Horses and Heartbeats

I'm a stubborn woman. I know. Big surprise there. When I set my mind to accomplish something, I either get it done, or I realize near the end how much it sucks and throw my work out completely... yeah. I'm also a perfectionist. Because of my perfectionism, I have the ability to change my mind as quick as a flash... when needed. But in this instance, horse back riding for the first time in my life was something I was not prepared to give up. Having planned this for months, and then getting very very sick with this surprise pregnancy, I wasn't willing to give it up. So I did it anyway. .... yes... I was very careful. :) 

I was nervous the whole time I was on this animal with a mind of it's own, but I needed to move past that at some point of my life. Plus, I'm writing a story that has horses in it... so I should probably try and get on a horse in real life, right? Hidalgo was his name and he was very sweet to me, obeying his master Emily as she carefully kept hold of the reigns for me... baby steps... ;) We had a great time. The hubs and the kids got on him too. The kids can't stop talking about the experience. It's already set in their imagination at home that they own horses of their own. I love it. 

My handsome husband :) 

It was interesting hearing Emily's story about how horses helped her overcome fear. She confessed to me that she too was, like me, afraid to get on horses, but she made herself get on and get over her fear and now she works in the stables, and trains her horse Hidalgo and by overcoming that, she has been able to move passed several fears. What a beautiful testimony. How God's creatures can help heal us if we allow them to and how fighting fear by do the thing that makes us fearful, can help us overcome that crippling anxiety that sucks the life out of us. This beautiful young woman taught me a great lesson on life. Even though I've known this truth and have acted on such standards before, I needed to be reminded and humbled that I need to do it again. When it was my turn to ride Hidalgo, by body stayed tense, and no matter how much I tried to relax, I couldn't do it. I kept self talking myself to relax, but to no avail, I remained tense. After I got off, I didn't see it as a failure, because I did get on that horse after all, and I know that (when I'm not pregnant anymore) that I'll get back on again, and try again. Hidalgo did great with all my nerves, to which I was very thankful for. 

This story, I don't bring up simply to tell of my wonderful horse riding experience, but to confess, I'm finally coming to terms with this pregnancy. I know I need to face my fears, once again, so I can let this experience heal this part of my life. 

I am thankful to God that I've stopped spotting. However I'm not so thankful that I'm still very very sick all the time, all day long, and I'm not very good company at all right now.... sorry friends. However, I finally got to see the baby days ago, and hear that precious heartbeat for the first time. I soon as I saw that heart moving on the screen and then the tech switched on the sound, filling the room with this precious heartbeat going 150 beats per minute, tears filled my eyes and it all came seeping in... "I'm going to have a baby.... that's my baby....." 

Being miserable still makes it hard to see anything clear right now. I can't write, I can't play my music, I can't read..... so Mine Sweep it is! ... to sweep my mind away... hahah... I'll survive this part, and then it'll be go time. 

Thank you to all my friends and family especially that have reached out to be God's provision for us in this difficult time of "Mom Is Down". I know. It should have a medical title or something... I think it secretly is. 

What's going on with your family? Oh, M.I.S. huh? I'm so sorry, I will pray for you. Is there anything we can do? 

Painful Blessings Part 2: Iron and Joy

Miscarriage of Justice by Lina Scarfi

The week before last, I posted about a woman close to me that had a miscarriage. Most of you know that this woman is my sister in law. For those of you that didn't know that, now you do. For those of you who know her, when you see her, no words are needed, a huge hug will suffice, bringing her more comfort than any words can right now. She knows the Truth, and right now that Truth is telling her to "be still".





The day after I posted that very post, I found out some surprising, terrifying news.... I'm pregnant. I watched my pee run across that paper and that very line appeared so fast, I said a naughty word and yelled for my husband. He came running over to me and the moment that man touched me, I burst into tears.

