Prayer Works...No, Really

I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately—lots and lots of reading. Unfortunately, it hasn’t been the kind of relaxing reading I enjoy. I’ve been reading reviews of convertible car seats. Riveting material, don’t you think? I’ve been on consumer reports, making tedious notes to compare the ratings, pros, and cons of different models. I’ve been on amazon and manufacturer websites reading review after review after review. I had finally decided on a seat that I thought I wanted, which wouldn’t break the bank. Have you seen the prices on some of those car seats, by the way?!? $300 for a chair that has undergone the same safety tests as most other car seats on the market!! Give me a break. But I digress. I had settled on a Graco that was rated well, had received pretty good consumer reviews, and wasn’t outrageously expensive. I had even found one that was 20% off. There was just one problem. I had saved up exactly $84 dollars so far. I had been holding on to money that was sent as a gift for my son, or money that I had made by selling things we no longer needed. This car seat that I was looking at cost over $100.

I had been specifically praying that God would provide the money we needed for my son’s new car seat. More than that, I had been praying that God would increase my faith, and help me to pray with belief that he would answer. I wanted to pray with conviction that God would respond. The car seat request was just something specific that I wanted to use to exercise my faith and practice trusting God for what we needed. While we had money in savings that we could have used, I really wanted to be able to make this purchase with no money out of our regular provisions. I asked some of my friends to pray with me for this specific need. And then I waited. I acknowledged that I didn’t know how God would provide the money, but I conceded I didn’t need to know the “how.” I knew I just need to believe God was able, and allow him to work out the means. I admitted that perhaps God would provide through the money we already had saved, after all, he had given us all of that as well. So, I left the door open and I continued to pursue my purchase.

Crunch time was upon us as the little munchkin had pretty much met the height limit of his infant car seat. I had delayed making the purchase as long as I could. I started to feel convicted about wanting a car seat with the bells and whistles, when I could purchase a perfectly good car seat that was a fraction of the cost. It didn’t feel like a responsible use of our money, even if it was a good deal. One of my friends suggested looking into used car seats; I hesitated, knowing the safety risk when you don’t know what’s happened to the car seat in the previous owner’s care. In spite of my reservations, I started looking around just to see what was available. I did a search on a local internet group for the buying and selling of baby/maternity gear. I found several listings that had been posted a month or more ago. There was one listing in particular for the same model of Graco car seat I had been looking at buying new. She had listed two for sale, but was asking $100 for one or $175 for both. One, that was way more than this used seat was worth to me, and two, the listing was over a month old and it didn’t seem likely she’d still have them after this long. Well, as it turns out, she still had both of them for sale. She admitted she had been having lots of interest on them, but due to family concerns hadn’t had the time to follow up with them. So, in her house they still sat. She was willing to come down on the price, and offered to sell me one at $80. My husband said he’d be willing to give her $125 for both, and she agreed! I thought that was going to be a great deal to get two car seats (no lugging one back and forth between vehicles) for that price. They didn’t expire for a while yet, and seemed to be in really good condition.

We went to look at them, and as soon as we got there this lady said she had to show us that a piece of the foam padding had broken off of one of the seats when she was putting the cover back on. She said she didn’t feel right selling it in that condition, and didn’t want it on her conscience if anything were to happen to the child riding in it. So, without us even asking, she offered to sell us one of the seats for $80 and let us have the other one for free!! We, of course, agreed to this price and snatched those seats up. I immediately searched online about the broken foam, and found that you can call the manufacturer for replacement foam. Not to mention, I felt so much better about the safety of the seats knowing she felt bad enough about that issue to give it to us for free. I couldn’t imagine there were any accidents she wasn’t telling us about. God had provided us with the model of car seat I had been looking for, and had done so for $4 less than the amount I had saved. I was prepared to pay more money, but right at the last minute God provided what we needed within the means that we had set aside. I was in awe. I couldn’t wait to tell the people that had been praying with me that God had come through even bigger than I expected. But the story continues (I know it’s getting long, but I’m almost done. I promise)…

The next day I call Graco and they inform me they have the foam padding available to sell me for $8 plus shipping and handling. It would cost a total of $12.95. I figure that’s a pretty good price considering all of the money I had already saved. I go ahead and make the purchase. The lady on the phone keeps asking me over and over again to confirm my debit card information and shipping address. She ultimately informs me that the system wasn’t able to process my card as they occasionally have problems with debit cards, and would therefore be able to send it to me as a courtesy, for FREE!! I could hardly believe it. I was in awe of how God was continuing to provide.

I know that some people will read this and be skeptical. Believe me, I’ve had times in my life that I would have said “that’s just a coincidence.” I now know better. After praying specifically for this one thing, and asking God to help me believe again in the power of prayer, I know now that this is God. He hears us when we seek him. Psalm 91:14-15 says, “’Because he loves me,” says the Lord, ‘I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call on me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him.’” I’ve been reminded again that God is “able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine.” (Ephesians 3:20) I am so thankful that God is patient with me when I’m so slow to learn these lessons, and continue to have doubts in spite of all he’s already done. What are you believing God for today? Seek God according to his will, and believe with assurance that he will answer you.

