Wednesday, June 10, 2026: 9:12AM
A New Me“You're shattered like you've never been before
The life you knew in a thousand pieces on the floor
And words fall short in times like these
When this world drives you to your knees
You think you're never gonna get back to the you that used to be.”
-Danny Gokey’s song, “Tell Your Heart to Beat Again”
It is quite exhausting to be so self-aware right now. I have found myself in social situations or in public in the past week, completely engulfed in my mind. I was consumed with a thought the other day: I have changed. I’m not who I was. My version of reality is different. And it’s hard to keep up with regular conversations while I think about how disjointed I feel- out of touch with who I was and where I am. It feels similar to the clothes in my closet these days- familiar, yet uncomfortable and unfitting; painful reminders.
Oh, the reminders. It’s still so fresh right now. Everywhere I look, I see reminders of my girls. Of what my body has been through. Of what I thought would be. I catch my kids looking at me as I’m laying down, frowning and patting my stomach that had made room for baby sisters they didn’t get to meet. Every time I change, get out of the shower, get ready for bed, I am reminded. The bruise on my hand from the hospital IV and the stiffness in my neck from the pain and tears- reminders. My face feels worn from the tight-faced sobs I have stifled with my pillow as our kids sleep.
So how do I put on real clothes and go to the post office? How do I do the awkward social dance of not knowing if the person who asks me how I am at church knows or doesn’t? Cook, clean, take care of home- or even my basic needs? I keep forgetting to eat and have asked JB to remind me.
My world has shattered, yet the rest of the world carries on.
The Fight
My self-awareness can slip into self-focus and pity all too easily right now. And Satan knows it. I was texting with a dear friend this morning and was grateful for the vulnerability I can always have with her.
“I feel like I’m in the fiercest spiritual battle I’ve ever encountered. And I need to go to the Word so much more than I have been because I am barely hanging on.”
It’s real.
My dear husband and I had yet another long talk late into the night, the tears wetting my cheeks over and over, as he encouraged me and prayed over us.
He reminded me to fight daily to make Jesus the main character of my life. That it’s an everlasting struggle we all encounter.
There is no success or failure; there’s just one moment at a time to seek Him and live for Him.
As I sat staring all around the room, avoiding my husband’s loving gaze as my eyes filled with hot tears, he reminded me- there is a reason only One Thing can fill the holes of my heart. It’s not my living children. My spouse. Fleeting moments of sunshine, new things or experiences.
It’s the love, mercy, grace, and salvation found in Christ and Christ alone. Everything else falls short eventually.
And oh, have I felt that time and time again this past week.
Nothing soothes my soul. No platitudes or sweet moments can ultimately heal the gaping wound in my heart but Him. His promises, His love, His Word.
I have heard the well-meaning words: “Enjoy your two,” and I am enjoying them. But we can’t use Emma and Ethan to fill the void left behind in our hearts. They can’t replace our other two children we don’t get to hold and raise. Our hearts already made room for these sweet baby girls.
The only thing that can fill any broken part of our hearts is Jesus.
This grief is the battleground of my life.
Seek Him, Seek Him
Susannah Spurgeon, wife of one of my favorite theologians, writes, “Tears may, and must come; but if they gather in the eyes that are constantly looking up to You in heaven, they will glisten with the brightness of the coming glory.”
Our hearts are all made for longing. But ultimately, only He can quench this unending, tormenting thirst I can feel.
The Psalmist puts it beautifully in Psalm 63:1-4:
O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary,
beholding your power and glory.
Because your steadfast love is better than life,
my lips will praise you.
So I will bless you as long as I live;
in your name I will lift up my hands.
This week, I have been practicing taking my angst and yearning and instead of directing it at God or anyone around me, feeling angry at Satan and evil.
Lost Gifts: Miscarriage, Grief, and the God of All Comfort
My favorite read of the week is Brittany Lee Allen’s Lost Gifts: Miscarriage, Grief, and the God of All Comfort.
I highly, highly recommend this book and author. More posts on her book later.
The Armor of God: Ephesians 6
I used to read Ephesians 6 at times in my life when I was going into difficult social situations where I needed God’s strength to get through. But to read it while walking the Valley of Death, in a spiritual battle within my own heart and mind, it takes on a whole new meaning:
Finally, be strengthened by the Lord and by his vast strength.
Put on the full armor of God so that you can stand against the schemes of the devil.
This week, I have been practicing taking my angst and yearning and instead of directing it at God or anyone around me, feeling angry at Satan and evil.
Lost Gifts: Miscarriage, Grief, and the God of All Comfort
My favorite read of the week is Brittany Lee Allen’s Lost Gifts: Miscarriage, Grief, and the God of All Comfort.
I highly, highly recommend this book and author. More posts on her book later.