I thought I may have had the flu, but then I realized, I hadn't really "started" yet, so that's what brought me to take the test in the first place. This was the first time that I really really really was NOT planning on getting pregnant. "Our plan" was to wait a FEW YEARS, letting my body get it's much needed rest, and my mental state (with all the depression as you know) continue to heal.... and THEN we would decide IF we wanted another one or go ahead with a small surgery that would put a stop to the madness.

So... to say I was surprised, is an understatement. This was terrifying news to me. I've had mostly very rough stressful pregnancies and infants with said pregnancies, doing all I could just to get to term, and in the end, not being able to nurse my last two, because of my body being uncooperative and my inability to cope with said stress along with struggling infants in some form... At the point of finding out this news (sorry for any TMI but...) I had been spotting for 9 days. So my worry already for this little surprise was already climbing...to which I'm still spotting and it's been 18 days. (so far, the doc. says that everything is showing fine, I'll be seeing him again soon) As we sat in the doctor's office waiting for tests to see if baby was ok, I told Josh that I can't handle anymore heartache and that we have to be done after this, no matter what happens.

 And last, but certainly NOT least.... my sister in law...

Almost all I could think about was her. How cruel it was to get pregnant on the wake of her losing hers. Not that this was on purpose by NO means. (we were "very careful") But I thought, "Why, God? Why would You bring me to this pregnancy now?! Not only do I not want to be pregnant for good reason, but while my sister is grieving the loss of hers?! Why now??" I was devastated at this situation. It sickened me like you wouldn't believe. I cried so hard for this dagger that I had in my hands, by force, that I knew I'd have to drive in her back. How was I to tell her? How could I give her such news? I was the one that was comforting her and now I'm the one that has to deliver more pain? We would've been a week apart in our pregnancies together.

I cried until I suffocated. I knew the Truth. "God is in control." "God knows what He's doing" but I've learned with all my experience, that just because He knows what He's doing, doesn't guarantee no suffering. In fact, most of the time, because of our sinful natures, you can almost guarantee suffering, and stretching, and learning, and pain, and gain, and ultimately healing. "It gets worse before it gets better" is what I'm told with a healing wound. How is this any different?And I think that ones that have lost close loved ones, as we have, know more that "God is in control" more than anyone, because we are painfully aware of how much control we don't have.  I need a heart change, and my sister in law needs healing.

My husband (her brother) and her mother were the ones that sat with her and told her the news. I couldn't bring myself to do it myself, so they did it. I received a call from her shortly after their meeting. I can't even begin to tell you how proud I was of her.

It was like she looked at that dagger that was in my hands and took it from me. She carefully picked out a favorite color of ribbon, used the dagger to cut it at just the right length, and then wrapped that ribbon around me to make a beautiful bow to adorn this blessing that now lies within me.

Her attitude humbled me. It humbled me more than anything has in a long time. She knew me well enough to know that I was struggling with the pregnancy in and of itself. She remembered our talks about it months ago. She also knew I loved her and wouldn't ever want to hurt her. In all her grief, she remembered me. But more importantly, she chose to make this situation help heal her. Although we are both aware that there will be the "hard days" to swallowing this reality, she is looking forward to living vicariously through this pregnancy. She even went as far as to tell me that she counted it a joy to know that she'd still be able to hold a baby in November. (I can't even type that without crying)

Her positive attitude put my pessimism to shame. Here, she has every right to be bitter and hide away from me, who is "with child", instead of making it hurt her, she "is choosing to let it heal" her. (her words) What a lesson I learned that night!

She wasn't going to let anything steal her joy... and neither should I. With all my fears, with all my struggle, neither should I let anything steal that joy.

