.A day for magic. (Partially written two days ago.)

Today is one of those days where you're just a bit bored of it all.

I went over to my grandparents this morning, just hanging out and working around the house.  I came home and I wanted to play DA2, but, the Xbox was occupied.  Thus, I did what any sane person would do.   I cleaned the living room and organized all my magazines.  Doesn't everyone do that when they can't play?
Now I'm just bored.

I'd love a day without all the things only adults worry about.  I'm disenchanted with dealing with bills, cleaning, silly humans, jealousy (on my part), clocks, mirrors, and responsibilities of really any kind.  Is anyone really enchanted with any of that? Well no, but that's not my point.

It's a day I wish my vices weren't just that, vices.
I'm in the mood for copious amounts of sugar, dark, dark chocolate, whiskey (let's not get into everyone's views on alcohol), and smoking under comfy blankets on the back porch.
Again, I merely said I'm in the mood for those.  All of those are vices of mine, things I desire.  Okay, dark chocolate isn't a vice, but it went with the rest.

More than anything, I simply want to be carefree for a while.  That's not really a bad thing.
The problem is when, as I used to be, I go to those things for comfort when they don't offer lasting comfort.  They don't fix problems long-term, in fact, a couple, (sugar, my face is looking at you) cause more problems then they are worth.

This isn't really a profound post.  Just thinking out loud.  The obvious profound message would be about Christ being the fulfillment of all our desires.  That is true. As C.S. Lewis puts it:

“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”― C.S. Lewis

(2 days later)

I was in fact talking to a friend about the above tonight.  How just a few months ago, I went through the lesson of God being my number one source of satisfaction for my desire for love.  He, before all, including Somewhere, is my source of that need-meet.

I feel like I candy-coat my faith.  I hope I convey that these lessons were not easy. They included heartbreak, tears, angry yelling in prayer, not really at God but just at it all, and much pain.  I don't skip through life, giggling at butterflies and la-di-dahing how awesome my Savior is.  This faith of mine is hard-fought, fraught with my failures, dirty, real and alive.  It is God come to Earth.  It is Heaven in dust.  It is glorious.

thief.

This week was emotional.  I had been nice and mellow for a while and this week was not mellow. :) I could cry at the drop of a hat over anything.  Honestly.  I dropped a hat and cried.  Okay, not really.  So not honestly.

It was only makeup that saved me from being a blubbering mess at the Thanksgiving dinner.  I'm really hesitant to write this part because of the effect it might have on people around me.  As in, on them being around me.

Tonight, I found out someone is pregnant.  I am good friends with this person so I was thrilled for them.  I really, truly, madly, deeply was.

I also wanted to cry though.
I've been good with announcements until this week.  This week, they have brought tears to my eyes.  It's one of the side effects of pregnancy loss. (While I don't believe I 'lost', this is the title people relate with the most.)   Thankfully, I had done some intense eye makeup and I could hold it together thinking "well, you don't want to be a runny mess, O dummy of Not Wearing Waterproof." Sounds shallow, I know, who would place vanity against mourning pain, but, sometimes you do what you have to do.

I remember being on the other side of it.  I remember not knowing how the news of my pregnancy would affect (or effect? I still don't understand the correct usage) my friends who had gone through miscarriage or infertility.  I wanted to share my joy and, at the same time, not add pain. It's such a tricky, tricky balance.

It seems so selfish too.  How dare my pain diminish your joy.  Please don't view it like that.

You see, it was the taking of joy that broke my heart over and over and over and over again through this.  One of my main thoughts at the beginning of miscarrying after thoughts of Somewhere were "how can I tell my mom? How can I take this from her?"  I felt like a joy thief.  I felt like I was ripping away something precious and beautiful.  I was a destroyer.

I know it wasn't me.  If I had a choice, I wouldn't.  That isn't how it feels though.

The thing that kills me the most, that cuts my heart to shreds is remembering the joy.
My mother's happy screams at the news, my grandfather musing on "having a baby around the house again," my sweet young friend who would talk to Fruit Loop every time she saw me, and had told her parents she was going to be an aunt. (She quickly had to clarify she wasn't saying one of her sisters were pregnant.)  All I could think sometimes was "I'm so sorry for your loss. I'm so, so sorry."

