It has been a very long time since I’ve posted anything on here. I have no clue what to even write about or if it even matters anyway. Does anyone still read this when I do post???
Disclaimer: I hated being a “to do list” Christian. That list has been thrown out! ♡Speaking from my heart here.♡
You can spend your whole life trying to be the perfect Christian and completely miss having a relationship with God. God isn’t going to get upset with you if you miss an occasional church meeting or two or three. He’s not going to be mad at you if you don’t read your Bible every single day. He won’t quit telling you how much He loves you if you don’t pray at every single meal. There was a time, not that long ago, when I’d get almost devastated because I’d not read my Bible for a few days or, sometimes, even a couple weeks, or I’d sin in some area and think I’d lost my christianity. The problem was I’d never had it. I’d only been going through the expected actions of a Christian. You really can live “as a Christian” and never actually be a child of God. My best friend, Karen Daily, taught me that. Sometime back I ditched having a “to do list” with God and my relationship with Him has flourished. I don’t pray at every meal but I do pray to him at different times throughout the day. I reached the point that I hate being expected to pray publicly because suddenly I’m trying to think of some “mature” sounding prayer that’s going to make me sound good to everyone in hearing distance. I know there are many who can pray out loud and still speak their heart; I don’t seem to have that capability. God really wants me to be real with Him when I speak to Him, not focused on what so-and-so is going to think of me and my choice of words. God wants me to want to spend time with Him, getting to really know Him, to want Him to be a part of every area of my life. He doesn’t want that to be another item to check off my list every day. I’m even back to truly wanting and enjoying going to church again (there was a time I thought I never wanted to go back). I don’t think God was ever happy about my to do list christianity. I do believe He’s pleased in my growing trust and love in Him.
I bought a wedding dress 3 years ago when I was dating the guy I thought I was going to be spending the rest of my life with. I paid about $400 for that dress and another $70 for a tiara that has genuine Australian crystals in it. When our relationship ended, I spent months going through probably the worst depression period of my life. The wedding dress and tiara were very carefully packed away. Even during a few times, when money got extremely tight and the thought of selling that dress crossed my mind, I’ve never had the heart to sell it. The few times I’ve looked at it packed away, I remember that afternoon of searching through and trying on so many wedding dresses. Each one I’d tried on just didn’t feel or look quite right, even though I didn’t have a clue just what my wedding dress was supposed to look like. Then the sales clerk helped me into one more wedding dress and I knew I’d found the one I’d been searching for. I turned and looked in the mirror and saw someone I’d never seen before.
Keep in mind I grew up with a very damaged view of myself as a result of some very severe abuse during my childhood. Add to that a father who frequently reminded me that I was trash and no good. And you ended up with a woman who saw herself as pretty much worthless. It has taken me a lot of years, a lot of counselors, and a lot of supportive friends to help me move past that and finally be able to have a proper view of who I am.
That day, when I’d just slipped into that one final wedding dress and looked into the mirror, I saw myself in a way I never had before. I saw someone with great value, someone very beautiful, someone desired and treasured by another. I remember thinking this is what a queen must feel like. Three years later I still remember how that moment felt as I looked at myself in that mirror.
Three years ago, when I bought that dress and tiara, I had one very special man on my mind, the man I thought was my prince charming. Tonight, I was thinking though of a different Prince and a different King, One whose bride will be His church. I never want to forget how I felt when I looked at myself in the mirror that day and be reminded that that is how God views us: someone beautiful in His eyes, someone that God desires to have a relationship with, someone that God sees as the treasured creation He has made. It feels like it sounds silly but I’m not sure I ever want to sell that wedding dress.
I am the product of God’s skillful hands. God will never stop loving me. God has intimate knowledge of me and He wants a close, loving, intimate relationship with me. I am who I am for a reason. I am not a mistake and I am not by chance. God knows my hopes and dreams, my joy and my pain, my struggles, my heart, my name. God loves me just as I am.
I feel a little bit like Job right now. I have so many questions for God but no answers. I have yet to turn to God. I’ve had the desire for the last hour to pick up my Bible and read it, but don’t know where to start.
I’m angry. I’m hurting. I’m confused. A very large part of me wants to demand WHY??? Sometimes it feels like God is gently whispering to my soul, calling me to Him, and other times there’s only torturous silence.
