Twenty-Six

Twenty-six years ago this week, my mother had little idea that I was breech. She went for her last appointment with the doctor before having me, and looking back, she realizes now that the doctor was actually feeling my rear end instead of my head. She was nine months pregnant with her first child, yet she had no idea the seriousness of what was at stake.

Twenty-six years ago next week, when my parents arrived at the hospital, my mom was surprised when the doctor told her that she needed to deliver C-section. Turns out that there was no other option, and because of the position I was in, my hip was dislocated. For six months following my birth, I wore a brace to ensure that my hip would heal correctly.

Twenty-six weeks today, and I cannot imagine what this tiny being within me is like. I cannot fathom what his facial expressions might be or what bothers him within the womb. I cannot help him when he's uncomfortable, and I cannot soothe him the way I wish I could just yet. Oh, I feel his kicks, turns, and swirls, and I cannot understand why God would bless me this much.

Next week I'll be turning twenty-six years old, and I'll be twenty-six weeks along in my second pregnancy with my first known son. It's unreal to me. It is truly awe-inspiring. There are moments, like my mother, in which I wish I knew what was taking place within. As I've endured the loss of the first pregnancy, I have learned that I love not knowing. For if I did, my emotions would overwhelm me and I wouldn't enjoy this the way I am. I am blessed. I am incredibly blessed.

Wrong Impression

I know what you've been thinking...

I know that you've worried about how I am and where I've been and what it is I've been doing since I lost my child a little over six months ago. I say that now, the part about my child, with such gratitude from the depths of my heart to the very heart of God. I've learned in the past months that only time can heal wounds of the deepest manner, and only God is capable of helping you understand the hurt, disappointment, and reasoning.

I know that in a few weeks, when his due date rolls around, how difficult it will be. I haven't doubted that at all, but what I have left is the wrong impression. As I grieved this loss in a very open manner, I seem to have given everyone the idea that I am weak, and believe me, I am. But not because I've loved and lost a child that was never really mine to hold.

I know that you may not understand this, but I am so grateful that God chose me. You see, it's taken me six months to realize it was ME he chose for this valley. He wanted ME to endure the pain and turn to Him. He longed for ME to love Him the way He does me. He ached when I did, and He rejoiced when I FINALLY realized it was ALL for His glory.

Maybe I've painted a negative picture of the grief I have had, and maybe I've left you with the impression that I wasn't strong enough to handle it all. Maybe you wondered if I was downcast or depressed, and maybe you've wondered whether or not I've realized that life is worth living.

It is. Every single second. Every single heartache. Every single disaster. Every single sadness. Every single loss. Every single miscarriage. It's worth it.

I have learned that we all have a season that is ours to live. Yours may not be what mine is at this very second. But God's grace is sufficient to get me through each season with more love and hope than I could have ever imagined.

Going through a season of loss has taught me that what you see isn't always what you get. On the outside, I've cried and been burdened and lived with a broken heart. On the inside, I'm rejoicing, because my child has already made it home. HOME! I can say that with all the joy I've ever experienced.

In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while, if need be, you have been grieved by various trials, that the genuineness of your faith, being much more precious than gold that perishes, though it is tested by fire, may be found to praise, honor, and glory at the revelation of Jesus Christ, whom having not seen you love. Though now you do not see Him, yet believing, you rejoice with joy inexpressible and full of glory...
1 Peter 1:6-8


Maybe you've met me on a sad day, one where I was overcome with the tragedy of loss, and maybe you've spent an hour with me over coffee, one where you've heard me discuss this child I never embraced. But on neither of these days have I failed to mention my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

I've given the wrong impression. I've made it seem as though I'm getting through all of this on my own. I've made you think I'm terribly miserable and unmistakenly shaken. I've realized you talk about me to others, but never ask me how I really am. If you had, I'd give you this impression: my Lord is enough. That's all there is. Nothing more. Whatever I face and wherever I am, my Lord will see me through. I am overjoyed at the life that lies before me because my Lord is in control.

And that, my friends, is the impression I want to leave behind...

Gifts of God

You ever get stuck? I mean, really stuck. Not in mud or gum or anything disgusting like that, but just emotionally stuck.

I had gotten to that point where my feelings just felt stuck. I couldn't figure out what my purpose was or why God had given me the push to quit my job. Then after that, for the past few months, I have wondered what to do with my time. I just was stuck doing the same thing over and over, and the same emotions came along with it. You know, those pitiful, frustrated and lonely, disappointed and discouraged, and angry feelings you get from time to time? Yeah, I had all of them on a day-to-day basis, and honestly, I was hoping and praying for someone to pull me out of the "mud."

I don't know exactly who's idea it was or how it came about, but I have always been told my handwriting was a pure gift from God. Strange gift, I know, but if it was mine for the taking, what was I supposed to do with it? You can't exactly get a job handwriting. That's when my husband suggested I should paint. Use my handwriting by painting. He sounded crazy, but I tried it anyway.

It was fabulous, the way all of my emotions seemed to leave me just by putting ink on a page but in this case, paint on a canvas. I felt as though I FINALLY was doing something with "my gift" and I had an awesome opportunity to share it with others. At first I just painted for us, as gifts for friends, etc., but I soon realized as people began commenting that this could be something God has gifted me to do.

So I began Gifts of God paintings today. After months of debating it, I have decided to walk the path, muddy or not, and be willing to get stuck doing something I love. Visit the site, do not feel obligated to buy anything, but if God leads you, let me offer my most sincere willingness to share the gift God has given me with you.

With love,
Jenna