The Gift of Struggle

It all started when I was reading through my news app on my phone the other day and I came across this article where Rob Lowe reflected on "the gift of alcoholism" (now is probably the time to fess up and tell you that I have NO IDEA who this Rob Lowe guy is, so if he turns out to be some porn star when you Google him, don't blame me. I warned you!). At first, I was a little setback by him calling alcoholism a gift. I mean, it's a mental illness. It's an addiction. A gift? Doesn't he know how many lives are destroyed by overconsumption of alcohol? But, then I got to the part of the article where they quoted a part of a speech he gave- and suddenly...I understood.

"Being in recovery has given me everything of value that I have in my life," Lowe told the crowd. "Integrity, honesty, fearlessness, faith, a relationship with God, and most of all gratitude. It's given me a beautiful family and an amazing career. I'm under no illusions where I would be without the gift of alcoholism and the chance to recover from it."

It's the same idea that I've been taking about all this time- the idea that sometimes the best things in life come from lessons learned in the darkest night of the soul.

After I read the article, things just kept popping up in my daily life that seemed to reiterate this idea. Multiple articles on gratitude and being grateful seemed to show up on my Facebook newsfeed- people thanking God for "blessings in disguise".  It was then that I realized that I was receiving what many wise Christians in the faith have called a "God wink". There was clearly something that God was trying to teach me through all of this- and I decided that I needed to use the time that I had to think about what lesson he might be trying to teach me in this given moment.

To be completely honest (since I place a high value on being honest on this blog), I've been struggling with antenatal depression throughout (more often than not) this pregnancy. It's something that I just don't hear people talk about- so it brought a fair amount of shame to me. I mean, I've heard of postpartum depression. I knew that based on my history, it was something that I needed to look out for after the baby comes. But antenatal depression? I'd never even heard of that! After all- pregnancy- this is supposed to be an exciting time! I am excited, very excited- after all, this was a very planned and very wanted pregnancy. But since the beginning, I've suffered from extreme, debilitating morning sickness. Some days it is better, some days it is worse. On the days where it is better and I am able to get out of bed for a majority of the day and get stuff done around the house- things are good. I am happy. I am content. But, on the days when the nausea and vomiting is relentless and I've tried every medication that the doctors have prescribed- I can get very very down on myself. When this happens for days on end...it can be quite difficult. Last weekend, we spent Saturday night in the ER getting rehydrated, since I hadn't been able to keep fluids down in 24 hours. Hypermesis has been thrown around, but I don't fall anywhere near the severity for that, so it has kind of been a waiting game, trying to figure out how to make things better. Sometimes, it gets very difficult to celebrate this pregnancy, especially when I remember that I still have 29 weeks left!

I am blessed though, that I have an incredible support system. I have a husband that is willing to drop anything and everything to make sure that I am safe. I have a husband that is willing to call the psychiatrist office for me, make the appointment for me, and bring me to that appointment. When the anxiety and the depression build up, I have a spouse that will step in and meet my needs. T is so supportive about everything- and I'm grateful that I married a man like that. Thanks to the hard work, we were able to meet with a psychiatrist on base this last Monday for a medication adjustment, and other than being very very drowsy all of the time- it seems to be making a difference. The dark thoughts aren't quite as dark anymore, and I'm grateful for that.

Last Friday, I was browsing on Facebook and I came across a blog post that the organization To Write Love on Her Arms posted for Suicide Prevention Week. I'd encourage you all to click over and read the post in it's entirety, but for now, I'm just going to summarize what really stood out to me. The post is about endurance, and what "endure" means. When I think of endurance, I normally think of an athlete or someone running a marathon. I think of them having the strength to make it to the end- on their own, by their own power, without help. But, I'm beginning to realize that maybe it isn't about doing it on our own. The author of the post discusses three definitions of the word "endure":

1. "To suffer patiently"- I tend to get caught up on the word "patience". I am terrible about being patient- I am like a five year old, that desperately wants to grab the marshmallow on the shelf, rather than wait five minutes and get two. At first, I was like- well, there we go. I guess I can never endure anything. But then, I saw the definition of "patience"- it means "bearing pain, being tolerant, and persevering". Well, I am bearing the pain, I'm tolerating it, I'm not acting out or using behaviors. I guess you could even say that I am "persevering". If the act of suffering, the act of putting up with the pain, is a form of being patient- maybe I am a patient person.
2. "To remain in existence"- I am still here. After all of the illness and sickness over the years- I haven't given up. I am still here. Even through this difficult pregnancy- I have made it to eleven and a half weeks- that is a huge accomplishment. I may not be pain free- but I am still existing. 
3. "To undergo a hardship without giving in"- There have been many times over the last eleven weeks that I have felt like resorting back to old behaviors would make things easier to handle. There have been many, many temptations- many, many opportunity to act out without getting caught. But, I haven't. I have stayed on track. I am trying to eat a balanced diet. I am caring for myself. I am not harming myself. I am not giving in to the urges.

