Embracing the Season

Almost two weeks ago I was privileged to attend our church's first annual women's conference: GLOW. I went not knowing what to expect and came away fully impacted.

The speaker from the second day (Jenny Slenk) spoke about the seasons of life we go grow through and the disappointment that often comes with certain seasons. She talked about the idea that those disappointments come from our expectations not being met and how we need to shift our expectations we have of ourselves and others to expectations of God. We need to first raise our expectations of God (He doesn't fit in a neat little box y'all), we need to expect the unexpected next (oh how well I know this), and finally we need to do the unexpected for God (whatever that looks like in your season). 

We took a close look at Esther - one of my all time favorite women of the Bible. We examined her season as queen and the one that God would use to save the Jews in that time. One of the most poignant moments of Esther in my opinion is when Mordecai asks her, "Who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?" So in applying that to our own lives...what if God has placed you in your season for a certain purpose? As Jenny stated so eloquently, "What if your circumstance is so you can put God on display?"

Wow. Focus on that, will you? What if your circumstance is so you can put God on display? This resonated with me, friends. It resonated deep. Sometimes we are thrown into an unknown season with circumstances we did not expect and that we certainly do not like. The Bible never says we have to LIKE our circumstances. But we should step back and ask the Lord, "How do You want to use me in this season?" I can tell you all about learning to expect the unexpected and embrace the season I'm in. It's not always easy. It requires faith, trust, and a whole lot of prayer. But I am learning to embrace where He has me in this moment. 

Dictionary.com states the definition of embrace is "to take or receive gladly or eagerly; accept willingly." I can't say that I necessarily receive this season gladly but I think I can accept it willingly. I know that in entering a season of grief and learning to talk about the loss of our little girl that I am able (with God) to open the doors to others' grief and show them that it's okay to talk about it. In all honesty, I entered this season with closed fists and did not want to accept where the Lord had led us. But here I am with open hands and an open heart asking Abba what He has for us in this season with these circumstances. We can serve God in the places that are unknown to us because we can rest assured that He knows. He knows and He has it in His hands and is using it for a purpose greater than we can imagine. Expect God to do great and  mighty things in your season. 

Embrace it. Who knows if you are where you are so you can put God on display?

Love this graphic. It speaks to exactly what I am writing about. 

Four Weeks of Lessons

Four weeks. 

It's been four weeks since we said hello and goodbye to our little girl in the same breath.

It's been four weeks of questions. Four weeks of whys. Four weeks of trying to get up each morning and put on a smile.

Four weeks.

On the one hand I'm surprised it's already been four weeks. But on the other hand, I feel like it has been the longest four weeks of my life. I feel like I've run an emotional marathon...and I'm still running. 

I've learned some valuable lessons during this marathon though.

I've learned that talking about this, talking about her, helps. I don't understand why miscarriage and pregnancy and infant loss have been such taboo subjects. It needs to be talked about. People need to know that it happens. It's not rare. And you're not alone. If I've learned anything from this journey, it's that I'm not alone. There is a tribe of women that have walked this path before me and a tribe of them that will come after me. I don't know why. I may never know why Jesus needed our baby girl before we got a chance to know her. 

I've learned that when I stop and think of all the things I don't get to experience with her, it tears me apart. I don't get to watch her learn her first words or take her first steps. I don't get to paint her nails or learn to do her hair. I don't get to wear matching outfits with her or sing songs of praise with her. I don't get to go dress shopping for her first dance or celebrate her achievements. I hate it. It hurts. But then I have to switch gears and remind myself that she never has to feel pain. She will never experience a broken heart. She will never hear ugly words spewed at her or fear the unknown. She will never worry or be sad or be lonely. And when I remember these things, for a moment, it makes it a little better. 

I've learned not to sweat the small stuff. I've always tried to roll with the punches (sometimes better than others) but this has really taught me not to worry about the things I can't change. If it's something I can change, then I can try to do something about it. But if I can't, I just try to change my attitude. I'm not perfect in this area by any means, but I'm trying. With the Lord's help, I'm trying.

I've learned the value of our tribe. The people we surround ourselves with are of vital importance. Our tribe is a lot larger than I thought it was. My work tribe, my Jesus tribe, my family tribe...all important. I still am blown away by the people that loved on us and donated time or food or money or garden items. I feel so unworthy to have been surrounded by so much love but yet I know God placed them there so I could stand on the shoulders of the saints in His strength. 

