Angry at God

Why did God let this happen again? Was the pain of my first not enough? Again! Really? And like a toddler throwing the best strop they can, I wanted to lay rigid on the floor daring any loving hand on me so I could kick out. I was quietly wild with distress, not allowing the only one who could loosen the snare near me. God, the perfect and loving Father He is, allowed me my space. I understood very clearly I grieved Him as I took that space and wallowed in reading online gossip, perfectly distracting me from the horror of my life and the bloodiness of birthing the dead. I gave the Holy Spirit, my Comforter, the cold shoulder and I’ll always wonder about the beauty for ashes I lost in rejecting God at that time.

I’d had five children, one hadn’t made it past early pregnancy. I reasoned, from the statistics, that was it for me, ridiculous I know but I needed to steady myself. I knew I would never experience the breezy days of pregnancy again as I had with my first three daughters. I now recognise that deep down I always know the baby has gone, their presence leaves. I notice I bristle when people mention the baby during this time, it’s like my soul is grieving way before my confirmation is signed in red.

A single fear-pressed tear rolled down my cheek as I blurted out “blood” to my husband. Heaviness already weighing my body down, I got myself to A&E. I waited. When I noticed the waiting room was full of new faces for a second time I was assured by the receptionist I’d be seen soon. I went back to my seat protectively cradling my blood covered baby in my arms desperate for someone to tell me if he or she was alive. We sat and waited.

They asked for a urine sample but there was no way I was going anywhere else but home. After a two hour wait I was told the scan department wasn’t open till Monday. I pleaded so there was a phone call. I heard the GP repeat the question from the doctor on the other end “Why is she crying?” and give her a muffled answer “well she’s distressed”. When I was handed the phone all I remember was shouting “you don’t care about these tiny babies!” I left shouting the same to the receptionist on my way out. Months later I found myself waiting at the same A&E and I had the biggest panic attack, I couldn’t breathe or speak and was frantically pointing at my throat to the receptionist mouthing the words “I have to go”, she insisted I fill out a discharge form, I barely scribbled a signature before running out to try to fill my lungs with fresh air as the world imploded around me.

Back to that Sunday afternoon which I spent at the playgym with a friend. I didn’t want to cancel, the children could play and I had a welcome distraction as a waited for the doctor to call with a scan appointment.

The next day I reluctantly lay on the bed and looked at the monitor. I began sobbing before the darkened image came up, even more as I searched the screen and couldn’t find my 9 week baby. The sonographer impatiently flung two tissues at me and said something about an internal scan. My throat had closed up so all I could do was nod. She sternly told me “you’re going to have to speak” so I managed to gasp the verbal permission she required. I had to work it all out myself, there were no explanations. The conversation that took place as I was leaving will stay with me. I’d remembered being offered a scan picture the last time so I asked if it was possible to have one. The sonographer turned to me and looked utterly disgusted and said “there’s nothing there”. I looked at the tiny round shape sitting in the bigger dark sac the on the monitor, which was still on, she looked too.

“That’s just a yolk sac” she snapped. I quickly understood her stance on life and gently met her with “But it’s the beginnings of a baby?”

“But it’s not a baby, there’s no fetal pole” she replied, she sighed as she retrieved a picture for me. I respected her point of view with the silence of mine. As I made my way back through the corridors I bumped into a friend and fell into her arms, that hug was a gift. I didn’t understand how much my experience in this little room affected me until months later I had to call the chaplain for cremation information and he said “your child”, at this my legs gave way, collapsing on the floor in tears that our baby had been recognised as such.

The days that followed were difficult as the hospital didn’t know whether my dates were just off and also the location of the pregnancy. I had a blood test and went home. I knew the baby was gone and these days were spent in hope everything passed with no complications. I spent gentle days at home, I went to the beach, talked with God, the Holy Spirit filled me with hope and in the sky I saw an amazing sign. Some birds caught my attention because they were flying unusually high for their kind. As I watched they formed the letters RZW which came with a strong sense to look ahead; a promise, a hope and a future. Four years ago as I was leaving the room where I was gently told our baby had no heartbeat, God made me a promise, this time an audible voice (in the natural) in my right ear (which has only happened once before), the exact words – “I will give you twin boys” this came with the powerful revelation that there was a time ahead, a time to look forward to, this was painful now and I would grieve but not to be consumed by the distress of the season. I’ve treasured and held on to all these things.

There were more walks, tea, cake and then one day at home very gently the sac came. I didn’t cope with the grief well, I was so angry with God. I shut down, spending hours online pickling my mind reading gossip. He allowed this for a time and then permanently freed me by speaking two words to me “sully” and “scuttle”. When I looked at the dictionary definition, I never went back to reading that worthless trash again.

Sully – damage the purity or integrity of.

Scuttle – Sink (one’s own ship) deliberately by holing it.

When I went for a follow up appointment I mistakingly went to the day clinic, the midwives weren’t sure who I wanted to see so they directed me to another waiting area. I sat looking up at the tiny hands and feet casts and the thank you cards, then a woman holding her newborn was wheeled through. Such a beautiful moment but then suddenly stab, it’s like reliving a nightmare of the moment with your child that’s been ripped away from you. Yes I did go back ranting and blubbering about “yet another blunder” to the midwives for seating me in the delivery suite and yes, she did tell me off for the accusation infront of a waiting room full of women cradling varying sized bumps clutching their folders.

Every pregnancy and birth announcement we received I was instantly so over joyed but then out of the blue would suddenly be reminded and knocked over with an avalanche of grief, it was like being pulled in two directions. I’d be so angry at the grief and how it would mercilessly barge in and interrupt these special and joyful moments in life. I’ve now seen so clearly how we can live with two immensely strong and polar opposite emotions running along side in our lives. Scan pictures would come without warning and I’d be unwillingly rushed to that small dark room again fearfully staring at the monitor, the loud clanging of dread hurting my ears. Sometimes joy would immediately charge in and rescue me to the present moment and I’d be so thankful for these little lives and cheering them on, they were a reminder of everything good, wonderful and how amazing life can be. Other times I would get taken at random to a dark vacuum of swirling questions and confusion by innocently mentioned words that fired at me like gunshots; “scan”, “viable” and “heartbeat”, which blasted deeper into the wounds of “no fetal pole” and “nothing there”, leaving me terrified and breathless.

