Surgery

It's time. 

It took awhile to get scheduled and we had to fiddle with dates, but the day for my surgery has finally arrived. Tomorrow morning, I will check in at CHI Bergan-Mercy hospital in Omaha at 5:30am and should be wheeled back to surgery sometime around 7:30am. Surgery itself will take 6-8 hours (my guess is closer to the 8-hour mark based on all they have to do).

Here are all the procedures they are going to be doing during that time (for more info, see my previous post, Jordan):

0. Uterine fibroid removal

1. Endometriosis removal

2. Appendectomy

3. Ovarian Wedge Resection

4. Bowel Resection

5. Pelvioplasty

If all goes well, I will spend 2 nights in the hospital and should be discharged and back home sometime on Sunday. I will then have my second surgery at Boys Town on Tuesday, February 12th, to remove the gortex surgical mesh.

Prayers are very much appreciated! For my anxiety, that God would help me receive His peace, and for smooth healing. For the surgical team, including the surgeons, Dr. Pakiz and Dr. Fitzgibbons. For Dan and my Mom who will be spending the day at the hospital, waiting for news. For the Munchkin and my Dad who will have school and be spending the day together.

Thank you to everyone who has already reached out to help and encourage us. There is a meal train set up if you would like to help provide meals while I recover from both surgeries. Here is the link: https://www.mealtrain.com/trains/5yd0yw

I am grateful for the answers God has provided in this journey and I'm looking forward to seeing what life will be like post-recovery. Thank you for your many prayers and well wishes! I'll see you on the other side! :)

Soli Deo Gloria,

Meghan

Jordan

“And Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, "Go and wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored, and you shall be clean." But Naaman was angry and went away, saying, "Behold, I thought that he would surely come out to me and stand and call upon the name of the Lord his God, and wave his hand over the place and cure the leper. Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them and be clean?" So he turned and went away in a rage. But his servants came near and said to him, "My father, it is a great word the prophet has spoken to you; will you not do it? Has he actually said to you, 'Wash, and be clean'?" So he went down and dipped himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God, and his flesh was restored like the flesh of a little child, and he was clean.”

2 Kings 5:10-14 ESV

https://bible.com/bible/59/2ki.5.10-14.ESV

When we embarked on this health journey into our infertility issues, my husband would often remind me of Naaman's story. “We are dipping in the Jordan” he would tell me. This came to be a twofold reminder to both of us as we walk this road and a quick way to refocus when we are discouraged.

First, it is a reminder that there were no shortcuts. Naaman had to dip seven times. Not three, not five...seven. We knew this would be a long journey, not a short walk in the park. So each time there was a new task to complete? “We're dipping in the Jordan.” When we had to learn Creighton Model fertility tracking for 2 months before we could get an appointment at Pope Paul VI Institute? “We're dipping in the Jordan.” Driving up to Omaha six days straight for ultrasounds? Three weeks of getting blood drawn every other day? Diagnostic laparoscopic surgery? You guessed it, dipping in the Jordan.

However, to me, it also became a reminder of God's plan. You see, this wasn't how Naaman thought he should be healed. He thought he would at least see Elisha face-to-face. He complained that there were far superior rivers elsewhere, so why this one? And I get it. This was not how I thought our journey to become parents again would be. I never imagined difficulty and loss at every turn. I never planned to have kids this far apart. I never imagined I'd only have one precious little one for so long. Let's admit it: I, like Naaman, thought God should answer my requests the way I wanted it.

And, yet, God is good. Without our “Jordan” experiences, we wouldn't have the answers that we do today. If there were no “Jordan”, we'd still be looking at quick-fix “solutions” that didn't address any of the underlying problems. And, oh boy, are there problems...

On October 11th, I had my diagnostic laparoscopic surgery as the final step in our diagnostic testing with Pope Paul. Then, on Monday October 15th, we met with my doctor to discuss all the testing I'd undergone and her findings. What she found… Well, I was surprised, to say the least.

Severe endometriosis and polycystic ovaries.

