Being a Christian

I finally learned what it means to me to be a Christian.  It is far from believing in God, in Christ.  If is far from attending a Christian church.  It is far from following a set of rules set forth by the sector of choice.  Christ has truly interrupted my life.  In a way like none can imagine and I cannot explain.  I was moving forward with my days, living the life I thought was true and right.  I was not a "sinner" per se.  I was not a criminal or a wayward soul.  I was a mother of two and a wife and a good one at that.  I made sure my kids were well taken care of and my house was in order and my husband was happy.  My obligations were met, I didn't beg of anyone for help, I did what it took to survive every day and be happy.  We were happy.  So I thought.  The underlying darkness of depression and life's losses still weighed heavily on me.  I would pretend daily that it didn't affect me.  Things in life would go wrong and I would blame myself or God for punishing me for something I didn't do.  I would look at those going to church each week, knowing they were just like me, living the same way I was and I couldn't understand why they went.  To me, they were using the church as a crutch.  I don't know.  I couldn't see past the people's need for interaction with others.  That's what it seemed like to me.  They weren't going seeking a connection with God each Sunday, they were going to show their faces and make friends and let their kids go to Sunday school.  No one in my life was living a life full of Christ though.  No one spoke about Him.  No one prayed like they should.  We prayed at dinner, but it was the kids prayer.  We love to hear the kids pray, but we weren't teaching them to pray for specific things in life or pray for others as they should.  We thought we were teaching them manners.  We were proud of our accomplishments.  But that didn't make us Christians.  It made us wannabes.  We wanted to be Christians, but we didn't want to be "those" Christians.  You know the ones, who preach to others, who talk openly about God and Christ and their feelings on the Bible.  Those things have become so taboo.  The conversations unheard of.  So very politically incorrect.  Our culture has worked on removing God out of our lives and we are allowing it.  We were saying to God that you are not real enough to us.  What can you do for us?  That is the mentality of the world right now.  What will I get out of it?  If I help you or if I do this, what am I going to get?  We don't do anything for free any more.  For the simple reward of doing it.  We want something in return.  If a relationship doesn't give us something in return, we cut it off.  If a job doesn't give us the promotion someone else got, we quit.  If someone else's life is going better than ours we talk about them behind their back and smile to their faces and use them for whatever resources life has given them that it hasn't given us.  We are the most needy we have ever been and its ok for some reason.  Most of us go to church, but most of us are not really Christians.  I know I was not.  I know for certain I have only been a true follower and believer in Christ since July 11, 2013.  That was the day He changed my life forever.  It is a day I will never forget.  It is a day, like the birth of a child, that will forever be burned into my brain.  His way is so amazing and is so much greater than any one of us could imagine.  I wish I could show each of you a glimpse of what He has shown me, just to share in the amazement I have been feeling.  It is truly the most humbling and wonderful experience and I feel so honored and blessed to have been chosen for a gift like this.  I feel honored to have the trials He has given me.  I never looked at my trials as something to be grateful for, but I truly am.  They have and they continue to mold me into the person Christ wants me to be.  His world is an amazing and beautiful place to be.  It doesn't include churches and rules and groups and such.  It includes a daily relationship with Christ and with God and committing yourself to that relationship and to nurturing it like you would any relationship that means something to you.  Of course there is nothing wrong with church and rules and groups and such and I will continue to participate in all of those things, but only because I like them, not because they make me a Christian.  I like going to church because I like listening to the experience of my minister and I love listening to our worship before the sermon.  I like meeting with my friends and family and talking about God and our thoughts about religion because it keeps my mind fresh and engaged and always seeking Him out in my daily life.  I will always read my devotional each day.  I have come to depend on it, for comfort, for guidance, for assurance.  It is the words of my life right now.  I challenge you tonight to find out what makes you a Christian.  Do you know?  Do you feel a true connection with Christ?  I promise that He is listening to all of us.  You may think your voice is going unheard, but it isn't.  He hears all of us and He is listening intently as though He is our best friend.  Once you let Him in the possibilities of your life are truly endless.  The comfort and love you will feel will overwhelm you and bring you to your knees.  I promise.  If you are struggling, as most of us are, He is there for you.  He wants you to know that.  He wants you to know that He has a plan for you and for you to trust in Him.  Your life will change and it will get easier.  He may not answer the prayer in the way you want Him to, but His plan isn't always our plan.  We just have to trust in Him and fully commit our heart and soul to Him.  I have and I pray for each of you every night that He shows you the same things He's shown me.  Love to all of you!!!!!

Experiences with Christ

Well, I have spent the last several days wondering whether or not I should post any of what you are about to read.  All of the things that are happening to me lately are far from belief if you are not a true believer, I suppose.  What you are about to read will shock you.  Especially coming from my lips.  It is so unbelievable, even to my own ears.  Had I not been experiencing it myself, I would certainly not believe it.  I am/have always been a skeptic.  As I said before, I was a truth seeker.  There are certain things that one cannot just trust, in my opinion.  The preachers on TV, the Benny Hinn's of the world.  Touch the TV screen and I will heal you.  Pray for riches and they will come.  I cannot believe in those things.  They are not truths.  If you choose to believe in that, it is your business and most certainly, none of mine.  Up until this day, I lumped all religion into that same category.  Religion is politics of a different sort.  Those that get into it have a need to rule and run things and will use God and the Bible to scare you.  I felt it was why the Bible was written so long ago, to scare those that would not follow a kings word or a priests church.  So much of the church has been tainted with sexual abuse and money making.  Churches are popping up like McDonald's, only more so because there are no zoning limitations from a corporate franchise telling you that you can't have one McDonald's next to another.  People are seeking a greater power.  They want to know that their miserable lives have meaning.  They have a need to hear that God is always watching and protecting us and if you do certain things, He will forgive you of all that you have done and continue to do.  They have a need for a community that believes the same things.  People telling people that they are the same.  They have a need to go to church on Sundays and pretend that they have done no wrong all week and are living a life that Christ would want them to, by being seen at church.  That is what religion has become.  A social event.  Come see what I'm doing for Christ.  I'm going to church each week.  I'm a door greeter, a group leader, a minister.  Come and follow me and I will show you the way and the light to ultimate forgiveness.  Touch the screen and I will change your life.  Donate to me and you will see.  Read my book.  Listen to my word.  We accept it because you can't fault anyone for trying to make things better, but in reality most of us despise it.  How can one person have millions of people listening to their words like they come straight from God?  Do these people have a connection with God?  The TV preachers?  I don't know.  How did they ever get so many people to believe that what they were saying was the truth.  It boggles my mind.  What made that one person special?  I don't know.

What I do know is this, I have been given a gift.  A gift of a personal experience with Christ.  I'm not sure why or how I was chosen.  I'm not sure if you will believe what I'm about to tell you.  It is the truth beyond all truth.  I have no agenda for writing this.  Other than that is what He's told me to do.  I have no means of profiting from this story and no wish to.  I have been given the untold riches you hear of when you accept Christ as your full guide in life.  I have been given an experience unlike any other and beyond priceless.  I am the richest woman in the world right now because of what has been given to me.  My heart is so full of love and forgiveness and that is the most rewarding and amazing feeling I have ever felt.  Ever since that first night of prayer, I have been filled with the Holy Spirit.  He has allowed me to be born again.  Those two words "born again" have become a joke in this world, made so by criminals and TV preachers.  But they really are true and real.  The true baptism is from Christ.  It happens.  It may not happen at church or in a line for Joel Osteen to dunk you into a bath tub, but it does happen.  He blesses and baptizes people every day.  Ordinary people, struggling with what life has given them.  He makes believers out of non believers.  His word, carried out by those people is what converts others to this faith.  It is why I'm chosing to share this with you.  He has converted me in the most beautiful way.  He places His hands on me each day and I trust that He will guide me through out the entire day and I will do what He wills me to do, no matter what.  At this point, as I am writing this, I feel as though I am making myself out to be a fool, if you choose to think so.  You may laugh at me, I may become the butt of the jokes, but it is ok, because I know what I know and I have experienced Christ rushing through my veins.  I have had an almost nightly experience with Christ.  I would call it an "out of body" experience.  I can see your faces now as you read that.  Some are in shock, some are laughing, some are concerned for my well being and sanity, and some are entrigued.  It is a supernatural experience, almost alien-abduction-esque, I suppose.  If I didn't know better, that's what I would think.  I was being abducted by aliens.  Me, the truth seeker, logical, non nonsensical, responsible, intelligent, stay-at-home mom/past corporate IT guru.  I am not on drugs or alcolhol.  I do not suffer from any sort of mental disorder.  I am overly aware of what you are thinking, because I am thinking the same things.  Am I crazy?  Have I gone off the deep end?  Is this a mid-life crisis?  Is something wrong with my brain?  Is it lack of sleep?  Is it lack of religion?  Is it stress?  Should I be committed?  Monitored?  Tested?  Something is certainly wrong, but so very right.  I don't actually believe all of those things.  Those that I've told in person don't actually believe any of those things.  No one is concerned around me.  They are all intrigued and watching and waiting for the next encounter.  Jesus is most certainly speaking to me daily, directly.  Through books, at night through lights and visions and via strangers.  It began the first night I prayed directly to God for Ben's safety.  I felt the electrical pulses rushing over me and through my veins.  As I said, I felt cleansed and purified, baptised by Jesus and the Holy Spirit on my son's bedroom floor.  Then after we came home, the small visions began with, what I can be sure of, is the telling of truths about my life.  He fed me tidbits about the happenings of the days I lost the twins and nearly died.  Things I didn't know, but others did.  He allowed me to have the courage to ask the questions I needed to and he gave me the questions I should ask.  Once I fully committed my life to Him, He took me by storm and started showing me He was real.  I appreciate Him.  I love Him.  More than I've ever loved Him.  He is a part of me.  A part of my family.  I would give anything or do anything for Him.  He has changed me.  He is challenging me.  There is no greater feeling in the world than the freedom that truly loving Christ with all of your heart gives you.