Grief is a very complicated thing. I was given the impression last night, by my foster adoption worker, that my home study has been denied. I was speaking with her about my references and she told me they had held a staff meeting regarding my case and that she would not need to check any of my references. She said I’d be receiving a letter soon telling me more.
We were attending the monthly support group meeting and I tried to hide what was going on inside of me. I tried to hide the pain. I wanted to scream and sat in silence instead. I tried to join into conversations a few times. I even laughed at a couple funny stories. I did not want her to know how bad those few words had hurt.
I came home and thought taking the dog for a walk would help; I have no clue whether it did or not. I took pictures of my daffodils. I texted my best friends. Both tried to provide comfort. One called back and we talked for nearly 30 minutes as she put her boys to bed. I cried on her the entire time and apologized repeatedly.
Last night I felt like something in my heart or soul was shattered; today it feels hard inside.
As I’m writing this, I’m sitting on a bed done up in princess bedding, looking at an open closet full of children’s clothing in various sizes, numerous toys, and a small bookcase full of children’s books. And it hurts.
I know I need to trust God in this. I know I need to let go. I feel like I don’t know how. It’s not as easy as just sitting an object down on a shelf and walking away. My heart keeps looking back and wondering what I did wrong, is this some sort of punishment.
Chocolate Peanut Butter Fudge
4 cups sugar
1/2 cup Nesquik chocolate powder mix
1 cup milk
3 tablespoons butter
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 40oz jar of Jif (or other favorite) peanut butter
1. Grease 9×13 pan with butter.
2. Combine sugar, chocolate powder, milk, butter and salt in a LARGE skillet. Cook over medium heat until it reaches a hard boil, stirring constantly. Cook for one full minute once it’s reached a hard boil.
3. Add vanilla extract.
4. Quickly but gently stir in peanut butter until fully melted and blended in – stir constantly!!!
5. Remove from heat, pour into pan, and let set until hardened. If you want to speed up the process of hardening, place in the fridge or freezer. Enjoy
I prayed probably one of the hardest prayers of my life last night. I have wanted to be a mom more than anything. One of my friends told me years ago that she remembered me saying back in high school that I wanted to be a mom. We were talking one day about what we wanted to be or do after high school. Every one else was listing college, the military, places they wanted to go, etc. My friend told me I just simply said I wanted to be a mom. I don’t remember that conversation though.
When I was 19, my sister had her first kid but she didn’t want the work. My mom and I were the ones who fed him, bathed him, changed a million diapers on him, took him to dr appointments, dealt with temper tantrums, rocked him, played with him, encouraged him to learn all of his firsts.
My hardest time with him was when he was 10 months old. He had to stay in the hospital overnight for three consecutive nights. Technically, we could have left him there in the care of the nurses and just gone home but my mom and I didn’t feel right about that. My sister refused to stay with him and my mom asked me to and so I did. We lived a long distance from the hospital so there were no family visits, just me, my nephew, and the hospital staff for three days.
One afternoon he was sitting in his little crib happily playing with toys, I was sitting a few feet away reading a book, and he suddenly let out an ear piercing scream. I looked up and saw him holding the end of a tube they had inserted down his throat and into his stomach. He had ripped it completely out.
Nurses and a doctor came in and they said the tube had to be put back in his stomach. The doctor also said the baby would have to be restrained. I struggled hard with standing by and watching them force him to let them put the tube back down his throat. Then the doctor left and the nurses then proceeded to strap both of the baby’s arms to the railings on each side of the crib.
The baby was screaming and thrashing his head side to side and I completely broke down. I wanted to hold him so badly and I couldn’t even pick him up at that point. I was 20 by then and probably still so inexperienced. The dr had said to restrain him and I remember being afraid that if I said no or tried to undo the restraints that I would be in trouble. My heart was breaking watching the baby being so horribly upset, and I wanted to comfort him so bad, that I did the only thing I could think of: I climbed up in the crib the best way that I could and tried to hold the baby sideways. I think I was crying just as hard as Matt was by that point.
A few minutes later, the same dr who had ordered the restraint walked past the door way and saw what was happening. He screamed for the nurse and got on her severely for strapping the baby down to the bed. It turned out he had meant for her to put some kind of board type restraint on just the baby’s arms, just enough to prevent his elbows from bending so he couldn’t rip the tube back out again. Apologies were made and I spent the rest of that afternoon holding the baby in my lap, rocking him and singing to him.