                             

Trash to Treasure

Who doesn’t love a good bargain? Isn’t it the best feeling to discover some cheap, discarded trash and repurpose it into something of value? Just browse Pinterest and you’ll see it’s filled with projects of that nature. God has had a similar interest for much longer than Pinterest has been around. He is really into redemption, and turning what appears to be trash into priceless treasure. I should know.

I’m always baffled by the idea of God’s redemption. Who other than God can take something broken and beyond repair and make it into something new? Not just repaired, repurposed, or refinished, but a new creation. (“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!” 2 Cor 5:17) 

I look back at my life and recall some of the messes I’ve made of myself. There are points in my life that I hate to even remember. I feel shame to recall the person that I’ve been. I’ve been selfish, stubborn, and downright cruel at times. I have sacrificed my self-respect in a desperate search for love and acceptance. I have allowed others to use me and humiliate me because I didn’t believe I was worth more. I have been so afraid of being alone, that I completely sacrificed who I was. There have been plenty of low times which I don’t love to recall, and that I wish I could fast-forward through when the memories surface. The craziest thing to me, is that God loved me more than ever during those times. He saw through the mask I portrayed to others, and saw past the ugly things I did, and instead felt compassion for my brokenness. He didn’t just overlook those times in my life and pretend they never happened, he redeemed them. (“I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten…” Joel 2:25) He takes those worst, most hideous moments and makes something beautiful from them. He allows those things I want to forget to become a part of his beautiful masterpiece. He takes those ugly parts of me and uses them to be a testimony of his glory. It’s all about focus and perspective; I can choose to focus on the less than pleasant details, or I can take a step back and see how God has woven those details into the bigger picture of his plan for me.

There’s often the initial struggle of accepting God’s grace and mercy, and receiving his forgiveness. So many times I don’t feel worthy; well, I’m simply not worthy. But, God loves me enough to offer it anyway. He doesn’t love me in spite of my brokenness, I believe he loves me even more because of it. He sees that I’m desperately lost, and he offers me everything I need. Even after that initial struggle has passed, and I've received his forgiveness and I've thought I've moved on, I still tend to encounter the struggle of shame when it comes time to face my past. God redeems what I have squandered, but I have to allow God to have it. I must be willing to uncover it and stop trying to hide it in order for God to work with it. My prayer is that I will have the courage to let my imperfect past known, so that I might be an example of God’s glory and splendor. It is through my brokenness that God is exalted and honored. “But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.” (2 Cor 4:7)

Clichéd Christianity

I continue to start writing things for this blog, but then seem to get stuck and stop. I have a few different saved drafts of things I wanted to write about. But, somehow, when I went to write, I just didn’t have the passion behind my words that I wanted. This topic, however, really stirred my heart last night.

I grew up in the church. I was raised as a Christian and I’ve never really known a life without the knowledge of Christ. I’m always fascinated by the stories of people who became Christians later in life; I love hearing about what it was that captured their attention enough to motivate them to change. There is something so refreshing about genuine change in someone’s life. And as I reflected on that idea, I was convicted.

I know all of the lingo and the right things to say. Believe me, I can hold my own in a battle of Christian euphemisms. But, who really cares about that? I’m pretty sure God doesn’t, in addition to all of the people in my life who are skeptical of my beliefs. I know all about God. I’m familiar with the things the Bible says and I’ve sang the songs until they’ve lost all meaning. In the past, I’ve often tried to tell people about this God. I’ve reported my knowledge to others as if giving a book report. It’s like telling someone about the autobiography of some famous person in history…some famous dead person. If all I’m doing is regurgitating facts, there is no life in that. There’s no power. And, it’s surely not life changing. In fact, I think it’s often become annoying to people. Not surprisingly, people weren’t very interested in what I had to say, and I lost courage. I became timid and embarrassed to share my beliefs for the fear that I would offend someone, or worse, be rejected.

Then, something occurred to me. People aren’t interested in hearing about the God of the Bible; they’re interested in hearing about the God of my heart. If I would stop and think about who I truly, honestly believe God to be, I would be changed. I would be passionate and excited. People are interested in authenticity. Being genuine with others is captivating for them. When people are vulnerable and transparent with their heart, others can’t help but stop to listen. So, I’m praying that I would once again begin to discover God—not the God of the Bible, but the God of the here and now. I want to rediscover the God of my life today, so that I can authentically tell others about who God is. He’s not in the past; he’s still changing and redeeming people, especially me.

...But Everyone is Okay

Imagine with me for a minute that you are sitting in the comfort and safety of your own home, when suddenly a masked stranger comes in screaming and pointing a gun at you. Immediately you fear for the safety of yourself and your loved ones, and suddenly you’re no longer confident that you will be around for a tomorrow. The intruder ransacks your home and leaves with your most precious belongings. He left you alive, but not without robbing you. And he took so much more than just your possessions. I imagine in that situation we would all be extremely grateful and happy to have everyone alive and healthy when it’s all over, but that doesn’t undo the trauma. My birth story is a lot like that.

