…because I’m human.

J has asked me to write many times over the past months.  In all honesty and at the risk of being overly vulnerable, I haven’t had the energy.  I haven’t felt like I could write anything about what I was feeling because the feelings weren’t sunshine and roses. Not that I feel I’ve ever misled you…I’m just saying that our family has faced some serious darkness in the past five months. Really, the past twelve months. And after a while, all that darkness just piles up and it has nowhere to go…

When I was in Living Well, my facilitator used to tell me to say what I meant and what I needed to say…to let the words out the way I’d rip off a band-aid…so, fair warning:  This is going to be raw and uncomfortable.

Like a band-aid…

Last year, in January, we packed our brown eyed girls belongings and J drove them to their new home.  Six weeks later, in a matter of nine days, we found out we were expecting and miscarried.  In April, J was witness to a devastating accident involving a family with children. Over the summer, we moved into an octagon house…we are fortunate in that our octagon house has running water, electricity and an indoor bathroom.  These truly are luxuries on the Rez. In October, we hit a brick wall as a family and I watched as my children, my husband and myself sort of started to drown emotionally.

The holidays were very difficult for us…my littles had loads of questions about their brown eyed sisters. Were they safe?  Were they going to have Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner?  Would they be able to celebrate Jesus?  Were they being taken care of at their new home?

Christmas was a blur.  Buying for three kiddos rather than six is different, while less expensive, it felt wrong.  It felt like I was missing a part of my family when I only watched three tiny ones open gifts and not the six that were here the year before.

In December, we’d been in plans to put a house on our land for five months and things stalled.  The bank was dragging its feet, our payment was astronomically higher than we wanted and neither J or myself felt at peace about this decision anymore…we shut down the deal.

So, here we are, one year later.

Y’all I’m tired.

This has been a season of darkness and of pruning and it has been so uncomfortable.  We have put some boundaries in place for our family, for our ministry and for our children.

We are working hard to heal our hearts, to grieve deeply the losses from this past year, to move forward in truth and with our heads held high.

In 2014, J and I began the process to adopt a little boy from foster care.  Due to J’s job at the time, we were unable to move forward, despite having been selected by his guardian ad litem, his case worker and the current foster family.  I was devastated and my heart didn’t think it could handle losing that beautiful boy.  For the longest time, I couldn’t be friends with his family because I felt like he was supposed to be growing up in my house and not their’s. Until recently, I see his picture…I look at my own little guy sitting next to me as read another book about trucks and I think about how perfectly God is working behind the scenes…

I wrote all that because I have had to lean into the redemption of that story so often in the past twelve months.  He is working all things for my good, for the good of my family and for His glory…even when I can not see.

When the brown eyed girls left, there was a hole in my heart…if I’m telling the truth, there are still days when that hole feels wide open.  I’ll catch a glimpse of another little brown eyed girl in passing and think, oh, there she is…it’s not.  I know that, there’s just always this glimmer of hope that I’m going to hear “MOMMY!!!!” from across the room.

Six weeks later, I was driving alone, with all three littles, across country when I had a miscarriage.  The hole left by the brown eyed girls now joined a hole left by the loss of another child.  I look at my three children and think to myself, there should be four plus three.
While I know these holes will heal, the grieving that takes place isn’t an easy road to walk through. There was so much loss in such a short amount of time, there have been moments its been almost unbearable.

When I’m asked how many children I have, I’m often lost at what to say…looking at my family, I have three.  In my heart, there are seven.

I have the head knowledge that God will redeem these losses….that somewhere along the way, I won’t hurt quite so much.  That somewhere in the midst of the darkness, healing will happen and hope will be restored.  Its converting all that head knowledge to heart knowledge that I’ve found difficult.

Not because I’m faithless, or because I don’t believe in the goodness of my Father in Heaven who loves me.  I struggle, simply because I’m human.

I am re-learning grace for myself.  I am learning that old wounds are hard to heal…the fresh ones, the ones right in front of us, are the ones that send us quickly into the old coping skills.  I have chosen not to sink into those old ways…I have to choose that every single day.  That’s hard y’all.  Facing the pain and heartache each day can sometimes take my breath away.  Facing the truth is gut wrenching…and yet, I know, in my heart and head…facing the truth and the ugliness of last year and anything else that comes my way is the only way to make it out thriving.

So, I’m asking for some grace as I navigate through the muddy waters of healing.  I’m asking that you keep reading, even on days like today when its not sunny side up.  I’m asking for the freedom, from you as readers, to walk through this healing story without judgement or pity.  Stand along side me and lets do some healing together this year.