I do know without a doubt that by Matt’s first birthday, I knew I wanted a baby of my own some day. I never thought then that I’d try to adopt one. My assumption was I’d get married one day and have my own babies. I don’t think I thought a whole lot of it when I hit my 30s and still didn’t have one. Lots of women have babies on into their 30s. Now, though, I’m 40 and there is not one single day that goes by that I don’t think about it. One of my friends told me I’m obsessed with it and she’s probably right. But probably no more obsessed than anyone else who’s hung on to hopes of fulfilling a life long dream for 20 years now.
This is my second attempt at trying to pass DHHR’s home study process. I’m trying to hold onto my hopes but at the same time I also struggle with the fears of possibly receiving a second denial letter. I am currently at the same stage I was at when things didn’t work out the first time.
Up until last night all of my prayers have been spent begging and pleading with God to please, please, PLEASEEEE let this happen, making promises to God that I’ll do everything just right and be the very best mother I can be if He’ll just let me have just one child. I’d love to have more but I’m to the point I’d feel like the most blessed woman on earth if I could have just one.
I’ve tried figuring out what I need to do to finally be worthy of it in God’s eyes, that maybe there’s something I should be doing that I haven’t been and maybe that’s why God hasn’t allowed me a child but something tells me I could live as close to ‘perfect’ as humanly possible and still not have a child.
The small group I attend just finished a study on ‘idols’ that we have in our lives. Anything can become an idol in your life if you put it before God instead of keeping God first. Years ago I thought only statues or little budda figurines could be idols. On a side note, my mom used to have three little budda figurines when I was a kid. I used to think their big fat bellies were the funniest things ever. I’d rub each of their fat bellies, make a wish, and run off laughing to go play with my toys.
My friend, Karen, once accussed me of having idols in my life and I vehemently denied the accusation. I didn’t own any little god statues and I thought the idea of bowing down and praying to one was so stupid. I had the mindset that I’d never do anything like that. Then I learned idols aren’t just gold, bronze, or even little fat bellied budda statues. Idols can be money, possessions, fame… So, then I tried to work on not worshipping money or possessions, the things that I thought were probably my two biggest idols. I realize some people worship certain people, I’ve been guilty of that too. But, I hadn’t thought, before last night at least, that a dream could ever become an idol. A dream that you could become obsessed with, that you would do anything and everything within your power to accomplish. A dream that could even put God on the back burner, only really bringing Him back to the for front long enough to literally beg him for the umpteenth time to please let you have it.
In one sense, my prayers haven’t been wrong. They have been the most sincere, heart outpouring that they could be. I have meant every single promise I have made in them. And, if God chooses to fulfill it, there will be praises to Him that will probably make all other praises pale in comparison. But…
I realized for the first time last night that I have made my life long dream of mothering my own child an idol in my life. I realized last night that I was so honest when I said I wanted to be a mom more than absolutely anything and, that ‘anything’ had come to mean even more than God Himself.
My prayer last night was the hardest thing for me. I told God that I was sorry that I had allowed my dream to mean more to me than He did. I told Him that I knew He knows how badly I want this but He also knows, even more than I do, what is actually best. I told Him that if its necessary for me not to have this deepest desire of my heart in order for me to put Him first where He belongs, then please help me to accept that it isn’t His will. I asked Him to please help me learn to cling to Him and to trust Him irregardless of rather He blesses me with a child or even if He doesn’t choose to. I also asked Him to make His desires the things that my heart desires as well.
One thing I got reminded of this afternoon is that life is what you make it. You can’t always control the events that happen, and seldom ever the people involved, but you can choose what perspective and attitude you choose to look at life through.
After the crazy morning I had, I felt hectic and frazzled. About noon time I decided to change direction and headed to the mall for my walk. There’s a male friend who works there doing advertising for a gutter installation company. I first met him years ago when I started walking at the mall and we’ve become pretty good friends. I sat and talked with him for about an hour, walked a mile and a half inside the mall, came home, sat down, and just watched the snow fall outside my bedroom window for awhile. As I watched the snow fall, I felt a sense of calm and peace.
It felt good to have “gone fishing.”