when dreams (don't) come true

**This is a follow-up to a previous post of mine entitled "When God Doesn't Show Up."  If you haven't already read it, I would encourage you to do so before reading this post.**

I have been mad at God for quite a while. Not because He didn't show up for me, but because He didn't show up for my brother. Being the Big Sister in the family, I have this Mama-Bear complex that comes out when someone messes with anyone from my family. 

I have been watching my brother work his tail off for the past few months in a job that he can't stand. (Don't get me wrong, we are grateful that he was able to find steady work for an upstanding Christian boss. But let's face it, it's not where he wants to be or what he was meant to do for the rest of his life.) So as I watch him struggle to keep his dreams alive, it makes me angry. He wants to be a mechanic.  Our local college offers the program, but he hasn't been accepted because he has yet to find an apprenticeship. This past spring, it looked like everything was falling into place, but when things didn't work out, he ended up not only without an apprenticeship, but also completely out of work. As the weeks and months drag on, it breaks my heart to see my brother's dreams crumbling, and his hope fading. 

Last week I started reading our pastor's latest book--a study on the life of the Biblical Joseph--and was greatly encouraged by what I learned in chapter six. So, to my brother and everyone else out there with an "impossible dream," this is for you:

When God give you a dream, He will fulfill that dream. 

Not every one of your dreams is from God. Some are the result of our own selfishness. Our own ambitions. God is not interested in those. But "in the midst of our own striving and dreaming, there will be dreams that God has placed in us." Do not give up on these dreams!

Dream, in this case, doesn't just mean a literal dream. (Though they sometimes come from God.) Dream also refers to "the passion that God places inside each of [us. The] one thing [you] have been created and redeemed for...the one thing that makes [your] heart beat faster than anything else....the one thing [you] want to give [your] life to... The more clearly God has called us...the more strongly our passion will burn in that area."

This next quotation stopped me cold: 

"[God] doesn't tantalize, He doesn't dangle it before your eyes, and then pull it away so  that He can stir up frustration in you. If God gives you a vision, it's because He wants to use it in your life, to bring you where He wants you to be for the glory of His name."

Yet this is exactly what I have accused God of doing! 

So, what were all those times of false hope? Confirming your passion? Affirming that you are on the right track? Providing valuable life experience you will need later? All of the above? For my brother, it seemed like working only a few months in his dream job, was God simply toying with him. Yet, it allowed him to confirm his passion. It showed that he was indeed more than capable of learning a new trade. It provided four months' experience for his resume.  

But here's the kicker:

God fulfills that dream. In.His.own.time.

This is where we have the most trouble. Where I have the most trouble. It always takes longer to achieve our dreams. Often much longer. And it's always more much more difficult than we could ever imagine. 

"This is where God's people often lose faith and grow weary. God places a burning desire in your heart. You go all out to pursue it. Days and months and years go by and nothing seems any closer than when you first began. When that happens, it is pretty easy to despair and think, 'Well, I must have been mistaken about the whole thing...' [but] that is the time to remember that just because you have the timing wrong, it doesn't mean you didn't hear from God. Whatever was truly of God, God will bring to pass in His time."  

We forget that God is not bound by time. We become discouraged when it looks like nothing is happening. We think we heard wrong. Worst of all, we think God just doesn't care. We start to believe that He won't show up. Ever.

But take heart:

When it comes true, it comes true quickly.

"On one hand God works painstakingly slowly over a long period of time....You think nothing is happening, but all the while, God is at work. Then, when all the pieces are in place....He acts decisively and quickly..."

Take the example of the birth of a baby: We wait for his/her arrival for nine months (or longer). Then "the labour [is often] long and drawn out, [while] the actual birth itself [is] over in very short order.... For every work of God that seems to happen in a flash, there is usually an extensive period of preparation where God patiently puts all the pieces together until the whole is ready to be revealed."

The challenge is to hold on to the vision. Keep fighting for your dreams. God will act. It will take longer than you think. But when it comes, it will be quicker and more powerful than you can possibly imagine! 

Despite having a reputation for being a cheezy Christian film with bad acting, Facing the Giants is still my favourite movie of all time because of it's powerful message. After several mediocre seasons as high school football coach, Coach Grant Taylor develops a new coaching philosophy: to praise God, no matter what the result. As he guides and urges each one of his players to give the maximum effort, he motivates them to believe they can win under God's guidance. This is a powerful clip from the movie, and an encouragement to everyone to "not grow weary in well-doing, for in due season we shall reap, if we do not lose heart." (Galations 6:9).

