It is another gloomy Tuesday. It might be the COVID-19 doom & gloom but honestly I'm almost 100% sure the end of March is NEVER this dark and gray. Any time the sun peeks out I do an actual dance!

I'm sitting here with a mug of coffee, reflecting on the past nineteen days. It's only been a few weeks since I last posted... But it feels like a few years. Amidst a global pandemic, our family endured a terrifying family emergency, completely unrelated to the worldwide crisis. 

On a normal Thursday, while I was getting ready for work, my big brother texted me from Texas and asked if I'd have time to give him a call to discuss some weird symptoms he was experiencing. Praise God I saw the text 30 minutes later, and immediately gave him a ring. It was very quickly apparent to me that he needed to go into the emergency room, pronto. (And yes, his roommate should drive him!)

I was mildly concerned and praying, texting, and checking in continually. He was losing lots of blood, but they couldn't figure from where or why. So they kept observing him and running tests, eventually admitting him to the ICU late afternoon.

By dinnertime, emergency exploratory was being discussed, as he grew weaker & weaker. At this point, my older older brother, on his 35th birthday, had joined Micah in the ICU. So much gratitude that he was there.

By 9:00pm, he had been rushed into surgery, the surgeons going in completely blind, not knowing what they'd be dealing with. At 10:00pm, we received a text to PRAY WITH UTMOST FERVENCY. My big brother was bleeding everywhere, due to ruptured veins from an extremely rare genetic blood disorder he has. There was nothing the surgeons could do at that hospital, they're only hope was to stabilize him enough to fly him to a bigger hospital.

Typing this has me weeping, tears pouring down my cheeks. The emotions of that night are still so raw and real,  2.5 weeks later (feels more like three years, seriously).

No words can describe the emotions of being 1,000 miles away, while your precious brother is bleeding out on a surgeon's table. We were told later it was a total "bloodbath" and the doctor was unable to see what he was doing, because they couldn't suction the blood fast enough. 

(These are the times I regret watching medical shows because I can picture things too vividly.)

I remember kneeling on our bed,  my face buried in the sheets, prostrate before the Lord begging for His mercy & protection over my brother's life. The agony, the grief, the fear... Sounds were coming out of me that had never come out of me before. Justin and I cried out to the Lord together, his words being far more intelligible than mine.

At 10:06pm (I remember the time precisely), I called one of my bestie's, crying so hard she couldn't make out what I was saying. All I really remember saying is, "he's bleeding to death, Emily" and just bawling & bawling. She cried & prayed with me. We hung up... I fell on the kitchen floor and cried & prayed some more.

Shortly after 11:30pm, I spoke with my sister-in-law who was in the ICU waiting room with my older older  brother. At that time, Micah was being loaded onto the helicopter to transfer to the bigger hospital, in *extremely* critical condition, his body only being kept alive by blood pressure medications and blood transfusions. (He had a blood clot in his stomach and bleeding from veins all through his abdomen and esophagus.)  

By 11:46pm the helicopter had landed at the other hospital, where a medical team was ready and waiting. It was a miracle from God that they were able to keep him alive & stable enough to transport him at all. We praised God and kept pleading with Him for further healing.

At 1:30am, a surgical team performed a procedure and put a balloon in to stop the heaviest bleeding. God used that procedure and our prayers and Micah stabilized for the remainder of the night, while still being extremely critical. 

During the night, God brought to mind Psalm 56:3, which I recalled to be one of Micah's favorite when we were kids. "What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee." Amidst the overwhelming grief & concern, this verse brought comfort to my soul.

I finally slept in bits and pieces between 3-6am. Friday was a long weird day of waiting and praying and waiting and waiting and waiting and praying some more. Multiple surgeons were working together to create a surgical plan to try to save my brother's life. We were told it would be an extremely risky surgery but they would try.

Around 3:00pm, I texted one of my younger brothers to say I was putting my phone on Do Not Disturb to try to nap, but to call if there was an urgent update. He texted back and told me I probably shouldn't nap... Immediately my heart started racing, because I knew that meant something big had happened.

I gave him a call and he was weeping... He hadn't heard the details yet, but he had been told that the surgeons determined there was nothing they could do. Nothing. NOTHING. I collapsed to the floor, half on carpet, half on hardwood, in front of our little coffee station. I was weeping so hard I couldn't speak or breathe.

