Learning Unexpected Lessons

Believe it or not, I didn’t grow up with career aspirations. I soaked in the perceived philosophies that floated in the conservative, Christian, homeschooling communities in which I was raised. I don’t know whether some of the adults I knew really felt condemning of career women, whether they were reacting to common cultural barbs thrown at stay-at-home moms, whether they felt superior in their choices to stay home and homeschool, or whether they were humbly discussing the reasons they’d made the choices they’d made. I wish I knew, but children don’t always pick up on those nuances. All I knew was that it was good for women to be homemakers, to be wives, to raise children. I longed for that life with all of the longing my young, limited perspective could muster.

The years ticked by. I turned eighteen, eager to learn the lessons of marriage and motherhood. “The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world,” I dreamed. The years continued to tick by. Aside from a ridiculous fling with a scoundrel when I was twenty-one, there was no indication that I was going to be given the opportunity to “fulfill God’s purpose for wives and husbands.” I went to college. Four years went by. Still single at twenty-six, I applied to graduate programs. I started graduate school on my twenty-seventh birthday, amid protestations that it was time for me to find a husband and settle down. It wasn’t until the December after I turned twenty-nine that I met the man I would marry. I had stopped looking for him long before. He just… showed up.

As a young teenager, I had a picture in my mind of what a godly woman’s life would look like. There was a single path with specific, individual choices. When those choices were not the ones that were presented to me, it required a paradigm shift. I had mistakenly equated my desire for the path of marriage and motherhood with a desire for God. Over the course of many years, I learned to replace my [good] dream of learning the godly lessons that marriage would teach with the better one of learning the godly lessons that would make me like Christ, regardless of my relationship status. Ever so slowly, so painfully, God replaced my desire to serve Him by serving a husband and children with a desire to serve him for Himself. I didn’t sign up to learn graceful loneliness, joy in the midst of deafening silence, or peace in the cacophony of my solitary mind, but I learned anyway. I wanted, in the innocence of childhood, to serve God as a helpmeet. I learned, in the starts and stops of adult life, to serve God in any role.

When I did get married, the lessons of marriage were expected. While difficult, they are joyful because they are lessons I willingly, knowingly signed up for. I also think that the years God spent shifting my paradigm about singleness have contributed something valuable to the way I approach the lessons of marriage.

I didn’t forget the lessons of singlehood, but when we started trying to conceive a child, I foolishly thought I was signing up for the lessons of motherhood. I thought I was signing up for lessons about sacrificing for someone who is completely reliant on you. I thought I was signing up for lessons about setting a good example. I thought I was signing up for lessons about the unconditional love for a child. I thought I was signing up for cheerfully enduring the physical discomforts of pregnancy. Once again, God is teaching me lessons I didn’t sign up for. Once again, my paradigm is painfully shifting. Once again, I’m left only with trusting desperately that He knows what He’s doing. Yesterday marked two months since I said “goodbye” to my first baby. Instead of learning how to cope with a changing body, I’m learning how to be content with one that is stubbornly the same. Instead of dealing with the hormonally-induced emotions of pregnancy, I’m learning to be patient with the unpredictable returns of the heart-crushing sorrow of loss. Instead of learning how to share experiences with other pregnant women, I am learning how to genuinely congratulate them when I see the ultrasound pictures that look so much like the ones I should be seeing of my baby right now. These are not the lessons I thought I would be learning, but they are the lessons I needed to learn. I thought I had learned during the years of singleness how to wait for something that may never happen, but I realize now that I hadn’t learned the lesson as thoroughly as I thought. 

It’s painful when God replaces a good paradigm with a deeper one. It’s painful to sacrifice carefully, faithfully crafted dreams on the altar of total surrender. Just like God eventually allowed me to learn the lessons of marriage, He may eventually allow me to learn the lessons of motherhood. But, just like He asked me to sacrifice the dream of marriage for a time to learn the lessons of singleness, He’s asking me right now to sacrifice the dream of motherhood to learn the lessons of loss. These are not the lessons I signed up for, but they’re the lessons I’m learning. Sometimes, I’m kicking and screaming. Other times, I’m willing. Today, I’m vacillating between the two extremes. Thankfully, I know that He is faithful to “complete the work He began in me.”

