Forever Beloved

Faith, Love & Truth

When Love Changes

I am no stranger to storybook romance.  Marrying at twenty to the sweetest man, I am blessed to be familiar with love – love as a falling and a pursuit and a passion.  We were introduced for the first time on a cold February evening, bundled up as we stood outside while snow gently fell around us.  We stood there with our cherry-red noses, enamored with each other.  It felt like our very own real Lifetime movie.

I am also no stranger to going against the grain and doing life differently than others.  One month later we were engaged.  We were married three months after that, with vows breathed in the little country church I was born into.

We both entered marriage in love with being in love.  I adored the romance, comfort and support a spouse offered.  I loved waking up beside him each morning and laying down beside him each night.  I loved that he was my best friend and knew me better than anyone.  We had our own unwritten language and could share a look or a word that no one else would understand but WE knew what it meant.  I loved how he could make me laugh more than anyone else.

Falling in love is the most blissful feeling.  With each new discovery in your relationship, you feel yourself falling more and more in love.  You just know, in your heart of hearts, that you’ve found the right person to spend the rest of your life with.  You’ve found your person.  Your days are filled with dreams of getting married, writing their last name after your first name, having a family and sitting on the porch swing holding hands while watching your grand-kids play in the yard.  You are certain these feelings will last forever.

But they didn’t.

Eventually the laundry piles up, the kids are hanging on your leg screaming, you’re both sleep deprived from the new baby, the house looks like a tornado went through and the bills are more than your income.  In that moment you feel your happily ever after begin to wear off.

Doubt creeps in.  You begin to wonder if you even married the right person.   It seems everything he does gets on your nerves, from the way he leaves his socks on the stairs to the way he chews his food.  The person you are married to isn’t the same person you fell in love with.  You begin to doubt your choice.  You look at other couples around you, so happily in love, and you wonder why you don’t have that.  Your social media feed is filled with perfect couples in perfect love.  You feel life isn’t fair, at least yours isn’t.  Before long, you can feel your heart slowly drifting away from his.

Sometimes the waters are so rough, you wonder if you’ll make it through.

Slowly, over time, bricks pile up one-by-one — a small comment that hurts, a disrespectful look or being too tired to share details from the day.  Each one doesn’t seem like a big deal, but over days and weeks and months they stack up.  Before you know it they’ve created a wall.  Sure, these bricks can be torn down, but it takes vulnerability.  Someone has to reach out to the other person with a hug, kiss or a kind word.  The same fatigue from the everyday stress of life, the stress which allowed the wall to go up, makes it hard to tear it down.

Throughout the years, I’ve collected every card and love letter my husband has written me.  I have them all safely tucked away, but on occasion I will pull an old one out and pour over the words.  It’s in that moment, between the lines, I can see this love of ours has, without a doubt, changed over time.

It isn’t because it’s any less.  It isn’t because we’re walking through a valley.  It isn’t because the laundry is piled sky high and the bills are mounting.  It is something different.

Love is more of a choice than a feeling.

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Throughout the past twenty-eight years we’ve made a conscious choice to daily say that we still do, even now.  Especially now.

He has continued to choose me, even on days I wear sweat pants and a messy bun.  He has continued to choose me, throughout every sickness and surgery.  He has continued to choose me, even when I’m undeserving.  He has continued to choose me, even on the days my sass and my attitude make me unlovable.

And I’ve chosen him.

Love is strung together choices.  The feelings, undoubtedly, will rise and fall.  Being in love with love will fade as the toughness of life becomes a reality.  As life goes on we all change, we grow, we mature and life changes us.  But marriage is not meant to be a lifetime commitment to fairy tale love alone.  Marriage is designed to be a repetitive I do, a daily commitment of choosing us over me.

You choose to love who they are at each point in life, not only who they used to be.

Marriage was designed specifically by God to mirror the relationship between Christ and His church.  In marriage, we are acting out a living parable to help our children and others around us grasp what God is like in a more concrete way.

