when it doesn't look like you thought it would

I've had this post swimming around in my head for months now. I change things, I add things, I take some out...it seems as though I'll never get it all out. And maybe I won't? Because I'm still in the middle of it, and there's more to be shared, I am sure. But I've been ignoring the urge to just get this down, and I'm going to finally stop ignoring it.

While far from perfect, my life all the way through college was fairly easy. It had ups and downs - break ups, disappointments, failed friendships, new jobs, new schools, lots of missions trips where I learned a good deal. But not a lot that I could say was earth-shatteringly devastating or changed my life so drastically that I would always point to THAT time. Then I got married, and both of us decided to hit that growing, stretching life-altering stage AFTER the wedding. (which is fairly common) We had some really hard years, years where we honestly weren't sure we would stay married. And that shocked me. I knew people with hard marriages or who had divorced, but never assumed that would be something I would face, and multiple times, no less. It didn't look like I thought it would.

Then we added another person to our lives in the form of a baby. We were so excited and scared and every other emotion that comes with pregnancy, but we were ready! Except we weren't. Not only did that baby turn our world upside down like every baby tends to do, but I was hit with depression - something I again assumed happened to other people. Not me. Our baby was always in pain and cried more often than not for a solid 5 months, and I ended up being a research-aholic trying to figure out what was wrong and kind of missed that whole 'enjoying the baby' phase. It didn't look like I thought it would.

Fastforward a couple of years and we're contemplating a move - to IOWA of all places. 'Corn'-y jokes aside, (see what I did there?) we were excited! Closer to family, a slower pace of life, ability to stay home and raise some babies and some chickens. So we put our house up for sale and I quit my job. But said house didn't sell...and didn't sell...and didn't sell. And all of a sudden I was faced with the prospect of staying where we were, in the same house, except all of a sudden I was a stay-at-home mom with not a lot of stay-at-home mom friends and no idea how to change our entire way of living when we hadn't actually gone anywhere. It didn't look like I thought I would.

Then we had Jude. A great labor and delivery, and an immediate bond with this baby. I had let go of a lot of expectations for those first few weeks (so I thought) and it was blissfully exhausting. Sure, I had a case of mastitis from hell and didn't sleep a lot, but this time I was enjoying our baby. He seemed 'normal' to me (whatever that is in baby-world). He slept, he cried when he needed something, he ate, he pooped, the end. We did a lot of bonding and a lot of cuddling and I finally felt like yes!! This is that new baby phase everyone talks about that I definitely did not feel the first time. I loved it. About 3 or 4 weeks in, things started to change. He was getting reflux, I wasn't getting milk and none of us were getting sleep. The reflux got worse and we switched him to formula. Hard, but I was OK with it. Then the reflux got worse, the formula wasn't working, and all of a sudden we were faced with another scenario like last time: our baby is in pain, we don't know what's wrong, and that's not OK. It didn't look like I thought it would.

Except this time, I felt like it DID look like I thought it would, like it was dangled in front of my face for a few brief moments, then snatched away. And I was angry. SO angry.

I definitely felt overwhelmed and had down days, but I wasn't depressed like last time. I was just mad. It surprised me how mad I felt, since I'm not usually a big emotion person. (hormones only add to this wonderful mix) I felt like God was somehow taunting me. We had a lot of quiet-yelling conversations, mostly while trying to get a crying baby to sleep. I would just let it out, crying right along with him, not mincing words or feelings. Saying things that sounded a little like my three year old (this isn't fair!) and things that were much harder and deeper (do You care? Does this even matter?) I began to see that there were a lot of things hidden under the surface that I needed to deal with, to work through and wrestle with, and I am so thankful that I knew that I could. You see, a few years ago, I wouldn't have felt that way, wouldn't have felt OK to question God - to REALLY question His goodness, His love, His plans. I felt like I had to somehow say 'Yes, this is hard, but...' But...God is in control. But...God loves me. But...it's for my good. And it's one thing to say those things. But until those things have been truly challenged and the rug has been pulled out from under you, well. Let's just say cursing had never come so easily at any point in my life. I was like a secret sailor.

Slowly, gently, graciously, God let me work through those feelings. By allowing Graham to have some epic meltdowns (totally out of character for him), He showed me not only how I was acting, but also how He was acting. Loving. Holding me. Guiding me. Even when I didn't understand or like what was going on. We'd been visiting a new church, and I felt compelled to join the woman's Bible study. (which I never do. I like one on one, not usually big groups of women with all our emotions and hormones) The first two weeks were, no lie, on anger and God's character. Do I trust Him? I was taken back to Jude's birth, where I was so fearful, and remembered feeling that same thing. And that I had picked the word 'Trust' for this year (I pick a theme word every year). The anger began to subside, but the hard days didn't. And still I was learning.

I've shared a lot more personal thoughts and feelings on social media this year than ever before. In realizing the need for community, I also realized that if I have people in my life, then I want them IN my life. And that means the hard icky stuff as well as the wonderful and happy things. And the thing with the hard stuff is that it's just that - hard. It's ugly, because we live in a world full of sin and disease and hardship. We're not promised an easy life, and we're not told to call ugly things beautiful. They're not, they're ugly. And we've had a lot of uglier moments in the past few months, from overwhelmed days and doctor appointments and babies with a sickness that isn't going anywhere. Those things aren't beautiful, and I'm beginning to understand I don't have to make them be. I don't have to say 'This is hard, but.' I can say 'This is hard.' period. And in saying that, I haven't removed the beauty from my life, or negated it in any way. Because sometimes the ugly makes way for the beautiful. They're not mutually exclusive; they can coexist in this strange muddle of life that doesn't always make much sense, but they're both there. Ann Voskamp calls it the 'ugly beautiful'.

There are days when I'm fumbling through, trying to find the beauty, and there are days where it's right in front of my face all day long (those days are always nice). Every day isn't happy, but there is joy. I've always heard that joy and happiness are not the same, and I understood it to a certain extent. I'm seeing now that joy isn't always this exuberant expression of joyfulness (insert picture of radiant woman dancing in a field). It can be quiet. An undercurrent. Our pastor used to say that 'joy is peace dancing and peace is joy resting.' And I feel it. That underlying sense of peace, of 'rightness', even on the most difficult days. This last week has been a long string of those days - one reaction set off a whole cluster of reactions for Jude, which culminated in no sleep, lots of crying, and a lot of questions - even some of that anger came flaring back up. And those things weren't beautiful. They're ugly. But the beauty has been there - in the desperate cries for help, the constant prayers to not be anxious, to not be fearful. Even though I don't enjoy the process, the way I'm learning dependance on God is a beautiful thing. I'm learning to really take each day as it comes. In my planning ways, this is SO hard for me. But living fully in the day I'm in - whatever that day looks like - is the only way I'm going to truly be able to see the bits of beauty shining through.

It doesn't look like I thought it would. Every day I still pray that it will, that this stage will be done, we'll have learned what we have to learn, and move on. But that day hasn't come yet. (tomorrow, maybe?) And if you're in a stage like ours - where there's a lot of ugly and a lot of hard, know that it's OK. It could be seem big or small to others, but if it feels big and huge and hard to you, then it is. Don't run from it, but be all in. Learn how to face those feelings, to have those tough talks with God, to not know how to make things better and to have to be OK with that. It's not pleasant, but you will make it, I promise. I have to remind myself of that constantly.

It may not look like you thought it would, but take heart - that also means the outcome won't look like you thought it would either, and I'm willing to wager that it will be even more beautiful than you can imagine. (self: read this. every day.)