I don't know what your dreams are. But I know some look pretty impossible. Some have been written on your heart for a lifetime and seem no closer now than they did years ago. My neighbour dreams of owning a horse farm and doing equine therapy. My friend has dreamed of becoming a mom for years. My husband dreams of becoming a Christian counsellor. 

Since I was a little girl, I dreamed of restoring and renovating the house we currently live in. Did I even in a million years believe it would come true? Not really. But God placed that dream in my heart, and though it has been modified over the years, it is coming true. Has it been easy? Never! Has it been on my schedule? Absolutely not! But God is fulfilling it, one piece at a time.  

Did I ever dream of being unable to get a job after two university degrees and over seven years' experience in my field? Definitely not. But God is using this time to allow me to pursue other dreams. Working from home. Starting a business. Pursuing writing. Finding emotional and spiritual healing. 

So today, I encourage you to dare to dream. Hold on to your dream. Pursue it. And never let it go. 

"Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. Amen." (Ephesians 3:20-21)

**To read more, check out 

When Dreams Come True: The Story of Joseph

by John Visser.**

a heart abandoned

This is a follow-up to a previous post of mine entitled "The Danger of Love."

I have never been able to keep a best friend. Ever. No matter how close we are, and no matter how much I believe that they are a "forever friend", at some point or  another, something happens, and they always walk out.

My first best friend was not until I got to the third grade. We survived being in separate schools for two years, but we somehow managed to drift apart once we got to university. A few years ago, we finally talked about what had gone wrong, but the damage was done. Although we occasionally communicate via facebook, we live in different cities, have completely different friends, and are in different stages of life. Though I am finally at peace with that, sadly, we will never re-capture the friendship we once had.

A few years later, I made some new best friends. My first bestie and I got together every.single.week without fail. I spent Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter with her family. They were like my second family. Often, their home felt more like home than mine did. We were beach buddies, and workout buddies. We went to countless movies, walked endless miles, and talked about everything imaginable. She was supposed to be my Maid of Honour. We were inseparable for three years. Until she walked out. 

I never knew exactly what went wrong. Maybe I overstepped talking about my faith one day. Maybe it was because I reached out to someone she didn't particularly like who happened to be going through a difficult time. Maybe it was because she was dissatisfied with the direction her life was taking, and took it out on me. Maybe it was all of the above. I don't think I will ever know the reason. All I know is that in a matter of a week, we went from being best friends, to never speaking again. And even though it's been three years, the pain is still fresh. 

My other best friend walked me through quite a lot of stuff, and provided encouragement, laughter, and advice for several years. We'd remained quite close, despite dating other people throughout the course of our friendship. After I got engaged, he even offered to be the one to give me away on my wedding day. Although I was touched at the gesture, in hindsight, I'm glad I didn't take him up on it. Because the last real conversation we had was at my wedding. 

Although other friends have suggested reasons and formed opinions as to why he walked out, I don't think I will ever fully know why. And not for lack of me trying. In spite of knowing that I was hurt, he made it clear that he didn't have the time or desire to continue a meaningful friendship. While friendships with the opposite sex are always tricky, especially after one party gets married, I never once considered that a legitimate reason to walk out. I still don't.

Then I had two mentors walk out. Two women who had taken me under their wings, who had loved on me and mothered me. Women who I dared to share my whole heart with, women I trusted completely. Women who I came to rely on for wisdom, advice, encouragement, and validation. Women who in all honestly, knowing my brokenness and my abandonment issues, should have never walked out the way they did. But they did. 

Words have been exchanged and apologies have been made, but neither are currently part of my life in the way I envisioned that they would be. 
Broken promises are not easily forgotten. Trust is not easily regained. Friendships are not easily repaired.

Finally, there's my most recent best friend. I wouldn't say that she's completely abandoned me, but some days it feels like it. She literally lives right around the corner, and we haven't talked in over a month. Granted, she does have legitimate reasons: Multiple other best friends. A boyfriend. She lives a ridiculously busy life. We no longer attend the same church. But I miss her. And it hurts to see her slip away. Just like all the others. After going through three best friends in a lifetime, I can't say I have high hopes about keeping another. At least not to the extent that I would like. I miss having regular Girls' Nights, phone dates, dinners out. I miss being an important part of her life. I miss her.