Justin joined me from the other room and we put the phone on speaker and Justin prayed with me, my little brother, and his wife. We all decided we needed to gather at Dad & Mom's house, with the remaining two siblings that had not yet flown to Texas (our parents had already flown down as well).

I jumped in the shower and we made arrangements for our baby girl and dog. An hour or two later, we sat with my two little sisters and shared with them the grim news... Doctors said it was terminal and there was nothing they could do. Holding them while they sobbed and cried out to Jesus was one of the hardest things I've ever done. My baby sister is especially close with Micah and it was heart-wrenching to participate in her grief, amidst my own. 

My brother, Caleb, and his wife & baby girl arrived and we had a conference call with Dad. We all cried SO MUCH. After we hung up, we immediately put plans into action to get to Texas via road trip, because two of us were unable to fly (health reasons). We borrowed a mini van, got our baby girls ready to leave with family members, packed our bags, and hit the road around 11:00pm that Friday (13th), driving into the night, before stopping for a few hours of sleep in a crap hotel.

God showed up in SO many details... A spacious minivan to use at no charge, cash from friends for gas & hotels, childcare and dog care for both girls & puppies, snacks for the road, an iPass, friends to get our mail & care for our home, and prayers from hundreds.

Shortly before midnight Friday, we received our first tiny glimmer of hope, when a different specialist presented a potential game plan to try to bring Micah back from this. It was the tiniest bit of hope, but it was something, and we prayed fervently.

Amidst our travels Saturday, the concerns, precautions, and news surrounding COVID-19 were spreading faster than wildfire. Being immunosuppressed and extremely high risk for anything like this virus, it was insanely stressful having to go in and out of dozens of dirty public restrooms, eat from restaurants, and sleep in hotels. (The day before we left, I had officially started my own personal quarantine, before most of the country, due to being high risk.) God was teaching me whole new levels of surrender and trust, as I was literally unable to do anything about being exposed to so many germs (besides constant hand-washing and sanitizing everything in the van over and over).

Also on a personal note, I was having a horrible "Crohn's day" Saturday and we had to stop constantly for my tummy. I am so grateful for all my siblings love, understanding, and care. There wasn't a single complaint.

Around 7:00pm Saturday, our van full of siblings/spouses was sitting next to a gas pump in Springfield, MO, when we received further bits of hope. The new specialist had done a procedure/testing and discovered things were far better than the day before. God was working miracles in Micah's body behind the scenes, while people all around the world, prayed on behalf of him and our family. I am crying tears of gratitude right now while I type this... No words in the world can begin to express how grateful we are to each and every single person who prayed.

By 10:30pm that night we crashed at a (much less crappy) hotel somewhere in Oklahoma and got some much needed hours of sleep, followed by a slow morning of taking time to shower, get some necessities from Walmart, etc., allowing those of us with health issues a bit of time to heal & recoup.

On Sunday, God blessed with amazingly smooth travels! It was a night and day difference from Saturday... We were able to travel for hours at a time without stopping. Plus, the mood in the van was filled with much more hope for Micah's recovery, than it had been the previous day of driving. We laughed, got yummy takeout, and cruised... At lunch time we got a photo of Micah, signing "I love you". I cried. Later, we even got to hear his voice on speaker phone! (And I cried some more.)

My dad sent the song "Do It Again" to our family group chat Saturday afternoon.... These are the lines that struck my heart the most, bringing instant tears:

And again, as COVID-19 concerns increased, so did our concern at being separated by a thousand miles and multiple state lines from our daughters. We had hoped and prayed Micah might get to come home while we were all still there, but God had other plans and we trusted Him for that.

Thursday morning (19th), we loaded up the van, and started the long trek back to Wisconsin, via a different route to avoid the state lines most likely to shut down. God again blessed us with safe, smooth, and (mostly) healthy travels. We crashed for the night in Kansas City sometime around 11:00pm, in a weird smelling hotel with a heater that rattled so badly Justin took it apart and put it back together - ha. (Also, Justin happened to "sniffle" his nose while checking in, and the gloved receptionist immediately asked if he was sick. So so crazy to travel while the whole world was shutting down, due to a pandemic.)

