Yesterday during bible study we were discussing what we now consider as ludicrous laws. Back in the time period they were written they meant something but in this day and age they are laughable. For instance did you know that in Palm Springs CA there is a law that states you cannot walk a crocodile down Palm drive between 4pm and 6pm?
Or in New York city it's against the law to suddenly open an umbrella in front of a horse? That seems like a ludicrous law but back when it was written, horses were the main source of transportation and the act of suddenly opening up an umbrella would scare the horse.
This conversation lead to a conversation about faith. How the devil will do whatever he can to destroy your faith. In the midst of this conversation I was taken back to a time when my faith was shaken. Something I hadn't been sure how to express without making it seem as if I'd given up all hope in God and his love. I haven't made it to church but maybe 3 times this year so far. I admit that it's been very easy for me to find an excuse not to go. Yesterday I put my foot down and decided not to take no for answer. I would drag my butt to church. I'm glad I did too because I feel I was meant to hear the lesson we learned in bible study yesterday. I was meant to hear it and be inspired to write about the time my faith was shaken.
The moment your faith is shaken it changes everything. Your outlook on the world shifts and changes, becomes distorted and ugly. You not only question God and his motives, but question everything in life.
When Liam was born with Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia my faith was shaken. The mountain of my faith and confidence felt like a earthquake shattering the foundation around me. I wasn't sure I'd ever have complete faith in God again. I was angry. Furious that this had happened to us, to me. Not my boy, I couldn't loose my son. When I found out I was pregnant, I had prayed hard for a son. A little boy that would play in the mud and track his muddy foot prints all over the house. A little boy to chase after the dogs, climb trees and gross out his sister. I had my girl and now I wanted my boy.
This would be it, our family would be complete. My dream of bringing home my perfectly handsome baby boy and spending days cuddling and tickling his little toes was shattered. Instead of being presented the perfect dream, an alternate reality was presented. My heart shattered. My faith shook with a force that could move mountains. All I could do was ask "why?". Why my son? Why me? Would God really take him from me after all I'd gone through to have him? Would I never get to hold my son while he was alive and breathing?
When something this devastating happens, all you can think of is who to blame. Whose fault is this? Did I do something wrong? Does God hate me? I didn't even think to blame who was really responsible, the devil. He set my world on fire and it burnt to ashes. At least that's how I felt at the time. Those first 2 days I didn't know what to do. I was lost and confused. A part of me hated God, another needed him more than ever. I spent many days and nights begging him to heal my baby boy and angry that he didn't.
I'm not sure exactly what moment I let go of the anger, or at the least decided it wasn't important. Somewhere around 2 weeks after Liam's birth I stopped being angry and accepted that this was the way it was. I continued to pray for God to lay his healing hand on Liam so that once day I may hold him, take him home where he belonged. I remember when it was touch and go with Liam's health that I told God that I wasn't ready for him to take Liam home to Heaven. I told him that I still needed him and that I didn't know what I'd do without it. I also stated that if he had to take my baby that he would give me the strength to not be shattered and broken for Lanie's sake.
I had begged that if he must take Liam that I had to have the strength to carry on and care for Lanie and give her the love and attention she deserved. But I begged endlessly for him not to take Liam. My heart was still broken and I didn't feel I could survive anymore hurt. My anger at the whole situation would leak out now and then even though I tried to keep it locked up in a vault.
I had never felt so lost as I did after Liam's birth. Every day I sat by his side watching his struggle I became more lost and broken. Those first 2 weeks were my own personal hell. The only way I can explain how it was is to tell you how I felt. I can't tell you actual moments that happened or what was said to me but I can tell you how I felt. I know the Doctors and nurses talked to me everyday. The nurses almost constantly but I can't tell you what they said. My responses were automatic. I was lost in myself trying to make sense of it all. I was so angry and so hurt.
I remember thinking that I should talk to Liam. That he should hear my voice because I read a study once that said talking to them can help the healing process. I tried. I really really tried but I was so angry. I didn't know what to say. At first all I could say was his name. When the words "I love you" finally escaped my lips, I cried. I couldn't stop the flowing of my tears. I remember this happening a few times and my favorite two nurses would quietly hand me tissue and hug me. They let me cry it out. It had to come out. No matter how much I cried the pain never eased.
It's been 3 years now and it still hurts. Not as often and not as long, but it still hurts. I feel like the pain will always be there and that it is now a scar on my heart that will never go away. I don't want it to because I feel like if it does I'll forget how it felt to be so lost and to have my faith shaken so horribly. Even when my faith was shaken, God's faith in my wasn't. His love stayed and surrounded us. God had faith in me when I wasn't sure I had faith in him.
The devil almost won that day. God's love for me and faith in me kept me going. I may have been angry and had my faith slipping from my fingertips but I held on and fought. Never will I forget the hard, dark times lost in myself, in my misery. God never left my side even when I almost left his.
