It has been a shamefully long time since I wrote anything for you all, and I’d love to have some sort of elaborate and wonderful excuse…but the truth is, life got really hard…and sharing that with all of you seemed impossible…so I stopped writing.
This time last year I was sitting in expectation of 2017. It seemed that every where I went, and every thing I read, and everything I listened to, HOPE was being repeated to me over and over and over. So I began 2017 in anticipation of this year of HOPE, eager to see all the Lord would do to show me this beautiful hope.
And then 2017 began, and I discovered that I was to spend the year learning how to hope…and that it was quite a painful process…at least for me. In this past year I have experienced some of the deepest most personal pains of my life, and they brought with them grief, shame, anger, confusion.
So instead of feeling like a year of HOPE, it felt like a year of sorrow, failure, and isolation.
I can’t share many of these stories here…because while the pain of the situation left a mark on my heart, they aren’t my stories to tell…but the one pain I can share is where the story of our newest son begins.
Early in 2017 Ian & I discovered I was pregnant…because I was having a miscarriage.
For days I had felt different, in the back of my mind I though maybe just maybe…but it was too soon for a test, so I waited. I won’t ever forget the moment I knew something was wrong, or hearing the doctor share news that should have been so happy…except it was followed by something so sad. I can’t describe the confusion in my heart, of wanting to rejoice over the news and love the life inside of me, but instead being smacked in the face with that life being gone and my heart being filled with grief.
It took me months to process this grief, to truly work though it with the Lord. To get to a place where I could surrender my anger, confusion, and hurt, and decide to hope again. It took me about 8 months actually.
One day Ian and I were talking, about how if things had gone differently, we would be welcoming a new little Dizon into the world in just weeks. That night I sat down with a heavy heart and wrote a letter to the Lord. I poured it all out…the anger, hurt, sorrow. Much like HOPE as I entered 2017, I had begun seeing JOY everywhere I went…and it made me so mad. Because if a year of JOY was anything like a year of HOPE…I wanted nothing to do with it. But, at the end of all my pouring out of emotion, I came to a place of peace, of trust, and a desire to walk in whatever it was the Lord has for my family and me. I didn’t understand the pain that came my way in 2017. I don’t know why He allowed it. But in the end I found peace, I found a calm in the faithfulness of his promises.
I left that moment changed. The pain wasn’t gone, but it was not tinged with bitterness and anger any more. Even friend’s commented in the days that followed that I seemed different.
Just a week later we had a conversation that changed our lives forever… ”I have a friend who is 8 months pregnant, and she wants you to adopt her baby.”
To be continued (I know…soooooo not cool…but it’s just too much of a story for one blog)