I beg of you to watch this video in it's entirety. This song is amazing and the woman that sings it explains her heart over the song in this video before she sings it live. Every time I listen to this song, it brings tears to my eyes because I have felt the Truth in it, in the past, and I feel it now. The bridge that she wrote into the song says, "I can't understand, and I can't pretend, that this will be alright in the end. So I'll try my best and lift up my chest, to sing about this joy."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4_hKSw4wHrI

Over Easter weekend, God showed me the joy I can cling to in the fact that my children do bring me great joy and that I wouldn't trade them for any kind of easy pain-free happiness, because they are who they are because of what our family has been through. Isaiah, my 8 year old, was baptized by his father. Isaiah knows the Truth, and proclaimed that Truth in his baptism and watching him made my heart ache in a good way.

Here's the recorded version of this song "Joy" by Page CXVI

~love you Samantha.

Painful Blessings

There is a story that is not known to the small world around us yet, that has to do with a family member. The closer family and friends knew she was pregnant. She was so excited, filled with the natural beauty of a woman, elated to bring about another blessing, building another vessel within her vessel. Her lightness in her step was undeniable that she had great joy, no matter any trial that seemingly stood in her way, nothing could take this joy from her. We were all very excited for her. It was almost like watching a little girl dance before her father in a new dress that she knew she looked beautiful in.  

Unfortunately, our fallen world tore through this excitement and she miscarried. 

No longer the smiles and joys upon her face, but tears and anguish now tearing through it all, grieving that very vessel her body let go of. 

In our view, we are at a loss. There are no answers. There is no purpose to it. The hope of holding another little girl or boy of hers, is gone. 

I like to let myself dream. My daydreams usually fall into the world unseen. I try to imagine this little life right now. The only darkness it saw was the earthly death itself, but is that even a true darkness? I think maybe not. This life went untainted by sin, spared the wickedness of the world, loved by it's mother, through the joy of her first knowledge of it, and through her tears now. A life, loved. Loved. The knowledge that I am loved completes me as it has completed this little life, just the same. But not even just on the account of a human being's love, but of the Great Love. We must not forget that the love shown between humans comes from the same Great Love. I can not love apart from God. I can only love because God is Love. My dream trails on to the fact that God knew that this was going to happen. He was waiting for this little human being, just as He waits for us. Upon this woman's womb, He watched in sorrow (for He knows our grief, better than we can describe it) and He waited for the moment when He was able to bring that little life into His Kingdom. 'Safe' He says. 'This is Mine' He says. And they dance. That is my dream of thought and my heart holds it as truth. 

I had spent a good deal of time with her in the initial first days of this loss. How beautiful extroverts can be with their grieving, going in public, the need to be with people. That's something an introvert like me doesn't do. But I was willing to do what she wanted because this was her time to grieve in the way she needed to. 

During all of this, she told me that she was so glad that I understood her pain, and that we had the experience that we had in order to understand such pain. In one instance, for only a split second, I thought with my unfailing sarcasm, 'She's basically saying she's glad my daughter died.' I knew this wasn't true. And she's going to read this blog and probably want to apologize for ever even saying anything that might imply that, but I will tell all here and now... I know that is NOT what she was thinking at all. 

In fact, she was thinking rightly. What a blessing it was to be able to comfort someone like this. In my own trials and circumstances, because of them, I was able to walk by Scripture when it says, 

2 Corinthians 1:3-7

³ Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, ⁴ who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in ^[a]any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. ⁵ For just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ. ⁶ But if we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; or if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which is effective in the patient enduring of the same sufferings which we also suffer; ⁷ and our hope for you is firmly grounded, knowing that as you are sharers of our sufferings, so also you are sharers of our comfort.

Yes! Praise be to God. The Father of mercy that is being poured from my own trials and comfort that has come from an understanding the He has given me. He has comforted me through other vessels, as she is being comforted through me and others. We suffer! We suffer.....but we turn it around and comfort! We understand one another! We hold each other! We are not alone! We are Loved! We are Loved by Him through each other's arms. 

Do you understand? WE are His body. He is the Great Comforter, but He loves to use us to accomplish it. I cannot comfort apart from God. This is no less than I can not love apart from Him. When one would hold me as I could not hold my head up, it was truly Him who held me. When I held this crying woman, He was the one truly holding her. 

