This blog is small glimpses into my heart and soul - attempts to be transparent with friends, and sometimes, to myself. This is my safe place, where I can come and be purely Ness.

Family: If you found your way here, please do me a favor and don't poke through my closets, ok?

Saturday, March 12, 2011

My Story

I used to know that God loved me. I was so confident in it. I knew I was cherished, treasured; deeply, passionately loved. That knowledge flowed through me like power.
Those that know my story (or that have never been connected to a pet) may find the next part of my story frivolous or shallow. I had a cat. I loved this cat. He cheered and comforted me when little else could. He was a sleek beauty that cuddled up with me. Then, I lost him. In mid-January, in Ontario. My heart broke, and every time I thought about him being out in the (literally) freezing cold it broke a little more. I prayed. And prayed. I searched scripture for comfort. This was my baby. I was so desperate for him to come home, for someone to find him. I believe God would return him to me. I believed God had shown me that my precious kitty would come home.
When Dodger didn't come home that was the beginning of my faith anchor coming loose. Shortly after that I went through a two year bout of depression. I've met a few other Christians who've dealt with depression, and none of them have made it through without losing, to various degrees, their connection to God. It was the same for me. I couldn't find him anymore. The God I'd felt so close too, became far away. I tried and tried, but I simply couldn't feel him. I used to see his love in the sunset, the wind, a bird singing on my porch. I saw him all around me and though out my life. Now the connection had withered away. I didn't know where God was.
When my body finally regained it's equilibrium, and I could function normally without anti-depressants, I worked on regaining that connection. I desperately wanted it back in my life. I wanted the peace and strength I had received from it. But, I could never quite figure out how to get there again.
When I began to miscarry my first child, JJ, I worried that it would destroy what remaining faith I had. It didn't. I knew that God hadn't caused the death, and that he could carry me through the pain, even if I couldn't feel him.
That fist miscarriage threw my body into upheaval. I went through months of hormonal caused intense anxiety, and constant pain in my side (which made the anxiety worse).  The pain was finally (stupid doctors) diagnosed as endometriosis, and as much as possible was removed reducing the side pain, and thankfully, my debilitating period cramps. Now I just get pain side pain when I ovulate, and pain killers actually manage the cramps.
All through those anxious months, Boy and I kept seeing bunnies (real, live bunnies) in unexpected places. I don't remember why exactly, but they became our signals from God - the he was with us, and loving us just as greatly as ever. The bunnies continued to show up throughout my (worry and fear filled) pregnancy with Bug. (It's fitting that his nursing/sleeping friends are two little stuffed bunnies.) There were also run-ins with people I hadn't seen in forever, and friends in unexpected places with just the right words, that made me think God was watching out for me and baby, and that maybe things were going to be ok this time.
My relationship with my heavenly father was healing, but never returned to it's previous security. I've become overly cynical, and critical of Christian platitudes. I used to be free and excited in worship. Now I question those who are overtly exuberant. These feelings have become more ingrained as I've lost three more children over the past year. I get frustrated at Christians who say things like, "God shows his love by bringing trials," and I wonder whether they've ever experienced great grief or trauma. Would they still believe that statement? I don't. I believe that God shows his love, not by bringing us trials, but by bringing us through the trials this crappy world is made of.
This is my story. This is my struggle to get back to believing God and the promises he made in his word. I continue to seek him and to pray for the healing of my bruised and broken spirit.


  1. I am moved by your honesty, and I look forward to continuing to read your story. Lifting you up in prayer on this journey. I have not experienced the loss you have, but I really identify with the distance from God and the cynicism in contrast to the free joy and exuberance in worship. I, too, am finding my way back to God.

  2. Oh, Jamie, thank you. Since I started this leg of the journey - taking the time to write, to honestly share my heart and it's true attitude, each person I've connected with has been praying/ed for me. It's such a hand of grace to me, and I will be so glad for a little company along this path.

  3. While you and I differ greatly in our religious views, I'll still follow your blog. I appreciate your parenting style most of all, and I'll stay tuned for those posts, even if they become fewer and further between. :)

    Thinking of you and sending you strength in your journey...

  4. Thanks, Molly. Glad to hear you're sticking around!

  5. Oops, totally just realized I put this comment under the wrong post! Meant for this to go under "Change of Direction"!! :)

  6. Thank you for sending me this link via Twitter. What a beautiful statement: "I believe that God shows his love, not by bringing us trials, but by bringing us through the trials this crappy world is made of." It's one with which I really can resonate. If G-d only gives us trials out of love, how is G-d any different from an abusive partner? G-d's roles (and our faith then) is how we navigate through those trials. really beautifully put and moving. Thank you for sharing!

  7. Thanks for your thoughts, Keiko. I've never heard anyone make that analogy before, but it certainly gives you something to think about. I certainly don't want to think that God loves me by hurting me. I need to believe that he is loving me THROUGH all the hurt. Otherwise, I would be completely destitute.