Heart

I have spent the last few days relishing in my new found freedom.  I haven't done much different with my daily living, except for accepting Christ and letting Him handle my struggles and problems.  Things are still happening every day.  I still have struggles, I still have pain.  We all do.  The difference in my existence is I pray about it each day, but I've learned to pray differently.  I used to pray all the time, asking God for help with this problem or fix that please.  Please let me no longer have struggles.  Please God, take away my pain.  Change this or fix that.  I was always asking for something, but I was not living up to my end of the bargain.  There was no trade off.  I wasn't willing to share my love for the Lord or even admit to it.  I didn't love Him.  He was adding to my struggles every day.  Every day it was something new.  And just when I thought I would get over one hurdle, three more would pop up in its place.  My stomach was always in knots and my head was always hurting.  Since writing this blog, I have come to realize a few things about myself that I didn't really think were there and I know and feel that this applies to almost all of us.  I am selfish.  I have been selfish.  With my feelings, with my time, with my energy, with my love, with my thoughts.  I had this image of myself that I was a compassionate person, I could understand people and I felt for them.  I am that, but I am also very selfish.  I would never give of myself to anyone.  I kept all of my feelings inside.  I let them torment me and tear me apart, never showing anyone that I hurting or felt misunderstood.  I have been through a lot in my short life.  I have been dealt the hand of infertility and loss, pain, both physical and mental and the ongoing struggle to figure out what is wrong with me.  And through all of that, I wasn't sharing.  I was only listening to other people talk about all of their problems and thinking to myself "why do they complain so much?  They don't know the meaning of pain.  They couldn't possibly understand where I was coming from.  All that I go through and I don't complain.  What good does complaining do?  It doesn't change anything.  Just deal with it and move on, but quit complaining!"  The "what about me?" in all of us irritated me to my very core.  I wanted to just scream when I would hear the complaints of others and their daily lives.  "What about me?", I was thinking in my head.  Did they not realize what all I had been through?  Had they forgotten what a tragedy my life was?  What about all of my problems?  Did they forget who they were talking to?  The queen of misfortune.  Nothing they could say, would "trump" my pain.  But still I wasn't sharing.  I was only masking the pain and not letting anyone know how much it affected me.  In my mind, I was trying to live positively, without complaint.   Yeah right.  Each day in my subconscious prayers, I was telling God that I was not willing to listen to anyone for the truth.  I was not willing to give Him my trust and faith and let Him truly help me.  It was one more burden of mine that I was misunderstood.  These were my babies that I had lost, the pain in my back was unbearable to only me, the struggle of life was only felt by me and no one got it.  I was counseling, but not sharing.  Showing empathy, but only assuming that people understood that I must know what I'm talking about since I had been through so much.  In the last few weeks I have come to realize that people want to hear what we don't tell them.  They want to hear that we struggle with the same demons as they do, day in and day out.  The fears of life that eat away at us.  We all feel alone in this world, because we don't share who we really are.  We are all embarrassed or afraid of what the other person might think.  I have been typing out my darkest secrets to allow people to read what goes on in my mind, but when it came time to face those people, I still clammed up and couldn't bare to talk about it.  The conversations were too hard.  The looks of disbelief or disappointment were too much.  I realized that I have been looking at God that way my whole adult life.  I couldn't have a conversation with Him because it was too hard.  I was looking at Him with disbelief and disappointment each and every day.  Those looks are hard to take and I was dishing them out all day, every day.  When I would pray, it would be in anger, not thanks.  I can only imagine what this would do to me if someone had done that to me.  Every time I tried to understand them or show that I am listening, all I got in return was anger.  Anger for the hard things they were going through, but no thanks for any of the good things I was being given.  I wondered how I would feel if someone had done that to me.  I would turn my back on them.  How could they be so ungrateful?  Don't they see what I am doing for them?  Don't they see the good in their lives?  That's how I lived my life.  Never giving thanks to God for all that He had given me.  Only calling on Him in my hours of need, never in my hours of happiness.  I started today's post with the intent of a message that people live their lives with a heavy heart.  Mine has been so heavy for so long.  It is an expression synonymous with sadness and anger, not happiness.  I have had the fullest heart, though since I have given my life back to Christ.  My heart has been overflowing with love and I don't mean in the figurative sense.  It is really physically full.  My blood is pumping, my heart is full.  It feels heavy, but not painfully heavy.  Happily heavy, I guess.  I don't know if that makes sense or not.  My heart has never felt so full in all my life.  It's full of Christ.  It's full of the Holy Spirit.  It's a feeling of anxiety, but a feeling of calmness.  Each day I'm giving thanks for every thing in my life that I am grateful for and blessed to have.  I'm waking up with a sense of appreciation, not aggravation.  I am so thankful for the understanding He has given me.  The feeling of knowing that all of my suffering has been felt by so many, just as I have felt their suffering.  The ability to let go of some of those things and let others know that you feel their pain for you is transforming.  The ability to stop thinking about "why me?" and say, "yes, me too!" is freeing.  All of these feelings of judgement by others has left me.  I have only one judge, as we all do.  We should all be free to express ourselves and not feel ashamed of our feelings.  Quit apologizing to everyone for feeling a certain way or for calling on them when you need them.  Let people help you.  Let them into your life, into your darkest places.  They are longing to be there with you, to hold your hand.  But most of all let the Lord into your heart.  Let Him handle your pain and your struggles.  He has a plan for you that is so much bigger than you can ever imagine.  As you read this, you may be experiencing the worst grief, the worst anger, the worst pain imaginable, but there is something in your life that you can thank Him for.  I implore you to stop what you are doing and thank Him for that, even if it's only one thing.  Do it every day.  It will change you.  I promise.

