Detached

I sat across from a dear friend I hadn't seen in awhile the other day and we began to "catch up."  I started to go through the last 2 months and just run at the mouth about life. I was very matter of fact and going through the 8 weeks as if I was checking off a list of happenings. After a little while of talking, I looked up and my friends eyes were filling with tears as she shook her head in disbelief. She consoled me with "I'm sorry's" and "that's horrible" and "I just can't believe it." As she sat there clearly upset for me I realized I was not.  I was detached from the words coming out of my mouth, detached from the emotions that accompany these happenings.  I've been out of touch with the real, the raw, and the ugly.

Since the loss I went back to the worst 2 months in a year-round teacher's life...the last month and the first month back to back. With open house and back to school night and saying goodbye to saying hello...I feel like a walking zombie on a normal year. But this year I called it survival mode, Just. Keep. Going.

Knowing this couldn't possibly be healthy, I consulted my counselor. "How do I deal with  everything else going on? I don't have the capacity..." I told her. She responded, "Put it in a small box not very far away and we will open it when you go off. Right now you do need to focus on a day at a time."

And so here I am sharing with my friend, stone cold.  I'm telling her the countless doctor appointments I've had with new doctors, where the loss is just another medical condition. Where thyroid specialists call it an abortion and receptionists unknowingly ask how I'm feeling and how many weeks am I now. Where I have to explain my "medical condition" over and over to new people as well as hear how abnormal it is for me to have 2 healthy children and 2 late miscarriages. Countless tests have been run all with no explaination.

I explained how my children have suffered, processed, and remembered. From them asking when Jesus is going to give us the baby back to MarKay recalling the moment she heard the baby died because she heard the same song that was playing in the car at that time. I recounted that the first time I met my doctor was her coming in to verify the baby's death.......and so on and so on.

So here I am, off-track, which means it is time to open the box.  I feel like ripping it open and diving in but as I crack it open, it is just overwhelming.  I sat across from my counselor and talked about what seemed like dumb petty stuff. My anxiety's in my relationships, being a mom, struggling with what seems like insurmountable selfishness, and work.  Near the end of the session I just said, "So when are we getting to the baby? This stuff is petty and it pisses me off. I want to get to the real ish, the real problem." She leaned into the couch from her office chair and said, "We are talking about the baby.  Whether you think this is processing or not, everything you are dealing with comes from the loss."

It's true. All the little things I'm dealing with were not what I was dealing with "before." It's new, and yucky, and ugly. It's my new normal.

My counselor also senses my disconnect with my emotions. After being in survival mode for 2 months I'm not in touch with myself. I don't know where I am at or how I am feeling about much of anything (except for all the unhealthy things). Next session I'm working with a sand tray....hmmmm ok......and my homework is to play with clay, play-doh, or a stress ball for 20 min whenever I can. Does typing count? I'm doing that!

Spiritually I've been honest, overwhelmed, and still. It's the one area that I say, "Well last time I...." a lot. But this time it's different no matter how much I think I can handle it, I can't. I've drawn and loved on Romans 8:26.

In the same way the Spirit also helps our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.

There has been a lot of interceding I have asked for. I continue to ask you to pray on my behalf as well. Pray that I am kind to myself during this process, that I am reminded of the immeasurable love that Christ has for me. That I am not a mere vessel of carrying pain but that my suffering will matter one day. That I would not make a list of "should's" for myself but make a list of "be's."  And more than anything, Gods mercy would be evident towards me during this time and if there is anything worthy of praise, that He would receive all of the glory.

When I open this "box" of emotion it seems like a never-ending uphill climb.  But every motion I take (step, stride, or crawl) uphill is one closer to the top. I'm ready to take on the hard work of re-engaging.....it's hard and vulnerable and messy but there is hope, and love, and strength given to me by so many of my blessings all along the way. Which makes everyday worth living in a real, honest and ugly way.

Notes to Heaven

Notes to Heaven

The last two weeks have been quite the emotional roller coaster.  Being back to the routine of "normal" has brought circumstantial highs and emotional lows.  From first day back at work to first doctor appointment since the surgery, to co-leading a training, I just felt so all over the place. I was afraid I wouldn't have time to process all this.  I was afraid I would fill my emotional capacity with the everyday clutter and not take the important moments to just "be" the hot mess I was.