Now, we'd expected to find some endo and she had talked about, if it was minor, she would simply take care of it during the diagnostic surgery. But the amount and the locations where she found it mean that we will be scheduling a second, all-day surgery that includes a second, general surgeon probably sometime in late January. So here's the litany of procedures I will need during that surgery to address all the problems we found:

0. Uterine fibroid removal (only one, super simple, almost not worth mentioning)

1. Endometriosis removal from uterus and bladder

2. Appendectomy

3. Ovarian Wedge Resection (addresses polycystic ovaries)

4. Pelvioplasty- the only procedure insurance will not cover. They will wrap things in Gortex to prevent scar tissue and adhesions from forming. This covering will then be removed 10 days after surgery via another quick laparoscopic procedure.

5. The doozy...Bowel Resection- in order to completely remove the endo, they will need to resection part of my small intestine. This will require a general surgeon and 2 nights in the hospital following surgery.

So here we stand on the banks of the Jordan again, preparing ourselves for the path God has laid out for us, unsure of how many more times we will enter the river. But while we may not yet know the outcome of this journey, we trust in the One who does. He knows the path ahead because He has prepared it for us and us for it. God is in control so we dip in the Jordan, trusting Him for the outcome. He's not finished with us yet.

Soli Deo Gloria,

Meghan

Normal

Those who know Dan and I know that we both have a science background. When we're tackling a problem, we love having more data. Last week, we received a rather interesting look at another piece of our infertility puzzle.

For years, I've told people that I'm overall pretty healthy with the exception of being overweight. Yes, I was tired almost as soon as I woke up, plucked wiry stray hairs off my chin and neck occasionally, still dealt with acne in my 30’s, but I thought this was my normal. But what if it's not?

We won't be able to discuss it with the doctor until our comprehensive management review post-op appointment in mid-October, but the office sent us a copy of my blood test results from the National Hormone Lab. It was eye-opening to say the least.

Very few of my hormones are actually within the normal range, most of them are too low, one of them is too high. In my assessment, it will probably explain a good chunk of our fertility issues but there's more. You see, this isn't “normal”. My life, my health? Not normal. I cried thinking about it, looking at those results, but maybe not for the reason you're thinking.

I cried because it gave me HOPE.

The way I've felt for years, that I thought was normal? It's not normal! And… What if? What would life be like if those numbers were in a normal range? How much better might I feel than I do now? How life-changing might this be, not just on our infertility journey, but overall?

The final step before an official diagnosis and forming a treatment plan is my diagnostic laparoscopy on Thursday, October 11th. We will then meet with our doctor the following Monday where we might finally get answers we've been looking for all these months and years.

So I'm holding on to the hope that God has given me in the midst of all this. And not only the hope for another baby anymore (though of course I still do), but also the hope of better health. For while my body bears the evidence of sin and the Fall and will never be perfect this side of eternity, I know the Great Physician can still accomplish His Will in spite of whatever my circumstances may be.

Soli Deo Gloria,

Meghan

Piece of the Puzzle

“Knowing a disappointing truth is better than wondering forever.” -Unknown

Over the course of over five years, I have been pregnant only two times. Only one of those babies do we get to hold this side of heaven. In more than over two years of trying since our miscarriage, there has not been a single positive test. Two years is a long time to go with no definitive answers. But that might be about to change.

At the beginning of the year, we found that my thyroid needed a little help to do its job (aka hypothyroidism). Even once the medication dosage was figured out, that treatment did not seem to be improving our fertility problems. My doctor began to suggest IUI might be a good option for us as there seemed to be no explanation for our issues and everything appeared to be fine. However, we didn't feel the same way and were still concerned that there might be underlying health issues that could be missed in jumping to such “solutions”.

In June, we decided to contact a clinic that specializes in solving fertility problems naturally, a place several friends of mine had visited and experienced success in addressing health issues that then led to healthy pregnancies. The Pope Paul VI Institute (PPVI) is an international leader in developing and practicing Natural Procreative Technology (NaProTechnology) and happens to be located just one hour away in Omaha, Nebraska. Our first appointment was set for early August and we began tackling the required preliminaries before that meeting, namely learning the Creighton model of fertility tracking (CrMS). It was frustrating that they wouldn't see us until 60 days after we started using CrMS but, looking back, I can see now how much information it has added to the discussion. It still frustrates me at times, as my perfectionist nature wants everything to be “right”, but I'm learning to trust my judgement more now, three months into it.