There isn't words for being the carrier of such a knife.

The happiness from others gets replaced with awkwardness, sadness and worst of all, fear.
I feel like a death omen. Like everything a pregnant woman wouldn't want to think about.  That is a hard thing, I mean my name literally means joy. So many people call me "Joyful" as a nickname.

And that is what I am.  My joy doesn't come only from happiness.  It is from contentment and peace in knowing my Savior. To be known.  I may be sad, but, my joy is not gone.  My youngest brother reminded me, when talking about how an artist had sign something to a fan, loosely quoting here: "Life [really] sucks right now. But John 10:10."

"the thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. i come that they may have life and have it adundantly." 

{john 10:10 esv}

I am a follower of the God whose goal is life and life abundant.  I cling to that.

Therefore, while I totally understand the awkwardness, please don't be afraid of your joy.  Don't block us out of the joy out of fear.  I may cry, but know, it will not be tears of pain alone. It will be tears of great rejoicing.  I don't want to be the taker of joy anymore.

I love your joy.

Fight On

You know, I thought about titling this post "Stand" because that will be the end point but the thought that's been in my head is "Fight on, keep fighting, what is your other option? Give in and give up? No. Fight on."

Life is what it is.  I don't think it in itself is either hard or easy.  It's all part of where you are.  It's part of your journey so why worry which difficulty level it is set on.   I've been a bit under the weather and I've been playing Dragon Age 2 while I rested.  It's my first RPG.  I really do love playing it.  That, however, is not my point.

Sometimes, I have to step back if a really hard level has just beaten me over and over again. Ironically, that is where my life is right now.  You take down one thing and a bigger beast steps up.  It can get tiring and overwhelming.  After each battle, you take a step and regroup and pick up the goods and go on.  Some days though, in life, it doesn't seem like there is much stop.  One bill gets paid and you get the call about the next. You get a victory in one area, just to uncover a greater one elsewhere.  It's exhausting emotionally and spiritually.

Lately though, I just keep saying, "Keep on. You will make it out. Keep pushing, keep fighting."

I've never been good at that.  Seeing things through to the end, fighting for the success.

The thing is, I can't win.  Not by myself.  I can't face all life throws at me. My devo has been reminding me every day to refocus on Christ.  In the moments when life is too much, talk to Him, about the problem or not, and it will push that problem to the back in importance.  He can handle it.  He can give you the words to say, the strength to hold strong and the arms to hold you.  He is strong and mighty. There is no one who loves me as He does. (That's a post for another day.)

All He asks over and over in scripture is that we obey, love and stand.

So stand, and in doing so, Fight On.

Source

Baby Blogger

I feel like I am such a baby blogger.  Not in the fact of I blog about babies, just in that I am so young feeling to it all.

I would be lying if I said I don't want to become a successful blogger.
I thrive off comments and views.
That's the trashy truth.
I can get where I check in too many times a day to see if people read.  You might wonder why I would share such a thing. Of course everyone wants their blog to be successful.  That's part of why you do this.  You want others to see your heart.

It's a hard thing. Its hard to constantly weigh your desire to reach out to others, to have them see your heart and feel your love, against a feeling of "am I doing this out of pride?"  I never, ever want to use What Happened as a way to get views.  That is NEVER the case.  I respect my sweethearts far too much for that.

I truly feel God calling me to be a voice to women (and men) who go through pregnancy loss, even this early in my own grief.
I was asked at a ladies' retreat to give my testimony, and I knew in my heart that it needed to be on what happened.  I didn't want to.  Just because I'm a talker (I found out I'm a Sanguine personality... we're not happy unless we're talking) that doesn't mean I like sharing emotions.  I hate crying in front of  others.  It's so naked feeling.  I would rather talk about awkward stuff, something dumb I did, anything! Anything! Anything but to share where I feel broken.
In my begging God to let me out of it, He spoke to my heart: "I didn't do this to a Sanguine so she'd keep quiet."
For some reason I feel an extreme need/drive/desire to speak out. It's more than speak.  Its that my words could carry my heart and envelope other peoples' hearts with the knowledge that someone else has been on a similar (but not identical) road and is there.

