Never never EVER give up!

My story didn't start yesterday.  It didn't start last year.  It didn't even start ten years ago.  While my story, like all of yours, has been in a state of becoming since I was born, the part of my story that nearly killed me started in 1990 and first became traumatic in 1991.  That's over 23 years ago.  After my father died (not unexpected--he was 81), I felt the grief that anyone would feel at the death of a father.  I was the baby, so maybe it was harder for me; I'm really not sure.  However, in July, 1991, my world was shaken.  My baby, Tommy, died at 24 weeks gestation.  It was not a stillbirth; he lived for eleven days.  Miracles happened both during and after his birth; still, my precious son died.  I'm not going into that now--that's not the point of this post.  Thirteen months after Tommy died, I gave birth to a healthy baby boy named David.  Two months after David was born, I started a new job.  Four months after that, my husband unexpectedly died.  He had a cerebral aneurysm and lived for eleven days, just like my son.  I'm not going into any of that right now, either.  That's not the point of the post.  I struggled with grief, suicidal thoughts, horrible decisions, miserable choices, and then--I began to experience healing.  THAT is STILL not the point of this post.  But patience, friends.  I'm getting there.

As I began to experience healing, I was unable to do much more than receive for the first several years.  When I was able to reach outward, at first it was only through writing and singing.  But before too long, I began to want to serve others--to help others in the way that I myself had been helped.  I took 2 Corinthians 1:4 as my life verse: He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us. However, the more I asked God to allow me a chance to help others, the less likely it seemed that he would do so.  I never understood why, but nothing ever seemed to work out.  Whenever I asked for a chance to help, the answer I got was "wait."  But I didn't want to wait!

Well, here it is, 23 years later, and I find myself preparing.  I know that the time is not yet at hand, but it is coming.  I am resting in the Lord, waiting on Him, and He is reminding me every day of something that He wants me to take into this new life.  One day I will remember a miracle, another day I will remember the sweetness of a healing, another memory will come of something that he showed me in his Word that brought an understanding that I hadn't yet received.  I see all these things coming together.

One thing, though, that I hadn't seen, was this.  I understand now why I had to wait all these years.  It took that much time for me to be ready.  Not healed, ready.  I couldn't have taken the steps that I'm about to take even 5 years ago.  It took people criticizing my Spanish to understand that people mean only good when they criticize.  It took people proofreading my stories (in Spanish) and projects for me to realize that you don't disintegrate when you receive criticism.  It took me having opportunities through the years to sing, to share my story, and to share my readings to understand that it moves people when I do so, and it can bring healing.  I didn't understand that 23 years ago.  I understand it now.

So I wait again, and hopefully for the last time.  I know that at the end of this waiting, I'll be free to help others receive the hope and healing that they can find through God.  It will be truly time.  And I will be so thankful that I waited.

So this is my point to you:  as Winston Churchill said, Never never EVER give up!  You might be in a holding pattern, too, and the days may see pointless and long.  Please do remember that God is walking your path with you.  He knows how long you need before you're ready to take wing and fly.  Please don't despair--he will give you the desire of your heart.  He WILL.  Just have faith.  

By the way, I'm discovering that you are leaving comments and somehow they're not appearing.  Please email me at meggiev7777@gmail.com until I figure out what's going on.  I so want to hear from you.

God bless you!

waiting

Frustrated with waiting I sit,
Staring at the door which stubbornly refuses to open.

Thinking about times past,
Wondering if today is just a token
of things to come,

Or if my life will once again reverse,
become the life that once it was,
that I thought it was meant to be.

But we
are not gods.
We do not know
the future.

In fact, sometimes
it seems
that we hardly know
the present.

And so,
I sit
impatiently waiting
for something
to happen,
for something
to change,

for something
to finally
start.

Goodbye

It had been a month--the longest month in her life.
One month of empty arms,
Of phantom pains,
Of first seeing the empty cradle,
and then the blank spot
where the cradle used to be.

No baby.

The house was a mess.
The rest of the family was forgotten,
All that mattered was that she went to the hospital pregnant
And came back home empty.

Time ticked on, minute by minute,
Each one longer than the last.
Nothing was ever going to change.
The hole in her heart,
The ache in her arms
The seizing pain in her heart,
She was sure these would stay with her forever.

She knew she should get up.
She did have other children,
a family,
And they needed her, too.
But she couldn't.
She simply couldn't.

And so she sat in the chair,
Staring at nothing,
Until her husband took her hand
And led her to bed.
Where they lay
Two statues
Unable to come together in their grief.

Until one day…

It started prosaically enough.
She had to go to the bathroom.
To get to the bathroom, she had to pass through the dining room.
And so she did,
And suddenly she was enveloped in love.
It was electric, alive, and full of joy.

When it happened, she wasn't sure what to think.
Had she really experienced that?
Had she been--just for a moment--
more totally alive than she had been since this happened--
perhaps
since she was born?

She wasn't sure
So she tried it again.
And again.
Back and forth for nearly an hour, it seemed.

And then,
just like that
it went away.

Gone, but not fully.
Not completely.
The stillness of her heart,
The death of her soul
Was gone,
Replaced by a tiny echo of the enormity of that experience.

She began to heal.
She started cleaning her house.
She went to the kitchen and made dinner.
She took the children in her arms,
And she took her husband to her bed.

Life would return--
if not to normal--
then at least to livable.

Later, friends would ask about the change,
and she would try to explain,
but she'd always end by simply shaking her head.
How could she make them understand?
What could help them comprehend that her baby,
in that electric moment
was saying "goodbye".

Such a hard word, goodbye,
but how important to hear.
For this goodbye, she came to understand,
Was not a goodbye into the nothingness of death,
The stillness of the grave.

It was a goodbye for now,
a passage from life into new life,
And it was a promise as well.

I have said "goodbye", but someday
I will see you again,
And then I will tell you
"Hello!"

I will wait for you.
This was a promise that she instinctively believed.
And though her arms were still empty,
Her soul,
Finally,
Was full.