Or in New York city it's against the law to suddenly open an umbrella in front of a horse? That seems like a ludicrous law but back when it was written, horses were the main source of transportation and the act of suddenly opening up an umbrella would scare the horse.
This conversation lead to a conversation about faith. How the devil will do whatever he can to destroy your faith. In the midst of this conversation I was taken back to a time when my faith was shaken. Something I hadn't been sure how to express without making it seem as if I'd given up all hope in God and his love. I haven't made it to church but maybe 3 times this year so far. I admit that it's been very easy for me to find an excuse not to go. Yesterday I put my foot down and decided not to take no for answer. I would drag my butt to church. I'm glad I did too because I feel I was meant to hear the lesson we learned in bible study yesterday. I was meant to hear it and be inspired to write about the time my faith was shaken.
The moment your faith is shaken it changes everything. Your outlook on the world shifts and changes, becomes distorted and ugly. You not only question God and his motives, but question everything in life.
When Liam was born with Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia my faith was shaken. The mountain of my faith and confidence felt like a earthquake shattering the foundation around me. I wasn't sure I'd ever have complete faith in God again. I was angry. Furious that this had happened to us, to me. Not my boy, I couldn't loose my son. When I found out I was pregnant, I had prayed hard for a son. A little boy that would play in the mud and track his muddy foot prints all over the house. A little boy to chase after the dogs, climb trees and gross out his sister. I had my girl and now I wanted my boy.
This would be it, our family would be complete. My dream of bringing home my perfectly handsome baby boy and spending days cuddling and tickling his little toes was shattered. Instead of being presented the perfect dream, an alternate reality was presented. My heart shattered. My faith shook with a force that could move mountains. All I could do was ask "why?". Why my son? Why me? Would God really take him from me after all I'd gone through to have him? Would I never get to hold my son while he was alive and breathing?
When something this devastating happens, all you can think of is who to blame. Whose fault is this? Did I do something wrong? Does God hate me? I didn't even think to blame who was really responsible, the devil. He set my world on fire and it burnt to ashes. At least that's how I felt at the time. Those first 2 days I didn't know what to do. I was lost and confused. A part of me hated God, another needed him more than ever. I spent many days and nights begging him to heal my baby boy and angry that he didn't.
I'm not sure exactly what moment I let go of the anger, or at the least decided it wasn't important. Somewhere around 2 weeks after Liam's birth I stopped being angry and accepted that this was the way it was. I continued to pray for God to lay his healing hand on Liam so that once day I may hold him, take him home where he belonged. I remember when it was touch and go with Liam's health that I told God that I wasn't ready for him to take Liam home to Heaven. I told him that I still needed him and that I didn't know what I'd do without it. I also stated that if he had to take my baby that he would give me the strength to not be shattered and broken for Lanie's sake.
I had begged that if he must take Liam that I had to have the strength to carry on and care for Lanie and give her the love and attention she deserved. But I begged endlessly for him not to take Liam. My heart was still broken and I didn't feel I could survive anymore hurt. My anger at the whole situation would leak out now and then even though I tried to keep it locked up in a vault.
I had never felt so lost as I did after Liam's birth. Every day I sat by his side watching his struggle I became more lost and broken. Those first 2 weeks were my own personal hell. The only way I can explain how it was is to tell you how I felt. I can't tell you actual moments that happened or what was said to me but I can tell you how I felt. I know the Doctors and nurses talked to me everyday. The nurses almost constantly but I can't tell you what they said. My responses were automatic. I was lost in myself trying to make sense of it all. I was so angry and so hurt.
I remember thinking that I should talk to Liam. That he should hear my voice because I read a study once that said talking to them can help the healing process. I tried. I really really tried but I was so angry. I didn't know what to say. At first all I could say was his name. When the words "I love you" finally escaped my lips, I cried. I couldn't stop the flowing of my tears. I remember this happening a few times and my favorite two nurses would quietly hand me tissue and hug me. They let me cry it out. It had to come out. No matter how much I cried the pain never eased.
It's been 3 years now and it still hurts. Not as often and not as long, but it still hurts. I feel like the pain will always be there and that it is now a scar on my heart that will never go away. I don't want it to because I feel like if it does I'll forget how it felt to be so lost and to have my faith shaken so horribly. Even when my faith was shaken, God's faith in my wasn't. His love stayed and surrounded us. God had faith in me when I wasn't sure I had faith in him.
The devil almost won that day. God's love for me and faith in me kept me going. I may have been angry and had my faith slipping from my fingertips but I held on and fought. Never will I forget the hard, dark times lost in myself, in my misery. God never left my side even when I almost left his.
July 2011
July 2011
09/07/2014
July 2014
I rejoice greatly in the Lord that at last you have renewed your concern for me.
Indeed, you have been concerned,
but you had no opportunity to show it.
I am not saying this because I am in need,
for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.
I know what it is to be in need,
and I know what it is to have plenty.
I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation,
whether well fed or hungry,
whether living in plenty or in want.
I can do everything through him who gives me strength.
Philippians 4:10-13
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