Since that first appointment, a battery of tests including bloodwork and ultrasounds have occurred and, later this fall in October, I will have a diagnostic laparoscopic surgery. Even before the testing officially began, it simply felt good to be doing something, to have a plan to discover any underlying health issues, even if it meant becoming a human pincushion and driving to Omaha every day for six days straight for ultrasounds. But all of this may have already turned up at least one piece of the puzzle…

LUFS

It's an acronym I hadn't heard before, even amongst friends that also struggle with infertility issues. It stands for “luteinized unruptured follicle syndrome” and is not terribly common. Information from PPVI says they see it in only 15% of cases where women have regular cycles but still struggle with infertility. Basically, my body will give every sign that a cycle is normal and that I'm ovulating. Basal body temperature, cervical mucus, and even ovulation predictor tests will all look like everything is functioning normally. But when observed through ultrasound, we can see that, while my ovary may develop a follicle, that follicle will not rupture to release the egg.

Being me, I immediately dove into research, reading abstracts of any medical papers I could find that referenced LUFS (yay for PubMed). LUFS was first described in 1978 and can only be diagnosed with laparoscopic surgery or daily ultrasounds around the time of ovulation (how we found mine). Clomid alone, seemingly one of the most popular first steps with doctors when facing infertility, is actually one of the least effective treatment for LUFS.

We haven't met with the doctor yet and probably won't form an actual treatment plan until all the testing is done and we have a complete picture (there's a possibility PCOS is involved as well in all this). But at least for now, it feels satisfying to just have one piece. I'm grateful we don't have to wonder forever.

Soli Deo Gloria,

Meghan

The Shirt

I feel like I can't keep this kid in clothes! Every time I turn around, something is too short, too snug, or just plain too small! It's gotten to the point that when I do his load of laundry each week, I pull out at least one, if not more, pieces of clothing that don't fit (this week, I think I pulled out at least 6).

I've been trying to go through his drawers more regularly of late and rotate out the things I know don't fit. Then I'll pull out things that are the next size larger and move them into rotation. He won't be 4 for another 2 months but I've been removing all the 3T items pretty consistently in favor of 4T and even a good amount of 5T.

That is, except for one shirt...

In the bottom of the back corner of his drawer of shirts, there lives a single 2T shirt. A shirt I know without a shadow of a doubt doesn't fit him. A shirt he only got to wear a couple times over the course of 6 weeks. This shirt.

Until a couple months ago, this shirt was still in his drawer. It lived there for 21 months. Months during which he's told us time and again how he wants another baby (lately it's been a baby sister specifically). Months where he will cradle a stuffed animal or baby doll and call them his baby. It stayed there long after every other 2T shirt was packed away and some 3T too. It stayed there through changing seasons and passing years.

I finally removed it. It was time.

Technically, it was way past time for that shirt to go but it finally came time when I came to terms with that reality. When I came to terms with the fact that removing that shirt did not mean I was removing hope. Because I still have hope.

Hope every month that, even after 2 years of disappointment, I might still get to take a test and see a positive result.

Hope that I'll be able to give my boy the big brother book I still have stashed away for him.

Hope that someday this picture will become a reality and not just playing pretend.

However, my hope isn't in modern medicine, though I avail myself of it. My hope isn't in my cycle charts, though I appreciate all the information they afford me. Because my hope is not in me...

My hope is in the One who time and again has proven Himself faithful; who multiple times provided the miracle of a child to many women throughout the Bible; who is sovereign over even the smallest parts of my body.

"O Lord of hosts, if you will...remember me and not forget your servant..." quoted from 1 Samuel 1:11

"And now, O Lord, for what do I wait? My hope is in you." Psalm 39:7

While I certainly hope and pray daily for a certain outcome in my life, I know that the One who is my Hope transcends even these circumstances and that He is good even if the desired outcome doesn't come. My Hope is not in vain, even when the shirts keep getting outgrown and the tests keep coming out negative. So I continue to hope and pray, for my God is a God of miracles and worthy of my trust.

"Though He slay me, I will hope in him..." Job 13:15a

"For you, O Lord, are my hope, my trust, O Lord, from my youth." Psalm 71:5

Soli Deo Gloria,
Meghan

Would Have

Dear Sweet Baby,

This past week, we would have celebrated your first birthday (approximately).