Go! Do the same. Share in suffering. Share in comfort. Share it. It is not hard to find a sufferer. Be courageous and comfort. Share that pure raw humanness. Just as you would dance with the elated person, be with the broken at heart. 

I do not say these things to lift myself up, but to lift Him up. He is the Giver, not I. I can not do any of these things, you can not do any of these things without the Giver of these very things. 

There is even more depth to this subject but I'll leave you for now with this; 

My sufferings were painful blessings. I trust, that for her, this will become a painful blessing as well, as she will one day hold another who is feeling the same pain. A gift of Mercy that keeps on giving, as faithful as the rising and the setting of the sun... so He is faithful. 

Modeling Humility. Rest Well Grandma.

My Grandma Wilma Ruppert finally was able to go "home" Wednesday morning, February 20th, 2013.

 It was early in the morning that I was woken up by beeping of my phone. Someone was trying to get a hold of me. When I came to my phone, I realized it was 3 people. My heart sank for a moment and thought... oh my gosh! Who died now?? But it was Grandma. The grandma I spoke of a couple posts ago, the one who was begging to go "home", and now had gotten her wish. The Lord heard her.

She was 89 years old. That's... old. Although we expect older people to approach death, and although this was very expected soon of Grandma, it still came somewhat of a shock to me. I was hit with emotions that I wasn't prepared for. Who is?

She was such a peculiar woman, with peculiar thoughts and dreams and visions. Although her library creeped me out, it only really meant that she was searching for Truth. At the root of all her searching, I believe she found the Truth. As a fellow seeker, I understand the toils of trying to make sense of it all in a fallen world.

In all her peculiar ways, it didn't surprise me of her last wishes. To the world... er America... it may have seemed ridiculous, but to me and other family, I'm sure, who knew her well.... it seemed so appropriate. Her burial was the most humble burial I had ever seen.

She didn't want to be embalmed. So that meant that we had to bury her body within 48 hours. She also didn't want a viewing or a traditional funeral service. She simply wanted to be buried.

We arrived at the cemetery. It was cold. Snow was on the ground and the wind was bitter. My husband stayed in the van with the babies, while I took the older kids with me to the burial site. We all huddled together waiting for the Hearse to open, letting our dear Grandma's casket out. What I saw was beautiful. It was the most simple wooden pine box. My cousins and brothers made their way to the casket to help carry it. As they pulled it out, I marveled at it's simplicity. Simple handles on the sides to carry it. Flat on the top, not arched like you normally see. A simply cross engraved at it's head. They carried it across the road to her grave. We all huddled, once again, staying warm as it was stationed above it's resting place. (Yep, I totally took a picture, it was too beautiful to keep to myself. I had to share it. ) A good friend of mine worded it perfectly, which was similar to what my uncle had said to me when I mentioned it's beauty. "No frills.  No preservation.  Just a vessel to return from whence we came - the earth. "

the humble casket

My uncle said a few words, reading her favorite scriptures. He said that in her dementia, on her death bed, she still remembered and recited a whole passage of scripture, word for word. The Truth always stays with you. After that my aunt came up and presented roses. She explained that red roses were her favorite, so everyone who wished may take one. She pointed out 2 white roses. She explained they are both in memory and honor of her 2 children that had died before her. One was my dad, and the other was for Renae, an infant daughter she had lost. My aunt presented my dad's rose to my mother, and with tears she took it. Renae's rose, she presented to me because Grandma cried "with" me the same tears when we lost our Sarah. We knew the same hurt. .. and with tears, I took it.

Renae's rose

Tears came flooding from my eyes in that moment as I became overwhelmed. Memories started flooding to me of her. There were a few times where she'd open up to me about her pain in losing Renae as we were grieving Sarah. I really missed her and I began to grieve what I missed out on about her. I felt the sting of jealousy in the fact that she now was with Renae and Sarah and my dad. No more hurting, grieving, or pain. No more unsatisfied thirst. Pure joy.