I was one of those women who had a birth plan typed, proofread, printed, and distributed to all relevant parties about a month before my due date. I had researched and consulted multiple resources in order to determine each and every preference I had regarding my birth. Did I want an IV? Who did I want in the room? Did I want an episiotomy? I invested a great deal of thought into all of it. My husband and I had hired a doula, or birth coach, to help us through the labor. We were both committed to bringing our child into the world naturally, without drugs and with the least amount of medical intervention possible. We both felt conviction that this was what was best for us and for our baby. Of course I was scared it was going to hurt and I didn’t have a clue what to expect, but by the time my due date rolled around, I was so ready. I had been mentally preparing for this for months, like an athlete preparing for the big game.

I went into labor naturally. Our due date arrived, and early that morning I began having contractions. With excitement and anxiety I began timing the contractions. I got up and took a shower, preparing for what I expected to be a long, difficult labor. I let my husband sleep, knowing that he wouldn’t be getting much rest in the days to come either. With my contractions still being somewhat infrequent, and around 8 to 12 minutes apart, I went back to bed and attempted to rest in between contractions. My husband’s alarm went off at its usual time, about 4:50 AM. I told him he may as well call into work because we were going to be having a baby today. By this point my contractions began to pick up speed. I was packing the last of our things for the hospital and preparing to leave, timing my contractions at about 3 to 5 minutes apart. We made phone calls to our parents and our doula and hit the road.

Once at the hospital they did an exam. I was 6 cm dilated. My water broke and my contractions were now getting so painful I thought I was going to vomit. The contractions never really stopped; they were relentless, giving me no time to catch my breath. They took us into our labor and delivery room. I had specifically requested a room with a Jacuzzi tub so I could use the water for relief during labor--part of my birth plan. The nurses began to listen to our baby’s heart rate and immediately became concerned. They made me lie on my back and hooked a strap with monitors around my belly, only to confirm what they were afraid of. The nurses declared we were going to be having an emergency C-section. Our baby’s heart rate was way too low. When my husband asked how much time we had to decide what to do, they told him we really had no time—they needed to act quickly. The rest was a blur. They put an oxygen mask on my face and less than 10 minutes after we entered our labor and delivery room I was leaving…being wheeled out on a bed. I remember feeling peace in the midst of the storm, telling my husband it was okay. He was left there in the room alone. Waiting. Afraid. Wondering if everything was really going to be okay. He confesses now that he broke down for a moment in the room by himself.

The pain was so bad it took almost all of my focus and energy just to breathe. I remember being prepped for surgery while we waited for my doctor to arrive. My baby was working so hard to enter the world; my body was working so hard to bring him…

 Suddenly, the next thing I know I’m being woken up by the anesthesiologist. I’m directed to look over to my left and I see my husband standing there holding our baby, already wrapped up in a blanket with a hat on his head. I was told it was a boy. It's a strange feeling really, being pregnant one minute, and the next you're not, with no transition in between. It was a beautiful moment seeing my son for the first time; I won’t deny that. He was perfect and healthy, and so was I. What more could I ask for? Well, I had asked for a lot more, actually.

I had dreams of laboring. I dreamt of suffering through the experience knowing that the end result would be pure bliss and euphoria. I wanted to deliver my baby naturally, the way God designed my body to do it. Don’t get me wrong, I never looked down on women who used medication, and I wasn’t completely opposed to using medication if necessary, but that wasn’t how I wanted it to be. Some people might think my situation was ideal; after all, I didn't have to suffer through labor very long and slept through the whole thing. That's supposed to be a good thing, right? I guess in the moment it was a blessing, but now, when it's all over, I feel like I missed out. I missed out on that rite of passage to experience it all. It was a short-term blessing in exchange for a long-term sacrifice. I dreamt of pushing my baby into this world, hearing his first sounds as he breathed in air for the first time, and seeing him in those first moments of his life outside of my womb. We had been connected so intimately for 9 months, and I wanted to experience every last moment of it until the end. I wanted to hear my husband announce to me whether our baby was a boy or girl; I had waited 9 long months to find out. I wanted to hold my baby against my chest the moment he was born. I wanted to be one of the first things he experienced in this strange new world. I wanted him to know I was still there, close, and ready to love him. I didn’t get any of that. I was robbed of that. Yes, my baby was healthy, and of course I was eternally grateful for that, but so much more was taken from me that I’d never get to have back. Please don’t expect someone to simply forget about all they’ve lost in spite of the fact the outcome was positive. I still grieve today, four months later. I hold my baby in my arms and I’m thankful beyond words to have him, but there’s a hole in my heart for what I lost.

I suppose I'm lucky to be able to grieve the loss of my dream rather than the loss of a child. I know that this loss will be much easier to heal from, but it's a loss nonetheless. I think sometimes people forget that.