint, you will loosen up and paint like yourself.  It won’t be forced–it will flow from your brush.

So, now is the time to applaud others’ efforts, accomplishments, and life paths but not forget to respect my own–to focus on my playlist and take more time to figure out the arrangement of my individual song.

From the Red Tent

I thought Lent was only 40 days.  I’ve got 37 entries, and Easter is 8 days away.  You do the math.  I agreed to write for 40 days and explore in the name of art, creativity, faith, and writing.  I’ve skipped three days, but I’ll still have 40 by the end.  God will understand.

Friday afternoon I was stopped in my tracks by the worst physical pain I’ve ever experienced.  Saturday was no better–hence no entries.  Today, I write from the blo0dy trenches that are the female experience.  Two miscarriages in four months.  Well, the second I am not absolutely sure of, but I expect the joy of my sonogram tomorrow to be trumped by “I’m sorry” and “keep trying” that were there last time.

The first time at 5 weeks, this time at 8 weeks.  The pins and needles of the first 12 weeks make the whole thing agonizing….beside the fact that you shouldn’t tell anyone….lest they feel sorry for you….I’m not used to bearing my burdens alone.

For all the (monthly) blood and gore, lost children, agonizing waiting, and pain that women go through, they should be in NO WAY considered the weaker sex.

God, I understand that this is part of Your Plan and my growth into the woman you want me to be.  My emotions are mixed in the worst way.  I desperately want to be a parent, but I’m quite terrified to make this transition in my life.  I’m getting older, and I am pissed off at your biological clock making the whole process feel rushed.  We will take a break and re-focus on eachother, our marriage, and having fun.  Please, please, please send me a cheerleader to tell me that “everything will be allright.”  I pray that my family growing is eventually part of your plan.  I don’t know how much more of this I can take.