What's In A Name?

     "I have small eyes. She has big eyes. But we have the same eyes." It was the caption under two sets of almond-shaped eyes, one set smaller and one a bit larger. Eight year old Priscilla had drawn them as part of a school project and my eyes gleamed as I learned how much my niece wanted to be like me. The construction paper book held matching pictures of her and me, always one smaller than the other. She wrote about me taking her to the store and playground and she stressed that since we had the same name, hers being my middle name, we were "just alike." Priscilla; my pride.
     In those days, as a single woman, I carried wallet-sized photos of all my nieces and nephews. There were eleven of them by then with more on the way. And I absolutely loved those kids. Even then, I had this gnawing feeling that I would have trouble conceiving and I poured all the affection I might have reserved for my own babies into them. Now guys, even if you weren't close by, just know I was still head over heals about you all. No fighting over me, please.
     From the inside of a juvenile detention center seven years later, going to live with Tia Alma seemed like a really good idea. So Priscilla, my bruised little flower moved in. Wilted in places and injured, this frail child was entrusted to me. "Tia, I can't sleep, will you rub my back?" "Tia, my stomach hurts, can you lay with me?" "Tia, I have a headache. Do I have to go to school?" Hungry for attention, she fed freely and knew she could. As for me, I happily obliged. But she was no ordinary flower. It would take more than some harsh treatment to finish her off.  She was like a foxglove, so resilient with such vibrant color. Given the right elements and good rich soil, they thrive. And she did. And she has. Foxglove flowers are hard to kill. They can grow to two to five foot spikes and their leaves produce a substance used in heart medicine. The foxglove can also be poisonous. In Priscilla I've observed venom fend off her attackers and defend her loved-ones. And I've admired the healing she imparts to others' hearts who, likewise, have suffered. She stands tall, brightly adorned with a smile and passersby take note of her beauty. Priscilla; my pride.
     The foxglove self-sows and multiplies spreading rapidly and filling its bed.  Now Priscilla might say, "here's where the analogy ends." It's been three years since their marriage and Priscilla and Brown have wanted a second child.  "A hormonal imbalance" they call it. Well, we all knew there was some kind of imbalance. But seriously, no babies, not yet. And yet, what she sows into the lives of her daughter and countless others multiplies. She's sown into my life and enriched it with her love. And that Divine Gardener has so much more in store.
     Priscilla says my story inspires her and gives her hope. That hope is in the Lord. It's in the fact that He knows Priscilla's name and her desires. It is in the knowledge that her Creator has great plans and will use her to nurture others. It is in the promise that, while they may or may not be from her own womb, He will fill her home with many children. In this season of life, she is experiencing a blessed barrenness and can affirm God's goodness. How fitting that a blessing contained in my barrenness is named Priscilla.
    

Not Quite Illiterate

By my own admission, I have lots to learn about the brave new world of computer technology.  If you were to ask my 13 year old daughter, she would say I'm a complete illiterate. Truth be told, I do sometimes play dumb with her. She gets a kick out of doing that adolescent-girl-demeaning-her-mom thing. And I get secret pleasure out of knowing that I know more than she thinks I know. I must confess, though, that there is reason to think I have tons to learn. Case in point; search for me on facebook and you'll find there are two of me! And what do you know? We have 38 friends in common! I know, you're way ahead of me; yes, I forgot the first password. So if you want to friend request me, I suppose you could send the request to both of us (both of me?). The one who responds is me. Want more? No problem. So I heard from a friend that a particular internet game was fun. When I wrote to ask how I could play, I think he thought I wanted to know the logistics of the game. He quickly discovered I didn't even know the first step in accessing a game or even responding to a game invite. Wisely, he suggested that I ask my 13 year old. A similar thing happened with regard to getting You Tube on my phone. I could picture my friend's mouth hanging slightly open at the thought that more than a decade into the 21st century a middle aged person wouldn't know something so simple. I still read the manual when I get a new phone, I don't know how to fully operate a remote (please don't let a function require two remotes), and I would sooner wait six months for daylight savings time than to attempt to adjust the clock in my vehicle. By now you're wondering, "why the lengthy disclosures and what does this have to do with her journey through infertility?" It's a not-so-subtle attempt at getting all my loyal readers to overlook the fact that I haven't written in so long. Check out recent facebook comments between me and my niece: Tammi - Hey, so remember when you used to blog? lol; Me - If I told you what was up with that, you'd think I was goofy. Tammi - You can't remember your password anymore can you? Me - Hush!!! Tammi - SERIOUSLY??!!! So that was ten days ago and I made up my mind that I would do whatever it took, without any help, to get back into my blog. Now all you smarty pants are thinking, "just reset the password." Well, how nice for you that you just somehow know to do that. No, I'm not resentful. Anyway, I'm back and I'm eager to write more. As for the many followers, well maybe I have a couple but my hope is that many will be blessed. So what's up with those funky characters they make you re-type anyway?