The “Helper (Comforter, Advocate, Intercessor—Counselor, Strengthener, Standby),“ John 14:16

So many gorgeous babies arrived this year, eleven from family and friends near and far. As I wrapped up three newborn gifts to post my daughter said “why is it that our babies die?” I put my hand on her cheek and the only answer I could give her was a sad smile. She came with me when I met my two good friends, with a little one not long born and one not far off being born, my baby would have been a couple of weeks and three months age difference. I didn’t know how I would face this day, I was terrified of the grief that would break me and force me into a public break down. But Jesus. He filled the day with such love, peace, joy and grace. It was such a gentle, beautiful day with so much excitement and a special sparkle in the air. There was also grace for a baby shower and grace over a congratulatory hug, two women tummy to tummy, one beautifully round with life and mine in the final days of emptying the dregs of death.

When we lost our fourth baby, God gave me a vision. I was so distressed with the longing just to see my baby, I had asked the nurse to open the sac but that wasn’t allowed, I just wanted a glimpse, a touch, just something to be near to my baby. I remember praying that I didn’t even know if the baby was a boy or a girl. Then one evening as I drifted off to sleep, suddenly I was more awake than I’d ever been, I saw right there in front of me a man, I knew him instantly as my son. He was beautiful, shining, strong and healthy. He had the colouring of my third daughter; dark eyes, hair and skin but resembled my husband. Instantly, the fact that he was boy or girl became unimportant. This vision and a magnificent pouring of the spirit in A&E meant I had so much inner joy. But this time I’ve had to cling to a steady quiet hope.

We planted wildflower. I was angry at the wildflower. I was angry at the planter we planted the wildflower in. I was angry for months, too angry to even recognise I was angry until I read ”Grace Like Scarlett” Adriel Booker. Every page I read made me furious, I was angry that I was even reading the book. And only at the last page did it dawn on me that I was angry. And when I realised it, I was able to take it to Jesus and one morning I found I was able to breath easier, I felt lighter. It was such a significant shift that I told my husband I felt better and had turned a corner. I had peace.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” John 14:27

I’ve found with losing my babies there’s the very raw physical longing of an empty womb and empty arms. With my first baby that didn’t make it past early pregnancy, it wasn’t long till I was was pregnant again so the physical ache was quickly distracted with carrying another child and as I already had so much overflowing inner joy, peace and hope, which has never failed to blanket me every time the internal grief has hit. This time the night of weeping lasted months but as sure as the morning comes, with it came joy (Psalm 30:5). There is always the oil of joy for mourning (Isaiah 61:3).

By His stripes we are healed (Isaiah 53:5). The work done at the cross covers for the sin of mankind and in that covers for every single detail of our lives. We can take it all to Jesus and find healing in return. I was so overcome with grief during worship at church one Sunday I couldn’t stand up. I sung slumped on the floor, every last ounce of my energy I sacrificed it all to God, and His goodness wrapped around me and filled me. Months later I was sat at church, socially distanced at the baby and toddler room surrounded by four women holding small babies in their arms and I found I was holding healing in mine. I had rest.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28

God is with us every step of the journey, the Holy Spirit is our great Comforter, where ever our grief takes us he is there. The church prayed for me continuously during this time, a sanctuary where I openly wept, where I was laid hands on, where I was contended for in prayer, where I was encouraged. Snotty mess and strengthening happened on that church floor. It was where one day someone, who had been boldly and fearlessly standing with me through the grief, reminded me to name our baby. She is called Eden. No great heavenly vision this time but just a gentle quiet knowing. I’m so thankful for the few short weeks I carried her. She is an absolute blessing to our family. She can’t be ignored, she’s full of resurrection power, beauty and light. The world called her a “nothing there”, too small to be significant, but she’s blazing in glory in her rightful home and I can’t wait to join her soon.

Years ago I noticed how beautiful wildflower were for the first time. No one tends to them but they just naturally fill fields and cracks in stone walls with staggering colour and beauty. I had been so terrified of a burial because I couldn’t come to terms with swapping my warm, cosy womb for dank soil. After the prospect of complicated hospital paperwork for a cremation and two staff members who were unable to hide their shock and disgust that we still had the remains, in the end our options were limited. On a happy sunny day we gathered the children and we all pottered around each other with handfuls of soil and seeds. The moment springing up with a strange beauty weeks before we saw the beauty of a colourful bloom.

“Look how the wild flowers grow! They don’t work hard to make their clothes. But I tell you that Solomon with all his wealth wasn’t as well clothed as one of these flowers. God gives such beauty to everything that grows in the fields, even though it is here today and thrown into a fire tomorrow. Won’t he do even more for you? You have such little faith!” Luke 12:27-28

Now, is God still who He is when he allows you to go through the same devastation again? Is God still who He is when we see no great spiritual revelations, fire fall or miracles? Is God still who He is when we turn our backs on Him? I have found nothing changes who God is. He remains the same in our doubts, fears and trauma as He is in peace, joy and hope. Through this I have seen the steadfastness of God. On the morning of my scan I messaged friends at church group to pray and sent a song link “Nobody like you” (Redrocks Worship). Highs or lows, mountains or valleys there is nobody like Jesus.

“My lover is like a gazelle or a young deer. Look, he stands behind our wall peeking through the windows, looking through the blinds.” Song of Solomon 2:9 I just see Jesus in this beautiful verse; His kindness, His mystery, His gentleness to catch our attention. This season has taught me that I love to go after the big displays of God’s power, I love the fire, the trembling, the welling up of the Spirit, I love the tears, I love His undeniable presence that thunders into the physical realm. I love when God blows my mind, when the mighty wind rushes into rooms, when I see in the Spirit, when I see snowfall indoors and buildings and believers on fire. But we can only tell how sharp our spiritual senses are when they are attentive to His gentle whisper. God is never not speaking, He is speaking to every single person, all the time. The big displays of God’s power are marvellous but is our relationship with the Lord so intimate that we recognise and are led by His gentle voice?

