The Intersection

We said hello to our second trimester the other day.

14 and a half weeks along, and our little one is the size of a lemon and dancing every single time the paparazzi come by for an ultrasound.

These last months have passed weirdly fast, even though they haven’t been the easiest. We keep talking about this mystery person who troops around with us, and it’s amazing to think that no matter who’s in there, we’re going to love him/her for the rest of our lives. This blows my mind.

I value transparency in the ones I love, and I even love it in strangers who open their hearts enough to pour into people they don’t even know. I am a private person by nature. My facebook and instagram posts are a quick laugh as you scroll by, or an, “ooh, that’s pretty.” I never wanted my online presence to be a heavy one. But there’s always more to each story, and it’s that “more” that I love.

Life IS fun. And hard. But it’s always good throughout, even when it feels like it’s not.

We’re praying our way through a high risk pregnancy, thanks to my Pseudo Tumor, Type II Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, Fibromyalgia, surgical repair/reconstruction history and immune system deficiency that often doesn’t allow me to heal. We’re praying through the worry that goes along with all the extra appointments, my dimming vision for the first three months as I was taken off of my meds for the sake of the babe, and choosing the right birth plan for my strange body that has the hardest time healing after any nerve damage.

Life is still good. But for all of these reasons, we now have to be extra careful as we love on nature.

We’ll drive for hours just to walk around for 20 minutes so that my heart and restless head can still fill up on beauty while this babe cooks. It helps my spirit to be in creation, when I’m out of the house, when I’m out of my own toxic head. It’s easier for me to refocus when the work of God’s hands sings to me through creation. When I think bigger picture.

I love the lyric, “life begins at the intersection.”

This was so true for me. 4 years ago I hit my intersection, and instead of choosing a direction I crossed my legs and sat down – staring at the sky for more than a year. I couldn’t see a future in any direction. So I sat. For 14 months. Sometimes it takes that long. Sometimes it takes longer. But when you choose to move, you choose life.

I’m so thankful for a husband who is able to see the world through my short telescope. Who helps me see this world in such creative ways, even when my body thinks I can’t. Even when I worry I can’t. He drives so I can watch. He finds the easiest route. The best viewpoint. He doesn’t complain when I have to pee 900 times before we arrive on our mountaintop.

 

I can do this. Even if some days it’s just for a few minutes standing beside the ocean or digging in the garden. I may not be the same as I used to be. I may never be the same as I was a few years ago. Yet I no longer ask Jesus for healing. Instead, I’m asking for patience, and the ability to learn to love and fully live this life in the body that I have, rather than waiting to be restored to the one that I had. And once that became my prayer, something happened.

I began to see the world again. I unpaused life and started to live again. Differently. Thankfully, and well.

I started to see this life for what it can be – for me. In this body, today. And I’m going after it with my whole heart.

For myself. For him. For the one within me.

I hope that you can find a way to choose if you ever find yourself standing in that intersection. Find a way to be in the world. Find some small way to breathe life every day. Even if it’s from behind a car window. Even if it’s a slow walk to the mailbox or coffee with a friend. Life is too short, whether you live to be 30 or a hundred, to let it pass you by without putting up a fight.

So take courage, friends, and know that I am here beside you, slow, sore and happy. Find a way to do the hard thing. It’s worth it.