A Reason to Sing

     (Short update: It's actually slightly funny to see that the last post I wrote on this blog was the announcement of our family taking the steps to become licensed foster parents. How time changes things! In January we became licensed but right before the last inspection and paper signing in December... we found out that we were pregnant. Seriously, the Lord has the most incredibly crazy timing but I wouldn't have changed it for the world. We had two placements earlier this year - a 5 day old and a 7 month old. We loved both dearly, but no longer are fostering for this season... I'm thinking this post will explain more of why).

When the pieces seem too shattered

To gather off the floor

And all that seems to matter

Is that I don't feel You anymore...

I need a reason to sing

I need to know that You're still holding

The whole world in Your hands

I need a reason to sing

When I'm overcome by fear

And I hate everything I know

If this waiting lasts forever

I'm afraid I might let go...

'Cause I need a reason to sing

I need to know that You're still holding

The whole world in Your hands

I need a reason to sing...

     I have not had a pain-free, normal activity level day in over half a year. 

     That sounds crazy in writing, although it's absolutely true. I don't honestly remember what it feels like to spend an entire day with Owen playing and deciding to do things like going to the park across the street from our house. I don't remember going out on a date with Andrew without my walker and needing to "take it slow" and eventually returning to our house exhausted and going straight to bed. I don't really even remember what our "normal" life was like pre-last December. Things have been so upside down and chaotic, I haven't even really sat down and wrote down my thoughts in any other fashion other than prayers in my journal and desperate pleas for prayer through text message to close friends. I decided tonight that had to change. 

     While 1st trimester nausea and sickness were just starting to wind down, I began having pain in my pelvic area that I nervously noticed one day in particular walking through Costco. I had run in to grab last minute ingredients for the Titus family Christmas get together, and felt as though I was going to miscarry the precious baby in my womb. I felt as though the pain was radiating through my entire pelvic bone and I remember not enjoying the evening like I always do with the family because I kept panicking and watching for "signs" that my greatest fear was coming to pass. 

     With great thankfulness, James is now nearly 34 weeks and I was not indeed having a miscarriage that December evening. The pain continued though, and when I went in for my very first visit with my midwives on the 28th of December, I was already at the point where I asked for a referral for physical therapy or whatever they thought would help. (Those who know me well know that I very rarely will bring up pain that I have been experiencing on my own accord to my doctors... Andrew didn't have to prod me to bring it up that morning, I already knew it was bad). The words "Pelvic Girdle Pain" came into my vocabulary and I began weekly physical therapy with a pelvic area specialist the very first week in January.

     Fast forward to now. As the months have passed, my pain has sometimes slowly and sometimes quickly progressed. I cannot walk outside the house without the help of a walker, and many days I cannot even get that far. I've been issued a disabled parking permit by my doctors, and have used it gratefully every time I end up getting outside of the house. My various pelvic support bands are essential for any amount of walking and I've gotten to the point where if I reach the top of our stairs without one on, I immediately turn around and go back into the house to get it - it's just not worth it to move without it on, no matter how sick of it I am.

     I have been in bed more hours this half of a year than many years of my life combined. I thought that the three months I was near bed-ridden with mold toxicity in 2014 were terrible, but I could always close my eyes and lay down and find some sort of relief from the dizziness, some release of the faintness that clouded all the rest of the hours of my day. This time around, nothing has helped. If I lay down too long, my pelvis grows more and more tender and painful, and yet if I don't lay down enough during the day I quite literally collapse. What used to be uncomfortable is now horrific pain, and what used to be annoying is now the audible sound of grinding in areas of my pelvis that I know enough of the human body to know should never be a normal occurrence. Sleeping used to be the time of relief, but with every move, every readjustment I wake with mind-numbing pain and trips to the bathroom (which are even more now that I'm in the blessed third trimester) make me wonder if I can actually complete the following day.

     Regardless, life goes on each and every day. Owen needs to be cared for and nurtured. Dishes and clothes need to be washed. Dinner needs to be cooked, and life needs to go on. Unfortunately, nearly every single thing that I used to do and complain and grumble frequently about goes undone - falling onto my sweet husband's plate for the time between Owen finally getting to sleep (about 9pm) and when he personally collapses into bed (normally between 11:30-12am). The one routine that has remained somewhat in tact is homeschool - it's become what I look forward almost more than anything else with Owen. He adores it, and I can sit next to him and watch his eyes fill with joy and wonder as concepts begin to connect and paint gets splattered as he learns to mix colors. And reading. Oh, the sheer amount of books he and I have read together on the bed or the couch... those two things remain nearly "normal", like a sweet God-ordained relief from the hellish season I feel utterly trapped in.

...Will there be a victory?
Will You sing it over me now?
Your peace is the melody
Will You sing it over me now?...