A "Save the Date" from God

Last weekend my daughter responded to a call to prayer by going up and kneeling at an altar with two friends. The oldest of the trio has been much like a mentoring peer to my daughter. She's responded to her hormonally-driven, pre-teen, angst-filled facebook posts with sound and sensitive advice. She's shared laughs with her, kept her secrets, and set her straight when needed. But for me, this past Sunday was a highpoint. She prayed with my daughter. I reflected in my seat and thanked God that He has brought such great friends our way.  As I've thought about that moment since then, I've been able to experience a blessing come around, full circle. This lovely young lady who knelt at the altar with my daughter is living up to a heritage of caring. It was her grandmother who led me to an altar about sixteen years ago. We were at a women's rally and an invitation to prayer was given. She came and fished me out of the crowd of women and walked with me to that sacred rail. We'd formed a friendship a few summers earlier. I had spent those summer months working as a Cadet assigned to her church. This woman took me under her wings. She took the time to get to know me. She was genuinely interested in me and encouraged me to listen for God's leading in my life. She was open about herself and she gave of herself. She made an investment in me that summer and she kept up with me over the following few years. By the time we met at that rally, she knew I'd been struggling with infertility. I don't actually remember talking with her about it, but she knew. And it was with that in mind that she invited me up to pray. We knelt and she interceded for me. She asked that I might receive the desire of my heart and she spoke it as if it were. It was powerful and I stood from there assured of God's care and provision. That next day I was looking through my Bible randomly trying to find something I could read before our congregation. It was probably 11:03am on Sunday morning, which will reveal a lot to all you church-goers. I was not concerned with what was in there for me, yet at that moment God led me to the 113th Psalm. I rose, moved to the pulpit and rather sanctimoniously (I confess) I read, "Praise the Lord. Praise, O servants of the Lord, praise the name of the Lord. Let the name of the Lord be praised, both now and forevermore...Who is like the Lord our God...who sits enthroned on high...who stoops down...raises the poor...lifts the needy...seats them with princes...He settles the barren woman in her home as a happy mother of children...."  "Wait, what? Go back. What did that say?" I just stood there staring at the page and then moved on. "Praise the Lord." That was Psalm 113, with a bunch of verses skipped, of course. I sat down, still on the platform but no longer part of what was going on around me. I'd closed the Bible and I started to wonder if I'd actually read those precise words. I thought I had conveniently just happened upon the Psalm and when I tried to find it again, I couldn't even remember what Psalm it was. Well, it's in there. But on that Sunday, at that moment, it was in there just for me. It was a direct answer to what we'd prayed about the day before and was like a "Save the Date" card without the date. It was as if God were saying, "I'm about to do this, you just pay attention and watch me." He's been true to His words in ways I could not have imagined. I'm amazed by this journey of joy He's set me on. I am so blessed. "God is not a man that he should lie, nor a son of man, that he should change his mind. Does he speak and then not act? Does he promise and not fulfill?" Numbers 23:19

Fears Revisited

The first thought that I might not have children came when I was 14.  I was daughter number three of four and the only one left not yet showing signs of  a developing body. “Flaquindé” was what they called me. It was a Dominican word for skinny and I was in fact, skin and bone.  My limbs looked so long, everyone thought I would tower above my sisters.  If you saw my 5’3” frame now, you might wonder what we were thinking.  It seems my fast metabolism and active lifestyle caused me to be a late bloomer.  I was convinced the day would never come and every morning was met with disappointment.  Eventually, the thought crept in, “if this hasn’t happened yet, it’s never going to happen.  There must be something wrong with me.  All my friends have started.  I’m never going to be a mother.”  You’d think 14 is young to have this kind of concern, but I privately grieved at the thought that I would never have a baby.  The day finally came when lanky arms and legs blossomed into full womanhood—okay not quite “full.”  The irony?  It was not a welcomed ‘friend.’  But you could have predicted that. Life moved on and I gave little thought to the days of longing for that sign that I was finally fully woman.  I came away from that time with the simplistic reality that things work out the way they’re meant to. Why simplistic? Because I had no inkling then of the layers of truth that lay there. It was a simple faith that would later be tried and tried again. When one day that age-old fear became reality, “I will never have a baby,” would I still believe that God would work things out the way they were meant to?  Yes and yes and yes.  Did it come easily?  No, no, no.  But God “is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine” (Ephesians 3:20a).  He is so good!

Getting Started

I wonder how many people start off a blog with a phrase something like, "I love to write." Well, it may be overused but, I love to write. I've been enjoying writing for as long as I can remember and I believe I'm meant to write. I've wanted to get serious about writing but I've allowed other priorities to keep me from it. Now with the wonderful rise of technology, from which I've tended to shy away, I'm left with no excuse to keep me from putting pen to paper. Or fingers to keyboard, if you like.
The book in me is all about the rollercoaster ride of infertility, complete surrender to God's will and the resulting outcome. I think I would call it "Blessed Barrenness," a testament to the way God turns even what we consider to be the greatest losses in life into gain. Don't you just love when He does that? Well, I'm just getting started, so stay tuned!