All the family went to a place where we could talk about the "Grandma stories" that we had. The more I learned about her, the more I realized how much I am like her. The thirst, the depression, the depth, her introvertedness, always searching, always studying. I have known I had her humor (all the Rupperts do) and creativity, but all the darker parts of her, I hadn't known, that I'm able to relate to completely. Learning these things made me grieve her all the more.

As I've been on this journey of finding my value in Jesus, I've realized that it also entails finding who you really are in Christ. Using the gifts that were entrusted to you so uniquely. And humbly living out your life, knowing that you wouldn't be you without Him. Thank you Grandma for reminding me of that.


we are precious
our being is precious
our time is precious
we lift our voice
to the Giver of all things
we praise His name
for we are nothing
without Him
there is no Love
away from Him
He is Love
His breath comes with Love
His mercy comes from Love
His fervor for us
that brings the pain of learning
and the joy of blessings
comes from Love

Renae's rose

Although we are broken
He is Healer
He is the Maker
He is the Renewer
He is Love
away from Him
there is no Love
without Him
we are nothing
we praise His name
the Giver of all things
we lift our voice
by His definition
we are precious

it is like a wedding ring, it goes full circle.

Honors and Stitches

Most of you have seen, on facebook, that our 5 year old daughter had to get stitches. It was quite the night....

Josh, on the banjo. I, on my ukulele. We were filling the house with music of all sorts. Our offspring enjoying it with dancing through out the living room, swinging each other around, having the best time.... until big brother lets go and Eve crashes into the rocking chair. Right away, I went to Eve, holding her up into my arms, setting her on the couch to examine her. Josh asked me, "Where's it coming from?" I thought, where is what coming from? until I tilted her head up and blood was just dripping from her face. All over her clothes and the floor. Oh my ... head wounds... gotta love em.

Meema was able to come over to stay with the babies, so we could take her to the hospital. Isaiah felt so guilty, his countenance down completely, saying to everyone that he passed, "It's all my fault." We let him come with us and he said the same thing to all the doctors... poor thing. One nurse said, "It happens." Another nurse suggested he take him out and rough him up a bit for doing this. ;)

When we got to our room, Josh turned a shade of pale and had to sit down. I asked him what was wrong. He told me that his heart dropped because he was nervous they were going to put us in "that" room. What? What room? He looked at me, like I should know better. Then I realized it... and finally caught up with him... we were right across from the room that Sarah was brought to and pronounced dead. I was so consumed in Eve and supporting her that I completely didn't even think about where we were. We didn't tell the staff about it, but just tried to sort through all that to ourselves.

The Childlife specialist was great during the whole thing. Making Eve feel comfortable, giving her and Isaiah dolls to draw on and pretend that they are hurt, and then going through the motions of what to expect with the washing of the wound and the stitches. It was great. They had fun with it, and they were stealing the hearts of everyone that came in the room. They loved how protective Isaiah was of Eve.

The actual procedure went well. They had her all numbed up and after the instructional doll... she was busy playing a princess game on an IPOD during the stitching.. ignoring the doctors warnings about tugging, she was too busy picking shoes for her princess.

When that was done, it was time to leave, and when we walked outside the room, Josh made sure to point out the room to me. Within seconds, my head spun with keeping it from the kids, out of protection?, or telling them about it, out of honor? ... Honor won over. I stopped us and pointed the room out to Isaiah and Eve and said, "Look! That's the room that Sarah was in when she died." I explained other things like how people were there with us, and pointed another room out close to it where they had me sitting while we waited to be able to see her. I mapped it all out to them. It felt good and they were intrigued, taking it in, like it became more real to them, that she was, in fact, here.