And then there are my girls.  They are old enough to understand this loss and I wasn't sure they were able to process and say everything they had on their hearts.  After much counsel, we decided to have a moment where they can write a note to either Jesus or the baby. We tied the notes to a balloon of their choice and sent it up to heaven.

MarKay being bright enough asks me, "Do the balloons really make it to heaven?" "That's the idea," I said.  "But what if it pops or gets stuck?, she wondered. "The great thing about that is if it doesn't make it to heaven, Jesus already knows what we wrote, sending it up is more for us. It helps us let go of anything we are wanting to say" I said.

And with that she was off to get a piece of paper.  She needed time to think about what she wanted to say so Piper was first:

Oh the innocence of a child.  PJ being the youngest and the least able to understand was letting her prayer be heard that she wanted the baby back.

MarKay wanted to write to the baby and to Jesus.

    

Other than really wanting twins, MarKay showed me that she believes her baby is safe in heaven having fun.  This shows that she loves Jesus, and she already practices dwelling on things good, lovely, true, and honorable.  By thanking Jesus in her note for the world, she understands Philippians 4:8 so much better than I do.

As for me, I've talked to God, I've told him the good, the bad, and the ugly.  But I don't think I thought to write my child a note.  Although it is a very strange thought that I had housed my deceased child for a month.... once I realized it would be my last day holding him/her, I was sad.  I just reveled in writing my son or daughter what was in my heart.

What I didn't foresee in this whole exercise was what came from my girls' hearts after we released the notes.  When we came home, Piper was so happy.  She said, "Jesus is going to bring the baby back now."  "Why do you think that?" I asked.  "Because we sent him a note asking for the baby back and now he will send us the baby!" she said.  I looked at Jerry knowing that this was going to be a conversation I wasn't sure how to have.  We sat her down and talked to her about how Jesus doesn't always give us what we ask for. We talked about how He gives us what's best for us.  I told her I have asked for a lot of money before but I know that it it might not be what is best for me.  I asked her if she loved candy and asked for it all the time, did she think it would be good for her? As the words were coming out of my mouth, I was listening to my own voice realizing that I was learning so much from this.  I might not like what I'm hearing, and Piper might not either but it is true and good and right.

Well the conversation went in one ear and out the other because the next day at church both girls were announcing that they sent up a note to Jesus to bring the baby back and He will.

Oh how my heart knew that this is just a lifelong lesson that even I am still trying to understand.  Their innocence just makes me feel like a child myself in my relationship with God.  I was careful not to correct them or tell my them they were wrong for asking or wrong for thinking what they did.  I know they will learn as life goes on.  God will come through for them on many and most occasions and when it seems like He doesn't, I want them to feel the freedom to ask, wonder, and plead with Him.  I know He will meet them in that, He will love them through it, and He will never leave them.

So in this, I will dwell.  It was a pure moment.  One that was painful yet beautiful.  One that was true and honest.  One that that was of good repute and worthy of praise. It was a moment that I will never forget.  I pray it gives God all the Glory, for in our weakness, He is strong.

Here Again

Here Again


On Wednesday May 21st I had my 16 week check-up.  These check-ups always bring a certain level of anxiety for me until I get to hear that sweet baby heartbeat and then I know all is well.  The appointment started out as usual and then came that dreaded moment when the nurse practitioner started looking for the heartbeat.  I knew right away the result was going to be tragic as I had flashbacks of 5 years ago going through my head.

The doctor came in to give me an in-room ultrasound and on the monitor I saw my sweet lifeless baby.  Shock set in as I realized I was going through the nightmare again that rocked my world and still shapes me today.  The baby was 12 1/2 weeks, this is exactly what happened with Jerin but just a month earlier.

I sat in the room awaiting paperwork to sign for a DNC, something of which I had heard of but had no experience of.  I realized that the next day was my birthday and also the last day I would be pregnant. I also realized that all this really, really, really sucked.

I had two girls at home who would understand this in their own way, two beautiful pure souls that I didn't want to tarnish with anguish but knew there was no way around it.

As I sat in the parking lot waiting for Jerry to come get me I wondered how I was possibly going to do this again.  I still am.

Here's how I am doing......really:

The verse we as a family have adopted, secured and written on our wall is Philippians 4:8

Finally brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things.

