From an article originally posted December 9, 2013…

Recently someone kindly wrote me and encouraged me to write letters for my children for their futures. My heart thought, I am. Every blog post is a letter for my people. This voice of mine, it’s what I have. I write, and write, and write, and truly at the heart of my prolific writing is that my kids will one day journey here and hear my heart. My guy, my kids, my community, it feels like a legacy. I want to be here to walk through their hard days and offer them grace, but knowing my story, I feel compelled to come to this place, and my own journal, so they can know me, hear me, be pointed to Jesus, and find grace to see their way through hard days.

But please do not mistake my ability to articulate my feelings well as strength. Perhaps it’s a kind of strength, but please know I struggle with the same weakness in living well as each of you. I struggle to be brave, I hurt facing my story some days, I’m broken in a million pieces very often. Jason often has to gently encourage me from the bed many hard mornings. I wake, I remember, and I want to go back to sleep to forget.

My littlest has started to say to me often that she loves me so, and never wants to leave my side. It’s this beautiful, passionate expression of her love. It speaks volumes of love from my dear beautifully attached baby girl, but I struggle to believe in those many days. She sees an endless horizon by my side; I struggle to have her gloriously open perspective.

A new battery of tests are ordered, a new depth of fear has entered our home, a new level of waiting, and we feel the weakness of faith, strength, bravery to face it all. My deepest hurt is for the loves in my life who have such hurt in their heart over our story. Hurt I cannot fix. I want to be brave, I want to have courage and hope, but I struggle. I struggle. We have yet to come away from these tests with much hope. Would you hope for me? Would you please ask on our behalf?

The gift of my story is that you don’t leave much unsaid. Last night this treasure of mine and I sat and shared our hearts, we cried big, and we shared gratitude of our days raising our littles together. We shared our hard, our appreciation, and laughed over our memories, it was a beautiful gift of honesty. Every moment shared with my loves is a precious gift. Every quiet conversation, every dance party, every kiss under the mistletoe, it all feels precious.

This voice of mine is what I have been given for now. It’s here for this moment, I’m unsure of my next. But please don’t mistake it for strength. I’m feeling very fragile, uncertain, shaky in my next steps. I have these people, these relationships, this family, that dims the glory of heaven for me. I want to say with confidence it is gain, it is glorious, but I really love here. I hold these things in my life in high regard. I know the truth that it is far better to be with Jesus, but there are many moments I struggle to take hold of that truth. The truth of Jesus is that it is TRUE, if I believe it or not. He meets me in my weakness, in my fear, in my clinging to what is not eternal.

Thank you, dear readers. Thank you for your love. How are you hurting today? How does it feel cloudy for you? This living is hard, each day meets me with the suffering of this world. It’s painful. It’s okay to not be brave. The one that braved the cross is my strength today. He meets me in my weakness. He lifts my face. He is the grace that will be with me in my lonely tests. He will whisper hope as the results come. He’s here, he’s here. Even in the moments I’m too full of myself and my hard to see Him. Praise be!