Walking out of the ER, Eve exclaimed, "Well, that was fun!" I'm glad she thought so. We came home to our house, just the way we left it.... instruments on the table and music out. Josh and I looked at each other, embraced each other, and knew... things were ok.

Death and Banjos.

I look at her and weep for him
my jealousy has come again
As she lay there, begging for death
A promise made with a last breath
to hold him close, and think of me
and tell him of my love
As banjos, cameras, and people alike
remind me of what I'm missing
This very woman, she gave me him
now is passing back
Away from us, and toward him
now is passing back
O Heavenly Father, give her peace, and let her pass...


My mind has been in a whirlwind of emotions recently. It always seems that everything "heavy" always happens all at once. Like they were always meant to be connected. "When it rains, it pours" is a true statement for me, however... I love rain, especially when it pours. Shoot, I get out and dance in it, excited children following me, all for the splendor of one of my favorite creations, and then when we are good and wet, dry up and cuddling under blankets until we're warm again... I guess you have to be careful what you wish for.

I just received a banjo that belonged to my dad. The moment it was in my house, I opened the case, and couldn't help but touch the neck of it and imagine my dad's very fingers holding that very spot. He played when he was young, younger than I am now. Then he sold it to his brother in law shortly after he and mom got married to get much needed cash at the time. When Dad died, our uncle gave it back to us, and it's been with my brother ever since, until now that is   :) I have a friend, who eerily reminds me of Dad, also a banjo player, that's going to help me get Jimmy (the name given to the banjo) playing again. Having that banjo has brought me joy and grief, all at the same time. I can't wait to play him, I'm excited about it, excited to learn and do something my dad always wanted to do. But hunting down the history is disheartening... because in a perfect world... I shouldn't have to hunt. I should be able to just call Dad up and (after begging him to let me have his banjo) ask him about it and he tell me, gladly.

At the same time, I get a visit from my uncle (my dad's brother) who sat with us, counseling us about our current situation with me coming off of my depression and my husband coming off from all the stress that created these twitches... to which I loving refer to him as "Twitchy"...... :) My uncle also brought news that Grandma was dying. The very woman that brought Dad into this world, the very woman whose mental illness has been pretty entertaining, especially among us grandchildren, the very woman that I get all my humor, wit, spunky-ness, my art abilities from, all my Norse roots.... She is dying.

Unfortunately, I haven't been very close to her in these recent years. So visiting her yesterday in the hospital, before she was moved to hospice was hard for my heart. I went into her room to find that the nurses hadn't been taking the best care of her, so that was disturbing me. I walked up to her and held her hand, she asked, "Who are you?"
I answered, "It's Kailan."
She responded, "Oh" with a deep sigh "I thought that was you!"

Grandpa and Grandma Ruppert the day they were married. 

I sat with her and talked with her. Half of our conversation was about normal things.. how all the kids are, that kind of stuff. She asked about my brothers 3 times, called me my sister's name once, and kept saying to me, "that's a good girl, you've always been a good girl."