Right now I can't take it "a day at a time," so I take it minute by minute.  I seek the things from the above verse.  I am so relieved that sadness, anger, morning and grieving are "pure" and "true." And I also revel in the amazing gifts of my two precious and beautiful girls that I am so so blessed to have.  The amazing love and spirit in my husband is so evident right now.  The overwhelming support I have gotten from my friends, even acquaintances from Facebook and my church family (this is truly where the word family comes into reality). My family who has gone through so much with me these last 5 years are suiting up again for the next.  I could go on and on of these "lovely, honorable, and worthy of praise" gifts I have.

And I would be lying if I didn't feel, think or believe things that are not honorable, right, pure, lovely, etc.....I do.  I allow them to come, I'm thinking of getting a jar for those things because those too are real.  I want to think and feel them, write them down and then bind them up and give them to God to cast them out on my behalf.
Here's some specifics on what to pray for:

Mornings are the worst time for me.  I open my eyes and realize that this is really happening, it's true.  Pray for me in the morning.

Pray I find balance in caring for, protecting, and processing with my girls.  My first instinct is to protect them for this sadness of mine but I know they will learn so much from this authentic struggle.  I pray for guidance on this.

Pray for my husband as he is just remarkable but  also has had a loss.  Pray he too can process while taking care of me and the girls.

As this week brings the "normal" routine back into reality, the usual simple things are very difficult and emotionally exhausting.  Pray I can ask for help when needed and that  God would give me the strength to go about the day.

Pray for the three aspects in my life: physical, emotional, spiritual.  Pray I can rest in not feeling "normal" in these areas, that I would give myself time and patience (I'm not good at this usually so this is even more heightened).

Last of all I want to thank you.  I know you clicked on this link knowing you wouldn't be reading a happy story.  You probably knew you would cry and feel heartache with me.  It is such a blessing knowing you are willing to meet me where I'm at.  Those of you who have journeyed with me through this blog for 5 years, thank you for joining me on this path.  My prayer is somehow, someway God will make my suffering matter but most of all, my life even in sorrow would bring Him glory.  I pray that upon you as well.  Love to you all.

Stay tuned, I'm going to have a lot to say in the coming years.

The Other Side of the Computer Screen

Ten days after the 5th year of our son's death My husband and I were faced with the opportunity to share our "story" of Jerin. I was going to look people in the eye and share the depths of my heart to strangers. It was going to be the first time I would talking about this from the other side of my computer screen,

The strangers my husband and I would be sharing with were living at the OC Rescue Mission.  These people have a story to tell themselves, one of pain, despair, and desperation. Some have battled addiction and homelessness, and they knew, understood, and lived hopelessness.

As the day of sharing grew closer, I became more afraid.  I knew these poor unsuspecting bystanders would get side blinded by the rawness and realness of our son.  I feared their response, I feared my response.  Another thing that weighed tremendously heavy on my heart as time drew near was the responsibility of representing God and sharing about my tumultuous relationship with Him.  I wanted to be the perfect blend of sharing hope and the reality of being a suffering Christian.

Honestly it was impossible for me to know what exactly to share.  Thirty minutes to share five years of our life was just too overwhelming.  So I got on my knees and prayed. I prayed for those who were coming, I prayed that Jerry and I would meet each of them where they were at.  I prayed for the Holy Spirit to guide our story where it should go and I prayed for the enemy to be bound. That was it.  That was my preparation.

The 20 minute drive there was pretty silent as Jerry and I talked over a few details. I felt like I was driving to a funeral.  I had a true sense of "my audience" and I knew somehow, someway, these souls would relate to us.  I felt sad knowing we were going to join together in grief, in questioning, and in pain.

Once we arrived, we looked at each other and I said, "This may be the first and last time we ever do this, let's be as vulnerable as we can." We walked hand in hand inside. There were about 30 people (way more than I had expected), and the room was buzzing as they all chatted and laughed as they caught up.  I looked around and took a deep breath. Here we go.

After our introduction we got on stage and started.  What happened over the course of 40 minutes seems like another world and lifetime.  There were tears and nodding of heads.  There was gasps and open jaws.  As we shared the tragedy and as I shared my honest journey with Christ I wondered, "Am I going to far? Am I the only one who feels this way? Will they kick me out?"