Jesus, Teach Me How to Live Here

Saturday, October 7, 2017 was one of the best days of my life. A faint blue line changed me forever. The baby I had prayed for, the child I had longed for since I was just a child myself, was growing deep inside of me. I thanked God for this tiniest of little people. I reveled in that happiness for twelve days. Thursday, October 19, 2017 was the beginning of the hardest week of my life. The tiny person that I loved, that Jim and I had made together, that I wanted more than I knew was possible, had left life before I was even able to see its heart beat on an ultrasound screen.

This is my first experience with a loss of this magnitude. The pain I have felt since last Thursday is deeper and more gut-wrenching than I knew I could endure. My whole life has changed, but everything is the same. There are no pictures of my baby, no memories of its face, no echoes of its laugh. I am a mother with an empty womb and empty arms. That hurts like no other pain I know. I don’t know how to live here. I don’t know how to be a mommy to a baby I never held in my arms. I don’t know how to ride this grief. 

In The Hiding Place, Corrie ten Boom remembers the horror of their arrival at the Ravensbruck concentration camp. Upon discovering fleas in their barracks, Corrie cries to her sister, “Betsie, how can we live in such a place!” Betsie’s response is a simple prayer, “Show us. Show us how.” I’m praying that prayer every day. “Show me. Show me how. Show me how to suffer well. Teach me how to live here.”

Horatio G. Spafford penned the words to the well-known hymn, It is Well with My Soul, after learning that his four daughters had been lost at sea. From his place of deep loss and sorrow, he wrote, “When peace, like a river, attendeth my way; when sorrows like sea billows roll; whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, ‘It is well, it is well with my soul.’” I’m praying that, too, “Jesus, the sorrows are like sea billows. Teach me to say, ‘It is well with my soul.’”

Much of my summer was spent reading and reflecting on the role of humans as the imago dei – the Image of God. I spent much time seeking to image Him as I cared for my home, planned my classes, and loved my husband. My mother reminded me recently of God’s love for us, of His desire for His Children, and of His grief when we leave and despise Him. In this sadness, too, I can know my Creator more deeply. In a time when it is easy to ask where He is, to ask why He allowed my baby to die, I can look to His grief and see that He knows mine. His heart knows what it is to long for a child who has passed on.

Grief is so very weird. The waves wash over me at the most unexpected times. They catch me off guard, surprising me with their strength. Each moment, I’m asking for a fresh batch of strength to endure. Each moment, the fresh batch is there for the taking. Even in the midst of grief, there is hope. Hope that, because of Christ, I will meet my baby one day. Hope that, because He lives, I will learn to live here. Jesus, teach me how to live here.

Reflections on a Summer Trip to the Nation's Capitol

The White House, Washington, D.C.

A couple of months ago, Jim and I began discussing the possibility of a real vacation – our first since our honeymoon. We initially discussed a westward journey – Colorado and the Rocky Mountains, Arizona and the Grand Canyon, California and Yosemite, or Montana and Yellowstone. Every time we would sit down to plan, nothing really came together. Eventually, one of us said, “What about Washington, D.C.?” I had never been, and he hadn’t been since he was in high school. From that point, things started to “click”. Preparation and planning were fun. We located a condo through AirBnB, and I began planning meals that could be carried in our cooler and prepared while we were there. We made lists of places we wanted to see and whittled them down to our top priorities. Finally, in the afternoon of Friday, July 28, we picked up our rental car – a black Nissan Altima. Not much later, we drove out of Searcy, heading eastward.

Johnson University, Knoxville, TN

The first night, we stayed at a Knight’s Inn in Lebanon, TN, just west of Nashville. The floors in the lobby were dirty and the attendant looked as if she hadn’t showered in several days. My heart sank as we carried our bags up the stairs, stepping over some trash and castaway clothing that littered the steps. The door to our room was swollen with the heat, so Jim had to force it open. Plain, yellow walls, a rickety old air conditioner, and a thin yellow bed covering bearing cigarette burns greeted my eyes. The stale smell of vacancy, combined with artificial air freshener was nearly overwhelming. I wanted to cry and leave, but we’d already paid for it so that was not an option. I tried to remember things I’d read in Edith Schaeffer’s book on homemaking. I made sure our things were tidy and arranged in a way that was as visually pleasing as I could. We inspected the bed sheets closely for bugs, but found none. The room was not what I would have chosen, but it afforded an evening of character growth.

