A new season

My heart is healing. Some days are still hard, but all in all, I'm doing better.

I feel like we're entering into a new season of life. Away from the baby stage, and into full fledged childhood. Logan is 5 1/2, and Levi will be 2 (!!!!) in just a few short weeks.  He's been asking to use the potty, and while this is great, it makes me a little sad. Once the baby stuff is gone, it's gone.

We've decided that enough is enough with this trying for another baby madness.
At a certain point I realized that my spiritual health, my view of a loving God, my outlook at the world, was all being severely tarnished each time I miscarried. It took away my joy, my hope. It feels really bizarre not to hope anymore. And yet, it feels right. I still pray, because I don't know how not to pray. I still love Jesus, as confused as I am. I am thankful for passages of scripture that highlight others struggling with their creator. Job is a personal favorite right now.

I know I am like a lot of other Christians, struggling to make sense of why God allows what he allows. I was so terrified to admit my doubts to other Christians for so long, afraid they'd label me a heathen or tell me to stop talking. Instead, when I've shared my concerns and questions, what I've gotten is a "me too" 99% of the time.

So in this new season, this season of trying to find God and trying to feel joy and trying to make sense of my pain, I'm focusing on just a handful of things.

My kids. My miracles. These two little people that drive me to exhaustion every single day. I love them more than life. They remind me that good still exists. That God is real. Because He made them. And they came from me. Which, according to doctors, is a really big deal in my case.

My best friend. My husband. Ten years this December. He's been playing the role of listener for the most part, not offering generic advice but listening as I voice my confusion, my uncertainty. He's been a rock to me during this tough season.

My church. A whole bunch of people that love God but that aren't afraid to admit that they have their own doubts. Their own hurts. Their own set of hard questions. They sent me these flowers the week of the last miscarriage. They've been praying for us for years, ever since this journey started long ago. They've given me hugs and notes and shoulders to cry on.

So my prayer is different now. I no longer pray to grow our family. I pray instead for a new dream. A new passion. I have no idea what that will be. I have no expectations. But as we enter into this new, beautiful fall season, I'm deciding that it's time for me to embrace it. Whatever it may be.