“And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice.” 1 Kings 19:11-12

I feel like a rabbit stuck in headlights at times but my weakness urges me to go after the deeper things of God. Four years ago along with words of sympathy someone said “everything happens for a reason”, my grieving flesh took objection to this because what good reason could there be facing a loss. But in spiritual wisdom we know all things work together for good to us (Romans 8:28). Jesus is working in ways so intricate and powerful. In me he’s demolishing strongholds, refining me, increasing my faith, lessening me and increasing Him. Outwardly distressing seasons destroy us – (and good riddance to our flesh!) but inwardly we are being renewed, strengthened and built.

“you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.” 1 Peter 2:5

The hard seasons shouldn’t surprise us; Jesus said “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33) because He has overcome, we overcome every battle time and time again. We are always stood on victory ground no matter how bleak our situation looks.

Many times during worship in this season the revelation kept coming to me that “I’m being poured out.” My very life poured out as an offering to whom I belong. Jesus can have it all, everything I am, everything I have, my every thought and desire, He can take my stubbornness and every last scrap of rebellion that goes against Him. I am not my own. I was purchased at a price, God did a marvellous work at the cross, Jesus laid his life down for the rescue of mine and yours. His resurrection blazed the way for mine and yours. I was a wandering, lost, heart of stone voiceless woman with no sight or hearing, staggering around in thick blackness on the fast road to outer darkness, helpless just like my babies who never saw the light of the sun. He thought mankind precious enough to save, to be given the free gift and choice to be born of the Spirit and to see by the light of the Son, on earth and for eternity. We see on earth as it is in heaven! How awesome is that!

“Humans can reproduce only human life, but the Holy Spirit gives birth to spiritual life.” John 3:6 NLT

I am His, born of purifying water and the life giving Spirit, I’m blazing with light, I’m filled with the breath that woke me up, my heart is ablaze with a consuming fire, my eyes firmly fixed on heaven, I have ears only for my Shepherd and my voice will never tire of proclaiming the name of Jesus, now and for eternity.

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body.”

2 Corinthians 4:7-11

Grieve With Hope

A lovely little surprise at my Birth Afterthoughts meeting when the midwife said I could look through my hospital notes if I wanted. And there it was, my baby’s name, my beautiful, strong and shiny one always reminding me of how much love, hope, joy and peace we are lavished with in the midst of the darkest of horrors. The best is yet to come. Only Jesus. King of Kings and Lord of Lords, HE turned my mourning into dancing. No one cradles us in our anguish like he does. The ongoing care and attention to the smallest ripple of anxiety to the excruciating heaviness of heart, in my weakness his strength never fails to gently thunder in.

There is no better place than “Lord I don’t understand what is going on but I trust you. Thank you” “Lord I’m afraid but I trust you. Thank you” “Lord I feel so sad right now but I trust you. Thank you” “Lord it hurts so much but I trust you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you” and scripture that breathes into our souls at the exact time we need it; When my womb and arms ache for my baby – “So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. 2 Corinthians 4:18

When I’m afraid it was it something I did?- “I delight greatly in the LORD; my soul rejoices in my God. For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness, as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels. Isaiah 61:10”

When I fear it will happen again – “The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” Deuteronomy 31:8

When I think of the horror of the death that took place in my womb – “he is risen” Matthew 28:6

He is risen!

The Greatest Gift

It’s a year since we found out our baby died early on in pregnancy. The grief has been searing, relentless and so crushing that at times my legs have felt like they may collapse beneath me. Over these months I’ve had so many conversations with people –

I’ve been told that I had a lot going on at the time and I was doing too much and not resting. And that maybe it just wasn’t the right time for this baby. And the suggestion that it may have been a good thing as I wouldn’t have been able to do some of the things I’d done since. There have been lots of taking deep breathes along side well meaning words. Truth is how ever much we desperately try to scramble for the right thing to say, there are no positives to death. Whatever age or time.

Going out with my daughters always seems to bring up two conversation starters;

“They all yours? Are you going to have any more?”

“All girls! Are you going to try for a boy?”

A lady on the bus had come up with the first opener and I told her about our baby, she asked when in the pregnancy and showed her relief when I said it was early on.

The lady doing my hair came up with the second opener. I told her about our baby. “Still, not as bad as my sister” she said and told me that she had three babies die late in pregnancy.

A sweet family friend in her eighties who was so distraught after her little one died she could never bring herself to go through being pregnant again.

“Any more?” one of the home ed mums asked me and this led on to the loveliest conversation as we both shared our experiences of our babies that didn’t make it.

The first time I saw death up close was through a window from the car where I’d been told to stay as it had been decided I was too young to go to a funeral. I watched as the miniature white and brass coffin was carried past.

So many more experiences and conversations that are not for me to share.

So many babies.

There is one conversation that had a huge impact on me. I was sat on the sofa sharing tea and biscuits and letting somebody know about our baby. I was talking about how hard the grief had been for both me and my husband and she met me at this point because she understood, it had been the same for her and her husband. I looked down and my heart sank and I started to feel little bubbles of anger growing bigger from the pit of my stomach and I just wanted to scream “but this isn’t the same, this wasn’t MY choice!”

I started to panic because I couldn’t pop these rising bubbles. I didn’t want to upset her but I didn’t know if I could hold my back my emotions. Then just like that my Prince of Peace rescued me, peace swept over me and draped a warm blanket of stillness around me. I looked up at her and I saw brighter than day how Jesus sees her. Loved. Treasured. Died for. So desperately longed for.

Truth scattered the lies like cockroaches in torch light as I was reminded we are all in this mess together; broken people living in a broken world. I hadn’t made the same choices as her but I was so so so far from perfect in how I’d lived my life.

I saw we were both dealing with the heavy consequences of death and I listened as she opened up about the grief she was going through. We had the same pain, our babies have left huge holes in our families.

So many babies.