It's later afternoon on this Saturday.

The birds are singing, the sun is shining, and it's a balmy 44 degrees outside.

I'm enjoying the warmth of the sun rays and the songs of the birds from my cozy bed, while a chilly breeze blows in through the open window.

Crohn's disease (and all its side effects) and medications (and all their side effects) continue to make me very, very ill.

The pain is often unbearable. The nausea, overwhelming.

The clinical anxiety is a continual monster to battle. The raging hormones, a force that is hard to beat.

And so I change my focus to today, to right now, to God's grace, strength, and joy for THIS moment, no matter how painful.

And yet, after almost two years of a horrible Crohn's flare, following a challenging pregnancy, delivery, & postpartum, I do have to find an answer for the looming question, "What if I never get better? Ever? What if the Crohn's doesn't go into remission again? What if the remaining few meds to try don't work? What if all this time and money on natural, holistic solutions is just a waste?"

And the answer to this question is this: My hope is in the Lord, who made the heavens and the earth. (Psalm 121)

For you, O Lord, are my hope,
    my trust, O Lord, from my youth.
Upon you I have leaned from before my birth;
    you are he who took me from my mother's womb.
My praise is continually of you.
​Psalm 71:5-6

Where is my identity? Is my identity in my illness? Is my identity the "sick wife", "sick mom", "sick coworker", "sick church member", "sick friend", "always, always a sick woman"?

No. My illness is not my identity. My identity is in Christ. I am a new creation. Old things are passed away, He is making all things new; even when it feels like He isn't; even when it feels like all of life is consumed with the "old" illness I have battled for half my life (crazy, btw). 

When it has been twenty months in a row, of intense physical pain & suffering, of severe levels of depression and/or anxiety, of more nausea than most people have in a lifetime, of more tears than could possibly be counted... Who am I then? And who is God to me?

I am a daughter of the King of kings and Lord of lords. He gives me the power to overcome, even when the physical maladies are out of my power to overcome. I can be an overcomer because His Spirit lives inside of me and life is so much bigger than physical health. Physical health (or lack thereof) is a HUGE part of life here in this life before eternity... And it DOES affect every part of every area of life. It just does. 

But I have the strength of Christ, when I am weak. I have the hope of eternity and no more pain or tears, even when things *feel* hopeless.

Should this illness only progress, instead of get better, I know that death has no grip on me because of Christ's sacrifice on the cross and His resurrection from the dead, defeating death itself.

This thorn in my flesh is temporary and does not affect who I am in Christ. And also, it doesn't make me a bad wife, a bad mom, a bad friend, etc. It makes it so I can't nearly always be the wife, mom, friend, volunteer, etc. that I WANT to be. But illness does not equal failure. It just doesn't. It is something God has ordained and allowed for His purposes and my eternal good. So whether I find healing in this life or not until the next, I am safe and secure in Christ and His plan for my life... Even when that means not being able to do a fraction of the things that I would *like* to do in this lifetime. 

While I daily learn to more deeply trust the Lord and rest in His plans, I also have responsibilities... 

...being diligent in exposing my heart to the reading & study of God's Word.  Joshua 1:8  Romans 15:4  Psalm 119:10-11
...praying faithfully and fervently, even when God seems silent.  1 Thes. 5:16-18    1 Chron. 16:11
...doing all things without grumbling or complaining (ALL things... yikes).  Phil. 2:14-16
...being content with living a "smaller" life, due to incredibly high health expenses (and not coveting what others have).  Exodus 20:17
...choosing gratitude, always.  Eph. 5:19-20  
...working to the best of my ability, as my health allows. Col. 3:23-24
...crying when I need to cry and pouring out my heart honestly before the Lord.  Psalm 62:8
...choosing to REST (even when it's the last thing I want to do).  Matt. 11:28-30  Psalm 127:2
...focusing on the good and lovely and beautiful, amidst the pain and ugliness. Phil. 4:8-9

And so I simultaneously fight and trust, work and rest, give thanks and weep, pray and read.

God's faithfulness and love remain strong and true, even amidst the ups and downs, victories and failures, trials and triumphs.