If any of my ex-best friends are reading this, know this: Perhaps in your mind, the choice to walk away was valid. (I completely disagree, but I admit that I cannot see the whole picture and do not know all the circumstances that led to your decision.) Nonetheless, I want you to know that your choice caused me great pain. And great shame. Because when you lose as many best friends as I have, you have to wonder: Is there something wrong with me?  Am I not good enough? What did I do wrong? You come to believe there is something profoundly defective about you. But while I no longer hold out hope of ever being close friends with you again, I choose to forgive you.

I received this in an email a long time ago, quoted it in a previous blog post, but I'll share it again:
"When someone is in your life for a reason, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed. They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally, or spiritually. They may seem like a godsend and they are! They are there for the reason you need them to be. Then, without any wrongdoing on your part, or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die, sometimes the walk away, sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled, their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered, and now it is time to move on.

“Some people come into your life for a season, because your turn has come to share, grow or learn. They bring you an experience of peace, or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it—it is real. But only for a season.

"Lifetime relationships teach you lifetime lessons, things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person, and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life.”

Despite all the best friends I've lost, there have been a few loyal friends who have stuck by me, though thick and thin. For every friendship that ended, another was forged. For every friend who lied, gossiped, and betrayed me, I can count another who was truthful, encouraging, and loyal. While many of my friendships have been of the reason variety, I dare to hope that a few of them will be for a lifetime. 

If you have been abandoned by a best friend, it is my deepest prayer that you will find hope in the hurt. May you find the courage and strength to choose to live with your heart open, in spite of the pain!

***********If you are grieving the loss of a friend, 

check out another post  of mine entitled "The Grieving Heart."*********

porch renovations: before & after shots

West side of the house 

BEFORE:

AFTER:

Front of the house

BEFORE:

AFTER:

And everything in between:

Home Sweet Home!

thankful

Giving thanks for all these (and so much more) this year:


MY HUSBAND:
my provider, protector, and cultivator of my heart...the man who's making my dreams come true...and he's pretty handsome too!

MY FRIENDS:
the ones who I can laugh with, cry with, and be real with...who encourage me when I'm down, and who make my life better because they are in it....

MY FAMILY:

the ones who have welcomed me into theirs...

and the ones who I've been honoured to welcome into mine...

OUR CAT:

the perfect little addition to our home....cuddles in bed every morning, antics that keep me laughing, and unconditional love and affection...best.cat.ever...and also pretty handsome too!

THE FARM:

the best place to grow up (and keep growing up), and the most beautiful corner of God's green earth....

OUR HOME:
the place that started out as only a dream back in high school, and is slowly becoming a reality...proud to be the third generation of our family to call this place home...

OUR CHURCH:

a place to belong that believes in reaching the lost and restoring the broken...

LOVE:
from family, friends, and my Saviour, Jesus Christ...without it, I am nothing...

What are you thankful for this year?

when hello is not enough

*This post is a follow-up to a previous post of mine titled "A Heart Ignored at Church." That post was not the first on this topic, and will likely not be the last, as it is something I feel very passionate about.*

Being the "new kid" at church can often feel like being the "new kid" at school. Having left the church I was born and raised in, for a more contemporary church back in my early 20's, I know all-too-well what it feels like to be that "new kid." To walk into the sanctuary and not see a familiar face. To sit in the back row, and hope you don't look too out of place. And to hope and pray that after the service, you won't look too awkward standing around as you wait for someone to come up and talk to you. 

In fact, one of the primary reasons I left the church of my childhood, was because I had no friends. I stood alone after church for countless Sundays, waiting for someone--anyone--to come and talk to me.  To ask how I was doing. To see where I was working. But no one came. No one bothered to take an interest in me. I didn't belong.

So I left. And not without a great deal of hurt and resentment. And some anger. Because after attending every.single.week for 20 years, I was gone 9 Sundays before anyone noticed and bothered to ask my parents what happened to me. I resigned from my position as Library Coordinator, and never received a phone call, email, or letter from anyone, including the pastor. Clearly, I was not missed. My contribution was not needed. I did not belong. I was not important.

I was starving for connections and relationship when I started attending a local, more contemporary church, at the suggestion of an acquaintance who had been attending there. I was excited to start over in a place where no one knew me as "so-and-so's daughter" or "so-and-so's niece." At first, it was really great. Everyone was so friendly. There were lots of people my age. Everyone talked to me. I started getting invited to get-togethers, womens' groups, and Bible studies. I became a youth leader. People seemed to like me, and I liked them. It looked like I finally belonged somewhere. But looks can be deceiving.  

