Unless one is born again, he cannot see...
I wondered how I would introduce this. I've written countless entries. When would I share them? How would I share them? What could I say that would do this entire thing justice?
The answers are nothing. They are not right, and they are not wrong. They just are. They are just whatever is honest.
I have been encouraged to do what I know in my heart I need to do, to feel and not hold back. And this time, I will. For a long time, I have not, and we can get into all of that later. But for now, I will just begin. Because there isn't an introduction. There isn't a trigger warning for reality. We have no idea we are about to crash into a semi-truck that will disrupt and reorient our entire life, until we do. That is typically how it happens, if we are honest with ourselves. The little indicators are excused, because it could never happen to us, until it does. And then we no longer live like it could never happen to us anymore. And it is not even that I judge anyone who is not in this place and this reality. Never. Everyone h
as his or her journey through this reality, through life, with God. And as a friend wrote so bravely and honestly just yesterday, one thing that unites us all across this world is the suffering and pain we Will endure. It's a part of life, and it is a part of the Gospel.
August 16th, I found out that I miscarried our second child. He, or she, passed away at only 7 weeks even though my body was telling me I was surely 9 weeks pregnant. And it was as much of a shock to see on the screen the small baby that had stopped growing and had no heartbeat as it is to read these words, un-introduced, and without disclaimer right here.
Since then I have been traveling. I travel every day, but I'm not always aware of it. I've been aware of it the past few weeks. I've been walking through each emotion and thought. I've been gaining perspective and re-entering the world. I have been awakened from a self-induced trivial monotony that was my life and ministry "for God" for too long, and I have been ushered into this much more clear and honest reality. I have been stripped bare of all that I previously used to feel good about myself, and I don't even mind. I can breathe again. And it hurts. Breathing is raw. But it is good.
There is a lot to catch everyone up on, about where I've been walking these past weeks. There is a lot of testimony about my God to give. I'll share it all, as much as I can, as honestly as I can, and as frequently as I can. I won't say I'm sharing it for your good or His glory, and I won't even share because it feels good to be heard. I'll share because God has put it in my mouth and said, "MeginLea, speak. In quietness and trust, you Shall be saved. But speak it still, quietly, yet honestly." So I won't water it down, and I won't dress it up, as I have in the past. It will be more real this time, without motivation. Just because He asked me to. For reasons He knows, not me. For reasons I won't predict. He just asked. And so I will. And that is all.
The answers are nothing. They are not right, and they are not wrong. They just are. They are just whatever is honest.
I have been encouraged to do what I know in my heart I need to do, to feel and not hold back. And this time, I will. For a long time, I have not, and we can get into all of that later. But for now, I will just begin. Because there isn't an introduction. There isn't a trigger warning for reality. We have no idea we are about to crash into a semi-truck that will disrupt and reorient our entire life, until we do. That is typically how it happens, if we are honest with ourselves. The little indicators are excused, because it could never happen to us, until it does. And then we no longer live like it could never happen to us anymore. And it is not even that I judge anyone who is not in this place and this reality. Never. Everyone h
as his or her journey through this reality, through life, with God. And as a friend wrote so bravely and honestly just yesterday, one thing that unites us all across this world is the suffering and pain we Will endure. It's a part of life, and it is a part of the Gospel.
August 16th, I found out that I miscarried our second child. He, or she, passed away at only 7 weeks even though my body was telling me I was surely 9 weeks pregnant. And it was as much of a shock to see on the screen the small baby that had stopped growing and had no heartbeat as it is to read these words, un-introduced, and without disclaimer right here.
Since then I have been traveling. I travel every day, but I'm not always aware of it. I've been aware of it the past few weeks. I've been walking through each emotion and thought. I've been gaining perspective and re-entering the world. I have been awakened from a self-induced trivial monotony that was my life and ministry "for God" for too long, and I have been ushered into this much more clear and honest reality. I have been stripped bare of all that I previously used to feel good about myself, and I don't even mind. I can breathe again. And it hurts. Breathing is raw. But it is good.
There is a lot to catch everyone up on, about where I've been walking these past weeks. There is a lot of testimony about my God to give. I'll share it all, as much as I can, as honestly as I can, and as frequently as I can. I won't say I'm sharing it for your good or His glory, and I won't even share because it feels good to be heard. I'll share because God has put it in my mouth and said, "MeginLea, speak. In quietness and trust, you Shall be saved. But speak it still, quietly, yet honestly." So I won't water it down, and I won't dress it up, as I have in the past. It will be more real this time, without motivation. Just because He asked me to. For reasons He knows, not me. For reasons I won't predict. He just asked. And so I will. And that is all.
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