It is now 3:00 on Sunday afternoon and the sun is even warmer. A 55 degree breeze is blowing my sheer living room curtains... Birds are chirping, woodpeckers are pecking, people are walking their dogs, and I'm so grateful for this taste of the upcoming spring. My sisters will be here soon to play outside with Emmy and me. We'll blow bubbles and play frisbee with the dog and maybe go for a walk. We will deeply inhale the fresh air, laugh, and catch up on our weeks. 

And I'm so grateful. For the mess, mayhem, and magic... All of it.

It's an average September Wednesday. Sun is shining, air is warm, kids are in school. Justin is at work, I'm at home with Emery, during one of my days off work.

But it doesn't feel average. It feels very way crazy super far below average. It feels like pain and anguish that will never end. It feels like exhaustion deep in the bones. It feels like sleepless nights and sinus infection and fevers and snotty noses that won't stop. It feels heavy and dark and too much.

And so, I was the almost-thirty-year-old-girl, crying at the hospital reception desk (but at just one of the four reception desks I visited today, thank goodness). The desperation suddenly leaked out of my eyelids and down both my burning cheeks. It was embarrassing and humbling and hiccupy. 

This Crohn's flare has been raging in my body for thirteen+ months. There have been delays and detours and a surgery and unfit doctors and insurance denials that have brought us to where we are today. And where we are is far from ideal, with far from desirable doctors, and less than desirable options.

But my body is failing. Rapidly. I am a depth of ill that is hard to describe. I have tears and snot pouring down my face while I try to type this. It's hard to describe the pain & suffering in a believable way, 99% of people see the smile I put on, the carefully done makeup to hide the swelling and dark circles, the quick steps I take in the office during my Tuesday and Thursday work hours to keep my job, the (shakily) standing and worshiping on Sunday mornings (if I drag my weary body out of bed in time). They see the smiling filtered photos on Instagram of enjoying beautiful moments with my beautiful little family. 

And to be honest, people don't need to understand. Ultimately, it doesn't matter who does or does not believe me when I say I'm ill. I try my darnedest to maintain a "normalish" life, to find joy each and every day, to not miss the precious memories with the people I love.

But sometimes, no amount of willpower or self-control can stop the hot exhausted tears of pain & defeat. Enter said embarrassing moments like the one above, to the left of the elevator, on level two of the local hospital.

Last night, as I laid in bed at 10:30 in uncontrollable abdominal pain, while the tears poured into puddles on my pillow, I spoke statements about God over and over in my head.

God is good.

God is merciful.

God is kind.

God is healer.
 
God is faithful.

God is strength.

It doesn't matter if it *feels* like He is good, like He is kind, like He is healer. The facts remain.

And those facts, those promises, those attributes of my Father, those are what keep me going. There is no where else I can put my hope. Where else can I go with my anguish and weeping? My husband is the most amazing man alive, and even his arms can't contain the amount of tears and the weight of suffering.

Last night, these words of Jesus were also going through my head, as I had read them that morning as part of my Bible reading plan. "I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”

Christ has overcome every bit of darkness and tribulation and suffering. It doesn't mean He takes it away when we want Him to but He does promise ultimate victory. I know that, whether in this life or the next, I will be set free from the pain, free from the suffering, free from the stress, free from the financial burden of chronic illness.

Also? Each day I'm (mostly) choosing to also be a joy-hunter. Life is never all bad. There is always something good and beautiful. And honestly, when I pause and reflect and give thanks, the good actually far outweighs the bad. Right now, the bad is urgent, it is fiery, it is violent, and it is always present in my life. 

But so much beauty and joy abounds amidst the suffering.

A giggling spitfire of a toddler.

A loving husband.
 
Beautiful fall weather.

Warm apple crisp & vanilla ice cream.

Homemade soup & bread from a bestie.

Twinkling unscented candles.

Diffusing warm & spicy fall essential oils.

Time to read and study the Word.

Nightly prayers with Justin.

Drop in visits from sisters.

Playtime with cousins.

Crunching leaves.

The list goes on... But my head is pounding and my eyes are aching so I will end with that. To my fellow friends on this life journey, take heart. The big, bad, fiery painful things are not too much for our Father. And He sends abundant blessings beyond what we deserve.