Over a five year process, I slowly discovered that most people either couldn't (or didn't want to) go beyond surface-y relationships. I had a lot of so-called friends, but there were very few willing to talk about big issues and "deep stuff."  If you've ever been faced with a deep issue like depression, chronic shame/guilt/anger/doubt, abandonment issues, family/relational problems, sexual abuse, or substance abuse, you know that they don't just get solved by simply praying and reading your Bible more. But gosh darn, that was the message I kept getting. Tough questions went unanswered. Awkward problems were not addressed. Hearts got ignored. To my utter disappointment I realized I didn't belong here after all. 

Two years ago, when we left that church and began to attend what is now our "home church," I had to start the process all over again. Walking into an 800+ seat auditorium and not seeing any familiar faces was incredibly intimidating, even with my husband beside me. I did not have high hopes for finding a place to belong, nevermind what the church sign outside read. 

In a recent publication of our church denomination's magazine, The Banner, there was a small article written by Ruth Kemps in which she writes,  "It's a pleasant surprise when people take the time to say hello to us. But are they really interested in us? ...Probably not...Typically the greeters will say hello and shake hands with us. Other than that, though, we have been left standing in the middle of a fellowship hall, holding our coffee and cookies while everyone else is busy chatting with their friends." 

She goes on to write, "My experience has taught me that 'hello' is not enough. We are called to make newcomers feel comfortable and welcome. To accept them just as they are. God does! What our churches need are greeters not only before church but also after church. That means you....The reward comes later when someone says, 'Thank you for talking to me,' or, 'You are the first person to remember our names, and it makes us feel like we belong.'"

Even though there are 500+ members at our new church, we are not just another name or face to our pastor. I will never forget the first Sunday I attended. Not only did the pastor shake hands with us and say hello, but he also said to me, "I'm so glad you're here. May I give you a hug?" I was floored that he had even noticed me and that he bothered to take the time to tell me that. Even when we did not regularly attend services, and even when I stopped going to church altogether, I never forgot how he had handled my heart. And I knew I'd go back. Because I knew he saw my heart.

Since then, our pastor has actually taken the time to know us. Really know us. And while he may not agree with some of the things we say/ how we say them, or all the decisions we make, we have felt no judgement or condemnation from him. No damage-control house-calls, disguised as a pastoral care visits.  No finger-pointing, blaming, or name-calling. He doesn't sit and preach at us, tell us we need to pray more, and he certainly doesn't go running out the door when our emotions are too much to handle. He's seen it all, and we are thankful to be led and loved by such a wise, strong, humble, and courageous man of God who not only continues to care for our hearts, but so many other broken and hurting hearts in the church and broader community. 

Because heart stuff matters here. People matter. 

In truth, it's definitely taken a while to feel comfortable in our new church. We've been attending almost two years, and still don't have a lot of friends. But we do have a few really good ones. Including our pastor. People haven't walked out when we've been less than perfect. People are actually interested in talking about tough stuff with us. Not with the intention to collect information to use as gossip later, but to help us walk through it. Even when it gets messy.

There are still times where we stand around awkwardly after church. But just when I'm ready to run out the door, along will come Cliff with a handshake, a great big bear hug, and a huge smile. Or my aunt, with a soft word of encouragement regarding a recent blog post of mine she's happened to read. Or one of my uncles with some encouragement or advice on our latest house renovation projects. Or my sister-in-law with three kids in-tow, just wanting to touch base and make plans for a visit during the week.  Or Tyler and Mell, who ask if we want to join them for lunch.  And then there's Holly. And Sharon. And Sarah. And Jake & Astrid...

Church isn't about filling seats in the auditorium. It's not about being entertained through many programs. It's not about a charismatic preacher. It's definitely not about simply bringing us in and getting us saved. Church is about relationship. With God. But also with His people. We were created for relationships, and to be in community with each other. So, I don't know about you, but for me, "hello" just isn't enough. 

when you lose a child

I have lost many things in life: friends, family, pets, and other things that are very near and dear to my heart. But never a child.

This blog posts has been on my heart for many months. Right before Mother's Day this year, I read this blog post titled, "An Open Letter to Pastors {A Non-Mom Speaks About Mother’s Day}." She talked about how for many women, celebrating Mother's Day (in this case, at church), can be "like salt in mostly healed wounds." 

