Wow. A 3 month hiatus from the blogging world... where has the time gone?
Well, let's see...
If I remember correctly, July was (for lack of a better word...) crazy. Between the less than ideal trip to Vietnam and our "Lauren had to come back early from the village due to many emotional and physical breakdowns", by the end of the month I somehow found myself sitting in a counselor's office asking her if I was, in fact, CRAZY. And while I'm sure there were lots of good blogs to be written within that period of time (i.e. feeling like a failure, questioning our calling, wondering where God was in the midst of all of it...just to name a few), there just wasn't enough time or sensible perspective to write anything worthwhile. Or maybe I was just too embarrassed. Probably both.
And then there was August. Dear, sweet, refreshing, exhausting (in the best way possible) August. Our month at home in America where I spent every waking moment with the people I had missed so much over the past 18 months. Picnics, family vacations, engagements, baby showers, coffee dates. Pure bliss. Surely there was no time to be alone with my thoughts when there was my niece and nephew to play with and mother/daughter lunch dates to go on!
And now I find myself at the end of September. A busy month of adjusting back to life in Thailand, starting up language study again, moving forward with business ideas and preparing for baby William. This month, too, has been a whirlwind. Yet something tells me life won't be s l o w i n g down anytime soon. If anything, I think it's about to get a whole lot crazier over here...
We're so excited about the arrival of our baby boy. Really, we are. When I lay in bed at night and Steven cradles my belly waiting for William's kicks, I can't help but let out a deep contented sigh. When I hear Steven praying for our boy and see him preparing to be a dad, there's a deep sense of joy and excitement within me. When we daydream together about what William's going to look like or who he's going to act like, my heart flutters with anticipation and pride. And as time quickly passes, we get more and more excited to meet our lil babe.
But, I'd be lying if I just left it at that.
And the fact that that's the reality we're facing is sometimes completely overwhelming.
A lot of people have asked me how I really feel about having our first child away from "home". You know... away from family, friends, and all things familiar. Most of the time I can muster up a "It'll be an adventure!" or a "I think it'll be okay..." type of answer. But in the raw and honest moments, the moments where I find myself curled up crying on Steven's shoulder or sitting still before the Lord as the sun comes up, I hear myself saying...
I can't do this.
I don't want to do this.
Lord, please don't make me do this.
I suppose entering into motherhood is a scary thing for all moms. There's so many unknowns, so many questions, so many doubts. What will labor be like? Will I be able to keep this baby alive once he's born? Will I be a good mother? How sanctifying will this journey really be? I'm sure every mom questions their ability to adjust to such a major life change, but the thing that keeps me up at night is this nagging sense of loneliness.
Let me explain.
When I go in for a check-up and I can't understand what the nurses are telling me, when we wait in the doctor's office for 3 hours while everyone else seems to get helped before us, when they tell me that epidurals are now outlawed and it's either natural childbirth or a c-section, when I see cockroaches running across the hospital floor... I start to feel panicky and alone. My heart races, doubts settle in, and my longing for home becomes paralyzing.
When I think about how clueless Steven and I are about raising a child, when I see our lack of deep community here, when I don't know who to call for answers about immunizations/breastfeeding/circumcision/life with a newborn, when the best friend I've made in Thailand tells me she's moving at the end of October... I feel so incredibly isolated. I hate to admit it, but my once extroverted self succumbs to defeat and I quickly lose my desire to be with people.
When I think about William's future and long for him to grow up like Steven did (to see the farm, to explore, to build...), when I see how close (physically & emotionally) my niece and nephew are to my mom and dad and so badly wanting the same for my kids, when I think back to that tearful and painful goodbye with my parents at the airport knowing they wouldn't meet their grandson until he is 6 months old... I become utterly heartbroken. This is too hard. I didn't sign up for this. This is exactly why I never wanted to have kids overseas.
To some of you, I'm sure my thoughts and emotions seem rather dramatic. (And I assure you, they are.) Don't you just want to shake me and say, "Cmon, Lauren! It's not so bad, suck it up and move on!"? Trust me, I've tried saying those things to myself a lot these days. But the thing is, my feelings of panic, isolation and heartache are still very real. And still very tender.
For some reason, they still remain.
So much of me hates admitting that. So much of me wants to write about how I've overcome the anxious thoughts and have moved on to greener pastures. So much of me thinks God is disappointed in my poor attitude and lack of trust. But as I was praying and thinking about it a couple of days ago, I think God has me exactly where He wants me. Never before in my life have I had to work out my faith like this. And I don't mean it in the same way that people use "walking by faith". For me, walking by faith was moving to Thailand and trusting that God had gone before us to prepare the way. Working out my faith looks like a daily, gut-wrenching, tug-of-war where I don't feel like believing in His goodness but choose to anyway. It's when I feel like calling it quits, but choose to stay. When I feel like giving in to my selfish desires, but choosing to believe God's way really is better.
And mostly, it's when I don't feel God, but choose to believe that He's still right by my side, caring for my heart and all my needs.
Yes, I think this place, although many times awful and overwhelming, is right where God wants me. I think He delights in seeing me work this out with Him every day. Most days I fail and don't choose truth, but there are also tender moments of victory where I see myself slowly growing. I think He enjoys the dialogue and the new humility is has brought upon me. And I can't help but think He is anxiously awaiting to show Himself faithful on my behalf and love me in ways I can't even imagine.
So, here I am Lord. An awful mess learning whether or not her faith is real. A girl who is feeling very alone and scared, yet is choosing to say, "Blessed be the name of the Lord."
Well, let's see...