It is now nap time and I'm back to wrap this up. A double batch of Justin's favorite chocolate chip banana bread is in the oven and the aroma fills the whole house. Banana bread is one of his love languages and speaks directly to his soul. I have cinnamon banana coffee cake half-made, to bring as a treat to the office in the morning. (I had tons of overripe bananas... Obviously.) I need to do my quick fifteen-minute home & laundry maintenance routine and then Emery will be awake again. 

I'm thankful that God is good and gracious and kind. Every single day. No matter the circumstances, He doesn't change and His light shines through.

​Happy Hump Day, loves. ​

It's dinnertime on a freezing December Sunday. I'm home ALONE, which pretty much never happens. I honestly didn't even really want to pull out my MacBook and write because for MONTHS now, I have only completed half drafts of heartfelt blog posts, never getting back to finishing them (life with baby + chronic illness). 

But tonight, I'm ignoring the washer that just beeped, reminding me to switch the cloth diapers to the next wash cycle. I'm giving myself full permission to post this without editing it, without adding lots of pretty pictures. I have my vitamin packed electrolyte water in my Mason jar to my left and an almost-gone box of organic bunny grahams to my right, feet propped up on the couch in front of me. This is where I will stay, unless I need to run to the bathroom (again). #lifewithCrohns

Friends, I am weary and worn. My body is battered and broken. Autoimmune disease is a horrible beast. The postpartum storm continues. And ten days ago, I had abdominal surgery to remove my gallbladder & do a bit of exploratory looking at my intestines.

Chronic illness has been part of my life for roughly 14 years (basically half my life). It has been a daily battle, a continual fight, a familiar "friend" (or more appropriately, a familiar foe). I have fought and fought HARD. I have done research, gone way outside traditional Western medicine, gone straight through the traditional Western medicine route, been on huge mega drugs, felt the raging effects of steroids, tried a bajillion diets and supplements and "formulas", been on liquid diets more times than I can recall, spent days and nights and weeks in hospitals, had more colonoscopies than most people have in a lifetime, fluctuated 60 pounds in my weight, etc.

And most recently, I have grown, birthed, and breastfed a little human. It has broken me in ways I can't even put into words (and not just physically). It is the most brutal and beautiful thing I have EVER done. My Em J is six months old now and no words in the world could describe my love for her. (Note to new momma friends: we don't all feel this huge fuzzy & overwhelming love & bond right away when baby is born; sometimes it takes time...and I'm here to tell you that's okay because I wish someone would have warned me and told me it's okay. xoxoxo.)

Pre-pregnancy, I was in the best health I'd been in for YEARS. I had been rebuilding my health, thanks to my nutritional online grocery store, for years & years and could hardly believe the quality of life I was able to live. I still had Crohn's, don't get me wrong, but it did not dominate my life.

Fast forward fifteen months later, after a pregnancy & postpartum, and my body is the most broken it's been in years & years. In a moment of honesty with my sister tonight, I told her I feel like giving up. 

It's hard for me to say that out loud. I am a FIGHTER, I KEEP GOING, I DON'T QUIT. My normal attitude is I will kick Crohn's in the BUTT. I am Naomi and this is what I DO.

But right now? I am so tired. I am so exhausted on every single level. I am brokenhearted over how my illness affects my little family. I am crushed that my breastfeeding journey is almost over with my precious squishy baby girl (something I didn't want to end until at LEAST age one, if not age two).  I am mentally fatigued on a level I haven't felt ever before in my life... parenting, marriage, illness, surgery, finances (and the most recent addition, dealing with identity theft, starting the day after my surgery...insert angry emoji).

Why do I say all this? Am i just having a venting party? A woe-is-me fest? 

No, I say this because I know I have many friends dealing with illness... Friends dealing with hard things... Friends who are weary, worn, and worked to the bone. Friends who are just so. dang. tired. Our details may be different, but I feel your brokenness, your exhaustion, your despair. I cry hot stinging tears right alongside you.

And to those friends (and to myself), let's remember... 

Jesus is STRENGTH. He tells us to come to HIM with our weariness. He promises rest for our SOULS.

Jesus is VICTORIOUS. He wins every. single. time. When it feels like we're "losing" in the trials of life or to the evils of this world, He is using it for His glory and our eternal wellbeing. 