I birthed my tiniest baby on Christmas Day, two days after I was told there was no heartbeat. The dark valleys of grief and the trauma of the physical process have not left me and neither has the incredible hope, peace, comfort, joy and love that was poured out to me and that is all because of one little baby given to us all.

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”

Isaiah 9:6

The greatest everlasting conversation we will ever have is the one God has with us. It has never been a question of “Is God speaking?” but rather “Are we listening?”

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.”

John 3:16-17

A love like no other that at our most destitute facing the punishment of death we rightly deserve, one we can never escape or work to pay ourselves. He took our place and paid the price on the cross. He took our sin, dealt with death by rising again to give us the free gift of eternal life.

“This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.”

1 John 4:9-10

The greatest gift we could ever receive from a Father who never gives up on us no matter how far we run and how long we hide. He made the way, the ONLY way that we can return to Him.

We have only two choices when it comes to being presented with gifts; reject or receive.

We Grieve but we Glory

While everyone around me talked grief, all I wanted to do was sing glory. I am very much part of the church but my family and I don’t go to church (apart from twice this year for my birthday and Mother’s Day). 

When I came across something Levi Lusko said – “we grieve but we glory”, it struck my heart so powerfully that even though reading books is not my favourite thing to do I had to buy his book immediately. Everything written in it helped to cement what was already in my heart. It was like receiving a reassuring and encouraging hug, like being in a room with everyone speaking a foreign language then suddenly hearing someone speak to you in your language. 

The grief is crushing and ongoing; twice recently I’ve been walking in the park with my children, the three of them were ahead playing in full view and out of the blue this awful, sickening, piercing anxious dread came over me, similar to when you lose sight of your child for a few too many seconds. It searingly reinforced what a gaping hole our child left here. Losing our little one early in pregnancy is the most devastating, traumatic, painful thing I’ve ever been through, but grief is not the whole story. I can also look back and continue to live each day in amazement because during this darkness I have experienced some of the most awesome and unforgettable moments of my life, some I never even imagined were possible, the tenderness with which God cares for us in the horrific times is beyond words. Every pain has been soothed, fear disarmed, whispers of guilt crushed, longing satisfied, despair destroyed because of the truth, the hope, the comfort, the joy, the peace and the overpowering love welling up in abundance as my weary heart turns it all over to the Lord. 

Alive and Singing

As I walked through the hospital car park I saw a clown unloading boxes of toys and craft things from her car. It was three days till Christmas and I thought to myself how awful it would be to be in hospital on Christmas Day. I was 11 weeks pregnant and on my way to my first antenatal appointment.

That night I was woken by my 2 year old daughter who was having a midnight tantrum so I got into bed with her. My other daughter then woke from a bad dream a little while later. I hadn’t wanted to get out of my youngest’s bed because I didn’t want to wake her, so I spoke gently to my eldest and as soon as she heard my voice she immediately calmed, lay down and went to sleep. The reassuring power of just my voice to her ears amazed me, it was 3am and I was reminded of the relationship we have with God; at his word we lay down and rest.

When I woke in the morning I felt a small gush and thought “surely not, I can’t be losing my baby while I’m snuggled up to my baby”. I drove to the maternity unit at the hospital and they told me to go to A&E where I was assessed and waited for over an hour for the Early Pregnancy Unit to open. As soon as they opened I lay on the bed, had the blob of gel on my stomach and fixed my eyes on the screen. 

The first thing that hit me was the silence from the monitor. Little one was so still, just floating in the darkness. The sonographer was clicking away taking measurements and up flashed the words “8.3 weeks”. I wondered if maybe I’d got my dates wrong and also if babies so tiny have sleep cycles. The lady stopped clicking and turned to me and gently said “I’m so sorry. There’s no heartbeat”. Those softly spoken words were like a ten tonne boulder knocking the wind out of my chest. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed. She offered me baby’s scan pictures, which I was so grateful for. 

I was handed several leaflets and given three options; 1. wait for everything to pass naturally. 2. Take a pill to help everything pass. 3. Have an operation. I was offered a cup of tea but I just wanted to get home. Unexpectedly I felt a wave of thankfulness wash over me. 

I drove away from the hospital and stopped at a quiet place to call my husband to tell him our little one hadn’t made it. 

I then went for a walk at my favourite beach and talked with God. I knew that the hospital diagnosis was not the final diagnosis. I knew that the situation could turn around. I knew that God could breathe life into my little baby, that starting that little heart again was no big thing for our Lord. I was hopeful for a miracle. But on my way back my heart spoke the words “your will be done” and because of that I knew that it was possible that things may not go the way I so desperately wanted but I was safe in the certainty that what ever happened the situation was covered. I stopped to offer to take a picture of a holidaying family, their beaming smiles filled me with warmth and then I spotted a tiny green shoot growing from the sand and I was deeply moved; against all odds this tiny shoot was thriving.

When I got home we gathered in the children’s bedroom and sat on the bed and my husband and I told our daughters that the little baby we told them was coming was no longer going to come. 

I spent the rest of the day feeling well, intermittently quarrelling; “really Lord, surely you can’t sandwich me in between the death of my father and my child!” and pleading “please just let me keep my baby, please” and crying “I said I wanted five children, did you not get the memo that I wanted them all alive!” but through all the anguish my heart always peacefully concluded with “your will be done” and with great confidence “I stand on your word” and “You are the God of LIFE not death!” I spoke life over myself and the child inside me. I slept very well that night and felt good for most of the next day and then the pains came.

Contractions came fast and also the non stop urge to keep going to the loo. I was so naive about the physical process, I didn’t realise I would be in so much pain. I’d given birth three times, spoken to countless midwives, had antenatal classes, did biology at school, read articles and knew people who had been through this and from the little pieces of information I stitched together I assumed I would just bleed a little and a tiny baby, either that I could see or inside a tiny jellylike ball would come out. The pain and the vast amount of blood I experienced was staggering. 

The contractions were so painful I was having to breathe through them and position my body leaning forward over cushions much like I did in my previous labours. I kept going to the loo and then I started passing small clots. I inspected every one in search of my tiny baby. In between reassuring me, my husband was successfully keeping things calm and normal for our children and just as he was putting them to bed I grabbed a sieve from the kitchen and asked him to find me a plastic container. I was determined our baby was not going to end up in the toilet. 