Over the years God has softened and shaped my heart.  He has shown me that I need to love my husband without unreal, fairy tale expectations.  He has shown me that marriage means intentionally looking for love.  It’s in those moments I am flooded with displays of love right in front of me.  Love is the endless miles he’s driven me to doctor appointments.  Love is the hug, kiss and butt slap I get when he walks in the door.  Love is the laundry he does.  Love is his understanding that somehow 8 backyard chickens suddenly became 30.  Love is his support of all my crazy Pinterest ideas.  It’s in these ways and thousands of others that he shows me, he tells me, he loves me.

I am so thankful our love story has so many chapters left to be written in it.  As your love story is written by the ultimate Author of love, you might just be surprised at the romance you find.  And just how much your husband does, in fact, resemble prince charming.  No matter what the situation, or what mess it may hold, he’s still my hero and I’m still his girl.

Healing From Church Hurt

I recently came to the realization that a specific trauma, and my lack of speaking on it, is possibly why I’ve had such a hard time blogging for the past few years.  I’ve blamed it on my health, my grief and my pain.  But last week God made it quite clear what the reason was, and told me what to do with it.

Church hurt.

Unfortunately, it’s a term mostly all of us are familiar with.  If you have been a part of a church for any length of time, you have likely either known someone who experienced it, or you’ve experienced it yourself.  It could have been something you were able to easily move on from or it could have caused irreparable damage.

It seems since 2020 we’ve heard story after story of hurt, trauma and abuse at the hands of trusted churches.  Covid, and the subsequent closing of church doors, gave many of us the opportunity to really spend time unpacking religion.  In the process, the trauma we had experienced rose to the surface.

Many of us lifelong churchgoers invest a lot of our lives into the work of the church.  We serve.  We teach.  We give.  We clean.  We show up early and stay late.  We intertwine our lives with those of the church body.  We don’t do this for recognition, but out of our love for Jesus.

When the church you attend feels like home, being wounded by those you considered family hits differently.  It stings more, cuts deeper and lasts longer.  Sadly, many of us have experienced that deep hurt.

The road to healing feels long and exhausting and at times impossible.  It’s full of questions, doubt and oh-so-many tears.  You make your way through what feels like every emotion…anger, grief, shock, sadness, fear, confusion and so many more.

But, then God.

Though the road to healing is long, there is hope.  It’s the hope we can only find in Jesus.

The way forward hasn’t been easy, or quick, but it has been filled with God’s grace.  God is gracious toward us in suffering, and He works graciously in us through suffering.  His grace empowers us and gives us the ability to go beyond what we could on our own.  His grace shows us how to show love, how to give grace to those who have hurt us and to those in His Body who have had nothing to do with hurting us.

One thing that He has reminded me of time and time again is that the church is fully comprised of imperfect people who have been called together by the perfect one, Jesus.  If we put our faith in people, they will always fail us.  But if we put our faith in Jesus, He never will.  In Matthew 16, Jesus told Peter that He would build His church on one thing.  This one thing wasn’t the perfection of people but the faith they have in Him.

If you grew up in the church as I did, you know we are called to fellowship with the Body of Christ.  1 Corinthians 12:12 says, “For just as the body is one and has many parts, and all the parts of that body, though many, are one body—so also is Christ.”

Jesus experienced hurt from people throughout His whole life and yet He never wavered in His call to be in community.  Just think of that, He never let hurt or anger determine His fellowshipping.  He loved unconditionally and served joyfully despite what His human feelings may have been leading Him to do.

I’m going to be honest, forgiveness isn’t something that comes easily for me.  I have to spend a lot, and I mean A LOT, of time talking to God about it and be very intentional in forgiving someone.  In Colossians 3:13 we’re told “Bear with one another and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.“  We are to offer forgiveness because God has forgiven us.  That one is ouchie, isn’t it?  I have to intentionally choose forgiveness with my entire heart.  I have to put my hurt, anger and brokenness in His hands and leave it there.  When I do, His loving beauty pours in.