All that said, this isn't all I am.
This is not the extent of my being.
I want to be able to continue blogging for a while.  Sometimes about What Happened and other times just about whatever else is making up Didge that day.

On a side note: Be watching for the blog upgrade.  I have chosen a name. :)

Okay.

I've been missing from here for a while.  I had a ladies' retreat last weekend and it just knocked me on my be-hind (because I need you to say it that way in your mind.)  I have since managed to join a lovely sore throat and stuffed up nose to this being of mine.  They are welcome to leave any day now.

I've also been pretty okay lately.

Today is 6 weeks.  It hardly seems possible that it has been that long.  I haven't broken down crying (except during the ladies' retreat) in a week.  There is nothing at all wrong with crying, I have embraced that release, I simply haven't.  I've thought about it.  I've thought about many things that should have made me cry, but nope, not a tear.

I think in part it's because I know it won't change anything.  I still miss those sweethearts.  I still mourn. I just know that dwelling more than I need to isn't going to change anything.  I can't live in that moment.  There isn't life in the past.  To me, a big part of life is the unexplained and unexpected. That doesn't exist in the past.

I don't know how to best put it in words.  I feel like all that was very jumbled.  The basic: I've been gaining some closure.
A friend recently asked, after me reassuring him twice that I meant it when I said I was really doing well, how long it took me to get over it.  I told him I would never really be "over it" but that doesn't mean I'm not okay.
I have found so much good in this, a couple new roles, and I have peace and so therefore I'm really okay.

I'm okay.

The Room

I've been thinking a lot about my heart.

This past week I've been really busy, with work and art for a ladies retreat.  I have had gloriously messy  hands at least three times.  That is a good, good things.  Put a messy medium in my hands and let me create and I'm happy.  Remind me to tell you about my daydreams.

Since my time has been so full, I haven't had as much time to think about anything else, including the sweethearts.    I was musing on that fact the other day and I was struck with a visual.

Picture my heart as a house.  When I found out I was pregnant, my heart was full.  Sunshine and laughter filled every corner.  It was like sitting outside, soft, warm summer sunshine bathing in the green of the leaves on trees surrounding you. It was magical.  Every one of those special "momma smiles" seem to hang on the walls, like so many portraits.  Friends and family are welcomed in, each leaving a note or present.  Even so, there is really only your husband and you and them. You hold them, dance with them and try not to fear over what you will never be able to control.

And then it's different.  The rooms get grey-ier. All hope isn't gone, the colors just change. Laughter drifts out.  You find fingerprints on windows, but can't find the hands.  Its like when you walk in a room that was filled with people and now is suddenly empty and you laugh nervously, wondering what the joke is and when everyone will come pouring back in.

That all slowly changes. The glitter returns. You feel the absence, but it's not as strong.  You look around and notice a room.  Somehow, at some point, you've moved them there.

 I can't pinpoint when it happened.

I can still walk in the room and catch a whiff of sunshine, a touch of warmth.   There's a blanket, giggling and Amelia Bedelia books.  It's just now, they are in there for the most part, where I can visit without being overwhelmed.

I'll still step on the emotional lego from time to time.  That's okay though.  Just because it hurts, that doesn't mean it's bad.

You Gave Up Everything

River: I remember everything. 

I remember too much. 

And some of it's made up, 

and some of it can't be quantified, 

and there's secrets, and...

Simon: Hey, i-it's okay. 

River: But, I understand. You gave up everything you had to find me. 

You found me broken. It's hard for you. You gave up everything you had. 

Simon: Mei-mei, everything I have is right here.

You know, you can argue with me about how Jesus came for God's glory to be made great.  He did. This is truth.  You can talk me to death about theology. I find it has a place and I am not shooshooing it. 

There is something in this quote that screams Jesus to me ever since I was reminded of it the other day. 

He gave up his heavenly throne to walk the earth, God in dust, and instead picked up tools, bread and wooden death. He did so much and when he found me, He found me, us, broken. So broken.  He found His Beloved, His Bride.  She is broken, bruise and beaten down.  I've pictured it before, can I even look in his eyes? Me, who ran away as I was born. Can I even meet his eyes or do I look at them in blatant arrogance. No, it is shame. 

And He found me beautiful.

Just a thought.