I crawled back up the stairs and across the landing in agony. Then I passed two fist sized clots, I assumed the largest had the baby inside and kept both in the container. I don’t know if it was the sight of all the blood but I started to feel extremely unwell, like I was going to black out so I asked my husband to call an ambulance. 

I was so relieved to be in the ambulance with gas and air to manage the pain. They elevated my legs to get my blood pressure back to normal. When I told one of the paramedics how much pain I was in he gently said he understood and I was so grateful for this. They then slid me onto a bed at the A&E ward and I continued to breathe heavily through the gas and air mouth piece. I was very aware that the ward was full, the desk in the middle of the room was busy with people coming and going and the privacy curtain remained open. There was a moment where because of the effects of the gas and air and contractions, it triggered memories from my previous births so I forgot for a moment and I had to remind myself that I wasn’t going to hold a warm 7 pound baby in my arms at the end of this and I just broke, sobbed and groaned “no, no, no”. 

At the same time they were having trouble getting a line into my vein and after multiple attempts had to use ultrasound to find a good vein and I was eventually given morphine and I felt its warmth spread through my body dulling the pain and contractions, I was relieved to be “back in the room” and not so dependant on the gas and air.

A doctor then asked to examine me. I agreed. She asked if she should remove anything she saw. I agreed. I had already assumed baby had come out, retrieved in the container but I didn’t know where the box had been put. I put my head back, closed my eyes and forced my body to relax. Then the incredible happened, I raised my hand pulling all the attached tubes with it, twice I felt the doctor pull my hand back and tell me I could hold onto her arm but I pulled away both times, I didn’t need or want anyone’s arm, I was reaching up to my Lord. And then I began to sing, over and over, my heart filling up and overflowing with gladness – 

“There is none 

None like you

Who can know my heart like you do

For all creation sings your song

I will join with them declaring your glory”

(United Pursuit – “Met By Love”)

I was totally lost in worship by the time the doctor confirmed that there was still something there but it was too firmly attached to remove. Knowing now that this was baby, I’m relieved she couldn’t. She then took her gloves off and leaned in to speak to me, 

“I know what you were doing. I’m a Christian. You are too?” 

“Yes” I replied. 

She looked at me, visibly moved she said “you’ve really shown me something.” then she paused for a moment and asked 

“What are you thankful for?” 

And these words tumbled out of my mouth 

“Life. I’m thankful for LIFE”

In that moment I saw that God was showing not only the doctor but both of his precious children something that day. Even though I was broken, bruised, battered, at the lowest point in my life so far, laying soaked in a puddle of my blood, devastated at the loss of my precious child my spirit was ALIVE and SINGING! I was welling up with such joy and soaked in nothing but the sweetness of his love. Not even being in this tragic mess was able to stop me enjoying a glimpse into the never ending joy in eternity. 

I was taken to a ward where I had a comfortable night and no more blood loss. I asked for some disposable bed pans as the doctor had later confirmed the two big clots I brought in the container, which was found tucked under my coat, were just clots. She showed me how they were soft and broke up easily. 

I went through about six bed pans and nothing. 

I woke on Christmas morning blinking at the blue curtain around my bed. My baby had died and it was Christmas Day, the celebration of the birth of the baby who changed the world forever. In Jesus’ birth, death and resurrection we have been given new life. The old has gone and the new has come, we are a new creation, born again. The greatest gift from a Father who loves each and every single one of us so deeply. A gift that is for EVERYONE and ANYONE to simply receive. It is because of Jesus that we are no longer left floating in darkness, no longer to live life spiritually deaf and blind, no longer under the punishment of the death we all deserve, no longer steeped in sorrow and pain and fear but have the free gift of eternal life. 

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.”
John 3:16-17

Because of Jesus I have full rest. And once again in my darkest distress he has carried me through, never leaving my side. No words can ever come close to describe this kind of love. I am continually filled with such awe and wonder.

Another doctor came to review me and go through my options. He impatiently said if I had an operation I could be out the same day but if I waited it could be days. I’d been told earlier I’d have a scan to see what was going on in my womb but he immediately dismissed this and said “maybe so with a viable pregnancy but not for one that isn’t”, his manner was as cold as the clip board he held like a shield between us. I told him I wanted to wait for nature to take its course. 

Not long after I went to the loo and a large oval shaped sac slightly bigger than my fist dropped into the pan. It looked very different from the clots and was firmer to the touch. I called the nurse to check and she took the pan away and returned to confirm that the sac was baby. I was desperate to see my baby and asked if I could so she asked me to wait. She returned gently cradling and placing a new smaller disposable pan on my lap. Her manner was filled with such kindness and understanding. She explained the sac was still in tact because hospital policy did not allow them to open it. A doctor joined us and we went through the details of what happened next and I refused any testing on the little one’s tiny body. 

My husband arrived with the children minutes later just as I was walking back to my bed. I was discharged not long after so we were able to spend the rest of Christmas Day at home together and my husband cooked the most delicious meal. At times it felt a bit like I was sat in a glass box with the sound muted when I saw the happiness and laughter on tv or online but remembering what a Christmas like that felt like made me smile.

It’s the 2nd of January today and I have physically recovered very well after we all had a few days restful break with family. Our bodies are incredible and amaze me time and time again. 

We named our baby Albie. My heart aches for our little one. My womb screams for my baby. The pain is immense and the grief so deep. I love our baby so much and no one else will do. But when I search deeply for my child all I see is smiles, BIG smiles and then I can’t help but smile. The joy overrides everything else and I am so thankful. The first word I squealed when I saw those two blue lines was “hello!” and I know with far greater and unimaginable joy I will say hello again. 