     I broke down last night. Realizing that it's been over a half of a year in this pain feels overwhelming. Mind-numbing. Debilitating. The worst part is the fear that while I am only 7 weeks from my due date, most women who have this severe of PGP are not immediately well after delivery, averaging about 6 weeks of post-labor recovery until they are somewhat back to normal, and around 6-12 months. Sometimes, like last night and parts of today, I literally do not know if I can handle that. I am seeing my sweet family less and less as they have to do most of their activities without me. I am missing out on one of the sweetest seasons with Owen, and even more so, the last season of it being just him and me. I miss my husband, the most servant-hearted and tender man I have ever met in my life, because when he puts me to bed at night, it is as if his night has only begun. 

     So today, after driving to another PT appointment, I listened to this song ("Reason to Sing" by All Sons and Daughters) on repeat, holding back tears and realizing that I actually AM in this season that seems often like a never ending nightmare. I don't know when it will get better for sure, and I don't know what it looks like for me to be a mama and wife and daughter and friend when I don't do any of the things that used to define those categories to me. I feel many times like a burden and a waste, lazy and dramatic at best. I know these are lies, without question. But they are a daily fight to keep in their place as lies and not allow them to creep into what feels like truth. If I am honest, I am at a loss to think of how these next 7+ weeks will look like, but maybe I don't need to know. 

     Because... even through every single moment of pain and anxiety and what feels like my heart falling into some sort of darkness, I know the end of the story. I know that one day, some day, every tear will be wiped away. Every disease will be erased. Every pain, painful memory, and hurt will be healed in an instant. I used to fear reading the book of Revelation, thinking that it was too scary and weird and would give nightmares. But going through the book this past year in Bible Study Fellowship, the Lord encouraged me through the one book of the Bible I vowed I never would enjoy, and never find comfort in. At the perfect time, the Lord brought me through those chapters, and showed me that He may not heal me. Not in my timing at least. But I can rest securely knowing that one day, that beautiful one day, everything will be gone aside from joy in His glory and my praise and adoration of Him. That this really is a "light and momentary suffering" even when the hours feel like generations and the pain is nearly unbearable. 

     So, I'm not sure. Not sure how to process this, not sure how to communicate what has been on my heart and mind for months, and not sure how to stand in that last paragraph when all I want to do is wave a white flag of surrender and quit. But for now, for tonight, I get to share. I get to open up the wounds that have been festering, and not worry about trying to put on a cute outfit and makeup so that even when I can barely take steps with the walker I can appear to have it together, but actually just be here and real and honest. Because I've sat here before. Typing away on this very same laptop sobbing and crying out to the Lord because I don't understand. As I worried and was wracked with anxiety throughout Owen's pregnancy, as I nearly lost my life to Postpartum Depression, as my body was slowly shutting down due to mold toxicity, as I mourned yet another month of a negative pregnancy test... and yet, the Lord at each and every moment has been good. His will has been done, and I have not been let go of. I do not believe in the least "whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger" but I do believe that in my weakness He is my strength. That His grace IS sufficient and that His power IS made perfect in my weakness. I may not "feel it" but I cling to that truth as the pain tells me to lay down and stop typing. And, Lord willing, I will continue to cling because He will continue for eternity to be worth it - even when I don't cling and find that it is He who is doing the holding. 

...'Cause I need a reason to sing
I need to know that You're still holding
The whole world in Your hands
And that is a reason to sing...

A Letter To My Son

Dear Owen,

I don't know if you will ever read this letter, or if it will make smallest bit of sense when you do. Either way, I just wanted to get my thoughts down and free them from their prison, from my heart where they have been for weeks now. Nine and a half weeks now, to be exact. 

First and foremost my sweet Owen, I love you. 

You were the baby that I had prayed for for years. I made some incredibly unwise decisions with my life and my body before I met your Dada and was not positive that I would be able to have any children at all. You are my miracle baby. From the moment I found out that I was pregnant with you, I loved you. From that blurry and tear-filled moment when you first laid in my arms on a cold December afternoon, I praised the Lord for you. There is absolutely nothing you can say or do or be that will change the depth of my love for you Owen. I will always, fully, completely, to the best of my fallen heart's ability, love you.

Right now you are playing with your friends at their house for the afternoon. I'm getting picture updates from Ms. Morgan, so I know that you are sleeping well, and I am quite positive you are enjoying hanging out with your little buddies. God is awesome like that, isn't he? He provides people like Ms. Morgan and the other friends and our families who have brought us meals and taken care of you during these last nine and a half weeks. They have served our little family of three tenderly and sacrificially, and shown us the love of God practically and in more ways than I think they even have realized. 

I miss you though Owen. 

I miss waking up and snuggling you before you go and eat your Cheerios for breakfast. I miss tucking you in for all of your naps, and being the one to go into your room and get you when you are up from those (sometimes incredibly short...) naps. I miss cleaning the house with you, you following me around each room excitedly as I use our vacuum and Swiffer. I miss you cupping my head in your wee little hands and making me look into your eyes when, in some incredibly intuitive way, you knew I was having an OCD attack and I needed to stop cleaning and just be with you. 

My buddy Owen, I miss your excitement as we walked to the park together. Your quick hands trying to grab every single DVD off of the shelves in the children's section of the library next door, and snuggling together with you in my Ergo while we walked to church, or Trader Joe's or to the bus stop. 