Come bear witness

To say the last couple of days have been interesting is an understatement.  I have come to know things that I never thought possible.  I have not written in my journal, because for some reason, I felt like I should be reflecting on what was happening in my life, rather than sharing it.  If you follow me, you may have noticed a pattern in the timing of my writing over the last few posts.  I was writing in the early morning hours each day I felt compelled to write.  I was actually being woken up each night at the same time.  The last night I woke up like this, I had been reading some of the Bible on my app on my phone, the night before.  I had been reading Revelations, when I last looked at my phone, before getting the kids finally to sleep.  When I woke at the same time again that morning, I wasn't sure how to process that it was the exact same time.  I wondered if God was waking me up for a reason at 4:38.  I searched online for a way to decipher what was going on, as if God has some sort of handbook posted for us to google when we aren't sure.  I wasn't sure what I was looking for, or why I thought I would find it there.  I did find someone immediately who was waking up like me and she had gone through her Bible and written every verse that went with her time.  Bingo, that was it!  I would do that.  I opened my handy Bible app and rather than being on Revelations as I had left it, it was on the book of John.  I paid no mind to that and thought, I'll start at the beginning.  I went to Genesis, no 4:38, Exodus, Leviticus, no 4:38.  Numbers was the first to have a 4:38, but it made no sense to me what so ever.  I had a thought, why didn't I look at John, since my app was open to John and I had not left it there.  I am learning Lord, to be more open to You.  It reads, "I sent you to reap that for which you have not labored; others have labored, and you have entered into their labors."  I decided to read the full chapter from the beginning and it reads of a story of Christ's encounter with a woman and how His knowledge of all her thoughts, words and actions and through the power of His word, He has made her believe.  I pulled up a commentary online to give me more perspective on it and it is as I thought.  I sit for a while, pondering the thought that, while I strongly believe at this point, I never thought I would be getting a direct message.  That made what was going to happen on Sunday all the more nerve wracking.  When speaking to my prayer minister at the new church the other day, she offered me a prophetic ministry session to perhaps hear the Word of God through those ordained to do so.  I immediately accepted on the phone, but as the time drew near, was becoming more nervous about it.  I knew nothing of this growing up.  I had no idea that the Methodist church offered such a thing, but I really felt I needed something, some sort of guidance and I guess a final proof that He is speaking to me directly, even if it's out of the mouth of someone else.  It would be the final punch to my years of disbelief.  After all that has happened, it was as though I had no other choice but to believe.  It was now fact, that these things were happening to me.  I was always a fact or truth seeker.  And now, it was a fact that I had experienced all of the amazing things I had, without provocation.  No one was coaxing me into religion, begging me to go to their church or trying to convert me.  He was converting me.  I just had to open up my heart to the fullest extent and believe and trust in Him.  I was learning.  As the nights moved on, I began to think of the day again and play in my mind what my nurse had written me in my email.  I was content to hear what she had said and I didn't feel the urge to dig deeper as she had suggested.  I actually trusted God that He would lead me to the answers I sought.  I felt deep in my heart that I was at the right place and felt that He was truly guiding me.  It was no longer an obsession to wonder about what happened.  I was being given the answers as they came to me, little by little.  My mom came over and brought a journal that she had written in years ago.  I was about what had happened during that time and how it had changed her soul.  She would never be the same.  She wanted me to read it and she told me, that while looking for things unrelated to this, she came across it.  She is doubting her doubts she said, because of all that is happening to me.  I believe that for a moment, I have read her mind and reached into her soul for my answers.  He was letting me feel her pain and understand it.  She told me it's as though He was telling me exactly what had happened those days, but she thought He had waited until I could handle it.  That she thought He had seen that I handled the situation with Ben with faith and He was ready to tell me what happened.  These words, coming from the most doubtful person I knew.  How was this possible?  She told me she didn't understand it all, and I said, that she didn't have to, because it was real.  It was really so very real.  I didn't sleep much that night or the next and only felt compelled to read different books in the Bible.  I have never been so eager to fill my head with knowledge.  I wanted to know everything I could in a short period of time.  I literally stayed up all night last night reading.  I had this vision of what I thought happened that day when I gave birth to my girls.  As I was unconcious for the procedure, I had no idea what happened and if anyone in my family had asked, they had not told me.  I knew that everyone trusted my doctor as I did and we would never question him, so I just couldn't see that happening.  He would come out of the operating room and tell them that I was very sick and struggling, but there would be no mention of the girls, as they all knew what had happened to them.  No one felt the need to ask the details or even had the desire to know the details, they were all concerned with my life.  I would have been the same way.  The details were that I had lost them and that was all.  It was not only something that has haunted me, but my mother as well, but she didn't have the courage to ask after so much time had passed.  I never spoke of it to anyone because it was so upsetting, so I felt as though I was alone in the whole grieving process.  I felt like I knew what had happened that day and it wasn't the gory details I had become so used to invisioning.  Those images haunted me always.  I felt the pain in my nurses email, that she knew I was searching for these things and that, by going to my doctor, I would finally get the truth.  I felt as though He was guiding me to that conclusion.  He lead me through the day and told me He knew when I had lost Audrey, just as I did.  He was there with her as they watched me struggle with the decisions I was having to make.  And He told me that Danielle was born alive and as she passed, He was holding her in His arms, cradling her and making sure she knew I was her mother.  She was not left to die alone.  He was always with us.  I could almost picture Him holding her up to me as I laid on the operating table, saying to me how beautiful she was, just as a proud father would have.  I felt comfort.  And most of all He let me know there was no more pain.  There never was any pain.  They were wrapped in His love and mine and there was no pain.  As I'm writing this out, I know it is so hard to read.  It is the hardest thing I have ever written in my entire life.  But it is necessary.  It is necessary to my healing, to my faith, to my Lord that I tell you all what He has done for me.  As hard as this is for some of you to read and for some of you to believe that I could actually feel this way, it is most important for you to know.  It is for you and I that I do this.  It is for your faith restoration too.  He wants me to tell you that He is real and He is true and He is good.  You should believe that, whether He speaks directly to you or not.  Open up your heart to Him and see what He will heal for you.

I woke everyone this morning, excited to go to church, but still anxious about the prophetic ministry.  Again, the ministers sermon was great and J and I enjoyed it.  I left the service and signed up for the ministry.  They invited me into an open prayer room with alters and spaces dedicated to different struggles.  I took my seat and looked up and I was directly in front of the space dedicated to the unborn.  I wept and prayed, but not uncontrollably, like I always had before.  I thanked God for doing this for me.  For allowing me to see it all.  I was taken back to the office where I sat with three women who were there to pray over me.  There were three of us to be ministered to and I was last.  They gave the other two women their prayers and thoughts and explanations of what God is telling them.  They came to me and could only give me scripture.  The first woman said she had no explanation for me, but she was compelled to give me these three verses.  She wrote them on my index cards.  Then the second woman told me I was beautiful and that she felt another verse and finally the same thing from the last woman.  Just a verse and I should go and look into it further myself.  That's what they all were being told.  No explanations.  I must admit, I left feeling a little down, because I hadn't been given an actual "plan".  Why I thought they would tell me what I was supposed to do, I do not know, but I did.  We went on about our day and when I got home I pulled out the cards they gave me to look up the scriptures.  The first card was written as such, 2. Jer 33:3, tell you what you don't know and 3. Rev 8:4 Your prayers go from angels hands to God and 1. Isa 58:8b & 9 Here I am.  The woman was very specific that I read them in the order she numbered them, not that she wrote them on the card.  "Here I am, to tell you what you don't know, your prayers go from angels hands to God."  I can't even type that out without my hands shaking.  I called my mom to tell her and I looked up the verses as I was on the phone with her.  I read them out loud and we sat in silence.  I moved on to the next card that said to read Psalm 42, My soul thirsts for the living God.  I read it, "Where is your God?" it reads, "why have you forgotten me?"  Again, I am in silence, then to the last card which says to read Jer. 29:10-14.  It reads "After seventy years are completed at Babylon, I will visit you and perform My good word toward you, and cause you to return to this place.  For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.  Then you will call upon Me and go and pray to Me and I will listen to you.  And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart.  I will be found by you, says the Lord, and I will bring you back from your captivity; I will gather you from all the nations and from all the places where I have driven you, says the Lord, and I will bring you to the place from which I cause you to be carried away captive."

Just think on those words.  I know I have and I have prayed about them before I wrote this.  I cannot pretend that I was/am a person I am not.  I have sinned as all of us have.  I have been given a life with struggle as we all have.  In my absolute darkest hour, the hour I thought He was going to take my son from me, I went to Him.  It was truly the darkest hour I had ever experienced and I trusted Him.  He has given me my life back.  Praise God.

Calm

A feeling of calmness has come over me today.  After writing this morning's journal, I could sense a difference in my being.  I felt compelled to email my nurse again to tell her that she didn't need to respond to me.  I believed I found the answers I seeked and I felt as though I had placed a burden on her.  I wanted to release her from that burden.  I knew in my heart that she could not fulfill my need for answers.  God had done that for me.  I sent her a quick note, saying that I really felt that God had a plan for me and I would like her to read my blog, so that she would understand why I emailed her in the first place.  I told her that I wanted her to know that she played a huge part in one of the defining moments of my life and I thanked her for that.  Then I sent it and all at once I knew I had done what God wanted me to do.  It wasn't a little while later that I received an email from her, apologizing for taking so long to get back with me.  She said she had read the blog over and over and over and it was so hard to tell me what she was about to tell me.  She couldn't tell me the details of that day, because she still worked at the hospital and she feared that she would lose her job.  She urged me to speak with my doctor and to look through my files and said I would certainly find the answers to the questions I seek in there.  She also asked me to please know that her job that day was to help save my life.  All of her memories involve me and me alone.  She wanted to be honest and say that I was right and my husband was right.  I would have died, there was no question in her mind.  She thanked me for saying what an impact she made on me, and said that she always thought that we were the ones to make the impact on her.  She said she needed to end the email and send it before she chickened out and rewrote it for a tenth time.  I knew, reading that, that God had given me what I needed to hear, not what I wanted to hear.  And I was ok with that.  I am ok with all of it actually.  I don't think I valued my own life enough for all of these years to feel that it was as important as that of my childs.  But as I sit here and type, I have to wonder, were my parents praying the same prayers.  Please spare my child Lord.  Do not let her die.  We are all someone's child.  I can only imagine the desperate cries from my own mother that day.  In her mind, she was losing her baby.  I am ok.  I can only imagine what my husband must have been praying.  Please take me instead of her Lord.  It is the same prayer I would pray if the roles were reversed.  Let her pain be my pain Lord.  The experience we went through as a family has rocked us to our very cores.  It has broken us as a family, and as Christians over the years.  Not one of us has understood what the other went through that day.  The great grieving of loss and desperatation of saving a life.  We were all fighting a battle.  I may have been the sick one, but we were all fighting this battle to survive, to just stay strong enough to make it through.   I only wish I had then, the Lord's love in my heart as I do now.  I wish I could have fallen back on prayer and really trusted His plan for me.  I wish I would have had faith.  The beauty in all of this tragedy is that He is not going to waste one ounce of my grief.  He has given me a platform to speak and to help others with their pain.  I have gone through some of the hardest things in my life and I am grateful for those experiences now.  They have molded me into the strong, compassionate, empathetic woman I am today.  He will not waste the lives of my precious girls.  They will live on in this story and be an inspiration to other women out there going through this same grief.  I am so thankful for the 5 months He gave me with them.  The first true feelings of motherhood I ever felt and the love that is everlasting, even in death.  As I write, I know that I have the option of still talking with my doctor about all of this and as I write, I'm not sure that I need to.  I believe I have the answers I was seeking out.  I have walked through the fire of tragedy and relived a horrible experience and existence, but I have come out renewed.  I trust that what ever He wants me to do, is where I will be led and I am 100% ok with that.  In His most precious name, AMEN.