If I remember correctly, July was (for lack of a better word...) crazy. Between the less than ideal trip to Vietnam and our "Lauren had to come back early from the village due to many emotional and physical breakdowns", by the end of the month I somehow found myself sitting in a counselor's office asking her if I was, in fact, CRAZY. And while I'm sure there were lots of good blogs to be written within that period of time (i.e. feeling like a failure, questioning our calling, wondering where God was in the midst of all of it...just to name a few), there just wasn't enough time or sensible perspective to write anything worthwhile. Or maybe I was just too embarrassed. Probably both.
And then there was August. Dear, sweet, refreshing, exhausting (in the best way possible) August. Our month at home in America where I spent every waking moment with the people I had missed so much over the past 18 months. Picnics, family vacations, engagements, baby showers, coffee dates. Pure bliss. Surely there was no time to be alone with my thoughts when there was my niece and nephew to play with and mother/daughter lunch dates to go on!
And now I find myself at the end of September. A busy month of adjusting back to life in Thailand, starting up language study again, moving forward with business ideas and preparing for baby William. This month, too, has been a whirlwind. Yet something tells me life won't be s l o w i n g down anytime soon. If anything, I think it's about to get a whole lot crazier over here...
(aka: Baby William will soon be joining this crazy life of ours)
We're so excited about the arrival of our baby boy. Really, we are. When I lay in bed at night and Steven cradles my belly waiting for William's kicks, I can't help but let out a deep contented sigh. When I hear Steven praying for our boy and see him preparing to be a dad, there's a deep sense of joy and excitement within me. When we daydream together about what William's going to look like or who he's going to act like, my heart flutters with anticipation and pride. And as time quickly passes, we get more and more excited to meet our lil babe.
But, I'd be lying if I just left it at that.
Because the truth is, I never wanted to have kids overseas.
And the fact that that's the reality we're facing is sometimes completely overwhelming.
A lot of people have asked me how I really feel about having our first child away from "home". You know... away from family, friends, and all things familiar. Most of the time I can muster up a "It'll be an adventure!" or a "I think it'll be okay..." type of answer. But in the raw and honest moments, the moments where I find myself curled up crying on Steven's shoulder or sitting still before the Lord as the sun comes up, I hear myself saying...
I can't do this.
I don't want to do this.
Lord, please don't make me do this.
I suppose entering into motherhood is a scary thing for all moms. There's so many unknowns, so many questions, so many doubts. What will labor be like? Will I be able to keep this baby alive once he's born? Will I be a good mother? How sanctifying will this journey really be? I'm sure every mom questions their ability to adjust to such a major life change, but the thing that keeps me up at night is this nagging sense of loneliness.
Let me explain.
When I go in for a check-up and I can't understand what the nurses are telling me, when we wait in the doctor's office for 3 hours while everyone else seems to get helped before us, when they tell me that epidurals are now outlawed and it's either natural childbirth or a c-section, when I see cockroaches running across the hospital floor... I start to feel panicky and alone. My heart races, doubts settle in, and my longing for home becomes paralyzing.
When I think about how clueless Steven and I are about raising a child, when I see our lack of deep community here, when I don't know who to call for answers about immunizations/breastfeeding/circumcision/life with a newborn, when the best friend I've made in Thailand tells me she's moving at the end of October... I feel so incredibly isolated. I hate to admit it, but my once extroverted self succumbs to defeat and I quickly lose my desire to be with people.
When I think about William's future and long for him to grow up like Steven did (to see the farm, to explore, to build...), when I see how close (physically & emotionally) my niece and nephew are to my mom and dad and so badly wanting the same for my kids, when I think back to that tearful and painful goodbye with my parents at the airport knowing they wouldn't meet their grandson until he is 6 months old... I become utterly heartbroken. This is too hard. I didn't sign up for this. This is exactly why I never wanted to have kids overseas.
To some of you, I'm sure my thoughts and emotions seem rather dramatic. (And I assure you, they are.) Don't you just want to shake me and say, "Cmon, Lauren! It's not so bad, suck it up and move on!"? Trust me, I've tried saying those things to myself a lot these days. But the thing is, my feelings of panic, isolation and heartache are still very real. And still very tender.
For some reason, they still remain.
So much of me hates admitting that. So much of me wants to write about how I've overcome the anxious thoughts and have moved on to greener pastures. So much of me thinks God is disappointed in my poor attitude and lack of trust. But as I was praying and thinking about it a couple of days ago, I think God has me exactly where He wants me. Never before in my life have I had to work out my faith like this. And I don't mean it in the same way that people use "walking by faith". For me, walking by faith was moving to Thailand and trusting that God had gone before us to prepare the way. Working out my faith looks like a daily, gut-wrenching, tug-of-war where I don't feel like believing in His goodness but choose to anyway. It's when I feel like calling it quits, but choose to stay. When I feel like giving in to my selfish desires, but choosing to believe God's way really is better.
And mostly, it's when I don't feel God, but choose to believe that He's still right by my side, caring for my heart and all my needs.
Yes, I think this place, although many times awful and overwhelming, is right where God wants me. I think He delights in seeing me work this out with Him every day. Most days I fail and don't choose truth, but there are also tender moments of victory where I see myself slowly growing. I think He enjoys the dialogue and the new humility is has brought upon me. And I can't help but think He is anxiously awaiting to show Himself faithful on my behalf and love me in ways I can't even imagine.
So, here I am Lord. An awful mess learning whether or not her faith is real. A girl who is feeling very alone and scared, yet is choosing to say, "Blessed be the name of the Lord."