Some of these students see both my husband and I on stage at church every Sunday.  I wasn't worried about them knowing our story.  I was also looking forward to have them see that even broken people can still love God. Even flawed, questioning, and suffering souls can still raise their hands in praise.  I saw the realization of this sink in to each person as we barred our souls.

After we shared there was a few minutes for a Q & A time. One question sank in and penetrated my inner being, it shook my core and reminded me why I have passion in sharing my story.  The question was, "Did you ever feel guilty having the feelings you did towards God?"  Yes. Yes. Yes.  This is it.  This confirmed why I feel so strongly about  being a suffering Christian.  It's why I sit behind this computer and why I'm willing to get on the other side of it.

My response to her was something like this, "Yes. Yes. Yes.  I'm still afraid to admit my true feelings sometimes.  But I've learned more than anything that God already knew and created my hidden feelings towards Him....good, bad, and ugly.  He is the safest place for me to share my innermost anguish with.  I felt as a Christian I needed to show strength at all times, but that bound me up.  I couldn't possibly share my true thoughts to another Christian!  However, taking off the perfection mask has freed me up in Christ for the first time.  Free to be my true self, free to question, free to kick and scream, free to be exactly who He made me to be."

I would say the hardest part of sharing was the end.  No one knew how to react. This kind of sharing isn't something you get a standing ovation for.  Several people came up to give us a hug, some left crying.  One man came up with tears streaming down his face as he admitted losing a child when he was 16....he never dealt with it.  So heartbreaking.  We prayed with a couple people before we left and we found ourselves standing alone with the group leaders.

Although my human self wanted to hear how awesome it was, I knew that this kind of story isn't going to get the usual accolades.  When reality hits, it is like a ton of bricks.  It needs to sink in. The reality is, I may never hear how it affected those who heard it.

But as I sit here and reflect, I am humbled, overwhelmed, and honored to be able to share how God graciously gave us moments with Jerin to change our lives forever. Looking people in the eye, meeting them where they are at, and trusting that I am not at work but God is was just......breathtaking.  I really and truly feel we all desire to be real and accepted.  My prayer is to live that and show it to others behind and in front of the computer screen.

Elephants: Five Years Later

 

This "elephants" series began at the first year anniversary of my son's death. I anxiously anticipated it with fear and trembling not knowing how I would handle re-living such a horrible time in my life. My counselor told me the story of elephants when I was speaking to her about my anxiety of this significant date. She told me elephants remember where their loved ones remains are and every year they go to the bones and cradle and caress them lovingly. It's as if they are remembering them with the sweetest of memories and all they meant to them. Never before did I think I could relate to the memory of an elephant. But on or around February 9th, I lovingly remember my boy.

Wow five years later.  I would have a five year old boy this year. I mean that's crazy.

I remember the funny things this year.  It seems odd to have anything funny related to this event but I remember looking at Jerry as the chaplain asked us all sorts of questions about whether or not we wanted to "bless" the body and if we wanted certain things that I didn't even know what they meant.  When she left I looked at him and asked, "Are we supposed to do that!?" And then we laughed.

I remember sweet things like my dad being in the room the entire 10 hours of labor until it was "time."  I remember watching "The Princess Bride" while in the hospital hoping that movie wouldn't be ruined forever after that night.  I remember ringing the delivery bell (a doorbell type button that rings through the hall signaling another baby was born) as I was wheeled away to the trauma floor knowing that I did deliver my sweet baby boy.  The hospital staff was just amazing and sensitive and caring.  Nurses cried with me and my doctor was overly attentive.

I remember the sad things like the rain falling outside my recovery window. I remember going to the funeral home to arrange his cremation. I remember that feeling so unnatural and wrong.  The attendant helping us gave us advice about losing a child. He said, "be kind to each other, you will grieve differently." Little did I know at the time how true that advice would be.  I remember falling to the floor in despair hearing the news that he was gone and waiting three days to deliver him.  I remember being afraid of holding him because I might die of heartbreak.  I remember being afraid of losing it at work, the grocery store, or just about anywhere.....I still am.

I remember who I was five years ago and the journey this day had started. The deepest revelations I've had is in my relationship with God.  From authentic feelings to the meaning of prayer, I have grappled with my faith like never before.  I am still learning so much but I am so open to this growth.  I find myself accepting, surrendering and living in the presence of God. I am living in a true relationship with Him rather than trying to live up to unrealistic expectations that I put on myself.  I'm excited about these realizations and the blessings that have come from the deepest of pains and suffering.  Some real light and clarity has come to me with God's help through this tragedy.