It's been too long since we have done any of those things my sweet son. Months in fact. My heart grows lonely and, sadly, more downcast with each day I am sitting here on the couch while you are playing with a grandma or a friend. I feel like I have lost out on so many little moments with you. 

If I'm honest with you Owen, I am scared that I am going to lose you. 

I'm terrified that you will love your grandmas more than me, because they do fun things with you and I just sit here. I'm afraid that you will think I don't want to be on my hands and knees chasing you around the house and playing peek-a-boo, that I am bored of you. 

Oh, my sweet Owen, I am not. Oh, my sweet, sweet baby, I am not.

I long to be able to spend the day with just you, like how we used to, but with a lot less of Mama cleaning the house frantically, and a lot more of laying on the grass in the park and giggling together. 

You see Owen, Mama's sick. I'm not sure with what, or why, or for how long, but I'm sick. Your Dada and I are trying to figure out why, with my doctors and lots of other people that the Lord has blessed with incredible knowledge about how our bodies should work, and what needs to be done if they aren't working properly. We are praying that we figure something out soon, but right now it seems as if it just has to be a "wait and see" time. During this time, I want you to know that I love you and I miss you. I know we've talked about it many times, but I'm pretty sure you don't know what I mean when I hold you close and explain the situation, and that's okay. I'm praying that Jesus would comfort you when I cannot, and that he will give you joy that surpasses anything that I could give you or do with you. 

Owen, I love you. 

It's not your fault if Mama starts crying randomly, or if I just sort of stare off into space thinking about things I pray you never need to worry about in your life. You didn't cause any of this, and nothing you do will make me feel worse or better. If I depended on you to make me feel better, it would crush you and let me down brutally all in one fell swoop. No, Mama just needs Jesus right now. Like she always does. I just need Jesus.

I do want to apologize to you though, Owen. I haven't been willing to tell Jesus that I need him as much as I really do lately. Mama has been trying to do this, and fix this, on her own. It doesn't work, in fact, it will never work that way. But your Mama is prideful and stubborn, and rebellious (so don't let me ever tell you I can't believe you did or said so and so, because I'm a sinner just like you) and resting in Jesus has never come easily to me. But somehow I know that he has me, and is leading me beside still waters and restoring my soul right now (Psalm 23:2,3). Yes, even in this pain and loneliness and missing you, and longing for a present that is different than the present I have now. Even now. 

So buddy, I know things just aren't the same as they used to be. And it's okay if that makes your heart sad, because it makes Mama's heart sad too. But please, oh my dear, please know that how Mama loves you right now has not lessened, it has only just changed how it's seen on the outside. I am not bored of being your Mama, nor will I ever be. I am not wanting to take a break or let someone else raise you. It's just that right now, Mama needs more help than she ever has before, and we get to let God help our family in some crazy awesome ways right now. 

I can't wait to hear about your fun day with your friends. I can't wait to meet you and your Dada at the door in a few hours and give you a big hug and a snuggle and then read you some books before kissing you goodnight. I love you, so, so much Owen. 

And Owen, one day, these tears that Mama's shedding, Jesus will wipe them all away. Sometimes you see Dada doing that - tenderly wiping my cheeks as tears stream down them, warm and salty, but one day I won't even cry again at all. It will be amazing. 

Heavenly, in fact. Absolutely perfect.

Love you always and forever, 

Your Mama

I'm not the Ashley Graeber of Sunnydale.

I'm not. 

Lately, I've been comparing myself to that girl, and have been buying into the lie that because I was her I still am her. 

But, I'm not. 

In light of more tests coming back normal, and my OCD running completely wild within my mind and manifesting in more circular journaling and begs for reassurance, I have begun to assume I am no different than how I was in elementary school. 

For those of you who don't know me all that long, let me give you a quick window into why this is such a struggle for me...

When I was in elementary school, I was the teacher's pet (still kind of am, let's just face it), the over-achiever (yup, still me), the perfectionist (guilty), and the hypochondriac (enter my current battle). I literally went to the nurse's office so frequently, I was well known by the office staff, and when I entered 4th grade was told by my teacher that she had "heard of me" and when I had her again the following year she said that I would "owe her big bucks" for all of the times she let me go to the nurse's office. I was constantly feigning injury, sickness, dizziness, and blindness (no, seriously. I don't even want to know the small fortune I wracked up for my parents as they took me to eye doctor after eye doctor all the while I was faking being blind because I was jealous of a friend who had a wheelchair and crutches for a busted up knee. Once again, Mom and Dad, I am so sorry...). 

I still have no idea why I wanted all of that attention, why I wanted to be sick and get out of school so badly, but I did. No one ever believed me, and by the end of elementary school I was pretty much the laughing stock of my class - I was that girl. The drama queen, the one who always had to have something massive wrong and moan and ache. That was Ashley Graeber.

Back to today. My doctor talked to me and said that most of the tests I had done yesterday for several new things came back normal. As I hung up the phone, I immediately wanted to just sit and cry. Although I was partially excited that nothing massive was being detected, I felt more and more like I had to be making this up, it must all be in my head. 