Then quite recently, my friend Shannon and her husband lost their precious daughter Josephine "Peanut" Anderson. You can read the entire version of Josephine's Story here. Shannon says, "This story is about my baby that died, its painful and personal and awful....[however] I want people to acknowledge my 4th daughter. She was here. Briefly. But she was here....I have to tell my story so that I will heal. Sometimes I don’t know how to tell it so I just let it spill out. I have four daughters, three with me and one in heaven." 

After reading her heart-wrenching story, I knew I had to do this blog post. Because she's not the only one. I started thinking about so many close friends of mine who have experienced the loss of a child through stillbirth, miscarriage, abortion, or illness--just in the past few years.

My friend Karmyn and her husband lost their first child almost three years ago. She shared her story here a while back. Karmyn writes: "I went back and forth on whether or not to even share this part of my journey, but in the end realized that part of my healing has come from hearing from others, and if I can in any way be that for someone else, well then, it’s worth being a bit vulnerable...We had no less than 11 couples announce pregnancies after we lost ours, and I learned that it is possibly to be equally sad for yourself and genuinely happy for others at the same time. Each time, I wanted to say 'we were supposed to have one too….can we acknowledge that?'"

Another friend of mine recently shared her story with me as well. Here is an excerpt (*names have been changed to protect privacy): 

"...One morning, when [our daughter] Hannah* was 18 months, [my husband] Tony* woke up and couldn't move his legs. And, so our year from hell began.

With a toddler in tow (and of course, no family around to help, and no “real” friends we could count on), we began to see specialists and made numerous visits to Kingston. Then, I got pregnant. We were thrilled! It was something positive at a very crazy time. But, things went wrong. In the second trimester, a routine scan showed a baby that was smaller than expected with a heartbeat that was only 105. It was bad news. For two weeks, we watched on the ultrasounds, hoping and praying that she would fight. Things looked better a week later, but two weeks later, they could no longer detect a heartbeat. I had to be induced to deliver a baby that would never cry. It was the worst day of my life.

I understand now that people do not know what to say when they hear of a miscarriage (or most losses in general). But, at the time, I was devastated. We heard the stupidest of platitudes...or worse yet, no acknowledgement of the baby we loved and lost. We were grieving and no one seemed to think that it was appropriate or that we had the right? If we had aborted that baby my family would have been up in arms--and yet, when you lose a baby [though miscarriage]...well, it's not like they were a real baby. The irony and hypocrisy was not lost on me...

So, on the third day after our loss I was staring at the wall and unable to get out of bed... Tony called a grief counsellor. I agreed to go ~ and I'm glad because it was such a life changing event for me. The minister was from the United Church... I initially thought this was going to be such a waste of time ~ an older gentleman, a miscarriage ~ ugggh... but it turned out that his daughter had been pregnant and discovered that the child she was carrying had such a severe case of spina bifida that he was already paralysed, and there was no chance he would survive to term. She lost him in the 7th month. The family buried him and named him. He understood our pain. He helped us deal with our loss. A few weeks later, Tony was diagnosed with spina bifida ~ [and we realized] we were delivered to a man who had lived a similar experience and knew of Tony's condition..."

My friend Juliet, describes her experience this way in one of her blog posts:

"I was an eighteen year old girl, far from home, alone in more ways than one, homeless in the worst, most intimate sense of the word and far from feeling like I was of any worth to anyone. Inside of me, a life grew that, in my estimation, was doomed. All I knew of life at that point was the bitter taste of betrayal, the devastating loss of abuse and the sorrow of realizing that girls-like-me were a waste.

I was used up. I was unwanted. I was desperate and lost and left behind.

To the core of the center of my soul, I believed that God had walked away from me. That I was of so little worth to him that he had left me for dead, for a life of damage and destruction and an ache so deep it drowned me daily. I believed that I was cursed and that the God you claim to be acting for had such hatred of me that he was not only done with me, but that he was actively out to destroy me.

And inside of me, despite all that, a small group of cells were alive.
Hope, you see, could grow, even in the most darkest of nights.

But it was not to be. I was told, 'Silly girl, don’t you know, men don’t have babies with whores'. I was frowned upon by Christians. “Good Christians” like you’re trying to be. I was betrayed by my friends. I had no ties with family. And those bigger than me… well, men have ways of ensuring that little girls in adult bodies do what they want them to.

On a grey September day, with shaking knees and a trampled heart, I walked through a crowd of people...on my way into the Scott Clinic in Toronto. I crossed the street to the clinic (they were not allowed on the same side). Weeks earlier, they’d bombed the Morgentaler clinic across town. Outside, they shouted. They pledged that God loved me and my baby, and then, when I met their eyes with hope, they turned away.

