Attitude Adjustment

  Oh dear, oh dear. Lets just say it like it is: I've been pretty bitchy lately. Ungrateful for the many ways God has blessed me, and cranky about the ways He has tested me. I know it wasn't long ago that I blogged in a state of euphoria about how He held me close and comforted my broken heart, but things changed as time grew between Phoebe and me. It seemed that God was nowhere to be found, even when I begged for just a little "sign" of sorts... I kept thinking to myself that once we dealt with our loss of Phoebe as graciously as we could, He might give us some awesome break. Win the lotto or something. I've never once doubted that He exists, but recently I have asked myself, "Whats the point of praying if apparently He never listens?" Silly me.
   Here's the back story: I thought God was giving us our "break" when we found our dream home for sale. It was a gorgeous old farmhouse on a few acres of land perfectly suited for a few horses, chickens, and a cow. It even had another building on site that would have made a perfect shop for Paul's future woodworking business. $67,000.We prayed and prayed, faithfully asking Phoebe's intercession and believing she would "find a way" since she owes us big time. We put in our offer the very first business day after we saw the house. Paul drove out to Winchester to place the offer and was told if he'd been there just two hours earlier we would have got the house; meanwhile, I was checking my email and learning that our tenant was ditching us 4 months into a year lease and had no plans to pay us for the last month. Earlier that same day another important event took place, one that was so close to our hearts - I went to get my blood tested to try to find out why I miscarry like I do. We had hoped it would just be low progesterone, because that is a common problem and pretty easy to fix. The blood work came back perfectly normal, with no answer for our problem.

   So it came to pass I arrived at a point of despair and hopelessness. I couldn't remember how to pray, what to pray, or why to pray. I bitched and bitched - ask Paul! Crazy bitchy... I envisioned all those babies I carried and ache for every day partying it up in Heaven with God, and all of them having too much fun to hear me when I cried for help.
  Then there was this homily by a guest Priest last Sunday. He said, "If it's clearly not the voice of the Holy Spirit you hear, then obviously it's somebody else...if it's saying evil things about our Lord, then you can bet it's not a Heavenly being." Creepy huh? And me, such a sucker. Of course God is listening, and as for the break....well, I still think He could handle giving us some magical sign or something fun like that, but if the break is simply peace of heart that comes with leaning on Jesus, why then, it's been within my reach all along!
   I told the girls at our Women's Bible Study about my hard headedness. It's so clear from another's perspective. They all agreed I should simply tell Satan to get the crap away from me and don't come back. Ah! Novel idea. Why didn't I think of it myself? I'll just tell him where to put it. Problem solved.
   The Magnificat must have been designed by God for me personally. (Sorry, fellow Magnificat readers...lol) Bible Study was just last night, so in my first return to it this morning this poem was the beginning of the devotion:

Come, let us to the Lord our God

With contrite hearts return;

Our God is gracious nor will leave

The desolate to mourn.

 Seriously? I mean, really! Does that not fit my current situation to a T? Following was Psalm 6, and this is definitely what jumped out at me, after having been advised by the bible study girls as mentioned previously:

Leave me alone, all you who do evil;

For the Lord has heard my weeping.

The Lord has heard my plea;

The Lord will accept my prayer.

All my foes will retire in confusion,

Foiled and suddenly confounded.

   Yes, an attitude adjustment is in order. What I need to stop believing is that something incredible will happen to Paul, Jonah, and I just because we were pretty good sports about losing Phoebe. No more hoping for a jack pot lotto ticket that will pay our way into a gloriously distracting vacation, no more setting hopes on dream homes. Nothing more like that because the thing is - and God knows it  - they wouldn't help anyway. 

PS -

I especially like the idea of sending off my foes confused, foiled, and suddenly confounded. Mwahaha!

 

 

 

Birth

   Over Memorial Day weekend I went to my first birth since the birth of my own baby. So lovely. A long, difficult labor that was all worth it in the end when an absolutely flawless baby girl entered the world wide eyed and just beautiful in every way. Long labors are obviously hard for the mom, but let me tell ya something, it ain't easy on the midwives and assistants either! Forty one hours after we arrived at the birth center we left, and the parents left with their little one.
  
    I have to ask: what sort of God tells someone to enter the birth profession who has also been asked to bury their newborn baby? Trust me, if it weren't that I knew better, I'd have to say that He must be a real butt-head, but seeing as, in addition to requiring much of me, He has also treated me to all sorts of nice things I will go with saying He must be awfully "mysterious". I remember when dawn came on Monday morning as the mom continued to labor on and on. The birds started chirping a little while before the sun came up. As hard a time as she was having I wished with all my heart that I could be in her shoes instead of mine. The birds chirped just before the sun came up on that grave morning as I was wheeled slowly out of the hospital, arms empty except for a little purple box with her blanket, hat, footprints, and a book on healthy grieving.

   I just love birth. It's not fair that after witnessing such an awesome event I leave crying and feeling lonelier than ever. It's not fair that I have been brought to this place in which I understand to some extent the miracle of what is going on.....it's not fair that it's for everyone else, but not for me. I wish I could have known all of this before Jonah was born. I would have relished every minute of it.
  
   There came a time 2 and 1/2 hours after that adorable little person was born that I indulged briefly in allowing my mind to return to my recent experience of birth, and I was so glad that baby was still alive and so alert, not cold and dead.

   I got home at 3AM and didn't see Jonah til the next morning of course. When I did see him I explained why I'd been gone the past few days by saying that I was at the birth of a new baby. It's not fair that his response was, "Oh. Baby go to Jesus' house?"

I don't know about this whole thing. I must be insane to do this midwifery stuff. But I'd be insane not to, too... 


PS-
Perfect. Just perfect. Exactly what I need right now....another reason to bawl my eyes out! As I sat her crying and writing this, Jojo walks up and hugs me, and said sadly "I miss Toebe too." Intuitive lil guy. Then, with a hopeful and encouraging smile he looks me square in the eyes exclaiming: "Jesus' House!!" UGH!!!