So here I am right now. Desperately clinging to the truth that I am not Ashley Graeber who went to the Sunnydale Elementary School nurse's office several times a week. Praying again and again that God would give me the strength, both mentally and physically, to continue this road that he has me on for his glory and my ultimate good. Fighting against the desire to say eff this, and push myself past every single ounce of energy I have left, ignoring all pain and light headedness and go until I pass out and then have something to actually complain about. 

I want to say that I am so at peace with all of this, but I'm struggling right now. I want to say that I've been saturated in the Word, and that I have been sitting at the feet of my Savior, but I have been avoiding talking to the Lord, and have no idea why. I so badly want to end this post saying that I feel so much better, and that the more I push myself, the more I realize I can do so much more than I have been doing, but that's a lie. 

I am tired. I ache, literally, all over. I feel alone and like a freak and totally numb to the truth I want to cling to right now more than ever. 

But. Even as I write this, the words to one of my favorite hymns is coming to mind. Just because I'm singing it in my head doesn't mean that I am going to put on a happy face and fake it until I make it because with God all things are possible. Not even close. But it does mean that even in this valley and long and heavy season of my life, I totally believe that God is sovereign. That he loves me. That he died for me. And that whatever this season is, it is preparing me for an eternal weight of glory that is beyond any affliction and suffering I am presently walking through. Even if that suffering includes fear that I am faking this all and then having to stop typing because my fingers and wrists and forearms hurt so bad I can't continue... 

Because I'm not Ashley Graeber. I am Ashley Titus, daughter of God, totally made new and redeemed. 

Until next post,
Sola Dei Gloria

What's Been Going On...

For starters, please forgive the incompleteness of this blog, but I wanted to make sure that I at least put down into a post some semblance of an update. It's been awhile since I've posted, and am not quite sure if I am ready to get back into a 'rhythm' of posting quite yet, but I do intend to update a bit more than I have been.

Four weeks ago, today actually, I was grabbing Andrew's lunch from the counter and suddenly was overcome with dizziness. I've had bouts of vertigo before, and assumed it was that and called my mom to have her come over and watch Owen since I knew I wouldn't be able to. By the time she got here though, a million other reasons were swirling in my head as to why I could be dizzy, one of which was a hopeful excitement - maybe baby Titus #2 was on the way! I called for a doctor's appointment and was seen later that morning.

I had a pregnancy test done at the doctors and lo and behold... it was negative. It was a long shot, but I was a bit sad - I really wanted this to be something good! Looking back, it was simply God's grace that it was not what I had been hoping for, or at least that it wasn't baby Titus #2 along with the real cause of the dizziness.

In brief overview of the following four weeks, my dizziness continued to become more and more debilitating. My mom and mother-in-law, as well as a couple of friends from church took shifts of watching Owen from the time Andrew left for work until he came home. I was slowly becoming even more exhausted, and even doing simple things like the laundry would wipe me out for the rest of the day. "Just pushing myself a little further" was not an option.

Throughout all of this I have felt certain that I was faking this and being a drama queen. Growing up, I was a complete hypochondriac and faked so many illnesses. No one would believe me, and they had good reason - I lied a lot. That being said, although I knew I was not the same girl as I was in elementary school, the fear of not being taken seriously or over dramatizing the situation plagued me.

What also plagued me was the feeling of being a terrible mama to my sweet baby. I sat on the couch 90% of the day and didn't play with Owen at all. Reading a board book to him winded me, and doing an airplane ride on my legs was nearly impossible. I've always struggled with believing I was a "good enough" mama and as the days progressed the condemnation and guilt piled higher and higher.

Fast forward to Tuesday. After weeks of doctors appointments, Ear Nose and Throat specialist appointments, hearing tests, CT scans and an insane amount of blood work, we don't have any idea what's going on. In God's amazing providence, I met with a gal who I met this year through a Bible study and she asked me about my symptoms. After I listed off a seemingly random assortment of what I had been experiencing she looked at me and said: "Oh girl, I think you have what I have: POTS."

I looked up the symptoms and realized she may actually be right.

Wednesday afternoon, after the two worst days of dizziness and racing heart and exhaustion yet, I called my doctor and she asked me to go to the ER. I hesitated. We just paid off my medical bills from last years trial of Post-Pardum Depression and there is no way we have it in the budget to pay more bills. Andrew gently assured me though, that God had been faithful to provide and would remain faithful. Eventually I agreed to go, and seven hours later the on-call neurologist was sitting at the end of my hospital bed.

"Well, I can't tell you with 100% assurance because we have one more test to confirm it, but my first, second, and third on the list of probabilities is that you have what's called Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. POTS for short."

So there it was.

I hadn't been faking. I wasn't being a drama queen. There was a reason.

I was ill.

Honestly I am not sure how much more I can type out right now, both because I am already completely exhausted from reading Owen two books this morning and singing him a song and typing this, but also emotionally drained and on edge.