Our room that night also provided opportunities for improved communication. While driving and discussing where we would stay, Jim and I were both under the supposition that the other was focused on saving money as the primary objective. While we both would have preferred to spend a little more money to stay in a nicer room, neither of us communicated that clearly to the other beforehand. We determined to communicate more clearly during the rest of our trip.

On Saturday morning, we left Lebanon and continued our eastward journey. We ate a late lunch of chicken salad sandwiches, clementines, and Cheetos on the campus of Johnson University in Knoxville, TN. The campus was pretty, and the weather was quite nice, so we ate outdoors at a picnic table. We enjoyed driving and walking around campus. I do think that Harding’s campus is prettier, though.

McDonalds near the Biltmore Estate

From Knoxville, we followed I-40 to Asheville, NC. We saw signs for the Biltmore Estate, and thought it might be fun to see. Upon finding out that tickets would cost us a pretty penny, we changed our minds and decided to continue on. The area of Asheville near Biltmore is very pretty. We enjoyed looking at the fancy architecture. Even the McDonalds was fancy!

Just outside of Asheville, we entered the Blue Ridge Parkway. How lovely! We took our time driving several miles. The mountains were breathtaking, and we stopped at several overlooks to take pictures. We ate a picnic dinner of egg salad sandwiches, cherries, and Cheetos at Bearpen Gap near the Craggy Gardens trailhead and enjoyed the cool breeze and the scenery there. In addition to the breathtaking mountain scenery, I enjoyed seeing several wildflowers along the road and a few deer. At one point, there were two young bucks by the road. We were near enough that I could see the fuzz on their antlers. We also enjoyed the tunnels through some of the mountains. Sunset over the mountains was lovely.

View from one of the overlooks on the Blue Ridge

Parkway

When we awoke and drove to church the next morning, we realized that we had mixed up the worship times and that we’d missed them. We were disappointed, but enjoyed some time of Bible reading and listening to a sermon along the road.

After dark, we left the Blue Ridge Parkway and drove via interstate highway to Roanoke, VA, where we spent the night at a Hampton Inn. We arrived there around midnight. Through Priceline, we had booked a room with two queen beds. When we arrived, the concierge informed us that they were overbooked and put us in a studio suite with a king-sized bed for the same price. We selected a church to worship with the next morning and went to sleep around 1AM. 

Lincoln Memorial at night

From Roanoke, we drove the remainder of the way to Washington. We again stopped late for lunch, this time in Staunton, VA. We attempted to find a park for a picnic, but the steep, narrow streets made Jim a little nervous. We came upon the public library where there were several picnic tables and a pretty view, so we ate the rest of our egg salad there.

We arrived in the early evening at our condo in the Congress Heights area of Washington, D.C. The strong smell of Febreze attacked our senses the moment we unlocked the door. The condo appeared clean and comfortable, but the strong scent made me question whether it really was clean. For dinner, we ate the taco salad that I had prepared for one of our Washington dinners. It had fared well in the cooler, and we enjoyed having the homemade food. After dinner, we attempted to figure out the public transit system, but we were both tired and overwhelmed, so we put it off until the next morning. Traffic was not too heavy, since it was Sunday night, so we drove to see the monuments in the dark. It really was special to see the places that I’d read about so often as a child, and to remember the stories of these great men who had made a difference at their time in our country. We took far too many pictures of the Washington Monument, but we had a lot of fun doing it. We walked toward the Tidal Basin, viewing the Jefferson Memorial from a distance, and walking through the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial. We got lost walking back to our car, which caused some consternation. Our overwhelmed, tired tempers clashed as we disagreed about which way we needed to walk. All came right in the end, however, as we did find our car and drove back to the condo in safe, but somewhat tense, quiet.

Monday morning brought fresh perspective and rested heads. We ate our granola and yogurt for breakfast, and set out to walk the mile to the Congress Heights Metro Station. There, we were able to purchase our SmarTrip cards and load them with seven-day unlimited passes. It would have been cheaper to load our cards each day with what we would need for the day, but the peace of mind we had with the unlimited passes was quite nice.