When I look at these definitions, I realize that even though I might not be running marathons- I do have endurance. I also realize that endurance is not about surviving until the end under your own power or strength. In order for me to "suffer patiently", "remain in existence", and "undergo hardship without giving in"- I need other people. I need to reach out and ask for help if I need it. Asking for help doesn't put an asterisk next to my name when I finish the race. We need each other. We need community. We need to be able to be open and honest about our struggles, because then we are allowing others to come beside us, be a part of our story, and give and receive gifts. Gifts don't have to be tangible objects. Sometimes they might be a pat on the back, or a warm hug. Sometimes a gift is a kind word of encouragement. Sometimes a gift is someone sitting in silence while you pour your heart out and cry out every tear in your body. Back in the beginning of the post, Rob Lowe said that die to alcoholism, he received the gifts of "integrity, honesty, fearlessness, faith, a relationship with God, and most of all gratitude". In my journey, I have received many gifts as well, but I think that the one that I'm just now open to receiving is gratitude. 

• I am grateful for the Hell that I've been through, because now I can enjoy life that much more. 
• I am grateful that I have discovered my imperfections, because now I can celebrate in being imperfect- and I can allow God and others to step in my life and help me- because I don't have to do this by my own power anymore. 
• I'm grateful for this pregnancy. I'm grateful for the opportunity to carry this child in my womb, for however long God sees fit. I'm grateful that I've gotten to see our precious baby on an ultrasound machine, and I've heard his or her heart pumping away like crazy. I'm grateful that I can receive quality prenatal care from a team of wise doctors, nurses, and midwives. I'm grateful for the invention of medication that can help curb the nausea and stop the vomiting. I'm grateful that my husband hasn't given up or gotten too annoyed by my whining yet. I'm grateful that in two days, I will be twelve weeks pregnant- and I'll only have 28 more weeks to go. :)

Maybe struggle is a gift after all. It helps us realize that we are not alone, that we are not an island. It helps us accept the fact that we are pretty much powerless, and we need others- we need a mighty God in heaven to save us. We need a God that won't just stay up on a big throne up in the sky, but rather one that will come down to Earth and save us from ourselves. We need a God that will run the marathon of life beside us, one that will carry us to the finish line when we are too exhausted to make it any further. Is there darkness in the world? Most definitely. Will I still struggle with antenatal depression after writing this post? Probably. But, what will help us make it through the hard times, what will help me endure this pregnancy is the idea that even in the darkness, there is light. There is a glimmering, sparkling, shimmer that is peeking its way through the cloud. It is a hand that is reaching down from above, saying "Come, my dear child. Come and drink of the living water. I want you to choose life over death. I want to walk beside you all of the days of your life, and when you get tired, too exhausted to walk another step, I will hold you in my arms and carry you the rest of the way- all because I love you this much."

Out of the Darkness and Into the Light

I used to joke that I was born in a church. Literally- born in a church. I've gone to church since I was a wee little baby child- many times it seemed like we lived there- even though where "there" was changed a few times over the years. Until recently, my "salvation story" went something like this: I was practically born in a church, I grew up loving Jesus, and when I was eight years old I walked down the aisle of a church at Vacation Bible School and said a prayer and asked Jesus into my heart. I was baptized when I was twelve, and I never really strayed from church. I'm just a super awesome Christian. I mean, I went to college and majored in religion and worked at churches..what else would you expect?

But, I've come to realize that I didn't meet Jesus in the back of a pretty little sanctuary off of backroads in rural Alabama. I didn't meet Jesus at Vacation Bible School. I didn't meet Jesus at Children's Choir. I didn't meet Jesus by doing Bible drills or playing Bible Jeopardy. I didn't meet Jesus on a mission trip or a ski trip. I didn't meet Jesus in a worship service, or during a great sermon, or at a college Bible conference. I didn't meet Jesus in the classroom- even though I did take a class or two on Him.

I didn't meet Jesus in a bible study or in Sunday School or at my youth group or even at bible college- even if these were the places that I learned about Christianity. 

