Momma in the Valley

Here we are, at the end of this season of Advent, the season leading up to Christmas—a season of waiting, a season of knowing the promises to come and waiting for them to arrive. I believe God lined up this season along with our personal season of awaiting the arrival of our little baby to teach us a thing or two about His patience, His glory, and His joy. During Advent, we sing Mary’s Magnificat, the song she sings in response to seeing baby John the Baptist jump for joy within Elizabeth’s womb at the sight of Mary. This response is that of joy for the long awaited Messiah. A response to our long time prayer of “Come, Lord Jesus, come.” She sings, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant. For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name. And his mercy is for those who fear him from generation to

In the midst of our heartache, our hearts have been filled with Christ’s love, sacrifice, and ever present nature. We have been reminded of His grace and faithfulness. I believe He has used our time of grief to remind me of how helpless I truly am, and how strong is the Great I Am. In the midst of our heartache, God has blessed us with another little Mustard Seed to love and look forward to meeting. He has shown us once again the miracles He creates by His hand, and has filled our hearts (and my belly) with pure joy. Our cups are overflowing, and words cannot express the excitement we currently hold. We of course are still navigating grief, but we are learning to manage our fears with prayer and thanksgiving. What a perfect time of year to be reminded to give thanks! We know that many will wonder why we are celebrating and announcing at such an early stage of our pregnancy (4 weeks). Our response? Why not! This child is a child. This child is a miracle, handmade by our Lord an

This time of year, we all are trying to consciously think of what we are thankful for. Facebook is full of people keeping track of their thankfulness, and we all are able to connect. We are thankful for our families, our Churches, our Topo Chico. It is wonderful to share our thankfulness and to lift each other up with these thoughts. So far, 7 days into November, I have had a difficult time switching my brain into Thanksgiving mode. I try to practice daily thanking our God for all He has given us, but the darkness has begun to overcome me again (it seems to be coming in tidal waves). It has gotten difficult once again to look past the ache in my heart or the emptiness in my tummy. However, I can see little by little our God working to fill in the gaps and to show me more of His character. We were blessed to have the director of the local pregnancy resource center to visit our Church last night and share her story and the story of one of the young women who have sought help at th

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.” ‭‭1 Peter 1:3-7 We live in a sinful, broken world. A world where evil is all around us, and we fight to see through the dark shadows that plague our hearts and minds. We are imperfectly living in an imperfect world, and this effects us physically and mentally each day. However, thank the Lord

Dear Rose of White, You give me comfort when I feel locked in despair. You remind me to think of joy, when all I think is of darkness. At times, it is easier. Easier to think, easier to eat, easier to walk and breathe. But at other times, I feel I am in a drought, gasping for water and air simultaneously, hoping all pain would be lost. It feels as though my anguish should be gone, that my joys should be the forefront, but my heart still aches for my Rose of White. Praise God for His unfailing grace and love. Without such, I would be blessed with the confidence of your purity. Because of Him, I know you are dancing in the cloud of Saints. Because of Him, I know I can continue to dream and look forward, when all I want to do is cry and look back. He said, “Let the little children come to Me,” and I know there you are, blessed as can be. Here’s to loving you, trusting Him, and moving forward one foot at a time. All the while dreaming of you, my Rose of White, and knowing whe

When I worked the overnight shift at a children’s home in Texas, kids would at times ask me to sit in their doorways if they woke from a nightmare; that way, they knew someone was protecting them from the monsters they were afraid of. During those times, I prayed the chorus of the song “Holy Spirit”  sung by Francesca Battistelli. This song still brings up those children for me and reminds me to pray for them, so I often do as I sing along. “Holy Spirit, You are welcome here Come flood this place and fill the atmosphere Your glory, God, is what our hearts long for To be overcome by Your presence, Lord.” Through the past few weeks, I have struggled finding my voice, finding words, finding the ability to sing along. Outside of the hymns at Church, I haven’t been singing. My heart and mind have been downcast, and I’m not sure I was even recognizing when music was playing; everything was under a thick veil of gray. This past week, I heard this song. Not only did I hea

I am frustrated. Frustrated with my mind, frustrated with my body. When everything happened and we learned we lost our baby, I cried all the way home. I held it together for a time, having shed what I thought was all the tears my body produced. Then, I cried more. I cried when my husband came home, and although I was the most thankful woman in the world to have a husband I could run to who would embrace me in the biggest hug in the world, I still cried. We cried together. Our family shed our tears together, and our Church family joined in the following day. We have been surrounded with so much love and support, so much encouragement--I cannot describe the blessing we have in the village that surrounds us and will one day surround our children. Within the coverage of all of this love, I made a foolish assumption and expectation of myself; I told myself I could have that following week to grieve. Not the following month or year, but that WEEK. I assumed that by sharing with the world,

This is a scary and confusing time. It’s a time when I know it is okay and warranted to be sad, but it is difficult to explain to many people what the sadness feels like or just how deep it is. It isn’t quite a depression yet, though I fear it could morph into one. It isn’t a feeling that the words pain, sorrow, anguish, or suffering can fully describe. It feels like there is a hole in my heart, an ache in my soul. It feels like an emptiness that slowly yet steadily grows into a black hole, sucking away all joy, energy, and feeling within me. Sometimes, the hurt dissipates for a while, then creeps back in during a tv show, a conversation, or even a moment. It creeps back into the crevices of my heart and mind, showing itself on my face and in my voice. I have a history of depression, which creates a fear of the darkness coming back. I fear the evil depression holds, and I can at times see the Enemy working to bring the rain. All the sadness gets turned into blaming fingers pointin

This is my inaugural blog post, sharing real feelings from days I never knew would come to be. My hope and prayer is that these posts will reach someone going through the same type of heartache. No one should ever feel alone, but especially during a time where you are the most raw you ever have been. This will all of course be a work in progress, but I am not afraid to share the newness of these things, and I hope all the vulnerability will encourage others. Without further ado, my first blog post: This morning was the first morning I woke up and my first thought was not of my baby.  Almost as soon as I realized this, a wave of guilt washed over me, strengthening my confusion and weariness.  The confusion of how I can love someone so much after only knowing of them for a week and never getting the pleasure of meeting them.  The confusion of feeling simultaneously joyful that my baby gained heaven, and full of sorrow that my baby isn’t here in my arms.  This morning was the first