Looking back I remember this life being more like a roller coaster than anything else.  I'm noticing the repercussions I have from this day five years ago.  It's amazing how one tragic even can change you, from the good to bad.  I'm seeing that I see the world differently like never before. From anxiety, to trust issues, to PTSD, I am realizing I will never be the same and some things will be a constant battle.

But I also remember the moment when, through this event, I have developed a passion and a heart for those who suffer.  I'm remembering all of you who "understood" me yet have never gone through a loss like mine.  Those of you who walk this life, as I am, wondering how to be completely human yet love Christ at the same time.  We've come together in different circumstances because suffering happens and society doesn't know what to do with it.  I have a heart for us Christians who walk through life checking our relationship with God off of the obedient list instead of finding freedom in vulnerability.

Looking back has inspired me to look forward. Remembering my son and all he has brought to light also challenges me to continue growing in his memory.  I desire to be more vulnerable in sharing this story, to get behind the computer screen and share.  I hope to continue to help those suffering and searching for answers who, like me, wonder how God fits into all of the chaos.   I strive to never go back to who I was because that would be an easy life, but to have authenticity in every relationship and moment.

So I enter today with gratitude.  As I cradle and hold my sons' memory, I praise and thank God for the son He granted me and everything he has added to my life since then.  I spend the day looking at my daughters and realizing the miracle of birth and life.  I revel at the amazing husband I have been given and all the support he has given me since losing his only son too.  I bask in the hope that only God can give in this life and the suffering it brings.  And I take one step in front of the other, choosing to take this memory and use it to change hearts....changing hearts of fear, bitterness, and doubt.....to change hearts just like mine.  Thank you son, thank you Lord for the last five years of refinement, sifting, and metamorphosis.  May the next the next five years strengthen my wings to fly and soar in your presence.  

My Resolution to Fail

A new year is upon me. This presents itself as a time to reflect, a time to close the cover of a portion in time and open the cover of a new potential. It's a great time to set new goals and resolutions. However, year after year, this has always been a problem for me. I like the idea of resolutions, I support those that make them. I even make them....kind of.

The bottom line for me is I love setting goals but I hate failure.

A resolution is by definition is "a resolving to do something." Resolving means, "to make a firm decision about." When looking up the word "goal" it stated, "the purpose toward which an endeavor is directed; an objective." None of these definitions speak perfection to me. They don't state anything about actually being successful in your goal. It's a decision, an endeavor towards something. I love the word endeavor, it speaks adventure, high mountain tops and low valleys kind of adventures.

My other problem with these "goals" is I am entirely too unrealistic. I don't want to just work-out, I want to look like the people in the work-out video. I don't want to just eat right, I want to be unhealthy in how I go about it. I want to be a great mom but not just that, I want to be super mom. I want to make wholesome, organic, healthy meals every night. I want to have family and personal devotions. I want a daily exercise routine and to start juicing. I want quality time with my husband (that includes date nights), my kids, and myself. I want more time to write and read and .....and.....and..... all this with church rehearsals, dance for my girls, homework, and my full time job teaching (which I want to be fantastic at also).

To be honest, I'm exhausted, defeated, and discouraged before I have even gotten started. I don't know how to have goals without failure.

But as I looked up the word endeavor, I saw comparable words or phrases such as "try, attempt, seek, struggle, battle, and take pains with."

Yes, yes. I can attempt any one of these goals, I will struggle and battle. And most definitely I will "take pains" with not hitting the mark. Seek....I will search, search, and search.

Isn't the point of a resolution perfection or perseverance?  Isn't it about the journey, the chapter in our lives, and the lessons we will learn for trying?

So this year, 2014, although I have many "goals" I expect zero of them to be perfect. I expect many battles in which I lose. I expect highs and lows.

 Because of this I have two true resolutions. The first one I have is to be kind to myself. If I can do this,the rest will fall where it may. If I can do this, each success and failure will speak deep into my soul, helping me grow without self condemnation. It won't matter if I don't obtain the super hero status. Now that's a real goal worth fighting for.