I am so grateful for a Father who cares, really cares. Who never leaves us, will never abandon us. Who takes the time to explain things to us, guides us, comforts us and tend to our every need. Whose love for us -those who know him and those yet to know him, is beyond description. One thing that really hit home for the first time and gave me such deep peace is that God knew all this would take place before I was even born. All the tragedies I have faced and am yet to face. We have a Father who has gone before us. When we read –

“The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” Deuteronomy 31:8

This isn’t a little bit of friendly advice to keep your chin up and try your very best not to fear or be discouraged. This is the reality of being in his presence; where fear and discouragement simply do not exist.

I was given a Chaplain’s phone number as we were offered a communal cremation. During our conversation I told him I had given my life to Jesus years ago and his response was silence. I asked to see the words on the service sheet, which he emailed. 

“No singing?” I asked 

“No singing, but some appropriate music played at the end” he replied. 

How can I stand drearily repeating words passed down through religious tradition, how can I stand in an environment only allowing us to be sombre and full of grief when my heart is bursting with songs of worship, praise and thanksgiving. There’s no way, I just can’t.

 
How much more wonderful does it get! Every time I’ve witnessed God pour out the incredible and it makes me think that it surely can’t get better than this, he takes me to a place a million times better. My heart is joyfilled and guaranteed it will always be, grief runs deep but His love runs deeper. 

 

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

There was a man sent from God whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all might believe. He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light.

The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God— children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God.

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

(John testified concerning him. He cried out, saying, “This is the one I spoke about when I said, ‘He who comes after me has surpassed me because he was before me.’”) Out of his fullness we have all received grace in place of grace already given. For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God,but the one and only Son, who is himself God and is in closest relationship with the Father, has made him known.”
John 1:1-19

Mountains

Mountains. We all face them at various points in life. How we choose to climb these mountains will make the difference in how much we enjoy the difficult journeys.

Most of my life has been a series of treacherous mountain ranges, I’ve wearily travelled through the black valleys of depression, faced the frightening jagged edges and avalanches of PTSD, the sweeping storms of self destruction, the fog and mist of abandonment and numerous blizzards of grief. My problems governed me, ruled me with fear, held me hostage, dictated how I lived and convinced me the best I could ever have was to work on myself to be able to manage my pain for the rest of my life. What a self-centred life sentence! But the wisest of man or darkest of demons can not contend with the supreme power of our Lord.

When we stand at the foot of a mountain, we beg for it to be got rid of or we plead for a way around it. We tend to limit God by our limited understanding. Impatient for answers. We ask why a righteous, powerful, loving God allows us to go through these terrible times. But our Almighty God doesn’t move our problems out of the way because he IS mighty. He shows us he is by safely, joyfully and peacefully leading us through them. When we put our trust in him, these difficult journeys allow us to experience his awesome power. A power that is far greater than can be described by human words.

It’s often these difficult times that break down our barriers and leave us so helpless that they push us to go from depending on ourselves or others to depending solely on him. When we open our hearts to know Jesus, not only in part with our problems but trusting him with our whole lives, we are set free. He freely gives us the fullness of life. He takes our burdens, extinguishes our worries, he shows us the footholds, pitches our tent, shields us from the storms, provides an abundance of healing and comfort, we can rest always safe and warm in his unfailing love.

God absolutely delights in every single one of us. He wants nor needs absolutely nothing from us. Love is not earned, it is freely given. He will never let you go, he will never leave you and he will always carry you through the storms.

 

Good Grief

On Sunday morning we were reminiscing with such joy about loved ones who are no longer with us. That evening I received a phonecall with some very sad news. I’ve been walking around doing the usual everyday things but my heart has been floored. Inside I have felt so weak, as if my soul was just a puddle on the floor. While I was washing up I was telling God how sad I was, how my heart hurt for the immediate family, I felt so broken that they were experiencing this devastation and I said “All I can do is rely on you to carry me Lord, I’m so weak with pain” then the Lord spoke to my heart “Why are you crying as if there is no hope?” I felt as if he was gently lifting my chin and in that moment I was reminded how mighty our God is; we have a God who is bigger than all the pain, sickness and death, we have a God of hope. We have a God who understands our worries, fears and questions and is available at all times. We have a God who provides healing, peace and deep joy. We have a God who is in total control. We have a God who we can trust, even more so when we can’t see further than the blur of our eyes that are clouded with tears. He is the inexplicable presence of warmth in times of devastation.

Two verses immediately came to mind and soothed my heart – 

 “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Psalm 147:3 and 

“Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” Psalm 30:5. 

When sadness has pushed me down and left me a broken mess on the floor, my hands are up ready for our Lord to pull me up and carry me through. His love leaves no room for worry – 

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18 

He is always with us, pouring out his love and providing us with the strength to go on.

 “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you” 1 Peter 5:7

Real Love

When I was five I would curl up on my dad’s knee. If I really concentrate I can smell his work shirt; the soap and sweat mixed by the Lagos humidity. His hands were like giant’s compared to mine. I was entranced by the magic of cigarette smoke as it whirled up, danced and disappeared in the air. I would press my ear to his chest, listen to his heartbeat and then find mine with my palm and try to match it’s beat to his. I felt so safe, warm and calm as my head rose and fell with every breath he took. This is my earliest recollection of feeling loved. When I was 18 I held his frail hand, desperately clinging to his fast fading safety and protection. I watched his silhouette as his chest filled with air for the last time. I somehow made sense of the movement of the nurse’s lips and the world dropped from beneath my feet leaving me suspended, lost. I ran out of the room and an unfamiliar noise was released from the pits of my being. I felt an almighty pull in a place in my heart that I had no idea even existed. Then it dawned on me, our heartbeats could never be synchronised again and I calmly walked back to his bedside. The curtain was drawn around us and I kissed his forehead. The cold clinical atmosphere filled with a glowing warmth that filled me with an incredible feeling of hope and an overwhelming feeling of love. It was beautiful. It was perfect.

