Skip to main content

Discontent

I don't want to be here, but there is nowhere better to be.

Seasonal homelessness.

Yes, this house has aged photos of a face vaguely resembling the one I now carry.
Yes, my name covers many legal documents and child-etched crayon drawings that are found within these walls.
Yes, these books filling shelves, spanning years and basic knowledge, are mine.
Yes, these people, called family, have opened their arms in the most welcoming way they are able, yet I do not know how to accept the embrace.
But this is not home, and I frustratingly cannot fathom why.
It should be. It must be home.
Yet, it is not.

What word can you put to the feeling of wanting to run blindly in every direction all at once, yet your feet feel stapled to the ground beneath you?

Discontent.

How does one fight for contentment? How does one really learn to wait on the Lord, to rest in his refuge? To exist in profound contentment upon who God is?

I want it. I want to be still and know he is God.
Yet, I also know that this discontent is a prodding forward.
Yes, blindly, but definitely forward.

Oh, to be content in the small steps and the frozen days.
Be still.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Avery's Birth Story

This is our firstborn, our daughter Avery's birth story. While I believe every birth story is beautifully full of pain and joy, I understand that this might be hard for some people to read, so I wanted to just give a heads up: This includes beautiful photos of our little girl, who was stillborn. I am going to share the details of her birth, which even for living children, can be a bit much for some to read. It's written haltingly, in mere facts; my thoughts and commentary may come in other posts, but this is mainly to tell a story. This is a story of life and death. This is the story of an immense love, a profound loss, and a good God. Yes, He is good even in this. Avery Michelle. I was 29 weeks pregnant. My pregnancy had been relatively normal. I have Ulcerative Colitis, which had flared up at 5 weeks pregnant, and I had been pretty sick off and on during the 6+ months I was carrying our baby. We had been nursing my UC with prednisone and enemas to keep thin

I miss you in the exact same moments.

Today marks eleven months since our daughter Avery died inside me.  Eleven months since we saw her beautiful face for the first and last time. Eleven months of feeling so proud to have had her as our child, and so broken that we didn't get to keep her here with us.  And in a couple days, our second daughter will be born. Not even a whole year since we said goodbye.  As many moms that have lost their babies too soon would tell you, pregnancy after loss is not for the faint of heart. Our story of getting pregnant again is an incredible one. Every time I think about it, it floors me. (See our previous blog post). God has gifted us AGAIN with another beautiful daughter.  But, there are pieces of it all that I find myself pulled in every direction. Every time someone congratulates me on being pregnant, a part of me wants to scream about it, knowing that there is no guarantee we get to bring home this baby girl. A part of me wants to stop them and tell them about the beautifu

Our Second Child.

There is no way to talk about the joy of our second baby on the way without explaining a little more of the events leading up to this pregnancy. I begin this post with deep love and prayer, knowing our joy has the potential to bring pain to those who are not in the same place of joy. I write this with a new level of sensitivity, knowing that pregnancy announcements can bring up a myriad of emotions. To those who are longing for their own pregnancy or missing little ones they had to say goodbye to, I write this with all the love that I can. I do not know why God allows us to go through those pains or feel those longings; or why it is so different for each of us. But, this is the story God is writing for us; and we will speak it openly with joy, for he deserves all the praise for this sweet story.  As you most likely know, our daughter Avery was stillborn on August 21, 2018, when I was 29 weeks pregnant. The loss of her life was, and is, the most painful thing I've walked