Just Say 'No'

Well, it appears as though Joel and I are going to camp out at the intersection of our crossroads for a while. Several things happened over the last week that ultimately led to an emotional meltdown this morning (yep, another one). It's officially time to say 'no' to something. Time to clear the plate and focus on one thing at a time. Being only three weeks away from moving into our new abode and beginning our remodeling project, we are choosing to focus on the house. We are both tired, frazzled and cross-eyed. One minute we're discussing hard wood floors and kitchen cabinetry, the next minute we're trying to decide which of the 15 different paths we should take to figure out what the heck is wrong with me (reproductively speaking...although many would argue differently). Then the next minute we're sifting through adoption agencies and filling out pre-application forms. Mentally, emotionally, and financially it's just time to step back. Take a deep breath. Focus on the house. ENJOY the house. Enjoy each other's company.

In choosing the house, Joel and I have chosen to take a couple months off from all things baby. Alas, I am packing up the thermometer and ovulation predictor strips. As for the pregnancy tests, if I hadn't paid good money for them I'd just as soon throw them away...or maybe burn them. Yes, burning them would be glorious. Die HPT's! Die!! But no, those will be packed up, too. Maybe someday they will decide to play nice. Until then...onward we go. Finally on the same page. Finally pointed in the same direction. Finally with the time and space to think. To process. To pray. And to once again lean fully on a mysterious, yet mighty God.

Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy.
-Psalm 126:5

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight.
-Proverbs 3:5-6

Crossroads

I just googled the word "crossroads" hoping to find a cool picture for this post. What I found was blog after blog of folks chronicling their thoughts as they stood on the precipice of life's next chapter. The overwhelming majority were Christians. Hmm. One post in particular was profoundly encouraging, written by a blogger named Ben Liles. He begins his post like this...

Crossroads. We all have them. Some if not all of us do not like them. They scare us because we think one choice is right and one is wrong. I embrace them. When I come to a crossroad, I know that it is because God has brought me to this point because He has something for me. It is a place in life where we are forced to think, not about the moment or about the past, but about the future. It is a place of life-change.

Today, I feel like I am at a crossroad. I met with a Reproductive Endocrinologist (ain't that a mouthful?!) this afternoon, who officially gave us the branding of "unexplained infertility." I can't say I didn't see it coming. Every test we've had up to this point has come back normal. Every cycle I've ever had since the age of 14 has been more or less normal. So we're just a normal couple who apparently can't conceive a child the normal, old-fashioned way. Which brings me to my next point...

Like every other doctor I've seen, the Endocrinologist also suggested I begin with a regimen of Clomid or Letrozole. For those of you unfamiliar with these drugs, they are designed to help women produce viable eggs for ovulation. For women who have irregular cycles, or who have trouble ovulating at all, I am a huge proponent of these drugs. However, I take issue with these doctors trying to sell me on this idea when we all know that I am ovulating just fine. For me, these drugs would only put my ovaries into over-drive...it's like they'd be on steroids. I like my ovaries. And that just seems like a mean thing to do, when they're already doing their job. Plus, I'm a worrier by nature, and I don't trust easily. I don't trust doctor's motives and I don't trust the drugs they're trying to push on me. I worry about cancer...breast cancer, ovarian cancer. I worry about any ill effects these drugs may have on a child.

So here's my crossroad: Previous discussions between Joel and myself had led us to conclude that we would not force nature. In other words, no drugs...no artificial insemination...and no IVF. With so many precious kids in the world needing a good home, we'd just as soon spend our money and energy on adoption. But today I find myself conflicted. The reason? Statistics. During my chat with the doc, he broke out the digits (which I can appreciate, being a geeky science gal). For us (because every couple's scenario is different), our chances of conceiving without any intervention is 2-4% every month. Ouch. If I tried Clomid or Letrozole, this jumps up to 15%. With artificial insemination, 20%. And with IVF, 50%. We still feel very committed to our decision of not pursuing IVF. But what about the other options? There's something very sobering about 2-4%. The thought of it ruined my afternoon. And it forced Joel and I to call our previous decisions into question.

If we stick with our original plan and only pursue adoption, will we someday regret never pursuing pregnancy further? Will we always deflate at the thought of never having a biological child? Am I being too stubborn and paranoid? And on the flip side, should we even have a child at all?! We could be like my Aunt and Uncle who blissfully travel the world and exclaim, "Oops!! We forgot to have kids!" whenever anyone in the family complains about a grievous child. That path seems pretty nice when I'm at the grocery store next to a screaming little girl who's not getting her way. [NOTE: Mom and Dad, I do see the irony in this...I'm sure I was that little girl many times!]