I've learned to be more intentional. The people that supported us? They were intentional. I've wanted to be more intentional but always felt like I fell short. I suppose one has to be intentional about being intentional. I want to be more intentional with my spoken words (still a work in progress), more intentional with my time, more intentional with sharing how I feel about the people I love, more intentional about doing what I love, and more intentional about my time with Jesus. 

I've learned that grief is a process. There are stages. And you can be in one stage one day and another stage the next and then you can repeat stages over again...sometimes multiple times a day. The cycle of grief has slowed down from where it was 4 weeks ago, but it's still there, taking us back and forth periodically. I'm not sure that cycle ever truly ends. 

I've learned a lot. And tomorrow, I will learn how to celebrate Mother's Day as the mommy of an angel. And I will cry because Zivah is not here and I am. I will smile because my precious boy will tell me Happy Mother's Day and kiss my cheek and give me what he made at school and beg to eat the cake he decorated for me. I will cry again because my first Mother's Day as a mother of two was not supposed to look like this. I am supposed to be cuddling an 8 month old bouncing baby girl next Mother's Day...not missing her and longing for her tomorrow. 

For all moms: moms of angels, moms of one, moms of many, moms of none (yet)...Happy Mother's Day. May the peace that passes all understanding wash over all of us tomorrow. 

Zivah's lamb that we took to the hospital with us. Her TayTay (grandma) bought it for her.

The painting I bought for my husband's birthday. It depicts how he sees her and our Jesus.

Big brother standing in front of his little sister's memory garden. 

The After

It's been 15 days...

Our lives are now split into two parts.

Before and After. 

We now abide in the after. The after is full of questions and wondering. The after is full of tears at unannounced moments and finding joy where we can. The after is full of emotions that swing like a pendulum and minds that go crazy with the whys or what ifs. The after is different. We are different. 

There are weak moments. Moments when I want to kneel on the floor of the shower with tears streaming down my face and scream "Why?" at my Maker and hers. But asking why won't bring her back or make me miss this child I never got to know any less. Talk about a strange feeling. Missing a child you never held or kissed like you would miss a limb if it was suddenly cut off. This after I live in is a place where a piece of me is missing but that piece is whole and perfect dancing with her Savior. 

I know there is a purpose in this. We both do. We know we did not go through this pain to keep it to ourselves. I want to talk about it. I need to talk about it. I will talk about it. I won't apologize if it makes someone uncomfortable, because this is our story to share and in that sharing, we can heal...and maybe help bring healing to others. 

Healing...

Who would have guessed that my healing would come in the form of a garden and getting myself dirty to plant flowers - doing yard work that I would otherwise loathe. But Zivah's Garden, our garden to honor the memory of our baby girl, is just that - healing. Every time I look at it, sit in it, add something to it, or try to clean up the leaves, I feel the pieces of my heart being put back together. It is full of contributions from people that have loved on us incredibly the last 2 weeks - people that would have loved Zivah immensely. 

What also heals is finding the purpose in Zivah's short life inside me. I look for it. I crave it. Today, I received a sweet message from someone saying I was an inspiration and encouragement and that my faith during this time helped lead her back to where she needed to be. I cried as I read these words that I found almost hard to believe. How could my broken self be an inspiration to anyone? Sometimes I feel like I'm barely holding it together...but I guess that's the point. I'm not holding me together. My Heavenly Father is. Just as He is holding our sweet Zivah in His arms, He is holding us together and giving us His strength to walk this journey. 

I wrote a poem last night that my husband said I should share. He's usually right so here it is. 

Sometimes...Always

Sometimes when I say I'm okay, I mean it
Sometimes when I say I'm good, it's true
But most of the time when you ask me
I tell a lie just to get through

Sometimes I make it without crying
Sometimes I give a genuine smile
But if you're asking me to be my old self
You'll probably be waiting a while

Sometimes I can joke and laugh
Sometimes I think of her and grin
But when I think of what I don't get to do
It can send me into a wild tailspin

Sometimes the grief takes a backseat
Sometimes it doesn't hold on
But then there are the times it chokes me
And tries to bury me until I'm gone

Sometimes I give in and let it
Sometimes I try to fight back
But then I remember my Father
That He has everything that I lack

Sometimes I feel at my weakest
Sometimes the darkness tries to drown
But He's always my light in the darkness
He's always my strength when I'm down

Always He knows my name
Always He holds my heart
No matter the valleys I walk through
He's held my hand from the start

First flower being planted

Beautiful hibiscus bloom

Zivah's Garden stone with Psalm 91:4 verse

Zivah's Garden sign

Full view - my happy place

With His Feathers

It's been a week.