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My granny was the first person to make me feel special. She wrote my name on a small card and placed it on a placemat, next to a Christmas cracker, on a beautifully dressed table in a big room full with family. She never mentioned my shyness, never made me feel awkward for not eating the vegetables on my plate. Her house was always safe, warm and smelled of lavender. She drove fast on the motorway and there was always a tin of sweets in the glovebox. She loved birds and could make marmalade. After dinner she would break up chocolate into a bowl and leave it on a side table next to me. We spent evenings playing scrabble in front of the fire. I was fascinated at how she could knit without looking. She was the first and only grown up who I wanted to talk to so much it felt like I could burst. She would take me out of the bath and wrap a huge warmed towel around me and sing Rub-a-dub-dub. She would give me Kim’s favourite ball and let us out onto her perfectly manicured lawn and tell me he had missed me which delighted me. She always made sure that I had a tuck box full of treats to take back to school. She sent me typewritten letters and handwritten postcards that radiated warmth. Reading them today still makes my heart warm. She always kissed me good night, made sure I was warm enough and left a blanket incase I wasn’t. Her presents were simple and thoughtful. She made delicious meals and then told me she had put carrots in. I’m laughing now because I’ve just realised what she was doing! She is the reason I stopped being fussy and why I have the confidence to hold a conversation. I couldn’t stand it when she died. One of my remaining childhood toys is a teddy she let me choose from the toy shop. He’s missing his red ribbon from his neck and he is sat at the end of my daughter’s bed. Writing this has made it clear how much of her has shone through in the way I mother my children. My granny provided one of my deepest experiences of motherly love.

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I soon discovered a love that no one could take away from me. Safety, warmth and happiness. I felt accepted, free, at one with the world. I finally felt truly loved and I loved everyone. My cheeks hurt because I couldn’t stop smiling. I was so happy. I wasn’t scared of dying and if I was to die what better way to go than this! This incredible feeling tingled through my arms and my legs. Waves of elation rose and flowed through my body and exploded from the top of my head. I could fly!
The come downs got worse and worse. It took more effort to reach any kind of state that helped me numb my heart. My newfound love hadn’t become weaker, I had become a maniac. The feeling of it’s “love” leaving me was like sitting cold and naked in a drained bathtub with a head full of tangled barbed wire trapping echoes of laughter and bass. I couldn’t bear the internal pain as well as the two facedness of whatever substance I saw in the palm of my hand. I had been tricked. Synthetic love was a clever little lie.

I have prayed since I was a child. During the time mentioned above there was only one prayer I said at the start, “God please don’t let this kill me”. I didn’t do much praying after that. Prayers like asking to pass exams when I hadn’t put the work in, praying to win on a scratch card, praying to be a day girl instead of a boarder. I had never got the answers I wanted. I once prayed to be born again, I recited all the right words but nothing happened so I shrugged my shoulders and felt I was probably not worthy.

One prayer changed my life, it was an ordinary day and I crashed to my knees. I was hopeless. I was done with life. I had failed. I had such internal torment but I wasn’t even sure why. Yes, I’d experienced bad things but who hadn’t? I had friends, family, health, a good life. On paper everything seemed fine. There was just an emptiness in the bottom of my heart I couldn’t live with. I was at home and I crashed to my knees and said the biggest and scariest prayer of my life, “Lord, please help me, I can’t do this on my own anymore. I’m sorry for all the wrong things I have done. I want you to take control of my life. Please, please, please help me.” I meant those words with everything I had. I was fully prepared to change and give up my life and anything in it. I was done with making stupid decisions that had resulted in emptiness. Suddenly, I felt a heaviness physically lift from my soul. The guilt, the burden, the heavy heart. Feelings I didn’t even know I was feeling rose from my body and disappeared. Just like that. Gone. It brings tears to my eyes because it was such a powerful release. I felt love pouring into my heart. A great love. It was so pure, I don’t have the gift of vocabulary to ever fully do justice to it because it was greater than anything I knew of this earth. This was my first experience of God’s love.

Have you ever seen the Elephant Melody scene in Moulin Rouge? That was exactly how I imagined my future husband and I to feel when we met. It was nothing like that, there was no singing or fireworks, instead a quiet, inexplicable and intense connection, the more I got to know him the more it felt like broken or disconnected pieces of my life were slotting into place. It was calm, natural and effortless. All was blissful for three years into our marriage then out of nowhere we were in our first storm.

This time last year I didn’t think there was much chance of us still being together now. We had gone from being the best thing to happen to each other to the worst to happen to each other. A marriage in crisis really is one of the loneliest places to be. I found myself praying again, desperately. I knew I had to be patient in these turbulent times but it was hard, I was convinced that after the difficult life I’d had that I was doomed to brokenness. I didn’t deserve a happy ever after. Old haunts, worries, intense self destructive thirsts came flooding back. I told myself I wasn’t even a good enough mother to hide my sadness from my children, surely they were better off without me. Many evenings I drove up to the cliffs and fantasised about the drop. The blackness seemed so inviting. Months passed and when I thought it couldn’t get worse, it did, again and again. I cried at the horizon. I begged and pleaded “Where are you God, where are you?” I prayed and waited but nothing. I eventually decided I would turn away from God. He had answered my prayers for a family and a future but why was my marriage falling apart? This was a cruel trick, surely. Maybe it was a punishment? How could he ruin my life like this? But when I pictured my life without God all I could see was a bleak desert, cold and loveless. If it was true, if God really didn’t love me anymore then I would sit at his closed door because to be outside his closed door was better than a life without him.

The misery and rows continued. Our home became unbearable, we were strangers to each other, we circled one another emotionally wounded, a seething hive of eggshells and raw nerves. Utter confusion at how we had turned into enemies. We talked, we resolved, but every positive step got crushed. A mere word would splinter into foriousity. We were at war with each other day after day. Month after month. We faked happiness mid quarrel when realising we were being observed by our children. We avoided one another but to make arrangements on what the best was for them. Separation seemed to be the lesser of two evils. Marriage counselling expensive and with no one to sit with our children, impossible. The lure of divorce was everywhere I turned; quick, easy, cheap, and everyone seemed to be successfully doing it.

Then came our worst day of fighting, I sat on the kitchen floor clutching the phone after calling the Samaritans. “Martha’s” voice had been a welcome distraction but she couldn’t fix anything. Through the tears I repeatedly whispered, “Where are you?”.