God loved me and my baby. I believe that’s true. But the people standing there on the sidewalk couldn’t even look me in the eye when they said it, so I couldn’t believe it then.

It was years before I could look myself in the eye again.

I believed that I was out of choices. I believed that life was only going to be worse. The bruises on my skin, the wounds not yet healed, the history of despair left me with a certainty—my life was forfiet.

Sure, we can both agree now, I had choices. But when you’re an 18-year-old girl with nothing but scars and a heart bleeding out, you don’t know that you can say “no”. You don’t know that you can find a way for hope to live. You don’t know that you’ve got the strength inside you to live. You don’t know that God gives second, third, fourth, hundredth, thousandth chances.

And the people who could have told me that stood with signs and shouts reminding me that God was angry, that I was dirty and that life on their side of the sidewalk was blessed and clean.

The most haunting thing about that day, even now, almost exactly 20 years to the date, is that during the course of my entire life, no man had been as tender and considerate, both with my body and of how I was feeling, asking me if I were sure (I wasn’t) asking me if I’d be safe afterward (I wasn’t) asking if I felt comfortable (I didn’t) asking if I wanted some time (there is never enough time when every passing day reminds you that you are alone and unwanted) as Henry Morgentaler was. That an abortionist cared more for my life than those who were outside screaming about its sanctity was a shocking realization.

Strangers had control of my body. Pain and sorrow, my world collapsing inside itself and me, barely on the cusp of adulthood, knowing that I was, in a very new way, all alone.

The procedure, from beginning to end, according to my medical records, was done in less than twelve minutes. The effects of that day were so deep, so long-lasting that twenty years later, I’m sitting in my office alone and in tears, because strangers decided that they know best how to convey the horror that, perhaps unbeknownst to them, has far more to do with the sorrow of an entire life than the loss of another.

As we left the clinic, one of the good Christians on the other side of the street reminded my then-partner and me, 'You’ll pay in hell for this'. With the last bit of energy I had, I responded, 'I already am'."

The loss of a child. No matter how it happens, it's incredibly painful. And it happens WAY more than we realize. In the past several years, I personally know of at least seven women who have lost a child. Or two. Or three. I pray to God I will never have to experience the pain that these women felt. And still feel...months, or even years later. 

I wrote this to one friend, after she shared the news of her loss with me: 

"...I want you to know that I am so sorry for your loss. I wish there was something I could say to take away your pain. And I wish we could have talked more today. But I'll be thinking of you and remembering you in prayer. And I will give you the link to my friend's blog post...Sometimes it helps knowing that you are not all alone in this.  Thank you for your friendship.... Even though we don't talk very often, I want you to know that you are important to me! I love you and I hope we can get together again soon."

When another close friend shared her news, I simply broke down and cried with her. Words can be so insufficient when the loss is so big.

So, if you're reading this and have never experienced the loss of a child, please know this: 

For every miscarriage that you do hear about, there are probably dozens that you don't know about. Be considerate. Be there for your friends when they do share the news with you. Their grief is real. Their pain is overwhelming.

If you're reading this, and you have experienced the loss of a child, please know this: 

You are not alone! While I have not experienced firsthand the kind of pain and loss that you have experienced, there are dozens of women who do know and who have experienced it. I do know what it is like to lose someone I love. I do know about pain. But I will never ever try to pretend that I know exactly how you are feeling; however, I acknowledge your loss as something real and terrible, and I am sorry that it happened. 

I love you. I am here for you if you need me. And when you are ready to, please share your story with me.

If you are walking with someone right now who is grieving for the loss of a child, I have previously written a blog post here titled "The Grieving Heart" that may be helpful. 

a heart ignored at church

I have never really "fit" anywhere. School. Work. And even church. My experience of "church" has not exactly been great, because churches, just like schools and workplaces, are filled with cliques. People will be nice to your face because they want you to come back. They want you to fill their pews. They want your money. They want to bring you in and get you saved. Once that happens, however, you're on your own. Well, if you don't meet their standards anyway. Their expectations. Their list of criteria. 

It doesn't happen all at once. It might take a while before you really notice. But you will. Because if you don't act/dress/talk a certain way, you don't fit. If you don't believe certain things and like to challenge authority from time to time, you don't fit. If you don't already know certain people, and if you aren't related to so-and-so, you don't fit. If you are single, you don't fit. If you don't have kids, you don't fit. If you don't live in a certain geographical area, you don't fit. If you don't have an outgoing, bubbly personality, you don't fit. If you want to serve beer at a men's group, you don't fit. If your life is just too "messy," well, sorry...you just don't fit.

