The Father's Compassion

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Miscarriage | Infertility | Hope

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I encountered Jesus as a young child in a church pew in the balcony of an old country church. Through a lifetime of trial, I knew he was there. I did not always know or understand what he wanted of me, but I knew I was wanted. We could go through all of the pain and abuse of my life and unpack each tiny detail, but that is not what this is really about. I love what Frederick Buechner said, “Pain is not the biggest thing that has ever happened to you.” That is true. I have beheld far greater glory. As I clung to his word through all of this, I knew he was there.   My story about trying begins long before I began trying to have children. I tell you this because almost half of the population has been abused in some way. The attack on my uterus began when I was four-years-old. I spent most of my life believing that I was broken and I was crippled by shame. I carried that shame into every relationship I had. As I encountered people in the church, I never felt safe enough to ask for...
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Read My Story

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My story involves 6 miscarried babies (with a set of twins I went into early labor with to bury), 4 failed adoptions, 3 sibling deaths, abuse, infertility, and loads of trauma. Jesus took it all and made the things that should bring death usher in healing. My dear friend Emily took my story and placed it in the pages of her book. If you are struggling today, you’re not alone. Raising children is hard. Not having children to raise is hard. Losing children is hard. I want you to know that you are not alone. No matter how much the enemy of our souls wants us to feel isolated, God has given us community. The beautiful thing about suffering in the hand of Christ is that it makes us vulnerable in the places we have built walls. We can all take a collective, soulful breath and know we reside in a kingdom community that awaits our honest pain. You can read my story and others in Trying.  Now available on Amazon: https://amzn.to/3xXGV6S
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Seen

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  A friend lent me a book. Theo of Golden. I had just begun reading it. It’s about an artist and people being seen. It led me to think about this friend I made on a pilgrimage in Israel. She is much older than me and darling. We are an unlikely pair, but our hearts are knit together. We were on buses, in gardens, on windy cliffs. I lit a candle in a monastery for her in Haifa, Israel after she fell ill. I photographed flowers for her. She is well now. She lends me books. Ingrid. As I thought about people that I pray for, I could see the depths hidden in their heart. I could see my friend Jenni breaking her alabaster jar in public spaces. She is writing a book. I pray for her fire to illuminate darkened rooms and hearts. I could see my brilliant, beautiful daughter not able to see how wonderful she is. I love her. She’s strumming her ukelele and talking to a cat. Hope looks so simple. Laomai. I could see myself sitting on deep things because they weren’t welcome in the market place....
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