A week since our world was wrecked.

A week since our lives were turned upside down.

A week since we went in for an ultrasound to see our precious baby girl and walked out with our hearts shattered and broken. 

It's been a week.

You hear about these things. You pray for those that go through them. You feel sympathy. But you never once think it could happen to you.

Until it does. 

December 29th, those 2 beautiful lines crossed on a pregnancy test and we were saying, "Ready or Not!"

March 15th, we were told we were going to have a sweet baby girl, our Zivah Noelle. We were overjoyed. So many prayers answered and dreams coming true. Having a girl was about more than just having one of each. It was about more than just future mani/pedi or shopping dates and about more than princess dresses and playing with makeup (all things I was looking forward to). It was about breaking chains. There is a long chain of strained father/daughter relationships in my family and I wanted to break that. I wanted to watch my little girl get her daddy wrapped around her fingers and watch as they broke the chains of lacking father/daughter bonds. 

April 11th, those dreams seemed to shatter before our eyes. I threw up in the parking lot with my husband holding my hair. We drove home in stunned silence, one of my hands extended to hold my son's hand in the back, his 7 year old mind wondering why his sister wasn't going to be with us, and the other one gripping my husband's. We drove home to a house containing clothes our girl will never wear, diapers she will never use, and sandals I will never get to put on her little feet. 

At 12:33am on April 14th, I delivered our little girl. After one dose of pain medication, I didn't need more. My sweet heavenly Father took my pain away long after the pain meds wore off. He also gave me the most precious vision I could have ever asked for. As I lay there, breathing through the pain and the drowsiness of the pain meds, I saw her. I saw our girl in a white flowing dress in an ever-reaching field of beautiful wildflowers with her hands wrapped in our Savior's as He twirled her around. She was laughing and smiling and it gave me so much peace...so much peace to get through the next several hours. 

When the grief grips me and the anxiety wraps around my chest like a vice (like it did yesterday as I collapsed on the kitchen floor in a sobbing heap), I am able to go to that place, see her, and breathe again. 

This pain is unlike any other. I can't describe it. Only those that have walked this dark valley can truly understand. But we have been held up through so many prayers and support and love. It is amazing the people that come to surround you when tragedy strikes. We are holding on tightly to each other and even tighter to the One who will continue to walk through this valley with us. He is here...in the midst of the madness. 

I don't know when the raw pain will dissipate for us. I don't know when the stages of grief we seem to cycle through daily will finally stop cycling. I don't know when "normal" will feel normal again, if ever. But I do know that our God is still good. I do know that my husband and I are even closer and this will make us stronger eventually. I do know that "He will cover [us] with His feathers and under His wings, [we] will find refuge." 

What She Took Away

I know. I know. It has been over a year since my last post. I'm not sure why I quit writing. Life? Lack of inspiration? Busyness? Whatever it was, I'm back. Hopefully more frequently than once a year. 

This blog has been forming in the recesses of my mind since Monday morning. We just endured a record breaking hurricane here in Florida - - - Irma. Right after Texas dealt with Harvey and people all over were figuring out ways to send aid, Florida started preparing for Irma, the largest and strongest storm ever recorded in the Atlantic. We saw what she did to the little islands and suddenly, all of Florida was in hurricane prep mode. It wasn't like hurricanes past where this storm was only going to affect a specified portion of Florida. Literally, the entire state was going to be affected simply due to Irma's massive size. I've been a Floridian my entire life - 30 years - and I have never been worried about a hurricane. We went through three of them my senior year of high school and not a single one of those made me nervous. But there was something about Irma...

Our school district let us off on Thursday and Friday so families could prepare and evacuate if they felt the need. I never felt the need to evacuate - just prepare as best as we could. We cleared the back patio, put sandbags down by our patio doors leading inside, covered our front windows with plywood, bought hurricane snacks and non perishable food, filled every container we could find with water, and hoped for the best. Our biggest concerns were the large oak trees on our property and praying if they decided to go down, they would go down in such a way that they wouldn't damage any property. Well, those prayers were answered. They stayed upright (although it's a high priority to top one off and bring one down in the near future). Gabe and I slept through the worst of the storm while my hubby stayed up until the wee hours praying over our home and others. 