Stamp of Approval

My final seal of approval came moments after publishing the last journal.  I picked up my phone to search on Instagram for the Jesus Calling devotional for the day.  All that came up were the ones from the day before, but the first one was a new one.  I read it and thought to myself, this cannot be.  It reads:

Don't be so hard on yourself, I can bring good even out of your mistakes.  Your finite mind tends to look backward, longing to undo decisions you have come to regret.  This is a waste of time and energy, leading only to frustration.  Instead of floundering in the past, release your mistakes to Me.  Look to Me in trust, anticipating that My infinite creativity can weave both good choices and bad into a lovely design.  Because you are human, you will continue to make mistakes.  Thinking that you should live an error-free life is symptomatic of pride.  Your failures can be a source of blessing, humbling you and giving you empathy for other people in weaknesses.  Best of all, failure highlights your dependence on Me.  I am able to bring beauty out of the morass of your mistakes.  Trust Me, and watch to see what I will do. 

Again, I am floored.  It really is as though God is speaking directly to me through this devotional.  I go get my book, so that I may take a better picture to post than the one on Instagram.  I open it to August 9.  It is not the devotional I just read.  It is about wearing His robe of righteousness.  I close the book without reading it, as I sit in disbelief.  I open it back and finish reading it.  I check today's date to make sure I am not looking at the wrong page.  I go back to my phone and their is the devotional posted a short time before with a different message.  This picture, though, was close up and did not show the date.  I can't believe what I am seeing.  In all of this, God finally got to a page in the book he didn't think fit me perfectly for what was happening right this moment.  So instead he sent me an Instagram.  How very high tech of Him.  I am posting the pic of the two, just so you can see I am not crazy hahaha!  This really is one wonderful ride!!

Forgiveness

Yesterday was a struggle for me, both good and bad.  After writing my journal entry, something came over me and I felt as though I was having an anxiety attack.  My heart was racing and pounding out of my chest.  It hurt.  I couldn't wrap my head around all that was happening to me.  I was overwhelmed.  I felt the need to text my dear friend that I told you about before.  The one I refer to in all aspects of religion.  I asked her to please read my blog, that I was overwhelmed and I was feeling the need to go up to the church to talk to someone about what was going on.  She text back and said she'd read it and call me.  My phone rang about 5 or 10 minutes later and she started to speak.  She instantly told me to go to Ephesians 6:10 and put on my armor of God.  She told me that she and her kids do this every day.  She actually gave me the kid version over the phone of what they say each morning and how she needed to put her breast plate on first, because her heart is her weak point.  Her son needed his helmet, because his mind was his weak point.  I knew right then to put my helmet on and I did.  We spoke about what to do about going to the church.  She suggested I call to make an appointment with the prayer minister and if she wasn't available, to give them a little bit about what was going on and let God put who is necessary to me in my life.  I called and left a message on the secretary's voicemail, to please have her return my call and gave her a little bit about what was going on.  I went to lunch with my mom and the kids and had a great time.  My mom and I laughed so hard we felt silly.  I don't remember laughing that hard or being that silly in a long time.  It was great.  We headed home and as we talked she said she wanted to look at something at Home Depot, so we turned around and headed back the direction from which we came.  We went in and I told her I wanted to redo a desk to go in my bedroom so we looked at stuff to do that.  During that time looking at paint and liquid sand paper, a thought entered my mind out of the blue.  My heart began to race again and I instantly pulled out my phone to text my friend.  I said, "I think that J told them we didn't want to see the babies" and hit send.  I text again saying the thought just entered my mind in an instant, but I couldn't shake it.  I knew it was true.  The more I thought about it, the stronger the feeling got.  She text back, saying I should pray about it, but that maybe he was the one who would unlock all of the answers I seek.  She said that this is one of the arrows she was talking about and I should listen.  I told her that I wasn't sure if J would tell me or not.  I was so upset the other night when we tried to talk and he was so upset with me about why I was doing this to myself.  I couldn't make him understand that I had to.  It was necessary.  God was leading me through this and there was nothing that could stop it.  She said she remembered how hard it was for him during that time and the phone calls to he made to her husband were so difficult.  She said she would ask him if he remembered anything that happened those first few days that may help me shed some light on this.  I said ok.  I started to instantly pray about how to approach my husband about what happened.  I wasn't sure if I should say something to my mom, but I finally did when we got back in the car.  When I was in the ICU, I remember my mom being in the room with me all of the time.  J stayed in the waiting room a lot with his family and a few of our close friends.  We weren't allowed to have very many back at once.  I insisted on no visitors, other than those who had to be there.  My husband, mother and mother-in-law, but truth be told, I didn't want anyone.  Everyone wanted to come up to see me in my hour of need and I sent them all away.  I couldn't bear the look of disappointment and sadness on their faces as they walked into my room.  It was all I could do to handle it myself.  I told my mom that I thought they asked J if we wanted to see them and she said there was no way.  She would have remembered.  I reminded her that she was always with me and he was out in the lobby a lot with a lot of time to be approached, without her knowing.  She sat in silence.  She didn't say another word about it.  The conversation quickly changed, because of the kids in the back seat and we went home.  She didn't come in, she went directly home, which wasn't like her.  I came in and immediately looked up Ephesians 6:10.  I needed my armor.  As I did, my friend text me that God will carry me through this.  I told her I needed to find some books that I could go to besides the Bible for comfort, since the only other religious book I had was my devotional.  I had already read that days and it was right.  It was though God was speaking directly to me through the devotional.  I needed something else to read to help me soak in more of Him.  My friend said she would be right over with books, but I offered to come there instead.  She said she had a library so I would be able to see everything.  We left right away and got there in a few minutes.  The kids were excited to be there, since they had never been before.  Her children scooped mine up and took them off into their rooms to play while we talked.  We couldn't get much said before my phone rang.  It was the church.  I quickly answered and it was the prayer minister on the other end.  She apologized for not getting back sooner and I said it was fine.  She wanted to just talk over the phone, because it was already so late in the day.  This was perfect.  I was with my dear friend, who would help me through the conversation and I could get all of this out right away.  I started to tell her everything that has gone on.  About how I feel called by God for some special purpose.  I told her my heart was overwhelmed.  I cried, but the words flowed out as they do onto this page.  I told her that I was anxious and that I was a cerebral person and I was scared to be led my heart not my head.  I told her what I thought was the truth about the babies.  I told her everything.  She couldn't believe what she was hearing.  She started to tell me that I was on the right path.  The path to His Glory and that His love was overwhelming.  She was glad I was open to it all.  She said it seemed as though I had been baptised.  I told her I actually wrote those words on my journal.  I felt as though I was given my own personal baptism.  She just kept saying wow.  She had words of encouragement, but then asked if she could pray over me.  I of course, said yes.  Her words flowed, and at first were the beginnings of a lot of prayer, with scriptures and such, but then it was as though He took over what she was saying and she began to just talk like normal, but faster than she could get it all out.  She asked Him to guide me and help me as she thought I would be speaking to the masses about this story.  I layed my head in my hand as tears rolled down my face.  She started to speak of all the people He would lead me to to help.  Those who've lost children and faced infertility yes, but so, so much more.  I cried and cried.  She prayed for a long time over my husband and my kids and my extended family and then finally slowed down and wrapped up with amen.  I echoed the same words and right then, she told me that she loved me.  She said I do not know you, but I love you.  I love you deeply already.  I left my friends with a few books and came home.  I was overwhelmed by it all and as J got home, I could see he was tired.  We left to run errands and things were ok, but by the time we got home, we were arguing a bit.  We went to our respective corners of the house, like boxers in a match when the round is up.  I started to pray right then.  I knew why I was upset.  I wanted to know if he was the reason I did not get to see my babies.  I didn't know how I was going to ask him.  My friend had given me Heaven is for Real to read, so I started and I couldn't put it down.  It was my story written by someone else.  It was like reading everything that I've been writing in this journal.  So many similarities in the back story.  I read through it so quickly.  Quicker than I've ever read through a book.  I got the kids settled and in bed and decided I was going to ask my husband for the truth.  I went in and asked.  I think he was almost expecting it, by the way he looked at me.  He said he honestly couldn't remember, but he didn't think so.  I told him I wouldn't hold it against him, that I would understand.  I wasn't sure if that was true or not, but I wanted to know the truth from him.  He began to tell me what happened that day and how our doctor came out to tell him he was sorry that he was going to have to do this, but I was going to die if he didn't.  J said it was all over his face, that he was serious.  He really thought I was going to die.  He told the doctor to please keep me alive because he needed me desperately.  Our doctor of course said he would do everything he could.  When I came through the procedure, I was clinging on for life.  He just kept saying he wasn't sure if they asked him or not, but if they had he would have told them no.  It was all he could do to handle the possibility of losing me, but holding the babies too, he couldn't bear.  Then he said this.  I was so scared that what if that was the one thing that made you stop fighting to live.  What if it made it worse for you and then you died too.  I was crying and I told him it was ok and I understood, but I still really only needed to know if they were hurt during the procedure.  I felt that knowing that would heal me.  He still couldn't understand why I would want to know the details.  Why I couldn't just remember the good of the pregnancy and live in that.  I told him that I just couldn't and that I was sorry we were going through all of this again, but I was healing and it was necessary.  We were ok and apologized for arguing.  Neither of us wanted to fight.  As I laid back down with the kids, to get them to sleep as they were restless.  I still had my phone with me and I was eagerly waiting the return email from my nurse whom I had emailed the night before.  I still hadn't received anything.  I finally gave way to sleep and dreamt that I kept leaving my baby at home all the time and forgetting about it completely until I would get home and there it would be, in my bed.  I say "it" because I could never figure out if it was male or female.  Every time it would be crying, but as soon as it would see me it would be so happy that I was home.  I can't tell you how many times during that dream that I left because I forgot about that baby, but when I returned, there it was, happy to see me.  I woke up again about an hour ago and reached for my phone to see if I had any new mail.  Still nothing.  My mind instantly went to my dream and how real it seemed.  How happy the baby was that I was home.  My mind went to my husband and in a split second it all made sense and I forgave.  I realized that when you are forced to make a decision for a loved one who is ill and cannot make the decisions for themselves, you do what you think is the best thing for them.  You do what you think is going to keep them alive.  That's what he did.  I imagined him in that waiting room, trying to make these decisions without me and how hard that must have been for him.  I knew he had made the right choice right then and there.  I knew, because if he had agreed to let me hold my babies I know I would have given up my fight right then so that I could be with them.  I know that he knew that.  He did what was necessary to keep me alive.  And look where we are.  Happily married for almost 20 years, with 2 beautiful children that are our very own miracles.  God has walked me through this.  Jesus has held my hand and the Holy Spirit has rushed through my veins, carrying me on this journey.  I forgave and for the first time, knew that I didn't need to see them.  I knew what they looked like.  Our babies are exact images of one another.  We have a collage picture where you can't tell them apart.  It is the mold we make as a couple.  That is what our babies look like.  Just like that mold.  I can see them in my mind and feel them in my heart and I know that they are so happy.  I love my husband dearly and trust him with my life and know that, in the event of an emergency, he will make the right choices for me.  I have never doubted that.  I just never looked at what happened as that situation.  He did exactly what I would have done.  And I love him for it.

