A Time To...

Last week, I found myself smack in the middle of two very extreme realities that we mere humans have a hard time even beginning to wrap our head around.

Life and Death.
Creation and End.
Hope and Despair.
Joy and Mourning.

Experiencing all of these in less than an hour was brutally overwhelming, yet refreshingly raw.
Just real.

My uncle battled a tough fight with multiple myleoma. We all watched as he so slowly, then suddenly much more rapidly, died before our eyes over the last couple of years.

As my husband and I had an unavoidable spectator's seat in this, we were nudged to discuss big realities in our own lives, in our family dynamic, in humanity itself; we were able to mourn while living.

But even with the somewhat blessing of being prepared for this personal tragedy, we still weren't.

With a coffin in front of us, it still hit hard as I watched my aunt crying over her best friend, my teenage cousin casually conversating with his dad. Saying final goodbyes.

We weep when we see a loved one lifeless, like Jesus Himself did when he saw his friend Lazarus. They're right here with us, but not here.

We weep also when we see a baby on a screen full of life. They're not yet here with us, but so very here.


We had to schedule an ultrasound a month in advance. You know, the big one. Full bladder. Gender revealed. Hours on a table. Goo on top of goo. After going back and forth, we decided to keep the appointment. Straight from the cemetary, my husband and I drove directly to the doctor's office, with just minutes to spare.

Him in a dark suit, me a black maternity dress, pearls, mascara smeared. We entered the dark room and made small talk with the smiley technician. I lift up my layers of black and got ready for the familar. But this, though familar, never gets old.

The vivid pumping of the heartbeat, the little toes, the exaggerated squirms, the perfect lips, the nose.

"There's the baby's legs right there and it looks like..."
"A girl," I answered myself, an all-knowing veteran at this point.
My husband in shock and awe, still and again. Me with tears streaming quietly down my cheeks.

The same tears from just an hour earlier, but not. More like tears to wash away tears.

Life in the midst of death. A new creation in the midst of an end. So much hope in the midst of despair. True joy in the midst of mourning.

Really, what Christ offers us all.


At the funeral mass, my brother went to the altar and read these ancient, holy words:

"There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

 a time to be born and a time to die,
    a time to plant and a time to uproot,     

 a time to kill and a time to heal,
    a time to tear down and a time to build,    

 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
    a time to mourn and a time to dance,  

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, 

 a time to search and a time to give up,
    a time to keep and a time to throw away,    

 a time to tear and a time to mend,
    a time to be silent and a time to speak,      

a time to love and a time to hate,
    a time for war and a time for peace."

-Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

When those times above are juxtaposed so closely in life that they overlap seasons, moments really, our humanity itself can overwhelm us. 

But to have a God who is sovereign over it all is all. Everything in everything.

~~~

To donate in memory of my uncle and in honor of my cousin's future, please click below:

Joe Jr. Fund

Right on time

I've learned first-hand that God does not always answer when we want Him to or even beg Him to, but He is always, ALWAYS on time. Sometimes He makes you wait until the very last minute to test your faith or until you get your heart in the right place, but we serve a God who can be counted on to show up BIG TIME and ON TIME. And we should wait on that expectantly. 

I was due to have my son August 19 and because I was going to attempt a VBAC (Vaginal birth after a Cesarean), the doctors gave me 10 days to go into labor on my own. If I went past that, I would be forced to have a C-section on August 30. So the 19th came and went, along with several other endless days. From the beginning, I really felt that the whole VBAC thing was what God wanted for me, my husband, and my baby. So a few days before I was scheduled to have my C-section I completely broke down. I was getting impatient and frustrated. I was starting to feel overwhelmed with feelings of inadequacy and even anger. "Why can't my body labor and deliver a child?" "I'll never experience giving birth the way God intended it to be!"

Now that's not to say God doesn't use C-sections for good things... my daughter most likely would not have survived if it wasn't for that surgery. I, born a C-section as well, could say the same for myself and countless other people also. But this was personal now.. between God and I. A promise of sorts I had expected Him to keep. But just two days before surgery, I wiped up the tears of disappointment and began accepting God's will for myself and for my baby - no matter what that looked like. Well that Sunday morning on my way to church I slipped down my porch steps in the rain. I ended up in the hospital that morning instead of church to make sure baby was ok. Everything ended up being just fine.. but no signs of labor. That night I went to a small church service since I had missed that morning and really felt like I needed to be still and quiet with the Lord. The pastor, whom I had never met before, saw that I was clearly very pregnant and prayed with me. "Bring this baby tonight," he said. "Can you do that, Lord?" I was almost annoyed by it because at that point I was done asking for that and honestly maybe I wasn't sure if He COULD do that anymore. But sure enough, the next morning brought about some serious contractions. I was almost in disbelief when I started looking at the clock and realized they were coming 3 minutes apart. I managed to shave 1/4 of my legs and then we headed to the hospital!

After 18 hours of laboring in the hospital, my son was born (vaginally!) at 5:03 a.m. August 30. My C-section would have been scheduled for 5:45 a.m. that day. With just 42 minutes to spare, he was born right on time, according to God's timing - not mine.

Jesus was born at just the right time - and so were you.

"But when the right time came, God sent his Son, born of a woman.. " (Galatians 4:4)

Jesus died at just the right time - and so will you. 

"When we were utterly helpless, Christ came at just the right time and died for us sinners." (Romans 5:6)

It's not your job to worry about His timing or try to figure it out for yourself.

“The Father alone has the authority to set those dates and times, and they are not for you to know." (Acts 1:7)

But God always hears you and shows up... 

right on time. 

“At just the right time, I will respond to you." -God (Isaiah 49:8)