Irma took away a lot. As we emerged from our home Monday morning around 7:30 to survey the damage, we were overcome with gratitude that our home had been spared. Others were not so lucky. A sweet family I know (I worked with the mom and taught their daughter last year) lost everything when their home flooded late Sunday night. Two homes in our neighborhood were damaged due to fallen trees. One neighbor had someone's mangled shed in their yard. Multiple fences were down. Most people were without power. As we drove around our surrounding area, we found more devastation. Trees on top of roofs or through roofs and on cars and in the road. Power lines strung across roads blocking people from exiting their neighborhoods, flooded streets, power poles snapped in half like tiny twigs. 

Irma didn't just take away people's material things - she took away a sense of comfort and normalcy and security for many. She took away in a matter of hours what people had worked for years to build. She took away life as we know it. For some, it was absolutely devastating; for others it was a minor inconvenience in comparison. Being without power is no picnic. We have been one of the lucky ones to be without power for less than 48 hours. Others are still without it and going on Day 6. Pray for them and pray for our linemen working 16 hour shifts to restore and rebuild. They are amazing. 

Yes, Irma took away a lot. But not everything she took away will be missed. You see, she also took away (at least for now) division - division by race, ethnicity, religion, economic status, etc. No one was asking what your belief system was or how much money you had in the bank or what nationality you were or who you voted for before pitching in to help. Neighbors helped neighbors. Communities helped communities. Black and white helped each other. Christian and non-Christian helped each other. Rich and poor helped each other. The media would have you believe that we are more divided than ever. But I can tell you from what I've seen of my community this last week, that is simply not true. That's another thing Irma took away - constant coverage of the "racial divide." Instead of hearing about white supremacist groups and the taking down of "offensive" statues and how awful our president is - the focus was on the swirling monster in the sea headed for Florida. And yes, afterwards the focus is on the devastation. But not for most. Most are focused on helping. I have seem more good in these last few days than I have in a very long time. We seem to appreciate each other a little more. She also took away excuses. So many times people use excuses to not help. Whether it's their schedule or family life or what have you, (and I'll confess I've been the excuse maker more often than not) people didn't use excuses. If they couldn't do physical labor, they offered to provide meals or open their homes to those without power. She took away pride - the dangerous kind of pride - and replaced it with humility. 

On Monday morning as the sound of Irma's howling and screaming winds gave way to the sound of generators and chain saws, the nervousness and fear she brought with her gave way to gratitude and a sense of unity. We all went through this together and so naturally, we all came together to help one another and "love thy neighbor." 

So yes, I'm certainly not a big fan of Irma. She did a lot of physical damage. She tore apart houses and flooded streets. She uprooted trees. She snapped power poles in two. But in a way I also have some appreciation for her since she also seemed to take with her the hatred and bitterness and divisiveness we'd all been hearing so much about recently. I hope it never comes back. I hope this sense of unity and belonging no matter who you are stays around. Let's continue helping and loving and being the hands and feet of Jesus. I mean, what do we have to lose?

Love to all,
Kayla

The Shield of Faith

The past few weeks, our pastor has been preaching a series on the Armor of God. We missed a couple weeks due to sickness and being out of town but this morning, he brought the Word with great force. 

He talked about how the struggles we go through are calculated moves by the enemy. We don't see these moves and so often we focus on what we see in front of us. But if we are to have victory in the midst of these struggles, we have to address the source and we have to throw up our shield of faith. 

He gave a scenario that hit home for me. He talked about girls (or boys too) that grow up in a home where dad has decided to leave. He gave other options too - like physically there but emotionally unavailable fathers, abusive fathers, etc. I just happen to fall into the first category. He discussed the often times sad results of a girl who grows up without her father. She tends to grow up searching for anything and anyone to fill that void, that dad-shaped hole. She listens to the conniving and manipulative lip service of boys who only want for one thing. She doesn't see her worth. And because she continues to seek love in literally "all the wrong places" she continues to be hurt. The cycle goes on.

I sat there thinking, That could have been me. With the scary statistics surrounding girls who grow up without dads, that probably should have been me. 