Surreal

As my husband put it this morning, my life is becoming more surreal by the day.  I'm not sure how to handle all of it.  I am embracing it fully, because I believe in it strongly and I believe that there is a message for me.  I believe that there is a message that I am supposed to relay to all of you as well.  Whether I have done that yet or not, has yet to be seen.  After yesterday's post, I sat in silence for a long time, reflecting on why I had not seeked out the truth in all of this rather than trying to come up with an understanding all my own.  I think I was worried that the truth would be more than I could handle, meaning, that I probably would have had the opportunity to hold my babies and see them, had I just asked.  But that day, I hesitated, for some reason.  I remember it so clearly, hesitating to ask each and every time I wanted to know what was going on with them.  I didn't want to seem crazy.  Why would that make me look crazy?  I don't know.  But I remember thinking that.  No one ever asked me anything, like the doctors or staff, so I just sat there and let it happen.  That's not who I am.  I don't sit and let things happen.  I always say what I think is right and voice my opinion.  I think that is ultimately where all of my guilt comes from.  I didn't ask.  I just let it happen.  Even though I was so very sick, and knew I had no choice but to lose them both, I still just wanted an opportunity to grieve them properly.  I think that, by going to sleep, then waking to an empty uterus, once filled with two healthy, moving babies and never seeing those babies has been what has haunted me and left me so damaged.  I left them there at the hospital without so much as a glimpse from their mother.  They at least deserved that much.  So I made a decision.  I had an appointment with my doctor yesterday around lunch to go and receive one of my hormonal injections I'm getting and I decided that I would just start asking questions.  I know it has been 9 years, but my chart there is humongous and surely they would have something they could give me.  I also seeked out to find my nurse from that day.  She was a young nurse then, I believe it was one of her first experiences.  She was drawn to my family during that time and visited me often in ICU from labor and delivery.  She was so incredibly kind.  She wrote me a very long a sweet card then, that I still have to this day.  Years later when I had Ben, she walked through my hospital room door wondering if I remembered her.  I started crying and said of course I did.  We talked for a while and said we'd keep in touch, but didn't.  Then when I went in to have Megan, I went in a day early before I was to be induced because I was in so much pain and I was vomiting.  When I walked up to the desk, guess who was there.  That's right, it was her again!  We embraced and talked all through the night about our little ones.  Looking back, I think God was trying to give me the opportunity to receive closure at those times, but I never took it.  I was too afraid to ask.  So yesterday I tried to track her down.  She had deleted her Facebook, so I couldn't reach her there and I couldn't find her anywhere.  I finally got on Instagram and searched her name and their she was!  I was so thrilled!  I commented on a picture and asked if she remembered me and waited for a response. 

I left the house and took the kids to my moms while I went to the doctor.  I felt ok going, but I was nervous.  I knew what I was about to do.  I waited in the lobby for them to call my name and as I went back, my original nurse for the last 15 years passed me by.  I asked her if I could talk with her when I was done and she said of course.  I had my shot and waited for her to return.  When she did, I asked her to find all of the information she could on the girls for me.  She looked at me with tears in her eyes.  I'd hidden this from them for so long as well, they had no idea that I was still struggling.  They are like my second family there, because I go so much.  She asked if I was ok and I told her I just needed it for me, for myself.  She said she would do anything for me and then she would make an appointment with a block of time for me to talk to my doctor about all that happened.  I'm not sure if I can handle that, but I agreed to it.  I hugged her and teared up slightly,  and left.  I stepped onto an elevator with a few others on it and wiped a tear from my eye quickly as I turned around.  I was hoping no one caught it.  I wasn't a blubbering mess, but I was irritated with myself, that I didn't go to the restroom first to fix my face.  As we reached the lobby, another tear came down and I wiped it away as well.  The doors opened and I walked quickly to the parking garage.  I hit the button for the elevator to go the floor I parked on and got in.  Another woman got in after me.  When the doors closed, she looked at me and asked if I was ok.  She was about my age.  I looked up at her and smiled and said yes, and thanked her for asking.  I told her it was very kind of her, it had just been a long day, but thank you.  She wanted to know if I needed a hug or anything and I smiled again as the elevator doors opened and said thank you, but I was fine, really.  We both stepped out to walk to our car.  But as we stepped out, she stopped me.  I looked at her and she said she had to ask me something.  I said ok.  She asked me if I was crying because of infertility.  I stood there in shock for a moment, not really knowing what to say, but asked her why she asked me that.  She said, she could see the pain in my face and she was going through it too.  I told her that I had children, two of them, but I was still grieving my loss from 9 years ago and my struggles of infertility from before.  I couldn't believe my ears.  She just started asking me all of these questions and I stopped her and told her about my blog and facebook page.  I told her that I knew what she was going through and how it felt and that I understood her pain.  She was 37, without children yet, but desperately wanted them.  She was going through a life changing experience too.  She had made the decision to put a positive attitude forth about all of her troubles, rather than dwell on them.  I told her that I too, was trying to do the same, but also use my struggles to help others get through theirs.  As I looked into her eyes, I knew she needed me.  I grabbed a sheet of paper and pen from my purse and tore it in half.  I gave her one which she wrote her info down on and I wrote mine on the other.  We stood in the garage for 30 minutes talking like we had known each other always.  She hugged me over and over and I told her that I would love to meet her for lunch one day and talk more.  We decided it should be so and then left.  I got in my car, dumbfounded, and watched her drive away.  I looked at the paper in my hand and to my surprise, I hadn't switched it with her!  It was still the paper with my own info on it!  Ahh!!  How would I find her??  How would I help her?  The only thing I could remember was that she said her name was Tine (spelled like that with an e at the end because it was German) and that she went to Dr. Wheeler on Milam.  This was so frustrating!!  How could this be??  I closed my eyes and prayed that she would find me.  I prayed that she would remember Mended Soul and find it and somehow contact me.  She was so kind and she needed someone to talk to so desperately.  I came home to my mom's to get the kids and told her.  Her first thought was, maybe, I was visited by an angel.  It wasn't like me to not exchange information with someone.  It was way to real to be an angel I told her.  She couldn't believe it.  I also checked my Instgram for the next couple of hours, waiting on a response from my nurse.  Finally a few hours later, I received a response saying of course she remembered and to email her with her email address attached!  So there I was.  No excuses.  I'm going to ask the one person I know who saw my children, that isn't my doctor and will tell me the truth, exactly what happened that day.  I emailed her last night a lengthy email and am now waiting her response.  I woke up so many times last night to check my phone, but nothing yet.  And that's ok.  I'm sure she was shocked as to all of the questions I asked.  After yesterday's devotional reading, I wanted to read today's last night, just so I would know what to expect today, but decided against it.  I wanted to trust in God, that He is doing what is best for me.  When I woke in the middle of the night around 2, I decided, it was now August 8, so I would read it.  This is what it reads:

I speak to you from deepest heaven.  You hear Me in the depths of your being.  Deep calls unto deep.  You are blessed to hear Me so directly.  Never take this privilege for granted.  The best response is a heart overflowing with gratitude.  I am training you to cultivate a thankful mind-set.  This is like building your house on a firm rock, where life's storms cannot shake you.  As you learn these lessons, you are to teach them to others.  I will open up the way before you, one step at a time.