There is not a cure for POTS. There are types of POTS that improve and go away over the course of several years. As it stands, the type I have seems to be the kind that doesn't. What does that mean? Aside from the hand of God moving either miraculously or through medical breakthroughs, I will be walking through the rest of my life with POTS. Until I see Jesus face to face in all of his glory, I will never be the same as I was a month and a half ago.

There are medications that will help me continue to function as close to normal as possible though. One problem - I cannot nurse Owen while on them.

So, with heavy pain and an ache I can't even begin to express, yesterday started cold-turkey weaning my sweet, sweet son. Praise Jesus that we had already started weaning gradually over the past couple of months, so instead of 5-8 times a day of nursing he was already down to 2-3 times. But these past 4 weeks have taken a toll on him. God's grace is that he loves playing with tons of people, but nursing was the one semblance of normal for him and I. It was our time to snuggle and to be close when everything else was topsy turvy.

Suffice it to say, I've been a wreck.

Through all of this though, I have no question in my mind that God was and is not shocked at the fact that I most likely have a chronic illness in which my Autonomic Nervous System misfires and functions abnormally.

My sobs of heartache for the confused child at my breast do not fall on deaf ears, but on ears that wept for Jerusalem.

My very slow process of beginning to mourn the idea of what I "should be" as a mama and wife, the idea of having another baby soon, and even going through my day without having someone else care for my child, make my meals, and clean my house is happening as my faithful Savior holds me close and wipes my tears and reminds me I am only defined by the Cross.

I would love prayers. Not only for myself but for my incredible husband who has been through hell and back with me and still loves me as tenderly as he did the day we were married. Also for Owen, that he would know without a shadow of a doubt my love for him, and that my ability to be able to run after him does not indicate my level of desire to be his mama. Also that the doctors would be able to move forward with treatment after my final test is complete.

I know that God is using this to draw me closer to him and I am so grateful for that assurance. I'm not okay with everything though, and I'm not sure I have to be quite yet. I'm not mad at God for allowing this to happen, but am grieved that it is happening. I am hopeful that things will get better, but I ache more for heaven than I ever have before.

I will try to update after I do the final test, but until then,

Sola Dei Gloria 

U-District Mission: January Update

So much has happened since November when I first wrote about our family taking up the call to be all-in and on mission to the University District. What was initially filled with passion and exuberance was met with daily struggles to see the hope of what God can do here, and a battle minute by minute to not hide away from the pain and suffering around us but willingly walk straight into the thick of it.

That being said, God has worked so much these last few weeks! Things that we never, EVER thought would happen actually did, and connections we only thought about making are actually real rather than theory. 

Here's what has been happening:

Happily trekking to Trader Joe's with "Giraffey" and Daddy.

Goodbye Car!

After much praying and increasing mechanic bills, Andrew and I decided to sell our car. This means that we bus and walk everywhere. While it sounds crazy, living in the UD makes it quite simple to be car-less. We live within a couple of blocks of dozens of bus lines, grocery stores, pharmacies and incredible restaurants. When we need a car, there have been families who have generously given us theirs to use for the day, and Zipcar is always another option.

I have learned a great deal about my entitlement and pride through going car-less. I like my schedule to stay what I have planned, and bussing does not allow for this. Instead of knowing exactly how my day will look, I have to be flexible - busses are early and missed and that's how it goes. I also am learning how scared I am of how people will view me through how Owen behaves on the bus rides. My pride wants to think that I have a perfect child who sleeps on the bus rides and plays quietly on my nap when he is awake. Reality is that my precious toddler is a toddler. He wants to move around and see people and isn't always wanting to remain quiet. This will take a while for me, but I know that God is molding my heart to only desire His will and the best for Owen, even when that means my pride is shattered and I receive disapproving looks from fellow passengers.

Awesome Indian food at Shalimar for a Date Night on the Ave. 

Community Group

We switched community groups around Thanksgiving, and God has grown that community in these couple of months more than I ever thought possible. We adored the old group we were a part of, and it was painful to leave such a godly group of people. Our new group though is an easy walk or bus ride from our house, and is led by a couple who have also made the UD their home and mission field. Being able to open up once again and be vulnerable with the women of the group has been a challenge, but has been met with love and support which I am so grateful for. We also are so excited to be able to serve together at the UD YMCA every other month. This opportunity gives us the chance to interact personally with youth in the area who are homeless and struggling, and not only give them food, but a friendly interaction and, I pray, hope. I am so looking forward to March when we serve again, and it has been such an awesome thing to see the youth we served around the UD and make connections while just doing life.

U-District Library

The UD branch of the Seattle Public Library system is just a couple of steps away from our house, and we have started to take advantage of this more and more over the last month. I joined their monthly book club and our first meeting was this Monday - I was not only one of the youngest people there, but very obviously the one who has the least knowledge of discussing classic works of fiction! It showed me that I have a lot to learn, and the diversity of the participants is exactly what I was hoping for - I really need out of my little bubble, and this makes it happen. Andrew and I have also started taking Owen to the preschool pajama story time on Tuesdays. He adores the children's librarian and is even beginning to get more comfortable playing along with others - not just sitting within arms reach of us.

