Bloom

Last spring, the Big Horn mountains of Wyoming experienced an unusually wet few months, getting over 10 inches of rain in an area that often sees only 6-8 inches per year.

The result? According to the locals, it was the brightest and fullest wildflower bloom they had ever experienced. The craggy mountainsides came alive, painted with vivid splashes of purple, yellow, blue and pink.

Our 10 year wedding anniversary trip to the Big Horns fell during the peak of the bloom and I have no doubt that God was celebrating with us.

Resting in those mountains, in the silence and refreshing separation from the world we were able to feel the joy of the life set before us. It was there that we agreed that it was time to dive into life with Lora and close our family building chapter. We wanted to focus on the path we had been placed on, one where we get to enjoy life with our miraculous, wild little girl.

God’s response? A knowing smile.
And maybe a little laughter.

Currently, by the grace of God, we are less than 2 weeks away from bringing our next child earthside.

I recently read a quote by Lyn Ragan that said “Grief is like living two lives. One is where you pretend everything is alright and the other is where your heart silently screams in pain.”

That duality is part of why we’ve kept this pregnancy quieter than the rest. We’re tired.

I’ve talked about the idea of living in a state of ‘and’ before, and that has been our reality for the past several months. We’ve had indescribable moments of peace and moments resulting in panic attacks. We’ve been joyfully expectant and absolutely terrified. We’ve gone about our daily lives as usual while also taking life minute by minute.

This duality is not a result of a lack of trust in God. In many ways I think our quiet response this time has been a result of the opposite — of fully trusting God with our trauma, of Him carrying us and guiding us through the very real physical, mental and spiritual obstacle course before us. Of doing what we needed to do rather than what the world says we should.

To try and quiet our anxiety would blatantly disregard our lived experience and the stories of other loss families we carry with us; we simply no longer have the privilege of naïveté.

God doesn’t promise us an easy life, but he does promise to be with us through it all (Isaiah 43:2). Regardless of if his response to our prayers has been Yes or No, God has never left us. He has been just as good and present in the valley as on the mountaintops.

This is what we know to be true right now: There is a miraculously healthy little girl kicking and dancing in my belly. We’re grateful and joyful and full of love. Not a single moment with her is taken for granted.

We ask for your prayers over these next couple of weeks. Prayers for peace. Prayers for joy. Prayers for comfort.

We have a c-section scheduled for the 22nd, but all of our kiddos have had their own plans so we’ll see what this little lady has in mind.

Life is such an adventure, friends.
And God is good.