I had to type that for you this time instead of posting a picture.  I needed to retype those words to let them sink into my soul.  I have never been so led to something before in my entire life.  This is beyond surreal.  I am eager to hear from my friend and doctor, but I know, no matter what, that I will be ok.  Love and blessings to all of you!!

August 7

Understanding

This morning, I awakened by a nightmare.  I dreamt that my home was being broken into.  We were not home at the time, but when we drove up, we could see our garage open and our door had been kicked in.  There were still burglers inside.  We pulled into the driveway across the street and called 911 and though J is a police officer, he did not get out right away.  He was waiting for back-up.  I can remember seeing these people ransacking our home from the rear view mirror.  I picked up the phone to dial 911, while J watched and got ready to take action.  That's when I woke up.  I was in a panic.  I felt like I was having an anxiety attack.  I laid in bed for a few moments trying to calm myself down, but it wasn't working.  As my mind raced, I couldn't stop thinking about my love for God.  As my mind started to wander from dreams to reality, I reached for my devotional.  This is the first time, I have ever woken up to a need to read some sort of religious text, but I needed it.  As it normally sits on my night stand, it was not there.  I knew I had moved it yesterday as I wanted to share yesterday's with my sister and and sister-in-law so I sent her a picture of the text.  I felt called yesterday morning to send it to them before I even opened it, and when I did, the words that were on the page were so necessary for both of them that it floored me.  They didn't pertain to me so much as I felt like I had already made the leap and things were all coming together for me.  All of these days reading this book have been focused on something I was going through, but yesterday's was needed for them.  I cried when I read it and then something happened.  I closed my eyes and spent almost 15 minutes in prayer.  My normal prayers have always stumbled around, fumbling for the words to say, but this time, the words just rolled off of my tongue, even though I wasn't uttering a single one.  It was as though this was the most natural thing for me to do.  I had a great day yesterday.  But back to this morning, I couldn't locate my devotional.  I instantly picked up my phone, and went straight to Instagram, searching the hashtag Jesus Calling.  A lot of people post pics of their pages through out the day, so I knew I could find it there without getting up and waking up J.  To my surprise, there was not one posting of today's.  There were a lot from yesterday, but no one had posted today's.  I laid my phone back down and debated on whether or not to get up.  My mind started to race once more and these thoughts came over me like a wave.  I started to think about the page I had set up on Facebook for others to join.  I had sent it out wanting to share it with whoever wanted to read it.  I tried to link it to my blog, but Facebook requires you to have 30 likes before the link will work and you can see certain things about your page.  I thought to myself that this couldn't be that hard.  30 likes?  This morning though, I realized, why am I seeking "likes".  I am not.  I do not want anyone to "HAVE" to visit my page.  The more likes I have means the more suffering there is.  I don't want that.  I can live without anyone liking my page.  You don't have to like it to visit it.  I wouldn't like it either.  I would use it though, secretly.  I was suddenly more aware of what I was going through.  I started to think of that fateful day that I lost the girls, all that had gone on that very day.  My doctor is the most compassionate of all doctors and, literally, means the world to me.  He is caring and honest and most of all, he is understanding.  My mother and I spoke some yesterday about the things I had been writing.  It was the first time ever that the conversation had gone as deep as it had.  She understood what I thinking.  We spoke about the picture I saw of the baby and she said she spent the night searching for it, but couldn't find it.  I told her I could show her.  Before getting to the page, we spoke about the girls faces.  She said, she had searched for pictures last night, but all she could find were abortion pictures as well.  I told her finding this photo was the first time I had seen a baby at that age that hadn't been ripped apart.  Back then people weren't writing blogs and talking about all of this so freely.  She looked at me and said, Michelle, I can't imagine that your doctor would have done that to your children.  Look at how much he cares for you and your family.  She was right.  I had worried all these years that something had happened to them during the birth.  I was unconcious because I was so sick, so I have no idea what happened.  Once it was over, it was a race to keep me alive.  No one asked about the babies.  We trusted my doctor to do the right thing.  He told us he sent them for genetic testing, but maybe this was his way of sparing me a funeral.  I was so sick, that I just trusted him and never spoke of what I needed.  I needed to hold them, to see them, to know that they were really there.  It's haunted me my whole life since.  Did it actually happen?  It did.  Am I the mother of two twin girls?  I am.  But no one, not even me, treated it as such.  It was like it never happened.  I shut down so fast that no one spoke of it again.  Had I been the one to lead this nightmare of a mind I had?  I was blaming everyone and everything around, especially God for what had happened.  I was blaming myself for not speaking up and saying I wanted to see them.  I was mad that no one else thought to ask either.  I was incapable of asking, because I was unconsious.  The thing is they did.  They did want to ask, but because I had spent so long shutting people out of my life and not allowing them to know my true feelings, they were afraid to ask.  They were afraid to do the wrong thing, because I would hold it against them for the rest of their lives.  I have been led by God, to find out the truth, but is the truth I am searching for the right one?  I have always had the ability to call and ask my nurse or doctor any question I wanted.  I never did.  I even came across the same nurse that helped deliver them, so many times in my life.  She was amazing and every so often I would run into her and she would embrace me and tell me how she will never forget me.  Why hadn't I just asked her what happened?  I wanted to, but I was afraid to do it.  God has given me so many opportunities to find out the truth but I have never used them, because I was too afraid.  I instantly had that thought that my devotional was on the floor, that in the midst of having visitors yesterday, the kids knocked it off.  I reached for my phone, so that I could use it as light and as I shined it down to the floor, there was my book.  I couldn't open it fast enough.  I opened up to yesterdays and knew that when I turned the page this morning, something was going to happen.  I almost hesitated to do it, but I knew I had to.  The first sentence read, "Understanding will never bring you peace."  I dropped the book.  I believe.  100% I believe.  There is not a doubt in my mind that I am being spoken to by Jesus and that he is leading me down this journey for a reason.  I have been skeptical my whole life, but it has been erased.  I couldn't even finish the page.  I couldn't get to the next sentence.  I got out of bed, book in hand and came straight to the kitchen, where my laptop sat.  I wanted to start writing while all of this was so raw.  Instead, I ended up on my knees, praying for forgiveness and asking Him to please take over my life.  I no longer want control.  He knows what is best for me and I am willing to let His words lead me to wherever they may.  I got up in tears and began to write.  The words flowed onto the page with ease.  I didn't stop to think about what I was writing.  I learned that I liked it that way.  I could re-read it over and over and it would seem like a new story to me.  I decide right now, that I am going to finish the page.  I'm actually speechless.  I'll post a picture of the page to allow you to read it as well.  I don't know what else to write at the moment as this is going to take some processing, crying and praying.