Owen colored a mitten for the display! (his is bottom right)

Neighbors

One of the frequently overlooked gems in the U-District is the park on 50th. When we first moved into the UD, I swore that I would never take Owen to that park, I thought it was "sketchy" and gross. While it is sometimes less-than-ideal, it is also a great way that we have interacted with some of the other families living in the area. Owen has taken to wanting to swing and slide down the slide, and often points and grunts at the park when we walk past it.

Another way that we have been interacting and trying to build better connections and relationships with our neighbors is through actually stopping to talk with some of the homeless who live around us. One gentleman in particular has been placed on Andrew's and my heart and we are excited to learn more about him and his story, and hopefully be able to love and serve him well.

_________________________

Needless to say, God has been moving in our hearts and lives and daily routines here in the Titus Homestead. I wish that I could talk more about the individual interactions and lessons I am learning, but for the sake of time, I will try to condense everything into a once-monthly update. I will also be posting pictures and quick prayer requests and praises throughout the month, so look for them as well!

Here are some ways you can be praying for us this month:

On one of our bus riding adventures. 

For connections at the pajama story time - it's not common to be in a room with just UD families outside of church, and we would love to be able to get to know the parents who call the UD home, or at least desire to bring their kiddos to the UD library for this story time. 

For opportunities in the RNA - this month we are joining the Roosevelt Neighborhood Alliance which is a group of neighbors in our area who care passionately for the neighborhood and work alongside the city doing various advocacy work and volunteer opportunities. Andrew would love to get more involved with things like zoning and building development planning, so this would be the place to start for sure.

For continued favor with bussing - Owen and I use the bus quite frequently now, and it is tricky but totally doable and sometimes quite fun. Prayers that we would continue to enjoy our bus rides and that somehow I can make connections with those on the buses we take on a regular basis would be awesome. It's so hard to talk through iPods and headphones, but having toddler who wants to play peek-a-boo does help :) 

Until next post,

Sola Dei Gloria 

  

Pink Underlines in Old Testament Books

I have wanted to post on this for so long, and yet so many less important things have gotten in the way. I suppose that partially I don't even begin to assume I know my Old Testament well enough to actually write about it, and to be honest, I feel like I should know it far better than I do after 20-some-years of walking with Jesus. This fact alone causes me to second guess whatever I have thought about writing, and continuously makes me wonder if I am going to post something heretical or wrong, or just plain confusing. 

But then I realized that the only thing I really want to share is how God is giving me such a thirst for the Old Testament. A thirst that I have only longed for and prayed for for what feels like forever. I have had so many attempts at reading the entire Bible. Sometimes I am able to get rather far, while other times I stop in March with a list of three weeks worth of passages I'm already behind in. Even in those "successful" times of reading through the Bible, I have honestly skimmed over so many parts of the Old Testament. I mean, at some point doesn't everyone get sick of Numbers? Doesn't it make sense to scan Levitical codes, since they are so outdated anyway?

It does make sense. But we worship a God who doesn't always "make sense". Paul puts it in no uncertain terms in 1 Corinthians 3:19a "For the wisdom of this world is folly with God". While I struggle to wrap my mind around the fact that God's knowledge and power and wisdom is so much more incredible than I can ever have words to describe, I also find myself often too easily satisfied. I glance through my reading plan passage in, for example, 2 Kings, and find myself confused by the Kings of Israel versus Judah and simply move on. I check the box of reading my daily portion, pat myself on the back, and read something actually relevant, like a psalm or a letter of Paul's. 

This is how my Bible reading has been nearly all of my life until recently. Granted, there are still days when it continues to be like that, but God has transformed my heart so radically during these past few months. I am actually enjoying the Old Testament. I drank up Leviticus. I poured over 1 Kings. Seriously. As in, "yes I know this is where my reading plan says I stop for today, but I just have to know what happens next...". Let me stop here. This is not at all any of my doing. Nope. On my own I am prideful and arrogant and if something doesn't immediately resonate with me or seem compelling I will scoff at it and pay no attention to it. On my own, I could care less about who killed which King of Israel or what Syria did to which King of Judah. 

It would make no sense for me to be so excited about any of this. But, again, God's ways do not always make sense, do they. I've been reading this chronological reading plan, and God has worked so mightily through it. I don't go by the dates, but use it as a guide to walk through the Bible during my devotional time each day. That way my pride doesn't become stroked when I am "on track" or despair doesn't creep in when I am "behind". I just get to sit and enjoy learning more about the character of God through the kings of Judah and Israel, the Levitical priesthood codes, and his covenantal people of Israel. 

I would so encourage anyone to actually pray for God to use the Old Testament to reveal more of himself and his character to you as you read it. I felt so silly for so long wondering why I didn't like the Old Testament, and yet never believed that God desires me to adore him and be filled with awe towards him - so many times he answers this prayer through his Word itself. I am excited to step out in boldness and share with you what the Lord is highlighting in my heart through the Old Testament in the coming weeks and months, and can't wait to hear how he uses his Word to captivate your heart as well! 