I realize that this decision is ultimately between God, Joel and myself. I also realize, like Ben, that there may not be one right path. And I wholeheartedly believe that no matter what path we choose, the Lord will provide ways for us to glorify Him through it. That said, I would love to hear words of wisdom from anyone reading this. Seeking wise counsel is always, well...wise.

Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path.
-Psalm 119:105

To Grandma's House We Go...

A week ago Tuesday, I wrote a blog post in which I told you about how much I liked the distraction of looking for a new home. Little did I know that that distraction would soon end and give way to a brand new one 24 hours later. Earlier that day, Joel and I had looked at a home in a great neighborhood. It was built with quality as a Parade Home 25 years ago...and hadn't been updated since. I kid you not, this place was decked out to the hilt in grandma's pink carpet and floral wall paper from the 80's. It had a plethora of fun little oddities, as well...like the washer and dryer in the kitchen, floor to ceiling mirrors, and a FULL kitchen in the basement...just to name a few. Joel was smitten with the place. He had this crazy look in his eye. I was NOT amused, as I was sure I knew where this was going. And I was right. Twenty-four hours and several renovation promises later, we had a house.

When I think about how it all came to be, I just laugh and shake my head a little. It is exactly the way God works in my life. He always takes something that I either (a) am afraid of, (b) swore I would never do, or (c) had completely written off from the start, and uses it to challenge my plans, ideas and misconceptions. Africa scared me. Infectious diseases scared me. So He sent me to Kenya to hold the hands of women and children infected with HIV/AIDS. Three times I've been there now. And I know I'll continue to go back. In grad school I swore I would never take a job in atmospheric computer modeling, believing I just didn't have the brains or patience for it. He sent me someone who believed I did. Almost a year and a half later, I surprise myself everyday with how much I love my job. So it makes sense that I am now knee-deep in color swatches and flooring samples, dreaming of how to make a home that I initially hated into something great...on a tight budget. I'm thrilled, I'm scared, I'm hoping to win the lottery. This house is nothing like what I thought we'd end up with. It has very few things that we actually set out looking for. But it's fabulous...and funky. It's potential is vast. And for some reason it just feels a little serendipitous, like it did when we bought our first house. Perhaps it's just because the four digits making up the street number of the new house are the same as our current house, just in a different order. Simply a coincidence? Probably. But I'm choosing to see it as an added assurance from above that this is the place we're to rest our heads and, Lord-willing, raise our family for years to come.

This is yet another page in the story of Joel and Holly. Another reminder that things rarely turn out the way you think they will. Another lessen in being open to what can happen when they don't. It's my prayer that this house will become a home, a place of refuge, warmth and love. Not only for Joel and myself, but for all who enter. And may we always be mindful of the One who has blessed us with it, so as never to take it for granted or cease to use it in ways that glorify His awesomeness. That's a very theological way of saying..."Please come visit! We will take good care of you!"

By wisdom a house is built, and through understanding it is established; through knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful treasures.
-Proverbs 24:3-4

Welcome Distractions

Spring has officially sprung. While I do love snow and festive winter holidays, I am glad the grey haze of winter has left us, leaving sunshine and the occasional thunderstorm in its place. The peonies and rhubarb plants are starting to break ground in our back yard now, and I have a vase full of daffodils on my kitchen table. The windows are open. The furnace is off. After a winter of being poked and prodded by doctors, and feeling sorry for myself as I watched my girlfriends' bellies grow, my life is starting to feel refreshed, renewed. I feel like a bear finally emerging from its den. I'm shaking off the hurts and failures like a bear would shake off dirt and twigs from its fur. I'm stretching my legs. I'm running again.

It also helps that we've had a plethora of distractions this spring to take our minds off the baby business. As you know from a couple posts ago, we sold our house and will be closing on May 28th. We've been searching for a new home ever since. I actually enjoy the search. I enjoy walking into a home and dreaming with Joel on ways we could improve it and make it ours. Some are total doozies...like a house full of cats...and others we have loved and lost in what we're realizing is a very competitive market. But we're still finding joy in the process. And now that Easter is over, we are picking up momentum in our adoption journey. On Thursday, we'll be traveling to Milwaukee for an informational meeting. I have so many questions for the adoption agency...I'm afraid I might become "that girl" to everyone else in the meeting. But what can I say? I'm just really eager to learn! Plus, we're both looking forward to moving on, and not being chewed up and spit out by my monthly cycle anymore.