We would have gone overboard celebrating you, though maybe not as much as we did with your big brother. We learned our lesson (I think...). There certainly would have been lots of pictures.

We would have let you have too much sugar as you dug into your birthday cake. Would you have investigated this new confection before diving in or done a faceplant right in the middle of it all?

You would have celebrated possibly your first Thanksgiving. We would have loaded your plate with all the fixings, eager to see which you would devour first.

Your big brother would have shown you how yummy olives can be and how to eat them properly (on your fingers, of course!). Would you have liked green olives like your daddy, black olives like me, or both like your brother?

Your Daddy would have snuggled you and taught you about football as we watched the games while your brother pretended to play "Minnesota touchdown". Would you have had your Daddy's slight build or his kind eyes? You would have loved having him as your Daddy.

And me, sweet baby? I would have introduced you to some of the wonderful traditions like snuggling up to watch the Thanksgiving parade on TV in our pajamas with a special breakfast. Would you have loved the music and marching bands or been more interested in the balloons?

You will always be intertwined with Thanksgiving in my heart and mind now, little one. You were our "holidays" baby. We found out about you on St. Patrick's Day, announced to the world you were coming on Easter, and lost you on Mother's Day. Your short life changed so much of ours.

I will always love you. And though I may cry, I will also smile at the "would haves". For, you see, you will always be a part of our family though we never held you.

I can't wait to meet you someday.

Love,
Your Momma

Days of Plenty

On a whim, I recently started rereading "Little Woman" by Louisa May Alcott. I hadn't read it in a long time but have fond memories of it, especially the old, worn copy my mother passed down to me. As I started reading, it reminded me of the "Little Women" Broadway musical production that I had the privilege of seeing many years ago. If you haven't heard of it, I highly recommend checking it out! ;) Sutton Foster! Maureen McGovern! Wonderful songs! :)

Of course, thinking of the musical meant that I had to look up and listen to the soundtrack for it. Some of the songs I remembered, others I had to be reminded of, some I had completely forgotten about. As I scrolled through the list, I saw one that I couldn't remember called "Days of Plenty" and decided to listen to it. I wasn't prepared to be reminded.

Sung here by the original actress for Marmee, Maureen McGovern.

I burst into tears as I listened to this song. As the family mourns the death of dear Beth, Marmee pours out both the depth of her grief and the strength of her resolve to daughter Jo. I couldn't help but draw parallels to the baby I lost last May.

"I never dreamed of this sorrow..."
While we struggled to get pregnant with our first, the pregnancy itself was very smooth and uncomplicated. I knew we'd probably have issues getting pregnant again, but I never dreamed after my first pregnancy that the problems would come after that positive test.

"How I wish I could change the way things went..."
 No other words are needed. I don't know why God asked me to walk this valley, but I do know it's not a road I would've chosen for myself.

"Not this bare emptiness..."
And it feels oh so bare and empty at the moment. It's been more than 10 months (almost 11) since we found out we were pregnant, almost 9 months since we lost that baby. I've lost count of the negative pregnancies tests in that time.

"I wanted days of plenty..."
I wanted to see my son become a big brother, watch my husband hold another child, celebrate every milestone with that baby. First words, first tooth, first steps...days filled with plenty of joy.

"There has got to be meaning, Most of all when a life has been so brief..."
I think this is why I blog so much about this right now. I'm still trying to find the meaning in the tragedy. I told my husband one day that I wish this loss wasn't so all-consuming, especially as we get close to being a year removed from it. I know one day it may not be as raw, but right now, as I search for where to go from here, the weight of it feels suffocating at times.

"You can't let this defeat you, I won't let this defeat you..."
 I feel like this is the pep talk I need to give the woman in the mirror every morning.

"So believe that she mattered and believe that she always will...She will always be with you, she'll be part of the days you've yet to fill..."

My time with them was fleeting but oh-so-meaningful. My baby will always matter. And so does the Munchkin that I have with me. I have been blessed with days of plenty with him and for that I am incredibly grateful. I look forward to the day yet to be filled with his joy and antics.

As I try to find my way forward as the mother of two children, one on earth and one in heaven, I am grateful for the days I have been given with both my children. I pray there will be many more to come with my Munchkin and maybe, someday, days of plenty with a new little one here on earth.