Until next post,
Sola Dei Gloria  

Becoming Missionaries

The Titus family has decided to become missionaries. 

It is not as though God spoke audibly "your family will be missionaries" but rather this has been something on our hearts for quite some time. God has brought us to a point where we are no longer satisfied with just saying that we want to be missionaries. We actually want to be missionaries. To live as missionaries. To (if God so wills) die as missionaries. 

We want to see people reached for Jesus. We want to see the neighborhood where we are on mission be changed, and the city radically transformed through the power of the Holy Spirit. We want to build relationships with the people in the area, work with those who are already serving through providing meals and clothing to the homeless for example, and build friendships with those around us. Honestly, we want to see a Gospel explosion - something like Ephesus when Paul preached and the Holy Spirit moved and the city was transformed 180 degrees (Acts 19). 

So, yeah. We are going to begin missions work. 

The place where we feel we want to be missionaries to is quite diverse. It's a place that has a high turnover of people throughout the year, and yet there are also residents who have called it home for decades. During the summer and warmer months, it has quite a large homeless population, even though it is also home to incredibly wealthy pockets of homes and schools. To say that it is economically diverse is an understatement. 

It also is undergoing massive changes. There is new infrastructure being built and planning to be built soon that is changing the landscape of the area greatly. Although some of the people want the changes, others are fighting it fiercely and there is a hotbed of bitterness and anger towards each other building rapidly. We long to see the various sides come together for the betterment of the area, but honestly, that will have to be a work of the Holy Spirit at this point. Tensions run deep, and run passionately.

There is a local church about 6 blocks from our home that we are partnering with. In fact, there are several people on mission to this area already and we are excited to join with them. One family lives within walking distance and has a son close to Owen's age - little buddies!! Their hearts are for the area as well, and Andrew and I are so encouraged by their obedience to God, even when it means inconvenience and a life far from where they thought they would be living and raising their family. To know that others have a heart for the same area and are this close to us is incredible. Truly and honestly a Godsend.

We know that this is not going to be easy. In fact, it's already been met with resistance, both by our sinful self-seeking, prideful natures, and others who think we are totally nuts. It is far from the safest area, but compared to most other places around the world is totally safe. Many bus routes come in and out of the area, which is awesome because we are likely to not have a car for too much longer. There are grocery stores nearby that we can walk to, as well as doctors offices and other necessities that are quite easy to get to, even with a stroller.

The living situation is both comfortable and rough. The house doesn't heat incredibly well and has a couple other issues, but it's big enough to host meals (which we are praying will include many neighbors and non-Christians) as well as playdates and prayer nights to build community and focus our eyes on Jesus - there's no other way this is going to work at all. We are super blessed to have been able to find it, as there are not too many like it within the price range we can afford.

Andrew will still be working full-time as an accountant, and I will still be staying at home full-time. While from the outside world it seems more profitable to have me working also, God has and will provide, there's no question in our minds about that. Many things will be the same about our family, but we are praying that many more will be radically different.

What can you do? Pray! Please pray for God to continue to change our hearts and place within us a deeper desire than even now to serve and love and reach the area we feel drawn to. Please pray for financial provision - with medical bills from earlier this year and other things it is going to continue to be a struggle. Like I said before though, there has never been a time in which God has not provided our daily bread though, both spiritually and literally. God has used our financial issues to draw us to him in the past and through this all we know he will continue to do so. Please also partner with us in prayer for the area - that God would move mightily and many would meet Jesus. That we would be bold in our actions and not fear persecution in any form. That we would raise Owen to love the people around him and not be in a Christian bubble, but rather in the world but not of it. Also prayer that Andrew and I would continue to be united would be amazing - that through this next season of our lives that God would grow us closer to him and each other and keep our marriage strong.

We are super excited. Incredibly nervous. And without a doubt certain we can no longer sit in our house and think about how much we want to partner with the Lord to reach people. We are all-in. It will be a fight to stay all-in every day, I know it. It already has been. My mind doubts that this is really that big of a deal, and that perhaps I am being too out there in my thinking. But then I read Acts and I realize God invites us into such a deeper relationship with him, such a more radical life than morning quiet times and Sunday services. I'm so looking forward to it.

I'll be updating frequently with prayer requests and evidences of God's grace in this journey. We will post pictures of the area and hopefully events that we can use to build community and open doors to relationships with those around us, particularly our neighbors. I will label this all under a new tab on this blog so that it will be easier to find.

The tab will be: "U-District Mission".

Our heart is to be all-in in the U-District. To see the place where we live be reached for Jesus. To live without reservation, without fear, and with our eyes on Jesus. Whether that be India or exactly where we currently are.

:)

Until next post,
Sola Dei Gloria 

Bittersweet Commissioning

This past Wednesday our community group sent out two families to plant another group. We prayed for them, their new group, and for God to use their group for his glory. With this commissioning, the Gospel goes forward and more people have the opportunity to be in genuine community and to see how the good news is lived out in life together. 

This is what my mind knows to be true. At the same time though, my heart is breaking a little. Once again, people who have impacted my life and have been used mightily by the Lord are moving on to another season and I feel as if a part of my heart is going with them.

