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The Day I Decided to Leave My Abuser

The Day I Decided to Leave My Abuser

Sitting behind the clothes in the back of a pitch black closet, I could still hear him banging on the door. He screamed my name out in a warning. I wondered if maybe I could climb out the window onto the roof before he broke through, but I was paralyzed by fear. I prayed to a God I didn’t know yet, begging him to protect me, pleading with him for a way out of this. 

Moments before, a fight in the living room had escalated quickly as they often did. I laid on the cold hardwood as his fist hit the floor next to me. A fist that was meant for me. In a moment of adrenaline, I kicked him, freeing myself. Running, I turned the corner toward the stairs and saw my boyfriend’s 2-year-old son screaming out in terror. It broke me. Just as quickly as my heart broke, I felt hands grasping at my ankles trying to pull me down the wooden steps until I made it to our bedroom and slammed the door, locking it as quickly as I could.…

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The Wait of All Waits

The Wait of All Waits

It seems the theme of my life as of late is “wait.” Wait for answers, for healing, for change, for restoration, for desires and dreams. Wait. Slow down. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Waiting comes in many sizes, shapes, and circumstances. Two people may be waiting for the exact same thing and yet the circumstances and complexities of their lives make for two remarkably different stories of longing. Sometimes God withholds, placing you in a season of waiting as you wrestle to understand why. Other times, we place ourselves there in order to walk in wisdom.

Regardless, waiting can be hard. It makes the heart yearn and long more with each passing day, month, year. Parents might long for their wayward child to turn to the Lord. A wife might yearn for an end to her husband’s suffering. There are women who deeply hope to carry life in their wombs. Others thought they’d have their second baby by now.…

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Unknowns are a Gift

Unknowns are a Gift

I’m not great at a lot of things, but some people say I’m pretty good at planning. I planned my own wedding, I’ve planned over twenty bridal and baby showers. I plan game nights, birthday parties, brunches, and teas. I’m also good at planning out my life. In my head I plan when and where we will move, how many children we hope to have, family vacations, dates, anniversaries—so many things to plan! The problem is, my plans don’t always align with God’s plans (Who knew?!). 

Like the time I became an ex-fiance at the age I’d planned to marry. Or the many times I’ve had to cancel plans due to a flare-up of my chronic stomach pain. Or like this week, when we discovered three (benign) tumors on my spine in the middle of multiple major life decisions. My plans are shifting. 

Honestly, I’m okay with that. I see evidence all around me of how God’s plans are abundantly better than anything I could dream up.…

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The Miscarriage Years

The Miscarriage Years

Sitting on our back porch, I copied passages of scripture into my journal. I felt the summer breeze brush across my face, shifting my eyes upward. I knew God was with me. I spent many months there, prayed many prayers there, cried a lot of tears there. It was a sunny refuge from the season of storms and steady rain that went on in my heart. A gift from above. It wasn’t an escape; it was a comfort—a place that drew thankfulness from my lips in a time of much grief. 

Recently, I was listening to the best-selling book, “The Nightingale” when the narrator referred to the main character’s fertility struggles as, “the miscarriage years.” No longer sauteing dinner, I listened intently. I wondered if perhaps the author had lost babies in the womb. That’s just speculation. But the words she used felt more than just a simple statement about loss.…

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Seventeen Years with a Thorn in my Stomach

Seventeen Years with a Thorn in my Stomach

I haven’t eaten Taco Bell in years. As an adult, I succumbed to the fact that my body really only ever rejected such an offering. “I’m gonna regret this,” I’d say to my high school friends when grabbing a quick burrito before practice. We all laughed. But, at some point, it wasn’t funny anymore.

I’ve suffered moderate to severe stomach pain since I was fourteen. As I write this, cramps that pulse up and down my abdomen, seemingly catching on other organs and twisting and turning make it hard to breathe. This is normal for me. And it has been for seventeen years. 

I can hear my son giggling with his daddy and I think of the many moments I miss while curled over in the bathroom. I’m weary of missed moments, of asking for prayer again, of being scared to eat, of fearing the next attack. I’m weary of chronic illness. 

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The Gifts God Gave Me Through Recurrent Pregnancy Loss

The Gifts God Gave Me Through Recurrent Pregnancy Loss

This article was originally published on Gospel-Centered Discipleship.

It was a warm October that year. As the leaves began to boast one last time bearing auburns and oranges before falling to their death, I suspected new life. The first signs of pregnancy found their place in the smell of a far-off unlit candle and the heaviness of my eyes. One pregnancy test later and my suspicions were confirmed. But just as we lost our first baby, this one was gone too soon, as well as our third child. 

After nearly two years of walking through devastating grief on grief on grief, I was diagnosed with Recurrent Pregnancy Loss. 

It was like walking through a season of storms and steady rain. The storms are like tsunamis, threatening to overtake and drown your life in sorrow. Once the storm is hushed, you’re left with unrelenting rain—the steady undertone of sadness as you learn to live without the babies you’d hoped would be part of your life. …

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