When I think of forgiving someone, I’m often reminded of a verse my sweet Dad often quote to me.  When I would be really mad at someone, he’d remind me of Matthew 18:21-22 where it says “Then Peter came up to Him and said, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him?  As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy times seven”.

Though we are called to forgive, that doesn’t also mean reconcile.  Forgiveness and reconciliation are separate concepts, they don’t go hand-in-hand.  The difference between forgiveness and reconciliation is that forgiveness requires nothing from the person we’re forgiving.  They don’t even have to know we are forgiving them.  And forgiveness might look like you walking away.

We are not responsible for other peoples actions, but we are responsible for our reactions.  Our reactions shouldn’t be angry or hateful, though if I’m being honest that is my first gut reaction.  Instead, we should show them kindness even when we don’t want to.  We should offer them grace, be patient and forgiving when it’s easier not to.

If you are also healing from church hurt, I want you to know I understand.  Eventually you will find another church that feels like home when you walk through the doors.  You will find sweet fellowship.  You will smile and raise your hands in praise.  Trust me, but more importantly trust Him.

 

 

Sharing My Testimony

I sat motionless in the pew, listening to all the testimonies being shared.  I nervously shifted my feet back and forth.  Their stories held me spellbound.  They were stories of strength, of sorrow, of pain and of God’s grace.  I knew I would love to share mine.  I had the words planned in my head, but even the thought of sharing made the tears well in my eyes.

I think to understand this, I should share a little about who I am.

I am a heart on my sleeve kinda gal.  Always have been, always will be.

I cry easily and oh-too-often.  I cry when I’m sad, cry when I’m happy, cry when I’m angry and cry when I’m overwhelmed.

I seem to cry at church, a lot.  Sometimes a hymn will remind me of a loved one who has passed away, a prayer will strike a chord in my heart or a sermon will resonate with me and the tears will flow.  I’m often so overwhelmed with God’s presence that tears flow down my cheeks.

I cry when someone tells me a touching story about their lives.  I cry when I share a piece of my heart with another person.  It fills me with waves of sympathy, empathy or gratitude and these emotions often manifest in the form of tears for me.

I’ll cry during a movie I’ve watched 245 times, at the exact same spot, and will continue to cry for the next 100 times I watch it.  PS I Love You…Beaches…The Notebook…Steel Magnolias…big fat tear fest.

I’ll cry at every video of a Granddaughter singing to her Great-Grandmother, at a 12-year-old girl with an amazing voice getting the golden buzzer on Americas Got Talent and at every single video of military homecomings.

I’ll cry listening to a song.  Sometimes it’s because of the lyrics, sometimes the melody.  Sometimes it’s because of a memory the song brings to the surface.  Music is so powerful – a song can truly bring you right back there.

I’ll cry as soon as I hear or see someone else crying.  After the first sniffle, hear a catch in their voice or after I see the first tear I am done.  It doesn’t matter if I know you, doesn’t matter if I know why you’re crying…I’m just here to silently cry along with you.

And since I’m laying it all on the line…yes, I cried when Dumbledore died.  A more accurate statement would be I was a complete sobbing mess at that part in the book.  And Snape, I cried when he died in the book and in real life.

I’ve always been a crier. When I was a little girl I cried when I watched Winnie the Pooh because Eeyore was so sad.  His sadness made me sad for him.  And I cried.  I cried watching the Muppet Movie when Miss Piggy was mean to Kermit.  She hurt his feelings and his sadness made me sad for him.  And I cried.

For years I’ve been horribly embarrassed and ashamed of my tears.  So many times I’ve prayed “Lord, please let me make it through this without crying”.  It never fails though, the tears always flow.  And in the end, I’m left embarrassed that I couldn’t hold myself together.

