Over The Rainbow

My friends know.
My family knows.
God knows.
How Annie came to be. I had grown up in a church where "True Love Waits", and I believed it. It was something I held onto. It was apart of me. It was "who" I was. The one that was waiting...at twenty seven...
My first kiss, 26.
Oh, no, far from perfect.
But I said no and long story short recieved the shock of my life when, not knowing I had even lost my virginity, two lines showed up...yep, two pink lines.
No. No. It cannot be. I said no. Nothing happened. Another test this time a "plus" sign as in "plus one" is residing in your womb. To the hospital. No. I need a blood test. Confirmation. I was pregnant. I remember what I was wearing. It's funny the details one remembers. Now what exactly happened is another story. I remember being in the hospital and the word "baby' seemed to be everwhere, on the screen behind me on the news....babies crying in the waiting room. I was eight weeks pregnant and still felt like a virgin. Did I think of an abortion? Yes. I think anyone does in a moment of panick, just wanting the unthinkable to disappear. Somehow when I would I would force myself to watch graphic videos on abortion severing the ties of any thoughts that that would be my child. And somehow amidst all of this, I loved the little heartbeat I first heard in my dr.'s office "thump, thump, thump" it echoed in the room, in my ears, in my soul. Tears streamed from my eyes as often they would the next nine months. What will people think? Of all the people I knew that "slept around" why was it that I bore, what I felt, was the Scarlett Letter? I remember the morning I awoke to The Bump. It was there. It was coming. There was no turning back. I lay there and stared at it and wanted to see my stomach flat the way it was. It was evidence of my sin. It was evidence that I wasn't perfect. "But I said no, I said no" I wanted to declare to everyone that saw me. I would go into Starbucks and hide my hand without the ring that validated The Bump. Babies were everywhere all of the sudden, on t.v. shows, on the streets, in the stores. I would often lay in bed for days in tears wondering why I couldn't be like every other 27 year old as my roommates went to get pedicures, hopped flights to Cobo, I was throwing up morning and night. My baby shower I felt was a "We Are So Proud Of You" smash - and while all of my friends and family gathered around me in utter support, it never took away the shame I felt. The anger towards her father - the injustice of it all. I was definately not the "cute pregnant" person. I think it was my lack of movement from the shock, the "Oh God let the days pass, December is forever away", the "how big am I going to get?!"
Looking at my daughter now I consider her a miracle. Every event that had to happen in order for her to be convieved by her Father had to happen. I feel like she looks nothing like me. With her blonde hair and blue eyes I tell her she's an angel, hence why she didn't inherit mom's green eyes and red hair.
If I had known during the ten months what was to come......and there was a small whisper "Just hang on. Just hang on." My sweet brother pulled me aside once "Why do you walk around embarassed? Be proud of yourself, carry your head high".
We went to the park today with "Nana" and her cousins and she ran through the field full of laughter and life. Thank God for that night. In the seemingly "no"s He gave me the best gift ever. Sometimes I feel so unworthy that she's mine ( not to mention terrified). She's growing so fast and she will be two. Two! Sometimes I miss her smallness and her sweet little cry "wha, wha" when she was weeks old. I miss her lying on my chest, this new to the world baby with an I.V. in her arm all swaddled. I wish I had savored it, been more brave at the time and not held her with tears straming down my eyes wondering how we will make it.
It is good to love someone more than yourself. Gone are the days where I am more important (though Oh God I wish I were still less selfish.) The thought of her never coming makes me cringe to think of life without her - work - dinner - movies. That was life. Bible studies. Now it's stories, watching the world through her eyes, the joy I find each morning waking up to her. The new words she says, the "Mama" that all mothers know is the best word ever.
Her spirit, ever so sensitive, ever so sweet. So pure, so untainted by the world, so carefree and child like, something we all should be more of.
It is good.
It is well.
It was a miracle in disguise. If there are storms in your life, know that behind them there just might be that rainbow that hasn't quite come. And not only a rainbow but a map that will lead you to a pot of gold. And the winds will pass, the storm subside, and a gift may be revealed....

Confessions of a Confused Christian

Here was a man who I knew knew the love of God. He showered it upon me with his time, grace, and acceptance. He wasn't just my therapist. Though he saw me for free three times a week and knew my deepest, darkest secrets, my fears, my confusion....it was in Seattle that Michele called and told me he had hung himself from a ceiling. I recall crying a lot in the little quaint doll house like hotel I was staying in by the luxurious waters of the Seattle port. I remember thinking I will read the Psalms, if anyone knew despair it was David. And so I turned my pages furiously trying to find something to soothe my heart....."God saves the righteous man in trouble". I slammed down my Bible and thought to myself "No He doesn't." Instead I tiptoed my way into the lobby where they served shots of whiskey and I drank and drank, went back to my room and sobbed. It was in our times in his office where I would share my despair about the illness (pain in my body) we couldn't figure out - the date rape in which Annie came to be - my thoughts that I, myself, wanted to die. Mark had wrestled with suicide before. Until one day when he was in the Northpark shopping lot and he decided that if God created him "crazy" he would glorify God crazy. That's when he said his healing began. There was always hope he told me. So how could this man drive six hours to his lake house tie a rope......
Is this God's fault? Did God abandon him? No.
So then what? Can I spend my life serving others, loving others and end up as he did? It's terrifying.
All the Christian "just do this, that, don't do this" as though it is salvation from the pain of this world have ended up to be just that "cliche"s. For throughout my trials, I have yet to find a "formula" that "works".
I expressed my anger towards God to my chiropractor, a kind, godly man who somehow musters up the ears to listen to my words. Often through tears. How can God be good? Is God good because He gives us a husband, a new house, our health? No. God is Good because He is Good, the antithesis of Evil. God is good because of Love. He is Love. And if it weren't for my friends, my family, Annie, where I gain glimpses of His Love, I would surely be lost by now. But He never let's me go too far. I've dabbled in the "world" thinking maybe.....
And perhaps in His grace it has made me more miserable. So how do I turn to Him with that child like faith I long to have, despising all of my "but's, my how come's, my Exhibit A as to why He isn't good?" I suppose it's by looking around - my friends who exhibit His love esp. as of late where they forgave me the unforgiveable. I know humanly they would not be able to. I see it when I wake up to my sweet little girl that God brought to me through a quote "terrible" circumstance. Through my parents unfailing love. For chance after chance. For not leaving me when I leave Him. I used to read theology a lot, every Christian book I could get my hands on thinking if I "understood" I would love Him and experience His love. He is Good. He was good to Mark and no doubt provided him a way of escape. He is Good, by taking such pain and bringing sweet Annie (Hebrew meaning God's grace, mercy). He is Good because He went through grief, abandonment, abuse, and a painful death to show me His love beyond just telling me. When I was little I would watch Billy Graham conferences and I would see crowds of people closing their eyes, worshipping, and it would scare me, because I'd think "does He hear my voice?" Yes. He does. He sees a sparrow, He hears His children. How I long for more faith! To know the answers to the questions the enemy throw at me. But I suppose I must trust the One who is Good and knows the answers. Just as I step on a plane and don't know how a plane flies, but I trust the pilot that does know. He is my Pilot. He is good. And on this plane called life we must sit back and trust for a safe landing. Lord, I desire to love You.