Seeking Truths

I lay here tonight, doubting myself and what I am writing and telling all of you.  Before all of this, I was a firm, non-believer.  Not necessarily an atheist, but a non-believer of the Bible.  I believed there was a man named Jesus and that maybe some things happened, but to actually believe all of the stories you here growing up, did not make sense to me.  I heard a man on the news tonight, a criminal, speak of how the week after he was arrested, he found Jesus.  I thought to myself, is this what I sound like?  All of these years, I have doubted Him and I have never believed that someone could have an experience like I did.  It is unsettling to me, to say the least.  Even when this first started happening, I thought, I believe in God, but still not Jesus Christ as my saviour.  So much so that first the first couple of days, I researched a lot of religions, seeking one out that would fit my beliefs.  Because there was nothing really of that sort, I even considered starting a new church where people believed like I did.  The "realists".  Logic is what speaks to me, always has.  It seems logical that, because of my need for closure, I've pieced this whole thing together to fit my situation.  There are a lot of things that have happened over the last several weeks that are coincedental.  Too many to name, in fact.  That is the old me thinking.  If I were to be reading this about someone I knew, I would think that their story, while tragic, is not about God.  It's just the way their brain is processing the loss, even though it's so much later.  But to read about how they have found God and Jesus and He has saved their souls, I literally would have closed the screen at that moment.  I never, in my wildest dreams, expected that person to be me.  My husband and I have talked about going to church for years, but it was always for the kids experience.  I thought to myself, I would tolerate it, because, growing up, I did enjoy it so much.  We just never found the time.  I have a dear friend, who has been my friend for the past 12 years.  She is literally the kindest, most caring person I know to exist.  Her heart is so golden.  She will help any homeless person, to the point that she gets robbed, or volunteer her time to causes and organizations until her plate is completely full.  We would see each other a few times a year and we would laugh and carry on when we did.  We had a wonderful bond.  One night, months after I had lost the twins, my phone rang.  My husband was at work, so I was home alone.  I answered and it was her.  She was telling me how God had called upon her that night to call me and talk with me to find out if I was ok.  I had literally been sitting in my chair, crying my eyes out all night, before she called.  She told me to yell at God and that it was ok to be mad.  After hanging up, I can remember thinking that I loved her very much, but God was not taking care of me.  I remember yelling at God as she had told me to do.  No one yelled back.  There was only silence.  I yelled again.  Still nothing.  I wanted, by some miracle, to hear God's voice in my head telling me He was sorry for what had happened to me.  But I didn't hear a word.  That night has been etched in my memory since then.  I will never forget it.  One, because of the love I have for my friend and how she felt so compelled to call me and speak so freely of things that she never spoke of before.  And two, because it was the night that I had lost all hope that there was a God watching over me.  I wanted a response and I didn't get anything.  Not a single, solitary word came to mind while awaiting that response.  After my experience in prayer the night before B's surgery, the memories of that night came flooding back into my head.  Even more so the night we came home from the hospital.  It was at that moment that I could hear God's voice.  He was sorry for all the things I have been through.  It sounds ridiculous and even as I write this, I am questioning whether or not to publish it, but it is the truth.  I have never been so driven to establishing a cause.  She and her husband happened to attend the same church I found online, another one of the strange coincedences.  We met at the church doors so that we could sit together and she shows me her Bible.  It is tattered and torn, like my soul.  It has been used and abused and was in need of restoration.  She tells me that she had to buy a new Bible a while back since this one was falling apart, but she had to bring it that day to show me something.  She opened it and on the first page she had written my very old cell phone number and email address.  There was nothing else on the page that shouldn't be.  Just those two things of mine.  She tells me that she had the same experience as I described that very night she called me so long ago.  She had never experienced it before and has not since.  She knew I was so mad at God and that was hard for her, but something told her that God had control of me and I would someday be ok.  I of course, cried and hugged her and told her that she was my own personal saviour.  She always believed that I could become something that I was not.  I never saw myself as one of these people.  The "religious" types.  But she believed it to be true and here I am.  We spent the service both of us in tears and we prayed together at the altar.  It was amazing to join her in her celebration of Christ.  That night I prayed for her.  I thanked God for placing her in my life and keeping her there.  And I prayed that she will come to lean on me as I have leaned on her for so long.  I owe her that much. 

 

So now here I am and some of my friends and family are a little taken aback by my willingness to share all of this and my quick reconnection with Jesus.  I don't blame them, I would be too if the shoe were on the other foot.  I am seeking out the truth, that is all.  Is it the truth that I have been blessed by the Holy Spirit to fulfill my duty and serve Christ?  Or am I seeking a reason behind all that has happened to me and feel the need to share it all.  My heart tells me it is Christ, leading me to walk with Him.  I have never been more certain of anything in my life.  In my own personal struggles, my brain has always won out over my heart.  It's who I am to my very core.  But what is happening to me is throwing my brain a curve ball.  I never saw this one coming and I am baffled by that.  I fully enjoy writing these pieces and I try not to over analyze them before I post them.  That is probably why you'll see some grammar or spelling mistakes.  I want my thoughts to be as they are.  I don't want to spend time cleaning them up, making them perfect for the public.  I have actually spent more time reading my own blog over and over than I have reading other blogs.  I know I have written it, but it reads like a book to me.  A book that speaks directly to me, for me.  So maybe that's what it is and what it will be.  My own personal saviour......myself.

Found my calling

I am in shock at all the things coming together in my life.  For the first time, I am so awakened to the responsibility God has placed upon me.  I've always looked at my willingness to listen and counsel others as a burden of sorts.  While I enjoyed listening and helping others, I never knew what it was like to express my own feelings to someone and tell them everything I was going through.  I think that I somehow helped myself by helping them and seeing them succeed, but it never made sense to me.  I am a computer nerd by profession.  My career as an HRIS Analyst was great.  I always said to everyone I met, that my brain was made for computers, but my heart was made for HR, that is why HRIS was such a perfect fit for me.  I excelled in every aspect of the job.  I formed quick bonds with employees and long lasting relationships with those I mentored in our overseas offices.  It was a gift I had, not necessarily of the gab, but of understanding.  As I wrote in one of my first posts, most people have gravitated to me for some sort of counseling in their lives.  It always seemed to be the "second" part of my job.  But I have never opened up as I have over the last couple of weeks.  I have always been the listener.  I kept internalizing, but at the same time, using my pain, to guide others through their lives.  It was helping them, but still I hurt.  Since I have released these demons, I feel an overwhelming sense of urgency to help those of us that are struggling with this.  We hide these horrible feelings from each other, because we are afraid of the looks, of the judgement.  I'm still struggling with this today, but I am getting better.  I feel the strongest pull towards God and what He wants me to do with all of my trials in life.  As the old saying goes, He turns trials into triumph.....I can actually feel that happening in my heart and see it happening in my life.  It may have taken so much longer than I expected, but that is the beauty in it all, it is always His plan.  He knew what I was meant to be and what I would do with everything I have been through.  He knew that I could not sit at home, going through this unbelievable experience and not share it.  He knew that people listen to my words (for reasons I cannot understand).  He has been preparing me for this my whole life.  I can tell you that for the first few years after losing the twins, I literally asked God "why me?" every day.  I never understood it.  I never realized why he put me through so much pain and misery.  He is calling me to serve and to help others with this struggle and I am so grateful for that.  It is the most wonderful feeling knowing that my tragedy may help someone realize that they are not alone.  I started an Instagram for Mended Soul and have been posting a few things here and there.  I mostly did it as a way for my friends and family to follow along without me having to bombard their feeds with my thoughts.  I didn't want to be "that" person.  People shy away from "that" person and I didn't want that.  I started to have a few new followers, but I received my first comment from someone I don't know yesterday.  It reads "I don't know how I found your Instagram, but your posts are amazing.  Please tell me the name of this book?  You're a stranger but you have found your way into my prayers.  Good luck on your journey."  I love this.  I have been posting this same sort of thing on other's feeds that have been inspirational to me.  It was great to get that same response back. 

We went to a new church yesterday and absolutely loved it.  The minister's message spoke straight to my heart.  His message was "From the Gut".  He wanted to speak from his gut and tell share his feelings that he doesn't normally share.  How could I have walked into a place at a more perfect time?  I was on the same journey myself.  The series will last for the next few weeks, but will delve into those dark places that no one talks about.  I felt as though God was speaking straight to me.  I have already begun to volunteer at different places, but this need for a place to gather just kept resonating with me.  In developing my page last night, I came across another woman's page, how I do not know.  She is battling right now with the loss of her baby girl.  She is strong in her faith, but still has the same overwhelming feelings I did.  She only has God to fall back on.  I did not trust God enough to carry me through.  I could not see the light at the end of the tunnel.  She at least can.  It has taken so long for me to be at peace.  She just lost her baby within the last few months but she is still so close to God.  I can remember so vividly those first few months of depression.  How, with time, you get hardened to the memories, but that they never go away.  They never will.  She had so much to say that really hit home with me.  I hope to have that bond with Him, that I can trust in His plan for me, no matter what life may throw at me.  I hope to be able to share her blog with you.  She also has the most beautiful picture of her daughter posted on her page.  She lost hers at 19 weeks, close to the same time I lost my girls.  As I said before, I never had a picture to look at and that has haunted me all these years.  I could only ever find pictures via abortion sites and those images are forever burned in my brain.  But she was brave enough to share the picture of her beautiful, perfect child with all of us.  It really was the most precious little child I had ever laid my eyes on.  As I looked at it, I imagined my own girls and the last images I have of them through ultrasound.  The curves of their lips, their button noses, their sweet and delicate faces.  In my mind, I could see them for the very first time.  It was amazing and something I never thought I would see until I got to heaven.  I am so thankful for the the amount of closure I am receiving through this process and the new beginning I am being given.  I want to live my life for Christ and all that He has given me.  I am full of mistakes and sin, but I am on my way to redemption and it is, honestly, the greatest feeling in the world.  Love to you all!!!