I ran my fingers though her thinned out hair, whirling my finger through her naturally curled bangs as they swooped upward like all those vintage styles you see. :) I felt her head and exclaimed, "My! Naomi does have your round head!" She smiled. I told her how much Naomi looked like her as I've always thought so, always proud of having my Norwegian baby... (finally!)... I told Grandma that Noami was the only one that really looked Norwegian and that the rest all have so much of my husband in them. She quickly responded, "So you only have one beautiful one then!" She smirked and I laughed, and said, "yeah, the rest are ok, but my, she's beautiful!" hahaha... oh Grandma.... always being arnry... (can't imagine where I get it from, can you?)
She consistently broke the conversations with her soft and genuine voice, saying, "I just want to go home. I just want to go home."
She had asked me at one point, "Do you miss your dad?"
After immediately bursting into tears, I said, "Desperately." I sat for a moment and continued, "I've been thinking about him even more lately. I just got his banjo and I'm gonna get it fixed up to play it."
She said with her weak voice and a smile on her face, "Oh good. I'll be sure to tell him about that when I see him soon." I wept bitterly after that as she rested her eyes and said, "I'll hold you to that!" totally joking, but she got it, of course, and gave another smile. I also, made her promise to give Sarah a kiss for me too, and she promised. I always make dying people promise me that.. can't help myself.
"I just want to go home now." she went on frowning.
"I know... you're always so eager in everything you do" got another smile...
A moment of silence fell in the room, just her and I, and I thought... I should sing to her. I racked my brain for a song, a song she would know, a song that spoke a Truth to her.... Ah! I had it... Just a Closer Walk With Thee. ( a song that was sung by an old chaplain to my Dad when he was in the hospital before he died)
I started singing with the chorus, and I could hear her humming in relief as I sang the words, "grant it Jesus, this my plea... daily walking close to Thee, let it be, dear Lord, let it be"
After I was done singing, she said, "thank you... always a good girl, always a good girl... I remember many times, when I was younger singing that song... always a good girl. I want to go home now. Just take me home."
I kept having flashbacks of my "great depression" within this last year, and begging God the same thing. I just wanted to go "home". With her eyes resting, I watched her with her pouting expression, and thought about how old I already feel and how much life I've already lived (with the circumstances) and how ultimately, we all want that same thing... to just go home.
After a while of sitting with her, going back and forth in conversation, she grew more tired, so I readied to leave so she could sleep.
I said loud, "Welp! I'll pray for you to die soon then!" She smirked and nodded her head in agreement, "Thank you so much!" I kissed her forehead probably half a dozen times, told her I loved her and that I'll see her later and meant it, either way.

On the drive back home, all these memories of her, of Dad.. kept flooding in. Such heaviness. Sometimes I pity myself about the heaviness I carry. But other times, I consider myself blessed. O the gifts I've been given to see things that not many see. O the burden that I bear because of it.

From Alfred Lord Tennyson's poem In Memoriam:27, 1850:

I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

I love this poem, in an earthly sense. However the greater Love that is Truer is never truly lost, more so, it continues to be found. I've learned that the more you experience this Love, the more torment you are able to feel on earth. How agonizing it can be to be so in love with a husband that I will lose someday. To love children that aren't truly mine to keep. But to seek out and fall in love with the Beloved, whom you can't truly be with until "the end", but only get closer to, until then. The world is cursed, but what a blessing it is to feel it more, just so you can feel His love that much more. What a paradox. Many may not understand this, but there are some, O melancholy brothers and sisters, that will. I don't know how to explain it better at this point. Maybe some day...

for now... rest well soon Grandma. And let the banjo playing commence!

Torn between Two Worlds

Torn between two worlds.
This earthly world, full of love and hurt, family, my children, and my husband      ~verses~
             A spiritual world, full of Love and Discipline, family, my siblings, and my Bridegroom

Which am I supposed to live? Do they co-exist? How? How do I place my value in the second, but live in the first?

It just seems that God's given us this window to look through, to get a glimpse of what it will be like when we finally get to be with Him. But there's a problem I've been struggling with.

It's just a window. This window is old, the glass is warped, the frame is cracked, and the paint on the frame is mostly worn off. This window is my Ketubah.

In Jewish culture, to my understanding, a ketubah is a marriage contract. In this contract it states the price of the bride, the right of the bride, and the promise of the groom. I find it most interesting that the life cycles of us human's traditions is how Jesus identifies with us and ultimately... how He steals our hearts away. Some would say that the Ketubah for us today, spiritually speaking, is our bible. I would agree. The picture I paint above with the window is my worn marked up earthly bible showing me spiritual Truths. Truths of who He is, Truth of who I am, and Truth of His promise to me when we are finally able to be together. The very pages made of paper from my bible suffer as much wear as I do, just from age alone.

