Behind The Scenes

This past Sunday was the BIG day. We broke ground at our land. After a decade of dreaming, tweaking floor plans, meeting after meeting with a patient architect, mapping and flagging the location of the foundation, and the signing of our home loan - the digging began under the bright sun, a steady blue sky and the gaze of big dreamers. The earth moved and gave way to the heavy shovel as it scooped, lifted and dumped the chocolate brown dirt in a pile that continued to stretch towards the sky. My boys climbed and slid around in the clay earth that molded to their footprints. As we kicked around the fresh dirt, we would guess that we were standing in the future living room, or pretend we were opening the front door. It is such a gift - to see a dream slowly make its way to reality. I've been learning a lot about waiting and God's timing, and about the importance of the work that happens behind the scenes.

When we see a movie, read a book, shop at a cute boutique, or eat a plate of fantastic food at our favorite restaurant, we have the immense pleasure and privilege of entering into someone else's actualized dream. I often don't think of the prep work that goes into experiencing the things I enjoy. But someone else dreamed up that story line and movie script, wrestled with the right words to put on the pages of that book, took a risk at creating an inspiring place for others, and diligently chopped and sliced and sauteed those veggies so we could savor every bite. For a while, I felt like the dream of building a home was always going to be out of reach. So much work needed to be done before we could get to the main event - moving into a beautiful, new home. But the preparation is everything, because without it, we would not be equipped to move forward and failure would be imminent.

And such is life. The past couple of years haven't been golden for me. In fact, until recently, I've probably identified with Eeyore more than Pooh - longing for the sweet taste of honey but stuck under a rain cloud that won't disappear. Postpartum depression is no joke. I was in a pretty dark place for several months after my youngest's birth. It was something unrecognizable, like a new dark shadow of someone whose face I couldn't see but whose voice was all I could hear. I couldn't explain my feelings and I couldn't shake them. I withdrew to the confines of my home and suffered alone. I would cry out to God but never listen for His voice. All I could focus on was my pain and the fact that I felt like I was drowning and losing myself to a dark, unnamed abyss.

I've always been a big dreamer. I have hopes and desires that have taken root in my heart and spread throughout my soul. They pull me and push me and drive me and inspire me. But during that dark season of struggle I could not see my dreams. They were a cloudy vision, turning to mist in a fog that had consumed my thoughts. I wanted to write. I wanted to paint. I wanted to create and inspire and laugh and find God's voice among the songs of the birds and His beauty among the blooming flowers... but I just couldn't. And because my dreams and creativity are tethered to my soul, I felt so lost and disconnected to myself and everyone else. I couldn't be a good wife or a good mother, or a good friend. But what I see now, as the fog is long gone, and the sun is shining brilliantly around me once again, is that my recent journey with depression was part of the preparation for what is coming my way.

The past two years have not been wasted. God is already using them. Even in the darkest moments, I continued with my Bible studies. Though I may have been broken, God's Word and training slipped through the cracks of my fractured heart and sustained me. God was equipping me - and still is - for whatever may come my way. My season of pain has been relabeled as behind the scenes work my God was doing and is still doing in me. I have sensed Him calling me to trust Him and I feel His steady hand in my life, reminding me...

"As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it."  Isaiah 55:10-11 

As I watched the shovel break into the blanket of emerald green grass, cradling it in its jaws and dumping it into a messy pile, I saw the past two years of my life personified before me. God was digging out the things in my life that needed to be removed in order to build something new in me. He has been making my heart fertile again, ready for the seeds He intends to plant there. Depression had shifted my foundation, and God has been strengthening me by breaking up the things that had taken root in my life that were not supposed to be there. And though it was messy and painful and I felt lost and confused, I am starting to see His vision gently unfold before me, with much anticipation, hope and excitement. I have learned a lot about myself, my needs, and my God these past couple of years. I know, because He showed me, how to take better care of myself. And I've learned that no matter how hard and painful life can be, the more I lean into the pain, the more I lean into His chest where His arms are open to embrace me.

The work that happens behind the scenes is hard. It's tedious, boring at times, and can be unfulfilling, confusing and discouraging. But as I recognized that which God was doing in me, I was able to embrace it willingly, shifting my focus from the difficulty to the hugely anticipated main event - when I can say, "So this is what all that was for, huh, Lord?" I've come to appreciate this season of learning, where I sit at His feet and press in, like an eager student, wondering what truths will fall upon my ears. And as He builds me back up again, I'm confidently claiming my identity in Him.

Abbie

I first met Abbie at the community pool. All the chairs that bordered the swimming area were occupied with damp towels and sopping wet kids, so I found myself at a picnic table in a grassy area apart from the commotion. Abbie was there too, with a cute colorful scarf wrapped delicately around her head. I knew who she was, instantly. Several friends of mine had told me that I should "meet her" because we'd be "instant friends." Our eyes met for a moment and we introduced ourselves and chatted. I remember thinking that her smile was amazing. I knew that my friends had been right. A girl with a captivating smile does make a great friend.