Jesus is LIGHT. I am all too familiar with darkness... Sleepless hours during the night, depression, drowning in overwhelm, and the utter darkness of defeat. He is the Light of the world and the Light of our own heart. He comes in and pierces through the layers of black darkness, with His conquering light.

Jesus is JOY. In the depths of pain, the joy of His presence (however intangible) can keep our faint heart going, even if it's just for the next fifteen minutes. In daily life, I find that He sends numerous "little" joys, no matter the depth of pain. Fresh clean laundry, Christmasy essential oils in the diffuser, my favorite fuzzy snowflake pajama pants... huge smiles from my baby, a game of Farkle with the hubby, snuggles from our beautiful golden retriever. We HAVE to be joy seekers and joy finders. We MUST.

Jesus is HEALING. This one is hard for me to truly believe in the depths of my soul sometimes. But it is true. He is the Great Physician. He does not always heal the way we want, when we want, how we want. 

Jesus is LIFE. He literally keeps us alive. He keeps our hearts beating, our brain wires firing, our liver detoxing. And of much greater importance, He alone gives us spiritual life. If we're honest, even after He creates a new heart within us, we can feel dead inside at times. We must fight this. We must speak the truth to our hearts extra loud during these times. We cannot live based on the feelings, we have to live based on the truth, the Living Truth, Jesus Christ and His Word. Let's preach the Gospel to ourselves daily... one of my favorite ways to do this is to have audio Bible going on my iPhone while I clean, do my makeup, drive, etc. 

Jesus is ENOUGH. His presence, peace, strength, comfort, care, love, etc. are the only things we are promised we'll never lose. We may lose our health, we may lose our homes, we may lose our savings accounts, we may lose our loved ones, we may lose our reputation, we may lose our physical life. We must not be dependent on anything or anyone besides Christ Himself. He often lives, works, and loves through other humans. He often provides financially through jobs & hard work. He delights in giving us good gifts. But this life is temporal. This life is lived in a fallen world. This is probably the "point" I struggle with the most in my daily life. I jump on social media to numb my brain. I'm moody and stressed if life doesn't allow us to keep up on housework and things are a mess. I am disappointed when my husband doesn't fulfill my unspoken expectations. I get frustrated when my baby is cranky & difficult for "no reason". Anything and everything outside of Jesus will let us down and leave us longing. In both the good times and the bad, Christ alone can satisfy us and meet our needs. And He promises us that He will.

It's Friday, friends. Can I get a woot woot? 

Ah. The weeks are extra long right now, even though my "work weeks" are the shortest they've been in about seven years.

Hauling around a baby girl in my belly ,who is hanging very low for only being 28 weeks, is exhausting.

(Plus all the other pregnancy / health issues but that's not what this post is about.)

This particular Friday has gone nothing like planned. But I'm rolling with the punches and smiling through it all.

That's a pretty big win for me. Just ask my hubby.... I struggle to be a "roll with the punches" kinda gal.

Best part of the changed plans and appointments, is being "stuck" in the town 20 minutes away, where we run errands. I'm in the middle of a few hours to run to Target and then get lunch at a the coolest local coffee & lunch spot. My chicken avocado ciabatta sandwich is being made as I type and this hungry momma can't wait.

This morning, as one plan after another fell apart, I made the conscious choice to let go of "my" plans for the day.

The seven loads of laundry can wait to be folded.

The entire house that needs scrubbing can wait until next week.

The clothing organization project won't go anywhere.

Justin and I were talking last night about how temporary this life is; how temporary our beautiful in-process home is; how an "imperfectly colored" recliner doesn't matter; how driving an old beater care means nothing, in light of eternity.

It wasn't a morbid conversation, it was a healthy discussion on not getting so caught up in the things of this world.

Because, dang, it is so easy to lose sight of an eternal perspective.

As I work daily to prepare our home, freezers, etc. for the arrival of our baby girl, may I not forget to prepare my heart to be a mother.

As we spend weekends and hard-earned overtime money to fix up our house, may we not forget to fix up our hearts in preparation for an eternity spent after we breathe our last.

As I work hard to plan & prepare healthy food for our bodies, may i not forget that these bodies are only temporary.