Then one day, while reading a blog, it hit me.  Maybe these tears are my ministry.  Maybe these tears are my spiritual gift.  I can weep with those who weep, mourn with those who mourn and comfort those who need it.  Maybe my tears can keep them from feeling foolish for their tears.  When I think of my tears, I’m often reminded of Psalm 126:6 Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them.

I’ve always envied those who could boldy share their testimony without tears running down their face.  And since I’m not that girl, I will share my testimony here.

Testimony

I used to think my testimony was comprised of the beautiful story of love and restoration our marriage holds.  I clung to that testimony for years.  And while I’m certain it has a part in it, I believe my true testimony is different.  My biggest testimony comes from my medical journey.

In the fall of 2011 I went in for a routine laparoscopic hysterectomy.  One of the first cuts the doctor made hit a main artery.  A 9 inch incision, 2 units of blood, 1 unit of plasma and 1 unit of platelets later I woke in ICU.  I had nearly died during the surgery.  And during the surgery the doctor also missed a huge cyst on my left ovary.  Four months later I went in to have that removed.

During that surgery, the same doctor put a clip on my ureter and put a hole in it.  Three days later I had emergency surgery for a kidney that hadn’t drained in days.  They installed a stent, hoping that would help the ureter heal.

Over the next 7 months, I had 8 surgeries to replace the stent.  Each one would get corroded and calcified and cause a kidney infection, which would knock me down.  Finally the doctors at the Cleveland Clinic determined I needed a ureter reconstruction.

In October of 2012 I had a 14 hour surgery to repair my damaged ureter.  While they were operating, they also found I had a partial bowel obstruction from adhesions and that was fixed as well.

The surgery was a success!  But sadly, my kidney had too much damage done to it.  It was no longer functioning at all and was causing more harm than good.  In February of 2013 I had my kidney removed.  It was a routine surgery but unfortunately I had a small stroke during it, awaking to a completely numb face on the left side.

Because of all the prior abdominal surgeries, adhesions were growing rampant in my abdomen.  And we found out I have Adhesion Related Disorder.  I’ve had seven robotic lysis of adhesions, and it’s a surgery I will need for the remainder of my life every year or so.

I found out in March of 2018 that I was born with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, a diagnosis that explains so much of my medical journey thus far.  The EDS has caused Intracranial Hypertension (my body produces too much cerebrospinal fluid (CSF) and the pressure within my skull is too high).  The Intracranial Hypertension had also caused stenosis of a vein in my brain, a partially empty sella, hearing loss, the loss of eye sight, memory issues and horrible daily headaches.  And the stenosis of my right transverse sinus also increased my stroke risk (and explains the stroke I had during the 2013 surgery).

EDS also has a laundry list of comorbidities that can go along with it.  Aside from having Intracranial Hypertension, I also have Mast Cell Activation Syndrome, Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, Adhesion Related Disorder and Cold Urticaria.

In June of 2018 I had a stent placed in my right transverse sinus, hopeful that it would reduce the pressure inside my skull but knowing it was up to my brain to see it as a solution.  It didn’t.  And in October of 2018 I had a Ventriculoperitoneal (VP) Shunt placed in my brain.

But because of having EDS, my body doesn’t heal quite right.  And the incision in my abdomen from my shunt surgery didn’t heal correctly, and it created an incisional hernia.  Not only that, but the hernia also pulled my shunt tubing up out of the right side of my abdomen and had it laying on my liver.  I had surgery to correct the incisional hernia and a shunt revision.

In the winter of 2021 I realized many of my high pressure symptoms had returned.  Through some testing, and a visit with my neurologist, it was determined I needed a new VP Shunt placed.

A week or so later, my Dad got sick and entered the hospital.

I had surgery in March of 2021 to replace my VP Shunt.  The surgery went well, praise Jesus!  But a week later I began to feel extremely sick.  It seemed to get worse each day.  It took me weeks to convince an ER doctor to do a bedside spinal tap.  As I was afraid of, I had meningitis.  I was transferred back to the hospital where my shunt surgery had been.  I had three days of some heavy IV antibiotics and was released.  Before being released, a CT scan was done.  And they saw all of my abdominal shunt tubing was out of my abdominal cavity and sitting below my skin.  Surgery to fix that was scheduled for a month later.

