I've attempted multiple blog posts in the last few days.
But things have just been off.
The timing.
Availability.
Computer and photo issues.
Inspiration.

And this blog post I didn't plan to write.

But sometimes the feelings are too great to keep inside.
The thoughts and the pain have to come out.
And, for now anyways, this is where they land.




It's just a stroller.
And a car seat.

But now they are officially for sale.

"Gently used" the ad reads.

We went gender neutral on everything.  Even though we knew we were having a girl.

"We'll have two and then see." was always our answer when people asked us how many kids we wanted.  Either that or "Two to four."

One was never an option.
One was never our plans.

I always wanted a big family.
Big families have more fun.
I learned that from The Cosby Show.

The last few weeks have been rough.
Too rough to detail.

Last week was the 5 year mark from finding out we were pregnant with Catherine.
5 years.
Thanks, Facebook, for the reminder.
I went to bed early that night.
Cried myself to sleep.
Feeling broken that I can't reach that status again.
Like my body has failed me.
Betrayed me.

My hopes and plans and desires have been battered and abandoned.
I'm left without them.
Laying helpless with a part of me ripped out and gaping open.


But God.

But God knows the plans He has for me.

But God will take all that He has made and use it for good.

And what was intended for the negative, God will use for good.

He is good and He is faithful and He is loving.
In the midst of my pain, He is my comfort.

I sing it.
I say it.
I believe it.
And I remind myself of it.

Catherine's first ride in the stroller

As a teacher, my husband doesn't do a TON of out of town travel for work, but in the last month or so, he's been gone twice for conferences.

I shared the other day about what I did while he was gone for the first trip.

Leading up to the second trip, I was completely stressed.

I don't know why.
Maybe because he'd be gone for multiple nights.
Maybe because they were predicting a blizzard just before he left.
Maybe because he was going to be gone over my birthday.
Yes, my entire birthday.

Maybe because he does all the shoveling, and I was going to be alone right after a blizzard and knew I had to find a way out of the driveway and knew I had to somehow clear the driveway for company coming over.  (Because, after all, a girl shouldn't have to spend her birthday night alone!)

Even the bobble-head owl has had enough.

Regardless, I was a mess.

The day before he was to leave we were texting.  I shared about how the weather was messing up so many of my plans and about how stressed and anxious I was feeling.

He replied,

"Don't worry about the shoveling. I messaged {insert name of man from church who has a snow plow} to see if he could check on you and plow you out so you won't have to do it.  I take care of my girls."

It was just as simple as that.
A reminder that I didn't need to worry or obsess or stress or try to control it all.
A reminder that he takes care of us.
He sees those he loves and knows our needs and provides for us.

Oh, how it reminded me of our Heavenly Father.
How sometimes I try to control it all, thinking that it's up to me to know what's going on and to try to be in charge of it all.  When really all I need to do is trust that He knows the situation.  He knows me, and he knows my needs.  And He will provide.

And sure enough.  At the perfect time, our snow plowing friend showed up and cleared the driveway.


Obviously I have no control over the weather.  What else am I trying to handle when really I need to release and let God manage it?

What might you be trying to control when you need to give it up and give the reins back to the Father?

Your job?
Your kids?
Your lack of kids?
Your passions?
Your future?
Your marriage?
Your singleness?
Your housing situation?
Your health?
Your appearance?


God, thank you that my life is in your hands.  Help me to remember that I don't need to worry about controlling it all.  Help me to give up control and trust in your provisions.