​I sit hear surrounded by the chatter of a lovely cafe. Upbeat chill music plays in the background. A glass of cucumber & citrus infused water to the right of my MacBook. 

My delicious looking chicken-avocado-bacon-spinach-tomato-onion-homemade-avocado-ranch-dressing-on-toasted-ciabatta-bun sandwich just arrived, along with salty kettle chips & a pickle spear. I'm in pregnant momma food heaven.

And while I ponder on eternity, I'm overwhelmingly grateful for the gifts of today, in this short life.

This life is so painful. It's filled with endless trials. Even as I sit here thoroughly enjoying eating & writing, I pray specifically that the food won't cause another bowel obstruction and that the lighting won't trigger another massive migraine. I pray for energy & strength after another difficult and pain-filled night. I pray that God will uphold my health enough to enjoy a lovely baby shower for Emery tomorrow, that my beautiful mom & bestie & little sisters are hosting.

Beauty and pain.

Good and bad.

Fun and horror.

Laughter and tears.

This is the dance of this temporary life. Little glimpses of heaven & eternal joy, mixed in with the moaning and groaning of living in a fallen world. 

I am grateful for all of it. Do I *feel* grateful every moment of everyday? No. Definitely not. An "attitude of gratitude" has become an overused cliche but i do believe it is a biblical concept.

God uses every single detail of this life for His glory and our eternal good. Who am I to think I know better? Who am I to not give Him thanks and praise, no matter what may come my way?

I say this with a bit of fear and trepidation. God has tested me on this before, is testing me on it now, and I know will test me on it in the future. 

There are times I am gripped with fear, when I wonder what God will ask of me in the future. In those times, I remind myself of His faithfulness so far. His words of promise, comfort, and strength, which have proven so true over the past nearly three decades of my life, will not change. They will not fade away.

And that, my friend, increases my joy and faith. It helps me enjoy the gifts of today, without fear of tomorrow. It helps me endure the pain, knowing there will be a day with no more pain.

I am grateful for today.

I look forward to tomorrow.

​And I eagerly await our forever home with Jesus.

Weary. It's a word I've been thinking on a lot this week, largely because it's the best word I can come up with to describe how I feel at 6+ months pregnant. 

It's how I feel on this Thursday morning, after another rough night of pain & not nearly enough sleep.

Weary. Hot mess. Crazy pregnant momma. Delirious. Foggy. 

All of these would work to describe me myself and I this morning.

All week God has been surrounding me with scriptures that speak on weariness, anxiety, and fear (funny how all three go hand-in-hand). 

This morning it was the reminder that no matter how weary I may become, my God will never ever grow weary. Ever. His strength has no end and no limit.

A couple days ago it was the reminder to go to Him with my weariness. I have a tendency to forget to do this, instead wallowing in overwhelm and hopelessness. But He promises REST when we humble ourselves and go to Him. Sometimes "rest" won't look exactly like we want it to (i.e. a full night's sleep) but He is the source of true rest: spiritual rest.

There are all kinds of weariness in this journey of life. Whether we are married, single, working long hours, unemployed, have little ones running around, struggling with infertility, you name it: weariness is real.

Physical weariness from endless pain.

Emotional weariness from any sort of trial & struggle. (Also the amplified emotional weariness when you add raging preggo hormones. Just saying.)

Spiritual weariness, when fighting the attacks against our soul.

Relational weariness during difficult times in marriage, family, etc.

Mental weariness, when the huge decisions are endless and the way is murky & confusing.

​Financial weariness, when the medical bills show up in the mailbox every other day and a baby is on the way and the house needs fixing up.

Weary.

Exhausted.

Overwhelmed.

Done.

Do any of these words resonate with you? Can you relate?

We all go through these seasons. Sometimes the seasons last longer than others.

But no matter the season, no matter if it's an exhausting week or an exhausting decade, our God remains the same.

His mercy never grows weary and it is new every morning.

He does not weary of showing His faithfulness, for it is great.

Our heavy burdens are never tiresome to Him. He tells us to come.

So amidst extreme weariness of many kinds, my soul can find rest at the foot of the Cross, in the arms of my Savior, and on the chest of my Heavenly Father.