This was the same time my Dad entered a nursing home.  At least now we would be able to go visit with him.  Because of the hospitals Covid protocol, only my Mom could visit him there.  My kids, my husband and I got to spend some precious time with him.  Time we will always treasure!

My Dad was placed on hospice care the Friday before my scheduled abdominal surgery.  He went home with Jesus two days later.  I somehow was able to call on a Sunday, get the right person at the hospital, cancel my surgery for the following day, and get it rescheduled for the following week.  Another God moment!  Since then, I’ve had two more surgeries.  I believe we are at a total of 28 since 2011.

To say those months were hard, and scary, and taxing is putting it mildly.

But, God.

And as I’ve said numerous times, God has me on this journey for a reason that is precious and perfect. And while I may not know His reason, I will praise Him in the midst.

Throughout this entire journey I’ve been reminded time and time again of God’s extravagant love for me.  In the darkest places, I found Him there with me.  Speaking to my heart.  Speaking life into the hurt places.  I’ve learned what it’s like to seek and find Him. I’ve thrown myself at His feet in a teary heap, time after time.  Sometimes moment by moment.  I’ve learned that even in the hard times, He gives us enormous blessings.  I’ve learned joy doesn’t come and go with our circumstances.  But joy can be experienced despite our circumstances.  Joy is a fruit of the Spirit, second only to love, it flows from God, not circumstances.  We have a fundamental need for joy in our lives.  Life without joy is overwhelming, depressing and just plain sad.

God loves all of us extravagantly.  And He’s not finished with a single one of us.  The fact is, He has a sovereign plan that is for good and not evil.  For joy and not sorrow.  He is writing a story of on-going redemption with each of our lives.  Our lives are woven together through seasons.  It’s one person’s season to experience this.  And another person’s season to experience that.  Neither is loved more.  Neither is more dispensable.

Ecclesiastes 3:11 sums up what I’ve felt in my heart in a few simple, powerful words: He hath made every thing beautiful in his time.

His time. His time. His time. HIS TIME.

Joy comes in knowing Jesus, experiencing His presence and trusting His timing.  Joy comes when we fall more in love with the One who loves us most.  To experience joy is to experience Jesus.

So many times we want joy, but not trails.  We want faith, but not testing.

Y’all, I’m going to be honest, I’ve thought many times how much easier my life would be without pain, without surgeries, without loneliness, without heartbreak and without financial hardships.  As crazy as it sounds, I wouldn’t change a thing.

He has me on this journey for a reason, a reason only He knows.  I’ve always thought it could be because someone needs to watch how I walk through these trials.  And because of that, I want to always walk it the best I can while giving God the glory!

God often uses the hard to refine us.  To transform us into the person we were created to be in the first place.  More like Him.

If you are going through a hard season of trials, I encourage you to find joy in the midst of the hard.  While it isn’t always easy, it is always worth it!

And that, my dear friends, is my testimony.  I want to leave you with a hymn I heard on my way home today.  Again, a God moment.  I thought the precious words were fitting for this post.  The song is You’re Still God by The McKameys.

I thought that it would happen to anyone but me
I never dreamed that I would carry this heavy burden on my knees
I never thought that I’d be standing just where I stand today
I’ve never known this kind of heart break I’ve never felt this kind of pain, but….

You’re still God when my eyes have cried a million tears
You’re still God when my last hope has disappeared
You’re still God and I know you’ll make a way somehow
You’re still God and you’re holding me right now

My heart can’t find the answer or the reason for this trial
But, Lord I know your ways are perfect and you’ve been watching all the while
For to me you’ve proven faithful time and time again
And I’m learning Lord to trust you even when I don’t understand