The first destination we had planned for Monday was the Holocaust Museum. We had planned to spend two or three hours there and then go to the National Zoo. Instead, we spent five hours at the Holocaust Museum. The exhibits were poignant and harrowing – very well done. The video presentations were good for the most part; however, they revealed some political and religious bias that, in my opinion, was unnecessary and distracting.

Shoes. No words.

The Holocaust Museum was so crowded that it was impossible to see everything. Jim and I were most affected by different things – although we were both touched by everything we saw. Jim was most gripped by the stories about the unwillingness of the US to help Jewish refugees. While we both understand that issues surrounding immigration and refugees are complicated, it was good for us to reflect on the Christian responsibilities toward hospitality, love, and compassion. The exhibit that reached into my heart with a special poignancy was a simple one. We walked through small, dimly-lit hallway which was lined on both sides by many, many shoes. Shoes of all varieties were there – women’s heels, men’s street shoes, children’s sandals. The inscription above them read,

We are the shoes, we are the last witnesses.

We are shoes from grandchildren and grandfathers

From Prague, Paris, and Amsterdam,

And because we are only made of fabric and leather

And not of blood and flesh, each one of us avoided the hellfire.

One of my favorite quotes at the FDR Memorial

The tears started to my eyes as the shoes jerked me to the humanity of these people who suffered the terrors of the Jewish Holocaust. Stories from history can easily become just that – mere stories. But the shoes. They reminded me that these were real people. The were people who bought shoes not only because they needed them, but because they liked them. The variety of style demonstrated that. These were people with tastes, preferences, and needs.

The next exhibit was also simple, and beside the humanity represented in the shoes, was such a poignant contrast that I shall never forget it. There were two images in this exhibit – one of piles of shorn hair and the other of bags containing this hair. The description attached read,

This hair shorn from arrivals at Nazi camps and killing centers was sold very cheaply to private firms, which used it to make felt slippers, bumpers for boats, and stuffing for mattresses.

The humanity of the shoes stood in stark horror of the de-humanization here represented. Felt slippers made from the hair of the tortured men, women, and children. I found myself wondering how a group people can become so calloused to the sufferings of others. These things are so important to remember. We ought to hold in our hearts the suffering represented here. And, we ought to remember that humans still cause the suffering of other humans. It is imperative that we stand against the horrors of cruelty.

We left the Museum soberly. We paid too much money for lunch at the café next door, and chose to forego our zoo trip. The late hour, and the sobriety of what we’d just seen made the zoo seem superfluous. Upon finishing our lunch, we chose, instead, to walk around the Tidal Basin and the monuments in the daylight. That was a welcome, gentle return from the darkness and crowds of the museum. The monuments afforded more introspection, as inscriptions containing quotations from these great men pulled my mind still higher to noble thoughts. Thomas Jefferson reminded me of the great principles of freedom and humanity upon which this country was founded. FDR reminded me of the importance of peace, humility, and unity. Altogether, Monday was a sobering, fruitful day.

In front of the National Museum of Natural History

On Tuesday, we spent most of the day at the National Museum of Natural History. I really enjoyed that, and wished we’d had time to see even more of it. All of the exhibits were well done. The placards explained the science simply and well. I was quite impressed. We spent a good portion of our time in the Human Origins Exhibit, and I also enjoyed the Bones Exhibit. I snapped a few pictures that I hope to show my Anatomy & Physiology students this semester.

The entrance to Arlington National Cemetery

From the National Museum of Natural History, we rode the Metro to Arlington National Cemetery. From the beginning of our walk through it, Arlington was also sobering. There are many things in D.C. that can be well-represented with photographs. Arlington is not one of them. It is simply not possible to grasp the largeness of it from pictures. Row upon row of pristine, white tombstones stretched out before our eyes, with each tombstone remembering a servant of Freedom. Shortly after we arrived at Arlington, we were caught in a pop-up shower that turned into a deluge. We sought shelter under a tree, but in the end, I don’t think we were any less soaked because of it. After the rain slowed, we sloshed and squeaked our way to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. We were there in time to watch the ceremony for the changing of the guard. That was quite special. I was struck by the precision and respect. Again, it inspired gratitude in me.