The Armor of God: Ephesians 6
I used to read Ephesians 6 at times in my life when I was going into difficult social situations where I needed God’s strength to get through. But to read it while walking the Valley of Death, in a spiritual battle within my own heart and mind, it takes on a whole new meaning:
Finally, be strengthened by the Lord and by his vast strength.
Put on the full armor of God so that you can stand against the schemes of the devil.
For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this darkness, against evil, spiritual forces in the heavens.
For this reason take up the full armor of God, so that you may be able to resist in the evil day, and having prepared everything, to take your stand. -Ephesians 6:10-13
Spiritual warfare wages even stronger on the weary, broken souls who can barely stand in their grief. Lord, help me remember this and stay on guard.
Be Good to Your Body
In this war waged against my soul, I have been wrestling with resentment toward my body. With disdain, resignation, or pain when I think about it or look at it.
Because when I get self-focused, I think to myself,
What is wrong with me, yet not others?
What am I doing wrong?
Why, God, did You give me this broken body?
But I have come to remember that all bodies are broken. No matter how hard we work at optimizing our lab results, defining our muscles, or increasing our agility and speed, our bodies are living in a broken world. I am not alone; I am simply human.
Instead of shaming my body, as if it is The World’s Worst, my heart is stirred to ponder the difficult state of this world. To turn my mind to weeping over the brokenness of this world will very quickly guide it straight to the cross. Because I would be forever trapped in a state of mourning without the cross. I live in a broken body in a broken world, but it is not the end.
The fact is, as a Christ-follower, I actually live in a redeemed body. Not one untouched by the horrors of this world, but one set aside for a different purpose and place. And when I mourn it, I need not shame myself for being touched by the fractured reality we all walk around in. And I also don’t need to stay there because this is not the end.
I also recently read an interpretation of God’s curse on women and childbearing I never thought of, and it has brought me peace in understanding the grander scheme of things:
In Genesis 3:16, God shares the consequences of Adam and Eve’s pride and sin: “To the woman he said, ‘I will make your pains in childbearing very severe; with painful labor you will give birth to children. Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you.’”
The Hebrew word for “pains” and “painful” is ʿitstsabon, which can mean pain, sorrow, toil, or grief. This noun highlights that labor will come with anguish, worry, and emotional pain.
How did I never know that? Most only ever talk about the physical pain of childbirth being part of our burden to bear. Oh, but it is so much more. Part of the curse brought by sin in this world is not just physical pain in childbirth, but also emotional sorrow, pain, and grief in child bearing. Throughout every part- from infertility to miscarriage, stillbirth, postpartum.
As I pondered that, a book, “Be Good to Your Body” by Jordan Lee Dooley has been a helpful read to me this week. Jordan walked through multiple miscarriages as well as other health issues and sought to use Scripture as her guide to take care of her body instead of the latest health trends.
On pages 13-14, Jordan writes about how we are called to steward our bodies- to remember that everything we have is the Lord’s, even our body, and even our people. “My body is a beautiful gift from God given to me as a way to carry out my callings during my short time on this earth.”
What a wonderful reminder to me in this season.
Later on, as she suffered through her own miscarriages, she discovered a diagnosis that explained so much of what she went through.
She writes on page 61:
Wow, I thought. I’ve been over here being mad at my body
for failing me, and this whole time it’s been fighting a nasty
disease and an infection. I had no idea.
Did you catch that? I thought my body was failing me, when
in reality it was fighting for me…
Our bodies aren’t failing us; they are fighting for us in a
fallen world that fails us.
Perspective While Parenting
Sometimes I loathe the everyday needs right now as they feel suddenly overwhelming, and other times I love them. When I am packing the lunches, wiping the table, watching JB take out the trash or sweep the floor, I think of all the things required to keep a home and to take care of children. But then I think of what a privilege it is. To have this house, to have these loved ones to tend to.
And this season, I am learning the art of slowing. Slowing my body down. Slowing time. Living in the present and trusting God with the rest. I can’t face the past; I can’t predict the future.
As I ponder the ache of having two kids on earth and two in Heaven, I marvel at the two children I get to parent even more. I am enjoying them in new ways- listening to them differently. Emma and Ethan are only 19 months apart and often act like twins. They do everything together and are the best of friends. Emma likes to help take care of Ethan, and Ethan likes to stick up for his sister.
Emma tried to help wash Ethan’s hair this morning in the bath, and their dialogue was hilarious. “Just tilt your head up! Not like that…I don’t want to get it in your eyes!” So cute. I love being a fly on the wall in their conversations.
This evening, I am laying on the couch, watching the sunlight dance through our sheer curtains and reading a book. Meanwhile, my two oldest children are bickering over which magnatiles they are each entitled to. And I can’t help but smile. I am so grateful I get to be their mom. That I get to hug them and hold them and pray with them.