Sure- I considered myself a Christian. I knew all of the right answers. I'd read the bible from cover to cover, written term paper after term paper, interned at various different churches. I could share a message in front of children, teenagers, and adults. I could write curriculum. I could "lead someone to Christ" and teach them how to pray that simple prayer. But, I didn't know Jesus. I didn't know the extent of His love. I didn't understand the messages of love and mercy and grace.

It wasn't until I began to recognize my own depravity, helplessness, and hit rock bottom that I could see just

how good,
how great,
how strong,
and how mighty

Jesus was and is.

Jesus met me in the mess, I met him in the struggle.
It wasn't until I started genuinely struggling with my faith, wrestling with all things holy, questioning the beliefs that I had grown up blindly believing because "that's what I was taught and why would I need to think for myself?"- that I really began to know Jesus.

It wasn't until I started questioning his love, that I began to understand his love. 

He came to me in the drugstore aisle as I debated which brand of laxatives would be the most effective. He met me in the grocery store as I walked away from a full buggy, once again, because I felt too guilty buying food. He sat by me as I sat on the bathroom floor, vomiting in a toilet, watching all of my hopes and dreams get flushed away, down into the sewer. He was with me as I lay in bed, begging him to just make it stop- to just make it stop- to just make it all stop. He sat with me as I sat on the tiny white bed with the scratchy pink blanket at the psychiatric hospital. He was there with the blood and the razors and the pills and the treatment facilities. He was there as I tried over and over again to hide the pain, to numb the pain, to stop the pain once and for all. He was there as I cried out in hopelessness, "my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?".

He was beside me through the darkest night of my soul- and he never ever gave up on me- even when I started giving up on him. 

He met me in the darkness,
he rescued me from the pit,
and he brought me up and out and into the light.

I learned about God in church, sure. But, I learned to love him when I hit rock bottom and Jesus didn't just leave me there, but rather he came down into the muddy, dirty, pit of depravity and wretchedness; and he embraced me, wiped the mud from my eyes that had blinded me all of these years, and he grabbed my hand, and led me out to start a new life.

I walked out of the darkness and into the light, from fear of shame into the hope of life. Mercy called my name and made a way to fly-out of the darkness and into the light. 

-Ellie Holcomb, Marvelous Light 

And if not, he is still GOOD

But even if he doesn't, we want to make it clear to you, Your Majesty, that we will never serve your gods or worship the gold statue you have set up. 

-Daniel 3:18

This verse has been echoing through my mind the last few days. 
There's just so many things that I seem to be waiting for, and sometimes it feels like they are never going to come. It can be really really hard sometimes not to lose it. It can be really really hard sometimes to not give in and blame God. It can be really really hard sometimes to not turn to false idols, to not let my dreams and ideas and plans become these idols. I mean, sure- I'm not worshipping Buddha or Baal- but these things- these good things- can still become idols in my life if I keep building them up and letting them get in between me and God. 

I'm about to get a wee bit personal here- and vulnerable- and I'm a little scared to write what I'm about to write and publish it on the internet. I SO so so don't want to hear lectures about how we aren't ready, or now is not the time, or about how I just need to be patient and give it some time. I know, I know...if I'm overwhelmed with our new puppy- I definitely shouldn't be wanting to add a baby to the mix. So please- I'm asking you- don't offer advice. I just want to sit down with a cup of tea and chat with you guys for a minute and let some thoughts out. Okay? Awesome. With the knowledge that we were going to be making a nine hour move five months after our wedding- T and I started discussing the idea of having a baby. I mean, it started innocent enough. We weren't going to be super-psycho-serious about it- we were just going to let things happen if they happened, if you know what I mean. Well a month later, a day late, and a negative test later- I was devastated. Sure- I "knew" that making babies wasn't that easy. I knew it could take some time. But suddenly- I really really wanted to be pregnant. I really really wanted a baby. Its become a bit of an obsession over the last four months. From ovulation testing, to other things that I'm not going to discuss on a public blog that my father reads (Hi Dad!), to obsessive peeing on a stick- I began to feel very very negative about myself. I mean, surely- if God had put this desire to be a mommy in my heart all of those years ago- wouldn't he make it easy? Why are we not getting pregnant? Why can't a stupid line show up on a test? Why do I feel the need to let the results of a test define my worth and value? I feel like everybody that I know is announcing a pregnancy. No lie- I had three announcements on my Facebook timeline last Saturday. I began to beat myself up internally. I began to believe awful, terrible lies about myself and about God. My innocent longing to be a mommy turned into an anger against God. What horrible thing had I done to deserve this? Does this mean that I'm going to be infertile? What if we can never have a baby? What if it's just me and T and our new puppy forever and ever? I began to fall into the shame spiral. I began to let the darkness engulf me. And--I might have wasted another pregnancy test that I knew was going to be negative because it was way, way, way too early for anything.

