I'm back....with a big long post

OK...so I have forsaken my blog for many a month for a couple reasons. First, Facebook is just so much easier and there is less pressure to be profound. Second, I frankly haven't felt like writing about all that's been going on because it hasn't been very fun, let alone something I want to relive in words.

But...


Something just dawned on me as I was cleaning the bathroom. (I know...weird. But my brain just never shuts off so when I'm doing something that doesn't require much concentration I tend to have small epiphanies.)

Over the past couple of years I've been struggling a lot with my "spiritual walk" as they say (I don't really like that term as it is so overused, but anyway). It perhaps began when I got pregnant with Betsy, simply because I was tired and sick for so long that I just gave up doing much besides surviving, and then, once she was born, it was back to just surviving again since we weren't sleeping, EVER.

Then, just as I was starting to come out of the new mom fog, my grandmother was diagnosed with terminal cancer and we lost her only 11 months later. Then we decided to move from Grand Rapids, where we'd lived and set down roots for 10 years, and resettle in the Cincinnati area for Myron's new job. This wasn't a bad thing, but it was stressful and another loss....of familiarity, of our church and church family, etc. It also meant 3 months of single parenting while we tried to sell the house in GR and Myron worked in Cincy. More simply surviving.

We were barely settled when we had another difficult loss. Myron's father passed away suddenly. On the heels of that we decided to stop dragging our feet on having another child, feeling that new life was what we all needed right now. We got pregnant right away and were so excited. We were able to tell Myron's family all at the same time at our big Detweiler reunion. Betsy was excited and was already trying to communicate with her new sibling through my belly button.

Then came another hit. At 11 weeks, I miscarried. It was horrible and gut-wrenching, but we tried again right away, feeling it was a fluke. Then, Halloween weekend I miscarried again, at only 5 weeks.Frankly, by this time I was a little...no...a LOT upset with God.

I know intellectually that God didn't DO all this TO me and that a lot of people have a lot worse things happen and are still sure of God's love. But emotionally, I was, and to some extent, still am, kind of numb. It's hard to let myself feel because when I do it all just hurts too much. It's easier to go through the motions and pretend to be okay. It's easier not to engage with God because I'm not sure what to say to Him.

Okay, all that to say that I heard a bit of that still, small voice today while I was cleaning the bathroom. (Guess He's still talking to me, even if the only time He can get my attention is when I'm scrubbing toothpaste splatters off the mirror.) I have one of those little flip things with quotes on it in the bathroom, mostly because it matches the decor. The quote said something about realizing that our life's purpose is to be transformed into being like Christ so that even crisis can be a welcome thing, if it helps us accomplish that purpose. Now, I am not suddenly thrilled with all that has happened in the last few years. But as I thought about that quote I heard that verse, "You are not your own. You were bought with a price, so honor God with your bodies." Then I realized...that verse doesn't say, "Only if your body is well and healthy and full of energy and sure of God and yourself and all is well, amen." It just says, "honor Him." Period. Which is a relief, because right now, body, soul, and mind, I don't feel like I have much to give. But that doesn't mean that God isn't still working in me or growing me and it doesn't mean that I can't still honor Him, even in my weakness. Actually, I think He says something about Him working BETTER in our weakness. Oh yeah. I forgot.

It also made me realize that even the sick bodies of Grandma and Dad D. honored God, both in their lives and deaths. My body can continue to honor God, and be shaped by him, not only in spite of my struggles, but also BECAUSE of them.

Anyhow...

This is a nice big ramble to come back with, eh? But I'm hoping that by taking the first step to write even when I don't feel like it that God can help me get out of this funk. I'm seeing small glimmers here and there, more than I have in awhile. So here goes nothing. We'll see where it takes me.

And if you've read this far, thanks for trudging along with me. I can use all the friends I can get right now. :)