But it wasn't. Praise God---it wasn't. You see, thankfully, I had a mother and other great people in my life who taught me about that shield of faith. That shield keeps the fiery darts of the enemy from fully reaching you. Trust me, I had plenty of darts sent my way as I was growing up. I'm so grateful, though, that I grew up in a home of faith. I'm convinced my mom prayed that shield over our home.

I knew my relationship with Christ is what kept me from a lot of stupid decisions, but I knew others who had a relationship too and they succumbed to some choices that did not honor God. Now I feel that what made me different from others who grew up in similar situations is that shield of faith. I've always had a strong faith and I see now that my faith is what kept me grounded. It helped me realize my worth as a child of God, a daughter of the King. I may not have always felt worthy...but I knew in my heart that I was. 

I'm certainly not immune to the fiery darts of the enemy. And I'm not perfect so sometimes when I rely on my own strength, my arm gets tired of holding the shield and it comes down. And I feel the results of a faith that's not being practiced. Those darts come in the form of insecurity, complacency, negativity, judgement...these are some of the things the enemy uses against me. When my shield is not up, those darts get to me and they cause me to listen to the lies spoken by the enemy.

Obviously, all parts of the armor of God are of great importance...otherwise it wouldn't say, "Put on the FULL armor of God." But that shield may just be slightly more important. You can have all the other pieces of the armor on and ready but if that shield is not up, those darts will reach you and they will inflict damage. Keep your shield up. Keep it poised and ready. Your faith will defeat the enemy. 

Photo taken by me: artwork mine (well, I traced the girl).

But God...

Note: At the time that you are reading this, I have been working on this blog for at least 2 weeks. I just couldn't form the appropriate words. 

Ten years ago, an 18 year old girl was struggling with how to save her college roommate. She knew she was spiraling out of control and had no idea how to help her apart from praying and hoping that somehow she would come to her senses. This same 18 year old girl, even after a year of living with her roommate and knowing some dark truths about her, had no idea of the darkness she had been pulled into by that point. How could she? After all, these two girls came from two completely different worlds. One from a "squeaky clean" Christian home where the most darkness she'd encountered was the inside of her eyelids (or so it seemed), and the other from a lifetime of darkness so deep and thick that even the flame of a candle didn't seem to stand a chance.

Yet, for some reason, the Giver of gifts saw fit to put these two opposites together. Despite all odds, these two girls formed a connection that is almost inexplicable.

You see...that 18 year old girl was me. And that roommate was Liz - of whom you may have read about here or here.

Our friendship and our connection was forged not by having a bunch of things in common. It was much deeper than that. It IS much deeper than that. Honestly, I have a difficult time even putting it into words.

Due to that connection, she is someone I truly agonized over spiritually speaking. Oh, if I'd only known.


I keep stepping back and looking at the whole picture: how we met, our time in college together, our deep rooted connection, losing touch, my constant searches for her, our "cyber-reunion," and finally, several weekends ago, and everything that God did and is continuing to do.


It's been almost three weeks since I dropped off my sweet Liz at the airport and watched her walk the opposite direction. We spent a very short few days together but God did some amazing things in those few days that I never, in my wildest dreams, would have expected.

First of all, I don't think anyone who attended the Prizm 5K understood how terrifying it was for her to actually come back to Florida. The last time she was in this state, she was running away. She swore she'd NEVER come back.

But, God....

I've learned to never say never when it comes to my Heavenly Father. I think she's learned the same...

The only word I can find to fit that weekend is surreal. I kept feeling as if someone should pinch me so that I could be sure I wasn't dreaming. I cannot express to you how humbling it is to have the Lord write me into part of such a beautiful and redeeming story.

The enemy meant her life for evil and destruction, But God turned it into a beautiful masterpiece.

Sometimes I wonder if God ever looked down on a couple of college girls and lovingly whispered, "Just you wait, girls. You have no idea the story I am weaving together for the two of you. Just wait and see the beauty that I am going to make out of these seemingly useless ashes. Just wait."

I tear up thinking about how good God is and how much He loves the business of redeeming brokenness. I can't wait to see what else He has in store for our story. It sure is one worth writing. He is doing some awesome things. BIG things. Unimaginable things. I'm so grateful I get to be a part of it.

We finished together. And in doing so, we began something new.

Pictures courtesy of Fuel Church.

"But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ..."