No, I don't have a cute little announcement at the end of this post about how the last four months have been insanely terrible but that some magical glitter sparkle baby dust flew into me and decided to form a baby. It hasn't yet. Like months 1, 2, and 3...I'm still waiting. But, when I came across this verse at the beginning of the post, it really made me began to think about how I'm made my ability (or lack thereof) to bear a child into an idol. Even if we don't get a positive this month- HE is still GOOD. Even if we don't get a positive this year- HE is still GOOD. Even if we never ever ever get a positive pregnancy test or are able to carry a child- HE IS STILL GOOD. I don't have to turn to false gods, I don't have to curse the name of God, I don't have to say that he is an evil evil god because he won't give me a child to carry in my womb. I can know that all things work together for good for those who love God and are called according to HIS purpose. I can know that God DOES have a plan for my life, and T's life, and our life together- and if it is his will, he can make any kind of miraculous act occur. Patience. Patience. Waiting. Waiting. This really really stinks. But, in the middle of the mess, I know that even if my plans don't come to fruition, even if it takes a long time, or never happens- he is still good and I will worship Him.

Who is Wiferella?

My name is Lauren. I am a newlywed (see picture above, I'm the one on the right in the pretty dress- my handsome goofball of a husband is on the left). I am married to my very best friend- I may have had to wait twenty four years for him, but he was totally worth the wait. T is a LT in the US Air Force (we shall call him T on here to protect his identity and keep PERSEC and OPSEC and all that fancy military lingo...I don't want no terrorists tracking my man!). We currently live a town near where I grew up (my parents house is 15 minutes down the road), but we are preparing for our first PCS in the fall. To be honest, I'm a little nervous about moving ten hours away from the only home I really know (we moved here when I was four) and yeah...but I said in my vows that I'd follow him wherever God or the US Air Force led us, so I guess that's life as a military wife.

We got married at a small ceremony about three weeks ago. It was simple, but it was totally us and I loved it. I got to walk down the aisle of the church I grew up in, our families were there, and we had pie (it was on Pi Day!). I can't wait to share more about our day, but I'm waiting for our professional pictures to come back before I recap too much of the wedding. Just know that there were super cute tree stump cupcake stands, a zombie cake, and we wrote our own vows. I think that's enough of a sneak peak, for now. 

I'm a self proclaimed theology nut. I got a Bachelor of Arts in Religion at Huntingdon College, which is located in Montgomery, AL. During the course of my college years, I attended three colleges, had five majors, and finally settled where I did. I'm glad I did, because I really enjoyed my major, but there isn't much you can do with a religion degree, I'm not very interested in going to seminary or becoming a pastor, plus throw in the whole "moving every 2-3 years" thing- it's probably just really good prep work for becoming an awesome stay-at-home, homeschool mom. Right now, I'm a "stay-at-home wife"- and it's actually been pretty fun once I got used to it. I do most of the cooking and cleaning, and I get to spend time with my husband on days when he is off (he works a super weird schedule). 

I'm in recovery from an eating disorder, anxiety, depression, and all sorts of other fun stuff. I fight a daily battle to recover from perfectionism. Basically, I have more issues than the DSM-5 can handle and more issues than Vogue. But, on a positive note- things are going really really amazing at the moment. I'm pretty much recovered from the eating disorder, and I can generally manage the rest with meds, therapy, and my amazing support system. Recovery is the hardest thing that I've ever done in my life- but it's also the best thing I've ever done. Deuteronomy 30: 15-16, 19 is one of my favorite sections of scripture. It reads,

See I set before you today life and prosperity, death and destruction. For I command you today to love the Lord your God, to walk in his ways, keep his commands; then you will live and increase, and the Lord your God will bless you in the land you are entering to possess…now choose life.

These verses spoke very clearly to my heart. God wants me to choose life.  If you or someone you know is struggling with an eating disorder or any other mental illness, reach out. I'd be glad to talk, contact me at one of the links at the top of the sidebar. Please know that you are never ever alone in your struggle and God loves you- no matter what!

I think that's all for today. I've got a few errands to one- mainly a trip to the grocery store to get the one item I went to the grocery store for earlier...and then walked off without. Oh- and thank you notes. I don't even want to think about those. Thinking about them makes my hand hurt, but I love the feeling of writing a handwritten, heartfelt thank you note! I can't just write "Thanks for the gift. You are awesome."...I have to launch into some grand explanation of how they've changed my life and how we are going to specifically use their present...I'm probably overanalyzing things, but whatever!