Soli Deo Gloria,
Meghan

By the Numbers

8 - months since our miscarriage.

7 - anniversary we will celebrate later this year.

6 - months ago that we started trying to get pregnant again, post-miscarriage.

5 - years ago that we started intentionally trying to get pregnant.

4 - blood tests to make sure my body realized I wasn't pregnant anymore last year.

3 - failed rounds of Clomid in as many months to end 2016.

2 - lifetime pregnancies.

1 - one live birth; one miscarriage; one enduring deep desire.

More than one...

Before Dan and I got married, before we were even engaged, we had many of the typical conversations for a couple at that stage. We even had what we called "Awkward Questions Weekend" where we could ask any question on our mind, no matter the subject. Of course, one of those topics included our number of desired children.

At the time, I probably said two or three. After talking about it though, the ultimate answer we arrived at, what we would tell people for months and years to come, was "more than one". We made the choice at that time to not limit what God might do in our lives, but to simply express our desire for multiple children.

All these years later, that desire has not faded. In fact, if anything, it has grown stronger. After the loss of our baby last Mother's Day, we feel even more keenly how incomplete our family is.

That pregnancy was unexpected and, in some ways, miraculous considering some of the variables. However, the circumstances almost make it harder to process what has followed. 6 more months of trying, 3 of those with the aid of fertility medication, but with no positive results.

The desire gnaws.

It is something I carry every day, a part of me I cannot quiet or satiate no matter how much I want to. It tugs at my heart every time I see my son interact with a baby. It screams with every new pregnancy or birth announcement. Others may never see it, but it is still there.

My Munchkin visiting a friend who was 11 days new!

I do not know why God has seen fit to tarry in blessing us with more children. I wish I could see what His plan was. But I do know that to Him, He is not tarrying a single second.

"But do not overlook this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day. The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance."
2 Peter 3:8‭-‬9 ESV
http://bible.com/59/2pe.3.8-9.ESV

So in this time of waiting with unfulfilled desires, I have adopted the motto of a dear friend of mine: "Until God tells me no, I will pray, try, and hope." So that is exactly what we will continue to do. We hope the testing this month brings answers. We hope the month off Clomid will help us reset. We hope that God chooses to bless us with another child sooner rather than later. And maybe, someday, my deferred hope will become a fulfilled hope.

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life."
Proverbs 13:12 ESV
http://bible.com/59/pro.13.12.ESV

Soli Deo Gloria,

Meghan 

The Power of Story - Truth in Parable

The Power of Story – Truth in Parable

I love stories. 

More specifically, I love the way that the background and depth required of good storytelling often unconsciously showcases truth, even truth that the author may not intend to be the focus of the story. Often, when reading or watching a good story, a moment will display truth so forcefully to me that I am startled. Like a lightning flash in a dark night, the truth, once hidden, is now suddenly brightly lit and obvious.

Meghan and I went to see Pixar’s Finding Dory earlier in the summer. Pixar films are always on our list to see in theater since they have such high quality stories. We are such fans that we used a musical theme from a Pixar movie in our wedding! Since we did not see the film on it’s opening weekend, I was aware that the film would deal with issues related to parenting a child with memory problems. I thought this would not be very impactful to me. Yet, as I watched the parents diligently work to help their child (Dory) develop skills that would enable her to function in spite of her handicap in the world, I was unsettled. Something about this seemed familiar. I brushed it off, and went back to enjoying the adventure Dory and the other fish were in.  The moment when Dory is swept away and loses contact with her parents was a dark moment, but it didn’t resonate beyond the movie for me. 

At the end of the film, Dory is once again separated from everyone she knows (a call back to the beginning of the film) and she has no other support…no friends to remind her who she is and where she is trying to go. At that moment, she goes back to the reflexive skills taught to her by her parents, so long ago…and those skills lead her to a line of shells on the sea floor, which she follows, as her parents encouraged Dory to do as a baby. That line of shells turns out to be one of a multitude of shell lines painstakingly laid over the years Dory has been lost.

The storyteller shows, in a simple image of shell lines spiraling out from their home, the depth of the effort Dory’s parents spent for her. They dedicated their lives to instilling reflexes in her that would lead her home…and when she was swept away, they spent the rest of their lives building paths home from every direction. 