Sometimes it's really subtle. Nobody actually comes right out and says it. But it's true. If you meet one or more of the above criteria (and each church seems to have their own hierarchy of which ones are most important), you will find yourself without many friends. At the worst, people will gossip about you and just be downright nasty. (Now don't get me wrong: I'm not saying ALL churches are like this. I sure hope not, anyway. However, in the various churches I've attended in my lifetime, I have almost always -sadly- found this to be true.)

As a Facebook status posted by Jamie a few weeks ago says, "The more I feel part of a community at church, the less I feel church is shitty. 'Love covers over a multitude of shitty-ness' ~ The Bible. Pretty much."  While some people may laugh at this over-simplification, (and others of you may be offended because I just used the word "shit" in a quote), let me tell you: when your heart is ignored by people who are supposed to be the hands and feet of Jesus, it sucks. And it makes going to church and being around so-called "Christians" feel really shitty. 


In her blog post titled "When it Hurts to go to Church," Serena Woods writes: "Within the Christian subculture is this overwhelming message of the importance of community. [However]...these communities can also be really damaging. They’re damaging when they’re more about conformity and less about the Gospel. They’re damaging when they’re more about appearance and less about the heart. They’re damaging when they’re no longer about honesty in weakness and more about the illusion of almost perfection....

People who know how to love others do exist. They’re just kind of hard to find. ...If you’ve been hurt in your Christian relationships, then it’s hard to trust. For some, the word “Christian” does not conjure up visions of warm people with inviting arms. It conjures up visions of cynical judgements and cold shoulders. It’s damaging when you go to church thinking that you can find a community that won’t crush you with what you’ve done wrong, but [instead] find a community that won’t let you be an active participant because of your failures. It’s like finding out that the One who will always take you back, won’t. It feels hopeless in condemnation. It feels like a message of complete rejection from God. If there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, then the message of condemnation is absent of Christ. It’s a fight of faith to believe the still small voice of truth over the overwhelming rejection of community."

In search of community, I have taken part in several small groups over the years. In one such small group, we were asked to answer the question, "Have you ever been angry at God?" We took turns going around the circle. Out of some 12 or 15 women, only myself and one other woman said, "yes." I was incredulous. Either everyone there was lying through their teeth, or everyone had experienced an incredibly easy life! Either way, it was very clear that I didn't "fit" there. I left that night, and never went back. 

So often in churches today, we hear the unspoken message all to clearly: "We don't want to hear about the messiness of your life. Your biggest struggle should be, 'I need to read my Bible more often.' " Well, guess what? Life is messy. And the sooner we get over ourselves and stop pretending that we have it all together, the better off we'll be. Sometimes reading your Bible more just isn't enough. Sometimes, experiencing the love and support of community (in its many forms) is more helpful than hearing another message about how you need to change. If the church can't handle my messiness, well then, who can? Where else should I turn?

Our last church was incredibly damaging to our emotional and spiritual growth. We left nearly two years ago with a very bitter taste in our mouths. It has been a long journey to get to the point where I can walk into a church without completely breaking down. Walking away, however, also meant leaving behind some very dear friends-friends who didn't understand what we were going through, and who for them, saw our leaving as a betrayal. Things with them have never been the same since. We have been left with either a giant elephant in the middle of our friendship, or with an irreparable rift.

We are blessed to currently be part of a church family in which people (for the most part) do not shy away from the "messiness" of life. We stand behind it's mission of "reaching, restoring, equipping, and releasing" people, and have experienced part of that mission firsthand already. Our pastor knows us personally, and has patiently stood by us and walked us through some of the baggage that we dragged in with us. 

However, while it's been great to feel like we can be ourselves and to not be ostracized and gossiped about within this congregation, it's been tough in other areas. After nearly two years, I don't feel as though I have any really, really close friends; I still feel very much like "the new kid." I definitely don't "fit" in any of my previous churches, yet I don't quite "fit" in our new church either. The sign outside our new church reads, "A Place to Belong." Yet why, after nearly two years, do I still feel so much like an outsider? 

I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe it's our geographical location. Maybe it's because everyone else our age has kids and we don't. Or the fact that most people our age are busy with work, children, and other commitments. Or maybe everyone is so entrenched in their own little cliques that no one has noticed that we haven't "fit" anywhere.  But as I read this week:"...if someone wants you in their life, they’ll make room for you. You shouldn't have to fight for a spot. Never, ever insist yourself to someone who continuously overlooks your worth. And remember, it’s not the people that stand by your side when you’re at your best, but the ones who stand beside you when you’re at your worst that are your true friends." (You can read the entire blog post in it's original context here). 

