The White Flag

SurrenderThis weekend we finally said goodbye to January. Goodbye, and good riddance. Never in my life have I been so glad to see a month end. January 2015 was, hands-down, the most challenging 31 days I’ve ever been dealt. The entire month was just an endless string of one let down after another, one loss after another, one upheaval after another, one tearing apart of my perfect little organized, well-planned, predictable life.

The month started with us saying goodbye (again) to our loved ones as we left our Christmas holidays in Washington and returned to our “normal” life in California. Saying goodbye was rough.

A few days after arriving home we visited the doctor to confirm our recently-discovered pregnancy. What was supposed to be an exciting time of preparing for our new baby quickly turned into unsettling discussions followed by even more disturbing test results as we learned that our baby would never be born. My miscarriage (discussed further here) was, and continues to be, a physical and emotional roller coaster that I was in no way prepared for. The whole thing is R-O-U-G-H, ROUGH. I would have been fine with the life-change stopping right there for the moment, but as they say: when it rains, it pours.

A few days after we found out that we’d lost the baby, we went for a family hike to try and clear our minds a bit. David had brought along Mimi, his stuffed monkey lovey, on the hike. In the moment we didn’t think too much of this because, as David’s lovey, Mimi has gone with our family everywhere we’ve gone for the last 4.5 years (which, by the way, is the same total time that David has gone with us everywhere we’ve gone).

Mimi was at the hospital the day David was born. Mimi snuggled David to sleep when he was a baby. Mimi played endless hours of basketball with David when he was 2 years old. Mimi moved to Ireland with us when David was 3. Mimi traveled the world with us: she went to the top of the Eiffel Tower, rode in the London Tube, and sunbathed on beaches in Spain. Mimi comforted David when he was moved to a new home, new school and new community for the 4th time in his short life. David loved Mimi more than anything, she was his WORLD.

So, here we were, out on our hike with the whole family +Mimi and life was grand. I even got a picture of David and Mimi at the top of our hike so we could remember what good little hikers they were. But, somehow between the top of our hike and bed time, Mimi went missing. She was not in the house. She was not in the car. Mimi. Was. Gone. David was inconsolable at bedtime, so I did what any rational parent would do. I called the restaurant that we stopped at for lunch after the hike–and all of the other restaurants and businesses within a 2-block radius of there. No Mimi. I left voicemails for the security that I knew checked the area where we were hiking. No Mimi. I enlisted my running friends to retrace our steps on the trail (a huge thank you, by the way, to the dozen or so of you who did that!). No Mimi. I put ads on the lost and found section of Craigslist. No Mimi. NO. MIMI.

I don’t know if it was because we were already experiencing another type of loss or just because I really loved Mimi (because, really, she has loved my boy very well), but losing that silly monkey just wrecked me. I lost sleep over it. I’m crying right now just thinking about it.  Losing Mimi was rough. For all of us.

Two days after the Mimi fiasco, I lost something else. The Bible study that I’ve been involved with for the past 10 years, the Bible study that I love and look forward to every week, the Bible study that has been my constant through all of the moves and changes and upheavals, decided they were done with my family. They asked us not to come back…for awhile…but I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea any more. I was shocked and I’m still not sure how I feel about the whole thing–and I still really do love the group and what they stand for–so we’ll just leave it at that. Another loss, another change, another rough patch.

And then, just to add a little madness to the mayhem, we got word that our landlord here in California had died a week before Christmas. Well, not so much died, as he was murdered in his new home a few miles away from where we now live. Nobody really had a plan for this, so now our agent and the landlord’s brother and some attorneys are scrambling to figure out what to do. I don’t know if we’re going to be kicked out of our house (worst case scenario) or if they’ll decide to *sell us* the house for dirt cheap just to get it off their hands (best case scenario), but it’s just another thing. Another change, another challenge, another confusing and rough experience.

In summary, my January SUCKED. There were moments when I just wanted to push stop or rewind or erase so I could make it all go away. But if I’d done that, I would have missed a lot. Because, despite the pouring down of rough sucky-ness, there were lots of bright spots in my days.

There were bright spots like eating late-night brownie sundaes with my “comfy” friends (you know, the dear friends who you are so comfy around that you make a pact to wear sweats and messy hair when you hang out). Bright spots like handwritten notes. Bright spots like the neighbor that brought us dinner and a box of doughnuts. Bright spots like David’s teacher telling me how proud she was of his effort in school. Bright spots like the gift of a day out and some pampering (shout out to Val because, seriously, I have the best friends.). Bright spots like Jacob holding my face in his tiny hands and saying in his most earnest toddler voice, “Mommy, I LOVE you. You’re pretty.” Bright spots like Jon doing all the dishes WITHOUT ME EVEN SAYING A WORD ABOUT HELPING WITH THE DISHES.

Through all this, I’ve come to realize that no matter how ridiculous life might get, there are always bright spots. In order to find the bright spots, though, sometimes you have to do more than just look for them. Sometimes, you have to surrender first in order to find them. When you’re at that place of raw vulnerability, that place that I’m at now, you have to acknowledge that you simply can not depend on your plans, your dreams, your expectations. In the now-infamous words of Elsa of Arendelle, you have to “Let It Go” (OK, I may have watched Frozen with my kids a few (dozen) times this month when I couldn’t find the will to move off the couch).

But, seriously, sometimes you just have to throw in the towel and say I can’t do this. Because, really, you can’t. I can’t. We can’t. And we’re not supposed to. We were not created to handle, on our own, all that life throws at us–because, if we were, then there would be no need for God or a Savior. We were not created to carry the burdens of the world on our shoulders, because nobody’s shoulders are sturdy enough to carry that burden. No, we were created to surrender. We were created to need the God who created us, to surrender to the Savior He sent us, and to move confidently forward knowing that He has freed us. You have to acknowledge that there are times when life is tricky and confusing and maddening and rough. And you have to lay it all down at the foot of the cross and LEAVE IT THERE. You have to give it all up and let God take the reigns on your life. It’s not easy to do, but it’s worth it.

I’m at the breaking point, and I have a choice: I can rely on my own strength–and ultimately crumble–or I can surrender to God who will strengthen me. Hiding behind my own comforts and well-thought out plans isn’t going to work right now, because all of that has already been stripped away. I am left with one option: surrender.

Surrendering to God’s will is the only way to truly move forward, so that’s what I’m choosing. I’m surrendering January (praise the Lord!) and letting it all go. I’m surrendering the trauma of the miscarriage and the loss of our beloved Mimi and the questions that remain about my future. Because it’s not worth holding on to all that rough-stuff alone, and I know that I can’t live in the “now”, let alone move forward, if I’m carrying that burden alone. It’s too much. And, since I know the solution to this particular set of problems, I’m going to take it. I’m waving the proverbial white flag like a madwoman. I’m surrendering my life, my circumstances, my very heart to God–and sitting back to watch Him work.

Proverbs 23:26: “Give me your heart, and let your eyes observe my ways.”

Done and done.

Goodbye January, and hello, February. Out with the old, in with the new. It’s time for a fresh start. Moving forward, now!

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4 thoughts on “The White Flag

  1. Bates says:

    Oh my goodness – what a month. That’s insane. All of it! But you’re right – it’s only by Gods grace we can get through it. I also lost our third in miscarriage a few years ago 😦 I’m curious what happened in bsf? Praying for Feb to be overflowingly good.

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