Lightning flash.

I suddenly understood the connection. Meghan and I have spent the last two years building into our wonderful little boy. Worrying about his safety, making sure he has the right skills, hoping that we would do the right things to help him be healthy, smart, wise, and that the evil and darkness in this world wouldn’t take him from us. Building paths in his mind that will bring him home to where he is called to go. Just like Dory’s parents, we deal with the fear of the consequences of our actions as parents every day. The effects of ‘failure’ may not be as dramatic as in the film, but they are no less real or painful even to parents of children without the challenges Dory faced. Yet I willingly embrace this responsibility because I love that wonderful bundle of toddler joy. Being his parent fills me with so much joy that I WANT to subject myself to that fear.

This spring, we found out that we were having a second child. We were excited since we have already experienced the amazing experience of welcoming new life into the world and watching him grow. We began planning for the new arrival, and dreaming of who our child might become. We went to our first ultrasound eager to get our first glimpse of this new life. The technician warmed up the equipment and started listening for the baby. If you’ve ever had the privilege of being present for an ultrasound, you know that the event is often full of noise. The technician chatters away, and your wife chatters back, eager to share her joy at the new life growing inside her. Our appointment though, was different. It was quiet, almost silent.

No chatter. No heartbeat. Just the slow, crushing realization of just how terrible silence can be. Our child was no longer alive. We buried our child on Mothers Day.

When a loved one dies, we often grieve by remembering them in life. Their mannerisms, the good times we spent with them, the way they laughed. When your child dies before birth, there is only silence. An emptiness that is suddenly oppressive. There are no memories, nothing to latch onto but the dashed hopes of what might have been.

I have been carrying that emptiness with me from that moment until seeing Finding Dory. When I saw those shell paths, I realized that while my son will require those paths to be built in his mind and in his world…my other child no longer needs them. She is already home. It is no longer my burden to serve her in that way. I can let her go, just as I will have to let my son go as he grows. I may not be able to share the joy of seeing her grow, but I will also not have to live in the constant worry that often accompanies parenting.

Of course, I would prefer the worry and joy of raising the child. How could it be fair or right that my child would die in such a way, before I could even meet her? How can I respond with joy and excitement when friends announce the imminent arrival of their own baby, when all that seems to do is remind me of my own loss?

This inner conflict within reminds me of another story, told long ago by Jesus.

“For the kingdom of heaven is like a master of a house who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with the laborers for a denarius a day, he sent them into his vineyard. And going out about the third hour he saw others standing idle in the marketplace, and to them he said, ‘You go into the vineyard too, and whatever is right I will give you.’ So they went. Going out again about the sixth hour and the ninth hour, he did the same. And about the eleventh hour he went out and found others standing. And he said to them, ‘Why do you stand here idle all day?’ They said to him, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You go into the vineyard too.’ And when evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his foreman, ‘Call the laborers and pay them their wages, beginning with the last, up to the first.’ And when those hired about the eleventh hour came, each of them received a denarius. Now when those hired first came, they thought they would receive more, but each of them also received a denarius. And on receiving it they grumbled at the master of the house, saying, ‘These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.’ But he replied to one of them, ‘Friend, I am doing you no wrong. Did you not agree with me for a denarius? Take what belongs to you and go. I choose to give to this last worker as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or do you begrudge my generosity? ’So the last will be first, and the first last.” (Matthew 20:1-16 – emphasis mine)

I agreed with God that he could have my life, and he would give me what was right. There was no contract specifying number of children, or a life free from pain or struggle, or anything like that. I trusted when I gave my life to Him that he would be just, good, righteous. How can I compare what God gives me with the other laborers in his vineyard? He is doing me no wrong. Children are his gift, and he can give or withhold or take as he chooses.

What remains is that I must live and tell my story. I cannot possibly try to live anyone else’s story as well as mine. Perhaps the darkness of parts of my story will allow the lightning flash of truth to be all the brighter to the soul who needs to see it. My response to this darkness must be to take it to Jesus (who is no stranger to tears). He is the only one who knows my full story, and can give what is necessary to live it well. I am resolved, then, to wait and hope that he will grant me the strength to fulfill the full measure of the story he is writing with me.