The second one is to live in the moment. I want to live in the triumphs and trenches. I want to let go of the perception that I have control of my circumstances. I want to release these clenched moments to God.  I want to notice the sunsets, the snow capped mountains and the sparkle in my husbands' eyes. I want to freely giggle with my girls while chasing them around the house. I want to surrender, surrender, surrender. Surrender to my creator because He holds me so gently and diligently.  Surrender to the year and what it may hold.  Surrender to this chapter that has already been written.

So this year, I'm ready, I'm excited, I'm hopeful. Here's to you 2014....the great endeavor. Here's to not meeting my unrealistic expectations. Here's to loving and living life a little deeper.  Here's to crying harder and smiling bigger.  Here's to being k ind to myself and surrendering it all up......where my every day, every hour, and every second of this coming year belongs.

All Things Heathen and Santa III

It's that time of year again when I find myself standing in a ridiculously long Santa line with my 3 and 5 year old. My parents, brother and nephews joined to make it an extended family affair.  We all rotated in line and getting the kids dinner (that was a life-saver and I highly recommend it!).  I started to get annoyed at the 1-2 hour wait and then it dawned on me that I would be doing this for only another 3-5 years before they figure it out.  It was hard to believe that soon enough I would be looking at the line as I shopped with my teenagers, wishing I had little ones again. That thought helped my impatience a bit and finally it was our turn.  The girls sat and showed Santa all their wishes on their list and smiled really big for the camera.  My littlest finally sat on his lap and they truly had a magical time.  My oldest was surprised he talked! All she thought he said was "Ho Ho Ho!" And so commemorated another successful Santa trip.

This year as all of this has come around again, it dawned on me that there will be a time just as I have had where what is "real" becomes questioned.  I know they will figure out Santa has my writing and he looks different at every mall.  I know eventually they will smile and nod when I tell them this gift is from Santa.  They might hear from their school friends that he isn't real and wonder if this could be true.

What I also realized is that they will also do the same for their belief in God.  They will experience this life and wonder if He is who He says He is.  They will question His will and ways.  They will hear from their friends different beliefs or the lack thereof.  There will be a moment/moments when no matter how hard I try, all of what they know will have to be owned and truly believed by them.

You see they can get the foundation, the head knowledge, the stories.....but one day they will have to have their own relationship with God that I can't teach. My girls can watch and observe my relationship with God but I can't replicate it for them nor would I want to. This relationship, this moment where God is real to them is so personal, it's a fingerprint, a sacred secret that I can't wait for them to experience.

This world is cruel, heartless, and hard.  I can't protect them from this.  I know they will wrestle with how God fits into all of it, but another thing I know is He will always be there for them no matter what.

As I've struggled  with my own relationship with God amidst all the hurt, pain, and suffering; I have often felt weak.  Just when my questioning would get to a place of leaving the faith, I found myself surrendering to a deeper place.  Just when I realized, my God was a holy Santa I knew I was living a lie. And I had to dig, dig, dig.  I found amongst my rubble that there was a solid foundation of truth that couldn't be denied.  I may not have understood it at the time, but it was too great and obvious to walk away from.

So as my girls see the holiday magic fade away through the years, I know they will have the foundation of truth poured into their hearts.  As they question this Jesus Christ that they innocently grew to surrender to, I know in their rubble, He will be the foundation to rebuild on.  As they rebuild, I pray that they too will know and love Christ with a fierce authenticity that I am growing to love about my relationship.  I pray they understand that He is more than a wish list and that they can continually surrender to a relationship and not anything else.

So this season I will continue to stand in the Santa line, make their elaborate wish lists, and stuff their stockings.  I know this too will fade and I have a few more years of these kinds of holidays.  They might catch me touching the elf and realize my wrapping paper is the same as Santa's.  They will question how Santa can get down the chimney if there isn't one and how the elf only moves when they are sleeping.

I also know they will question how God can know everyone's thoughts, and care specifically for them and even a sparrow for that matter.  Or how He loves us despite our mistakes and lack of affection towards him.  Or how He dwells within us and in heaven. I could go on, in fact I could do this all day....

Although the month of December has its holiday magic, each day I will pour the truth of Christ into them.  I will continue to lay the foundation that will be there in their pain and struggle and I can't wait for the day that they become personal with Him through their questions and fears.  And although I can't create that relationship for them, I pray I can show them one that is vulnerable, honest, and authentic every day of every year.