For people who have abandonment issues, there is no greater pain that that of their heart being ignored-in whatever way, shape or form that might take. Whether it's deliberate or completely unintentional, it doesn't matter; the pain is still there. Sandra Upson writes, “People who attend services regularly but lack [true] friends in the congregation are worse off [mental health-wise] than those who do not go at all.”  

 For someone who wants nothing more than to belong, to connect, to do real relationship, it's been very, very hard to sit on the outside looking in. Both in my old church communities, as well as my new one. Although my head understands that people are busy and have lives of their own with years of history with their own circle of friends, it hurts so deeply when invitations are unanswered, when no invitations are extended, when the inbox is empty, when your heart is ignored.

being the hands and feet of Jesus

*** This post is a follow-up to my controversial post entitled 

"They Will Know we are Christians by Our Love..." ***

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.  He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.

Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world.  For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in,  I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you?  When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me."’ (Matthew 25:31-40)

Christian psychologist and trauma expert, Dr. Diane Langberg, describes her experience visiting one of the dungeon chambers at Cape Coast Castle, Ghana, which housed male slaves in the late 1700's. She was shocked to learn that above the dark dungeon was a chapel. Directly above 200 chained men, sat God-worshipers who "sang, read the scripture, prayed, and [who] I supposed took up an offering for the less fortunate. The slaves could hear the service, and the worshipers could hear the slaves [crying, screaming and utterly filthy]...The visual parable was stunning." 

She goes on to say, "[The tour guide commented that it was] 'heaven above, hell below'...but I would argue... that heaven was not above...because that is not what heaven does... Heaven leaves heaven... Heaven comes down. If the people of that chapel had truly worshiped the God of the scriptures, they would have been in the dungeon. In the filth, in the darkness and the trauma and they would have entered in so they might bring out.

"...The church goes into the dungeon so the dungeon becomes the church...
God came to this dung-filled dungeon you and I call earth and He sat with us and He touched us and He loved us and He brought us to Himself... He became one of us. We are the slaves in the dungeon...and He did not take us out so we can stand on the necks of the oppressed... He's called us...to go back into the plague infested dung-heap so that other slaves might find freedom... The dungeons of Cape Coast Castle existed below because they were first in the hearts of the worshipers." 

As our pastor said in a past sermon, "We need to be prepared to leave our sanitized world, and invest ourselves deeply in the lives of broken and traumatized people...To truly love God is to express that love in an ongoing, deepening relationship with people around you...especially those who are most wounded, most hurt, and most traumatized... 

"If the church is relevant to life of the world today, it must learn to identify the traumas of our day... [and the] questions that nobody has answers to...We need to be able to take a living Jesus who rose from the dead and who conquered the grave and who can speak into those situations and change lives unspeakably by the power of his resurrection. That's what it is to be a church! " 

A question our pastor left us with was this:

Who has God used to bless you and help meet your needs? Who in your life has been His hands and His feet?  Maybe it was someone who led you to Christ or someone who helped you grow spiritually. Or maybe someone helped you grow emotionally or psychologically by listening to your pain and embracing you with the love of Jesus. Perhaps it was someone who helped you with a physical or financial need. Or someone who brought you a meal or babysat your kids. Either way, I doubt it was the legalistic, holier-than-thou, afraid-to-get-their-hands-dirty Christian. 

As we have been shown the love of God through Jesus (and hopefully too through someone else), we in turn must show that same love to someone else. The final question we were left to ponder, was this:

Who is there in your circle of influence, that the Lord calls you to bless? Regardless of whether it is a dungeon of their own making, who do you know who is struggling in the dungeons of this world? Dr. Langberg argues that trauma is one of the primary mission fields for the church of the 21st century. When we refuse to go there--and instead choose to hide in the chapel--we are not unlike the chapel-goers at Cape Coast Castle. To stay in the chapel is to stay clean, but it is not to follow our Saviour. It was He who said, "Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me."’

I challenge you to go out and make a difference in the life of someone you know. It might be uncomfortable. It may very well be inconvenient. It will probably be messy. But it's exactly where Jesus would be. 

**** The complete presentation of Dr. Diane Langberg, 

as well as Pastor John's sermon entitled "People Helping People" are available online. ****