Love and Light

I am excited this morning as we are headed to church on our own behalf for the first time in a long time.  It feels like the first day of school for me!  I'm so excited but so nervous at the same time.  I want this experience to be what I have been imagining it to be for the last couple of weeks.  I want to leave the church today feeling exhilarated.  I am upset with myself that I am doubting it.  I've just come so accustomed to doubting organized religion.  I want to be a part of something, but I haven't figured out what it is yet.  My hope is that this is it.  I would love for my kids to have a place to go.  I will go, even if that is the only reason.  I loved going to church with my grandparents growing up.  It was so much fun.  It is something that all children need and should be a part of.  I'm hoping that, if anything, the church can help me get involved in an outreach program of sorts.  The more I think about everything, every day, I think about what I wish I would have had during that horrible experience.  What would have helped me heal faster?  Not knowing any one who had been through that sort of thing was the hardest, so I had no one to talk to.  No one at the hospital willingly handed me any information on support groups for grieving mothers or how to handle my milk coming in or my hormones raging.  I think it is my calling, my duty, to provide women with this.  Even if it is just a postcard with information on it about where to get help, it should go home with every woman who suffers a miscarriage, stillbirth, death of a child.  Some how over the years we find each other, but women don't openly share our dark secrets with the world.  If we are lucky, someone will be brought into our lives that we can share ours with.  This is ultimately self torture.  Women need release.  They need to be able to talk things out.  They need to be understood.  If you are like me and have experienced something like this, you've probably tried counseling.  Counseling didn't work for me, because counselors couldn't understand the pain I was going through.  You know how they say the best people to work in rehabs are the rehabilitated?  They are the ones who connect with addicts, because they are addicts themselves.  They are always one crisis away from going right back to where they were.  But they have learned how to beat their addiction, how to manage it.  They are able to pass those feelings and traits on to the next addict in hopes that they too, will overcome.  I think that is where I come in.  I think there are too many of us living in a funk or a depression, drowning in life.  I want to be the life preserver.  God has put that on my heart.  He wants me to help women through this.  I can see that now as he has brought so many women to me in the past who have had very similar situations, more than most people know.  I never knew why I knew so many.  Why people felt it was ok to tell me their story,.  It is finally making sense, even more so as I'm writing this.  My husband read my blog for the first time last night.  As I said before, a lot of this is new to him, as it is to everyone.  I never shared how I felt about anything.  We laid in bed after the kids were asleep and he read, while I looked Instagram on my phone.  The room was silent.  All of the sudden, he grabbed my hand and squeezed.  He held on tightly, tighter than he ever had before.  With every breath I could feel his grasp getting stronger, he was feeling my pain and I don't think he realized what he was doing.  Tears filled my eyes, but I didn't say a word, because I knew that as he read, he would understand and the story would get better.  He would let go for a moment, but as the story got hard, he would grab my hand again, squeezing and holding on for dear life, like he never wanted to let it go.  The moment had finally arrived that I had been waiting for.  The moment that I needed.  I knew he knew I was sick all those weeks, but I never felt that grasp, that desperation.  I know he was trying to be strong for me and I appreciated that so much, but I guess a part of me wondered if he, or anyone else for that matter, realized how close to death I really was.  I felt that last night and I felt his love for me in that grasp.  A love that has lasted nearly 20 years.  It is a love that is unbreakable and ever-lasting.  My heart is full for the first time in a very long time.  I am complete after writing this mornings entry.  I cannot wait to tell you all about my day after worship.  XOXO

Struggle

I struggled with the idea of organized religion.  I always have.  The idea that people can believe in a book written so long ago by people who weren't actually there to experience what they are writing about.  I grew up going to church.  I was baptised Catholic as a baby, then raised Methodist.  My grandparents brought us to church on Sunday.  My parents weren't interested in church, but weren't opposed to letting us go.  I spent a lot of time there and went through the whole confirmation process, but once I was old enough to really start thinking for myself, I began to question everything.  Then, when I started to have miscarriages I began to question things even more.  I wasn't raised to believe that God had a plan for me and that I should trust Him.  The more that went wrong in my life, the more I doubted Him.  I would only turn to prayer when I was desperate, when I absolutely needed something.  Looking back now, I was never asking for anything I actually needed.  I always managed to get through what ever I was going through without some miraculous intervention.  I thought I knew what my life was supposed to be like, what my plan was.  With every miscarriage, my disgust for God only got worse.  The devil had a hold on me and was not letting go.  Once I lost the twins, the world just seemed to fade away.  Everyone kept telling me how strong I was and how amazing I was that I was getting through this.  But the worst part about being strong is that no one ever stops to ask if you are ok.  You don't complain, so you must be fine.  I would wonder if that's what God wanted from me.  If he wanted me to be a complainer.  Would that be the answer to my prayers?  What if I burdened everyone with all of my pain and sorrows?  What if at every chance I had I said, well what about me?  No matter the circumstance, I just couldn't do it.  I couldn't become the person who told everyone how much they were hurting all the time.  I couldn't take the sympathy or the looks, when someone walked through my office door or came to my house to visit.  I learned fast to put a smile on my face no matter the circumstance.  I wasn't going to be that girl who "needed" people.  I didn't need anyone.  I especially didn't need God.  I could handle anything on my own.  I internalized everything.  I worked through my own problems.  I didn't talk to my friends, my family, my husband, anyone.  I didn't pray. I didn't meditate. The only thing I did was stay awake at night wondering how I was going to fix this or that or why I did this or why I did that.  I never actually spoke about anything to anyone.  Most nights I would cry while laying next to my husband.  He would sleep and I would cry.  He never woke up to the sound of my tears.  He shouldn't have because I never sobbed.  They were silent tears falling down my face, hitting my pillow ever so gently.  I don't know why that would bother me so much.  Rather than waking him and telling him how I was feeling, I wanted him to wake up and rescue me from myself.  Even though I was pushing everyone away, I was longing for someone to just ask me what was going on, but no one would.  I didn't understand it.  Did they actually think I was ok?  Were they afraid to talk to me about things?  Whatever the reason, no one ever suggested that I turn to God.  I'm not sure if I would have listened, but you never know.  I know I was angry when people shared my story.  I didn't want my horrible experience broadcast all over.  But that didn't matter.  It was so horrible that people couldn't help but tell it.  "Did you hear what happened to Michelle?"  And the speculations would begin.  Was it my fault? Could I have kids?  How did I have them?  So much curiosity and I hated it.  I hated that people cared.  I felt like they only wanted to know because they were nosy and they liked to see me fall.  I was strong and a hard worker and on top of my game at work and the people at work rallied around me, but I couldn't accept that.  I never believed that anyone actually cared at all.  Then when I injured my back people had so much to say.  You shouldn't take so many meds.  What are you going to do about your situation?  Are you going to have this surgery?  How will you care for your kids?  Everyone had an opinion, but no one was living in pain but me.  I lived on vicodin.  It was the only way to get through my day.  The only way I could take care of my kids without crying.  Every morning I would wake up and struggle to get my kids dressed just so I could take my son to preschool.  I would cry all the way there, wipe my tears and put a smile on my face to take him in, then cry all the way home.  I got the stares from the other moms.  I can only imagine what they were thinking.  But I still didn't accept any friendship.  I still wouldn't take any help.  The more pain that was inflicted upon me, the more I hated God.  I couldn't turn to Him in my greatest times of need.  Why did I need Him?  He was doing this to me.  What would He do for me that I couldn't do for myself?  After years of pain, then surgery, then to find out I have all of these other female problems to deal with, I was completely over it.  By this time though, I had started to let a few more people into my life.  I had become friends with my childrens' teachers and looking back, it was by the grace of God.  They sort of imposed themselves on my life.  I needed that.  I needed them.  One in particular has stood by me no matter the circumstance.  She too suffered a miscarriage shortly after becoming friends with me, which bonded us quickly.  I instantly wanted to care for her and do anything I could to help her.  Her sense of humor, her wittiness, her willingness to listen, her love for me and my children, I honestly don't know what I would do without her friendship.  She is the first friend I have ever had that I have not been the counselor for.  She is my counselor.  And I love her for that.  God gave her to me.  My daughter's teachers this year have been extraordinary.  They are both amazing and women and their faith is strong.  And most of all my son's kinder teachers were just fabulous.  They were what we needed to him through what he was going through.  He was sick almost the whole year and they were so helpful and wonderful.  They brought something out of him that was truly amazing.  So when he was diagnosed with this hydronephrosis and blocked kidney, these amazing women rallied around me like no one I ever knew had before.  Of course I had my family, but I also had these women visiting and doing and calling and supporting and most of all PRAYING.  Once I started to spread the word to pray, I honestly felt the shift in my heart.  That God really was listening to me.  I felt so ashamed that I had doubted Him all these years.  In my heart I knew He was ok with that.  He knew what I had been through and He knew what it had done to me.  He was just happy I was finally back.  The night I fell to my knees in prayer, I honestly can't stop thinking about.  It had never happened before and hasn't happened since.  I was overcome with emotion that night and literally felt a wave of purity and passion flowing through my veins.  I think it was my cleansing.  My own baptism, if you will.  I felt reborn that night.  I don't know how else to describe it.  As I said before, my stomach has been in knots ever since.  I can't get my thoughts out of my head fast enough.  I have this vision of changing the world and it's perception of the Bible and God and Christ.  As I've started to actually read it for the first time, I realize what I've criticized for so long is actually a beautiful truth.  They are words to live by.  God has actually protected my soul from being completely destroyed.  I know my heart has hurt and it has been broken a thousand times over, but it is MENDED.  Day by day and stitch by stitch it is mending and I am so very thankful to God for loving me and covering me in His Grace.