Another hilariously cute distraction is the 2010 Doggy Daze contest. Our dog, Taylor, was one of 25 dogs to get their own photo shoot as part of this annual fundraiser for the Dane County Humane Society. Her photo made it to the top twelve (the Doggy Dozen) and now she is a finalist in the top 8. The winner will be on the cover of the 2011 Doggy Daze calendar. Totally silly...completely indulgent...incredibly amusing. We're proud parents. [And here comes the shameless plug...] If you'd like to vote for her, just follow this link! 2010 Doggy Daze Voting. She may not be your personal favorite, but she does have the best life story (in our humble opinion), and would make an excellent representative of what Humane Societies around the nation are all about.

Well, that's all from me...for now! I hope you are all enjoying the warmth of spring temperatures and all the pizazz severe weather season brings. I like that word, "pizazz"...I need to use it more often.

"I will make rivers flow on barren heights, and springs within the valleys. I will turn the desert into pools of water, and the parched ground into springs."
-Isaiah 41:18

Galway Girl

I love March 17th. The only thing that could make it better is if I had inherited red hair. I did, however, inherit pasty white skin...and today I am proud of it. Today I think fondly (well, more so than I do every other day) of one of the most beautiful and mystical countries in the world. And of my ancestors who were born there so long ago. One in particular, Ann Waters, was born near the coast not far from the city of Galway. Unfortunately, I discovered this only a month before Joel and I visited Ireland, leaving little time or room in our itinerary to make the trip to her tiny birth town. Someday. But as I looked out across the sea from Galway Bay, I could imagine Ann just two hours north, doing the same. I felt close to my roots. Connected.

I love learning about my heritage. I'm proud of the Irish, Italian, Polish and French-Canadian blood that courses through my veins. I'm proud of my great-grandparents who bravely boarded a ship and crossed the Atlantic in search of a better life for their children, and their children's children. But above all, I'm proud to have been adopted through the blood of a Jewish carpenter. I'm proud to call believers of all nationalities and races my brothers and sisters. So today I celebrate those that came before me. I honor my ancestors for the sacrifices they made to give me the life I have. But I remember that my true identity is in Christ, in whom my roots are firmly planted.

Christ with me
Christ before me
Christ behind me
Christ within me
Christ beneath me
Christ above me
Christ at my right
Christ at my left
Christ where I sit
Christ where I arise
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me
Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me
Christ in every eye that sees me
Christ in every ear that hears me
Salvation is of the Lord
-From the breastplate of St. Patrick

Back in the Saddle Again...

My last post was wrought with tension and angst, sparking an array of emotions from those of you who read it. I appreciate all of your responses and am both humbled and encouraged by the conversations and exchanges that have unfolded since I last wrote. Thank you to everyone who reached out in the aftermath of my words. You are God's love made real.

That said, I want today's post to be positive. I want it to be full of light, like the glorious Spring weather we've been experiencing here in Wisconsin. The snow has left us and the birds have returned. While picking up dog poo in the post-winter "mine field" of our backyard, I even noticed subtle signs of life springing forth from our flower beds. I couldn't help but smile. Welcome back, joy and optimism.

Since I last wrote, much has happened. My faith in prayer has been renewed, my inner artist has been revived, and my soul has found quiet. As many of you know, our house has been on the market since early October. For those of you who have ever been through this process, you know what a roller coaster it can be! In the last couple months we have almost felt like visitors in our own home. Afraid to relax, be messy, let our hair down, LIVE. Showings were often, which was fantastic. But offers were non-existent and negative feedback was mounting...not so fantastic. It didn't take long for us to realize that what we really needed was a young, single guy to walk through our house. Someone who wouldn't care about a small kitchen, lack of closet space or a master suite in the basement. And someone who would giggle like a little girl at the thought of having a home theater with surround sound. So we began to pray for this person. And pray. On Wednesday, Joel allowed a dear friend and coworker of his to pray over him. She, too, prayed for a young lad to walk through our door. An hour later that is exactly what happened. And three hours after that he was writing us an offer. By Friday afternoon it was a done deal. Hallelujah! God is good. For the first time in a long time we felt heard. A gentle reminder that God is indeed listening.

The weekend ushered us into 'Pulse,' the annual arts conference held at our church. The weeks leading up to this event are insanely busy for my husband and his oh-so-talented team of artists. But it's always amazing to see how quickly the stress seems to fall off their shoulders as they join a whole community of believing artists, doing what they do best...creating. As someone who lives in between the left and right sides of my brain, this conference is one of the few places I get to explore and expand on the artistry God has infused in me. Last year I performed a dance with two amazingly beautiful dancers. This year I made a mess with paint, charcoal and sand. And it turned into something rather lovely. This experience again confirmed what I've always known...creative outlets are essential for a balanced life.