It's no secret here, that I've seen very dark days these passed several months. I think it's safe for me to say that I've been oppressed for about a year. I was suffering. My kids were healthy, my husband was working a job where he is very loved, and I was suffering greatly, inside myself. Guilt gripped me for this. I would look at other's situations and try and find that thankfulness that it wasn't me in those situations. (God knows I've had my share of it)

When there is internal grief, it comes with a promise that it will surface, and will surprise you as to how it surfaces.

I was in my own little world, my own cage of oppression feeling so worthless, unvalued, and I couldn't understand why. I starting failing at almost everything I attempted to do, or so it seemed, but I couldn't shake it. Why?

It wasn't until I saw the outward effects of my husband failing, that I opened my eyes. I was spiritually, mentally asleep and I felt hands on both my shoulders, violently shaking me awake. My first impulse, like anyone being awakened in this manner, is either to scream or to punch.... I punched. I woke up angry and ready to fight. Much to my shame, my poor husband could not dodge my fighting either. I was angry. I was angry at his depression because of what it was doing to the whole household and he wasn't getting the help he needed. My only act of kindness to him was setting him up with people I trusted to take care of him. I'm not proud of how I was acting and I was still catching my breath from being woken like that. (and to be honest... still learning how to breathe again)

As time passed.... (a week?) a started to calm down. As I calmed down, things became clear to me.
My husband's depression took him from me. I would talk to him about my depression and he would listen, but didn't know how to respond to me. (him being a natural counselor, this was out of his character) Because he shut the world off, and in consequence, shut me off.... I instantly felt that he didn't love me, value me, hold me as precious.. none of these things. My corner (my cage of oppression) was created because of these very emotions. I had put so much stock into how he saw me or how he held me that if I felt he didn't love me, I instantly felt I was sure I was unloved. (not just by him, but by everyone, including God Himself)

I couldn't understand why God has us go through these motions... of getting married, being one with another human being, birthing babies, and having those babies walk around the earth with a piece of our hearts... when nothing of this world is permanent. When I die, I'm not going to be married, or a mother.... and yet, I'm giving my life for such things, and am commanded to do so. For what?!

I would hold my Ketubah and see only the frame.... and thought... 'If only I could break the frame, will this world go away? and let me be permanently on the other side?'

Then my Bridegroom whispered in my ear.... 'you must find your value in Me alone.'

I have been learning things about myself. I'm obsessed with my husband. :) Partly in a good way, but I take it to the extreme. I hang on his thoughts and feelings of me. I know he loves me very much, and I know he'd die for me and this family we've created together. But I can not hang my value on his value of me. Because ultimately, I'm not his bride. I am his earthly bride, but in the end, the Beloved that waits for me is not him.

I MUST find my value in my Beloved. God has commanded me to be wife to this man, and mother to these children, but I must find my value in Him.

I'm also learning what my Beloved's love looks like here on earth. When my husband loves me, or my children, that is His love shown to me. For another example, my singing... I use it for Him, but He is the true Giver of my voice in the first place, it was His gift to me, that is His love shown. I'm seeing so much more clearly now...

I'm still learning my value in Him, and I think that may even be a life long process. I need to read my Ketubah with an accepting heart that these promises, this sacrifice was for me, as well as the world. And that even though my husband may not always see me...... my Beloved, faithfully, always will.

Maybe for you it's also a spouse, maybe not. Maybe it's a father, or a mother that has made claim to your value in this world.

My husband is still learning the roots of his own depression, and his eyes have lifted as well. He sees me and that makes my heart swell and that burned my "corner" to the ground. I know I must tread carefully, because he won't always be there to do that. We are working on "us" again, bringing us back towards each other.

photo taken by Aimee Wells


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May you learn with me our true value, that there is a Beloved waiting for us, preparing for us, who has created us, and died for us. A Beloved that is not done with us, who perfects us with discipline, and loves us with fellowship. And that it is He who has already defined us as His bride.