It wasn't until months later when she walked into one of my Bible Studies, that I had the chance to peel back the layers and get to know the girl behind the great smile. As her story fell upon my ears bit by bit, I felt drawn to her and the work I could clearly see God doing in her life. There are some stories that just scream at me - "God is here. He's at work HERE. Pay attention to what He is doing HERE." Those are the stories that pull me in, wanting to be close to the person who God is molding into a likeness of Him - because it draws me close to Him. And that is where I want to be.

Its a couple of years later, and her and I are sitting on my couch. Her youngest is climbing into her lap to play with her phone. I'm curled up with a pen in my hand, because the details are important. God is always in the details. And she pours it all out, with grace, love, power... and that smile.

I wasn't looking for a lump. I found it by coincidence, when Eli was only 6 months old, she begins. She took me back through the first weeks of her discovery. Through the first night she experienced with the knowledge that she had breast cancer. How she held her babies in their beds and sobbed, fearful of the unknown future, envisioning the letters she would need to write and the videos she would need to film so her kids could remember her, when she was gone. She took me through the days where she just cried and cried, mourning a loss that had not yet happened, not understanding that she could have a good prognosis. Then there were the days filled with tests and more tests which rolled into days after days of treatment. There was a whirlwind of busyness that left her demanding,"What is being taken from me?" But she only had her mind to wrestle with the answer.

And then there was the hair cut. A pivotal moment, as her hair was long and shiny and pumped full of prenatal vitamins. The physical landscape of her identity transformed before her eyes, leaving her caught in a web of change. Wigs brought her insecurity. Scarves served her better. But at the end of the day, I would look in the mirror and feel so ugly, she explains. She longed for her old self, but every day that passed as she pressed on deeper and deeper into her journey with cancer, left her feeling further from her self. She felt like she was in constant fight mode, anger simmering... just beneath the smile.

She fought, though, with both fists up and her whole self in the fight - and beat the cancer. She explains that though she was physically healed, she was still emotionally wrecked. The girl she saw in the mirror was not the same girl she knew when the journey began. All she wanted to do was go back to normal, be her old self, and claim the Abbie that once was. Jealousy consumed her, as she battled with the reality that the change that occurred only kept propelling her forward, not restoring her to her former self. The choice to have more children had been seized from her. Her short hair and her medications stripped her of her femininity. She lost control over her emotions. Her marriage suffered. She was full of anger that this had become her story. And her reflection in the mirror continued to be unyielding to familiarity.

She had been made new on the outside. But not the inside. Not yet.

Abbie couldn't keep going on fueled by anger. Eventually she came to the realization that she couldn't go back to the way things use to be, and she made a new goal - a goal to purposefully and intentionally live a new life. She found her way to church, through the invitation of a friend, and committed her life to Christ after she sat through the first sermon. She didn't like asking for help, but knew she couldn't do everything by herself anymore - the burden wasn't meant for her to carry alone. If she was going to claim a new life moving forward, she needed to let go of the old one for good. Motivated towards embracing this new life, she firmly planted herself in church and Bible studies and surrounded herself with people that would speak truth and grace into her life. And she grew.

God saved my life. He saved me from the depths of despair. I was about to go into counseling, but instead I started going to church. God saved me some money too. She laughed and stroked her little boy's head as he snuggled in her lap. I ask her how she has seen God show up in her life since she has invited Him to be a part of it. I see things differently now. My heart has changed. Now, as I wait for test results, I have hope... hope in a greater plan. God is also working in different areas of my life where I have been holding on to negative emotions, like my relationship with my brother. She pauses in thought. When people used to tell me their cancer diagnosis was a blessing, I thought they were crazy. But if it hadn't happened, I wouldn't have gone to church or met people who pray for each other. There was something bigger out there for me all along. This is what God chose, and it enriched my life.

I see Abbie with her son, sitting across from me, no fear in her eyes. No more thoughts of letters and videos. It began with a radical transformation on the outside. The Potter took the clay that He adoringly called ABBIE and carefully reworked it. He molded every edge, smoothed every lump. The clay looked different as He turned it over in His hands, however, it was meant to fulfill a different purpose now. The life of the vessel was changing too, and the proper changes needed to be made in order to accommodate His intended purpose for it. The exterior was transforming, as He worked and stretched the clay, paying attention to every detail. He took the old clay and made it new again, breathing life into every bit of it. And there He sat, admiring His work - a beautiful masterpiece reflecting His glory and sovereignty. His Abbie.

I see the beauty of Abbie's story in her smile. The way God worked through something so difficult and unwanted. The way He brought healing to so many areas in her life - through a physical sickness. The confidence that she has to share her story with others, bringing hope and sharing her faith. I asked her what she would say to anyone else struggling with emotional heartache post cancer. She looked at me and said with certainty, You're not going to go back to your old self afterwards, and that's okay. Cancer took a lot away from me, but I choose to be happy and grateful. I find myself in everyday situations, like moments where the boys are playing, and I close my eyes... and a peace washes over me. 

Abbie's story brings me so much comfort. Her life is a spectacular reflection of God's good work. And I am so blessed by her friendship and thankful for the lessons that God has taught her... so that she can teach me.