Hiding under a tree at Arlington

Wednesday was, perhaps, the day on which I had the most fun. We began our day with a private tour of the US Capitol. There is so much to see there. My favorite was the Brumidi Corridor, but we both forgot to take pictures. You’ll just have to go see it for yourself. I also enjoyed the old Senate Room, as well as the original Supreme Court Chambers. Once again, it was sobering to remember all of the things that had happened in those rooms. Monumental decisions, important bills, arguments, and resolutions. Our tour ended quickly, and we wished we’d had more time.

We walked to Union Station to eat lunch at a Chipotle there. The day was warm, and we were in need of something to drink as well as something to eat. After lunch, we walked back toward Capitol Hill, with the Library of Congress as our next destination. There we took a guided tour where we learned about the history of the building, as well as how to go about using the resources at the Library. The building was my favorite of all the ones we visited in DC. The art and architecture were exquisite, and I especially loved all of the inscriptions that were included as part of the art. We spent much of the afternoon there, but I think I could have spent all day, exploring all of the ornate detail.

Beauty at the Library of Congress

Wednesday evening, we had dinner with my Uncle Tom, Aunt Jamie, and cousin Kayla at Gadsby’s Tavern in Alexandria, VA. The food was excellent, and I so much enjoyed catching up with them. It had been twenty years since we had last met, so there was plenty to catch up on!

Thursday was our last day in D.C. We spent our time at the National Museum of American History. I wish we had been able to do that museum earlier in our trip. By Thursday, I was done with the crowds. I was feeling drained and stretched too thin, so I was not able to enjoy the museum as much as I would have otherwise. Still, it was a good experience. The Democracy in America exhibit was a favorite for both of us. We walked through the history of American politics, and I was comforted in some way. No matter which side of the modern political you find yourself on, doom and gloom seems to be the name of the game. We’re “embarrassed to be Americans,” prophesying the imminent death of religious and social freedoms. But, the problems we have today are not new. They’ve taken new shapes and have different particulars, but these are the questions we’ve always had. And, when you take a look back through history, you really can see progress. That’s important. While it is very important to keep looking toward an ideal that you strive for, it is bolstering to look backward to see from where you’ve come. I was thankful for that perspective.

With relatives at Gadsby's Tavern.

We left D.C. on Friday morning, and the trip home was relatively uneventful. Beautiful views, and one particularly nice sunset were our companions on the drive home. We arrived home on Saturday, road-weary, thankful for our time in D.C., and very happy to be home.

During our trip, and since we’ve returned home, I’ve also been thinking about some of the practical aspects of the trip. What would I do differently if I had it to do over again? What would I keep the same? Overall, our trip went very smoothly, but there are a few things that I would change.

Food

The food I had planned for the actual traveling was perfect. It was nice to have a little bit of variety in our sandwiches instead of doing PBJ for every meal on the road. Granola and yogurt was a perfect breakfast for while we were gone. It was filling and nourishing, and traveled well. The dinners I had planned were largely unused, which was disappointing. Most of the places we went would not allow you to carry food in your bag, so we had planned to eat lunches out and dinners in while we were there. What ended up happening, however, is that we frequently didn’t eat lunch until 3 or 4 in the afternoon and didn’t return to the condo until nearly bedtime, so we would eat a small snack and just go to bed. So, we still only ate one meal out, but we didn’t use much of what we brought. If we return in the future, I will probably try to find a place to stay that is nearer to downtown so that we don’t have an hour-long commute back to where we’re staying. That way, meals will be a little easier to schedule.

Lodging

It was nice to have as much space as we did in our condo. However, I was not a fan of the strong cleaner smell. I felt as if the place was sprayed down for our arrival, but was possibly not well-maintained at other times. Also, I just could not shake the weirdness of knowing that we were staying in a stranger’s house. I really didn’t feel that we got the “local” feel that people had raved about with their AirBnB experiences, so I was left with a mediocre feeling about that experience. I think we’ll just go with regular hotels next time we travel.

Sunset on the way home.

Insults to Introversion

The crowds were just too much for me. By Thursday, I was in meltdown mode, and that wasn’t fun for either of us. If we go back in the future, or if we go to another large city, I’ll be planning a down day in the middle of the trip where I can recover from the draining of my soul that happens in large crowds.

Overall, our trip was wonderful. It was lovely to get away together, to learn more about our history, and to gain a different perspective of our nation.