For those of you who really know me, you know that I am an animal lover. I am especially fond of horses, despite being a city girl. I learned to ride and care for them as a young girl, and since then it's been a dream of mine to own one...and a killer pair of cowboy boots. Unfortunately, I continue to live in the city. And last I checked, Mayor Dave would probably frown upon a horse trotting down Whitney Way. This is where a woman named, Joan, enters the picture. Joan has two horses and 5 acres just outside of Madison. Joan also has some very sexually-charged roosters...but that's a story for another time. Our church likes to form groups of people with common interests who can get together and share in their hobby. A women's horse-lovers group tried to get off the ground, but too few of the women actually owned their own horses. However, Joan took this opportunity to reach out to us horseless gals. Every once in a while she'll send an email telling us that she plans on grooming and riding on a certain day and would love company. After passing on the first few, I decided to take her up on her latest offer. With snow turning into muck, she had two very muddy horses to tend to. Being someone who loves the smell of horse sweat and manure, I happily obliged to get my hands dirty with some curry combs and mud-tangled manes. Being in the presence of horses quiets my soul like nothing else. It was a long-overdue therapy session. You see, with horses you have to quiet yourself. You have to quiet any anxiety or fears that you carry. Quiet any tension, anger or bitterness. Quiet the voices in your head. Quiet your soul. Because they know. They sense your negativity and react. And no one wants a hoof to the face. Scrubbing and combing their giant muscular bodies to the quiet, steady rhythm of hay-chomping is something I've always loved and could have done for hours. There's just something about standing in the powerful presence of these beasts that brings me nearer to God. When the horses were shiny and new again, we saddled 'em up and took them out on a beautiful leisurely walk. It felt good to be riding again. It felt good to feel like myself again. Amazing how nature has a way of centering us and giving us a quiet place to rest our souls in this crazy, chaotic and often painful world we live in.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls."
-Matthew 11:28-29

Enough?

I've been a ball of emotions for the last five days...most of them anxious, angry and bitter. Sometimes I have no idea what provokes them. They just seem to resurface from time to time like the Loch Ness monster...shocking everyone, including myself. [Yes, I give you permission to call me Nessie].

Up until now, I have been priding myself on how well Joel and I have been handling everything...how it's only made us stronger. I still believe that. But I'm also starting to realize how the stressors around us are starting to force their way into the small cracks of our marriage. We're quick to anger and slow to forgive. Easily offended by even the slightest remarks.

Joel gave me permission to punch him on Saturday. And I did...hard.

On Sunday the sermon was about being bold in prayer, as we are taught in Luke 11:

"So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened." -Luke 11:9-10

I can honestly say I felt hatred toward this passage. I felt like standing up and calling Jesus a liar. How many times have I knocked boldly on the door of my Father, asking and pleading for a child? How many times has this desire been granted? And then our pastor dropped the bombshell. He acknowledged that there were many of us who are probably sitting in our chairs, scoffing, not wanting a lecture on prayer. [Guilty as charged]. He acknowledged that many of us have been praying boldly, but with seemingly no response or release from our troubles. [Yep, that would be me]. But then he said this: Jesus knew how to pray. And He prayed often. But in the chapters after Luke 11 we see that His life didn't go so well. He was cast out, betrayed, and ultimately ended up on a Roman execution rack. In Luke 11, the promise isn't necessarily that my prayer requests will all be granted. But rather, that God will give me Himself. He will give me the Holy Spirit. This is His promise because He knows He is enough. But do I know that? Do I actually believe it and live it out? If all I've been blessed with...health, wealth, shelter, unconditional love...were all taken from me and all that was left was God, would He be enough? Could I be content? These are the same questions I ask myself every time I walk the sewage-filled paths of the Nairobi slums. How easily I forget the lessons I've learned from my Kenyan brothers and sisters who literally have nothing. And yet they live joyfully for God. [Convicted].

It became all too apparent in that moment that I don't believe God is enough. I don't trust Him fully. I continue to think my plan is better and therefore I'm continually dissatisfied and disappointed with His. Dark, is the state of my human heart. Broken, is the human condition.

On Monday, a friend pierced the gloom hanging over my head with this simple truth: That when Jesus instructed Peter to walk toward Him across the water, He did not first calm the raging storm. Instead, He encouraged Peter to focus His eyes on Him and take that first step in faith. A perfect storm is brewing in my life, composed of infertility, doubt, unanswered questions, a brother I can't trust, and a house that just won't sell. Everyday I wait for God to take even one of these things and make it right. Everyday I'm disappointed. But what other choice did I leave myself? What did I expect? My energies have been focused on dissipating the storm, not on the One who can keep me, and teach me, as I walk through it.

"Lord, if it's you," Peter replied, "tell me to come to you on the water."
"Come," He said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus.
-Matthew 14:28-29