My husband returned home with eyes still filled with hate. The rage between us continued so I walked out and went and sat beside our youngest daughter sleeping in her cotbed. I hung my head and lost hope. I conceded our family was well and truly broken. It was then that an incredible, vast, powerful, magnificent feeling of a love so pure, so brilliant, so wonderful descended into our home. The power felt like that of thunder, the room felt engulfed in a roaring fire but somehow the ‘flames’ were cool and gentle. It was perfect, perfect. So perfect. I was drawn back to the room I had angrily abandoned my husband in and we sat together into the night.

After a Church service the next morning, our lives had changed. The things we were fighting about hadn’t changed but everything had been fixed. Just like that. A permanent resolution that we could never have even come close to conceiving. Since that day our love has deepened and grown richer. I would have thought it madness or impossibility that I could have loved or felt loved by my husband more than I did the day we married, but that is what has happened. The depth is astonishing. We are now so strong in our union.

I was stunned for days at this sudden turnaround, but happier than I have ever been in my entire life. I will never forget that moment, the magnitude of purity of love that appeared. Have you ever seen elderly ladies singing to Jesus to take them home? That’s how I felt, the love I experienced that evening was so big, pure and perfect and safe I wanted to dance in that feeling for ever. Again I don’t have the words to do it justice. Divine intervention. Miracle. We are so blessed, so grateful and so happy. We have a new deeper understanding of one another and ourselves. We have the tools to move forward. I have a newfound and even greater respect for marriage and feel truly humbled to have been blessed to be in this position. Marital love is the greatest love of another person I have ever known. Marital love with the help of The Lord has been the most incredible and profound experience of my life. Just like that, he brought comfort, help and peace to our home.

In the weeks after I took a long hard look at my life. I remembered back to crashing to my knees and the certainty I felt of being prepared to change. I felt ashamed because I had to face the fact that in the years after I had reverted to my former ways. Old habits really do die hard. I thought back to the moment my Dad died, the sudden warmth in that room wasn’t his special way of saying goodbye to me after all and it wasn’t what happened when everyone died, it wasn’t a special sign he’d gone to heaven. I now recognised that presence. God was watching me then, letting me know that even though I thought I’d lost everything, he was there for me. Suddenly a well known poem I’d long admired finally made perfect sense, they weren’t my footprints in the sand.

My first child. The moment the blue line appeared, love drenched my soul. I felt deep inside there had been planted the most precious gift. I was protective of our baby from that moment. I even stopped swearing because I didn’t want it infiltrating through to my womb. When I first saw those little eyes blinking up at me I grew wings, I felt I could face an army of a thousand men if they dared to harm a single hair on my child’s head. I wondered where more love would come from for my next child, somehow it multiplied and again for my third! Limitless, unconditional. In the moments I look at my children the love rushes through me, their eyes stun me into a heavenly trance. Warm, real, beautiful.

I have said a prayer, in my head, every day without fail for each of my children from the moment I knew I was pregnant. Only recently have I started praying out loud with them but I hadn’t spoken to them about Jesus because if I’m honest I didn’t feel “qualified” as I am still learning myself. I had always been under the impression it was best left to the professionals like RE teachers at school or Sunday school. If I’m really honest, I’ve always felt a bit shy and rubbish at praying out loud. The other month my daughter had not been very nice to her sister. I explained to her how it might have made her feel. I put my hand on her chest and said it probably made her feel sad in her heart but it is better when we feel happy in our heart. Out of nowhere she asked if we could say a prayer. I was completely taken aback. She had made the connection. Our bedtime prayers had been the most basic prayers “Dear Lord, thank you for our warm cosy beds and help us to have a nice sleep. Amen” that was it! Nothing complex! I immediately knew she had experienced the warmth of Jesus’ love in her heart from when we had been praying at bedtime. And there was my answer, I didn’t need to teach her or explain it to her because just by sharing a simple prayer with her she had already felt it and her heart was speaking for itself. I knew in that instant she had experienced the joy of all the love she was ever going to need in her life. That is Love. Bigger than me. Bigger than anything I could physically provide for my children while I am here. Everlasting.

The love that I have experienced from Jesus this year has been mind blowing. It has changed my life. Feeling the absolute perfection and grace of his presence seems to have exposed the many imperfections in myself. Becoming a mother made me lose my thirst for swearing, drinking and smoking, now I have the joy of Jesus in my heart I have lost the thirst for all that is not of him. I thought I was a fairly good person on the whole, yes I’d done stupid things, regrettable things, but I wasn’t bad bad. How wrong was I! I need working on on a daily basis! On a minute by minute basis most of the time. Like a photograph slowly exposing, the more I seek to know Jesus, the more I feel his almighty love, the more my many imperfections rise to the surface and the more I am humbled by his magnificent grace. I’ve noticed that when my children know they’ve done something wrong, they cover their eyes with their hands or hide under a cushion, it made me laugh one day because I realised that’s what I did with God, the things I do and have done wrong, I try and hide, ignore and bury them hoping they’ll disappear! I have learnt that nothing is too shameful, embarrassing, or bad for God, nothing. He corrects with Love. This is exactly how I am striving to be with the upbringing of my children. I am learning from his gentle corrections. I have certainly learnt a thing or two in my behaviour as a woman, in my relationships with the people around me. I fall so short of the perfect beauty of Jesus’ love and everyday I am still learning to be guided by him in my heart.

God’s love is the greatest love I have ever known. I have learnt that it is up to me to make the effort to nurture my relationship with Jesus. He would never barge in on my life because he is love, of course love doesn’t force it’s way in. He is there the moment we say his name with our whole heart and from there everything is easy. He makes it all easy. He provides the answers, heals all the pain. Brings joy in devastation. Turns tears of grief into tears of happiness. There are many many lies, he is the truth. He is waiting patiently around us until we call, flowing in us the millisecond we do, perfect, forgiving, so forgiving, gently guiding. His is real love, we can’t see it, we can only feel it. It drenches our hearts making us want to do better, to live better and to love better.

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Jeremiah 29:11

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Matthew 11:28

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Proverbs 3 v5-6