Emma was sick yesterday, and while I was sad for her, I was thankful to be there for her. She loves to be with her mama when she’s sick. And so, my girl and I had a slumber party for the night. I stayed up late into the night just watching her sleep. I haven’t done that in ages. I kept thanking God I got to feel her breathe and stroke her hair and watch her toothlessly giggle.
Spiritual warfare wages even stronger on the weary, broken souls who can barely stand in their grief. Lord, help me remember this and stay on guard.
Be Good to Your Body
In this war waged against my soul, I have been wrestling with resentment toward my body. With disdain, resignation, or pain when I think about it or look at it.
Because when I get self-focused, I think to myself,
What is wrong with me, yet not others?
What am I doing wrong?
Why, God, did You give me this broken body?
But I have come to remember that all bodies are broken. No matter how hard we work at optimizing our lab results, defining our muscles, or increasing our agility and speed, our bodies are living in a broken world. I am not alone; I am simply human.
Instead of shaming my body, as if it is The World’s Worst, my heart is stirred to ponder the difficult state of this world. To turn my mind to weeping over the brokenness of this world will very quickly guide it straight to the cross. Because I would be forever trapped in a state of mourning without the cross. I live in a broken body in a broken world, but it is not the end.
The fact is, as a Christ-follower, I actually live in a redeemed body. Not one untouched by the horrors of this world, but one set aside for a different purpose and place. And when I mourn it, I need not shame myself for being touched by the fractured reality we all walk around in. And I also don’t need to stay there because this is not the end.
I also recently read an interpretation of God’s curse on women and childbearing I never thought of, and it has brought me peace in understanding the grander scheme of things:
In Genesis 3:16, God shares the consequences of Adam and Eve’s pride and sin: “To the woman he said, ‘I will make your pains in childbearing very severe; with painful labor you will give birth to children. Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you.’”
The Hebrew word for “pains” and “painful” is ʿitstsabon, which can mean pain, sorrow, toil, or grief. This noun highlights that labor will come with anguish, worry, and emotional pain.
How did I never know that? Most only ever talk about the physical pain of childbirth being part of our burden to bear. Oh, but it is so much more. Part of the curse brought by sin in this world is not just physical pain in childbirth, but also emotional sorrow, pain, and grief in child bearing. Throughout every part- from infertility to miscarriage, stillbirth, postpartum.
As I pondered that, a book, “Be Good to Your Body” by Jordan Lee Dooley has been a helpful read to me this week. Jordan walked through multiple miscarriages as well as other health issues and sought to use Scripture as her guide to take care of her body instead of the latest health trends.
On pages 13-14, Jordan writes about how we are called to steward our bodies- to remember that everything we have is the Lord’s, even our body, and even our people. “My body is a beautiful gift from God given to me as a way to carry out my callings during my short time on this earth.”
What a wonderful reminder to me in this season.
Later on, as she suffered through her own miscarriages, she discovered a diagnosis that explained so much of what she went through.
She writes on page 61:
Wow, I thought. I’ve been over here being mad at my body
for failing me, and this whole time it’s been fighting a nasty
disease and an infection. I had no idea.
Did you catch that? I thought my body was failing me, when
in reality it was fighting for me…
Our bodies aren’t failing us; they are fighting for us in a
fallen world that fails us.
Perspective While Parenting
Sometimes I loathe the everyday needs right now as they feel suddenly overwhelming, and other times I love them. When I am packing the lunches, wiping the table, watching JB take out the trash or sweep the floor, I think of all the things required to keep a home and to take care of children. But then I think of what a privilege it is. To have this house, to have these loved ones to tend to.
And this season, I am learning the art of slowing. Slowing my body down. Slowing time. Living in the present and trusting God with the rest. I can’t face the past; I can’t predict the future.
As I ponder the ache of having two kids on earth and two in Heaven, I marvel at the two children I get to parent even more. I am enjoying them in new ways- listening to them differently. Emma and Ethan are only 19 months apart and often act like twins. They do everything together and are the best of friends. Emma likes to help take care of Ethan, and Ethan likes to stick up for his sister.
Emma tried to help wash Ethan’s hair this morning in the bath, and their dialogue was hilarious. “Just tilt your head up! Not like that…I don’t want to get it in your eyes!” So cute. I love being a fly on the wall in their conversations.
This evening, I am laying on the couch, watching the sunlight dance through our sheer curtains and reading a book. Meanwhile, my two oldest children are bickering over which magnatiles they are each entitled to. And I can’t help but smile. I am so grateful I get to be their mom. That I get to hug them and hold them and pray with them.
Emma was sick yesterday, and while I was sad for her, I was thankful to be there for her. She loves to be with her mama when she’s sick. And so, my girl and I had a slumber party for the night. I stayed up late into the night just watching her sleep. I haven’t done that in ages. I kept thanking God I got to feel her breathe and stroke her hair and watch her toothlessly giggle.
I know we are not promised tomorrow, but I was thankful for today- this moment.
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