To be honest, this seems to be a trend for me in community. The first community group I attended, with my then fiancé, was led by an amazing couple and although at first I was incredibly intimidated by the leader's wife, I quickly grew to absolutely adore her. She was only a few years older than me, but decades ahead of me in her love of the Lord and her relationship with Jesus. She counseled me through the latter part of my engagement, and was the first Mama at my church to take me under her wing. I babysat her daughter once a week and not only did that give me the opportunity to learn more about children and motherhood, but it also gave me time to talk with this woman before/after she went out and did her errands (now being a mama myself, I understand how incredible running simple errands alone actually is...). 

She spoke bluntly, questioned deeply, and loved passionately. The woman I first thought of as intense and, to be honest, was scared wouldn't like me, became a dear sister. And then, their family moved. In fact, it was the day I took my pregnancy test with Owen that they left Seattle. My heart ached and I felt as though I had lost a dear friend. I miss her like crazy.

Around the same time a friend from middle school who had invited me to come to Mars Hill got married and switched to another church location. She had walked with me through so much, and had coached me in leadership, my life, and my marriage. She was such a confidant to me, and then was gone. Still a part of my life, but in such a different way as the Lord has moved our paths farther from each other. 

Time after time over the course of these last couple years I feel as though parts of my heart are being taken by women who mean the world to me. My roommate and close sister moved across the state, my midweek Bible study leader moved across the country, and the woman who held my hand as I walked through the darkest hours of suicidal postpartum depression also moved the the other side of the country. 

I am so grateful to remember how God has placed these women in my life, and yet still hurting from the changes in life which draw us away. As I was talking to the Lord tonight about how it wasn't fair that he seemingly rip these relationships apart from me, I was gently reminded that Jesus is my friend and very near help. I know it sounds cliche, but it was oh so needed in my heart at that moment. 

With that reminder also came the conviction that all too often, I rely on these godly women more than I rely on God. Funny, I always pray that God would take idols out of my heart and mind and grow me to only be able to rely on him, but it tends to take me a while to realize that he does that through everyday means - like jobs moving locations, and marriages, and community group replications. 

So, with all of these rambles, I guess the praise and the prayer is that God reminded me again tonight how sinful I really am. That he is so good, and so holy, and so deeply wants me to run to him first and I so often don't. I forget that he is the source of wisdom, and instead go first to the women around me. I get scared that I won't be able to 'hear' from God and therefore ask these dear women for their opinions before spending time at the feet of Jesus. 

Yes, my heart is hurting tonight. I want so badly to be in community with these women again. Honestly, even writing this makes me miss them all even more. But, in a bittersweet way, God is giving me such a precious opportunity to lean into him for everything. For friendship, for counsel, for peace. 

My prayer is that the Lord would continue to sweetly remind me that he is there no matter what, and I can trust his sovereign giving and taking of friendships throughout the seasons my life. I deeply desire to run to him first, before my husband, and before these women. Sometimes the process of prayer being answered is difficult, but I am so grateful not only for the time that Jesus has given me in community with these ladies, but also for the knowledge that one day I will worship our Savior eternally with them beside me :) 

Why "Owen Ray" and more ultrasounds

On Monday Andrew and I were thrilled to be able to finally find out the gender of our baby Titus! It felt like forever since we had found out we were pregnant, and we couldn't wait to know more. The day I took the pregnancy test was rough (long story of me doubting whether or not I was correct in reading it, and if I was going to celebrate something that "didn't exist" but even bigger sin of not believing that God would want to give us a gift of a child...) and we ended up trying to have a celebration dinner, but doing a lot of praying and crying (that was me) and encouraging (that was Andrew). 

Needless to say, we planned on having a small dinner out - just the two of us - right after we finished with the ultrasound. Finally I can celebrate I thought. It would be perfect, why wouldn't it be?

I was nervous and super excited going into the ultrasound, and kept being absolutely amazed at how this small child of ours was moving around, and now I could actually feel the movements I was seeing on the screen! Everything was looking perfect, baby was healthy and growing well. The ultrasound tech moved over an area of baby's liver and stopped, pausing briefly to take a few screen shots of the picture. I couldn't help but think to myself that there was a random bright white dot that looked terribly out of place. As the tech didn't say anything about it, I dismissed my fears and continued being excited.

After the ultrasound was complete - the tech brought in the radiologist who, to my confusion and fear, looked immediately back to the spot on my baby's liver. She poked around a bit, and said that it most likely was nothing, but that it was up to my doctor whether or not she would want further ultrasounds to determine what it was.

I panicked. Every single fear and unbelief I had about God not giving a good gift, about things going right only for God to pull the rug out from beneath me, about never celebrating or being joyously hopeful about something before it was actually there and complete came washing over me yet again. I tried to be ok, but feared the worst immediately. Andrew was concerned, but knew without a doubt how trustworthy God was and that he trusted Jesus with our baby and his/her health. We walked to a small area outside the hospital to open our gender-reveal envelope and Andrew prayed for me and baby. I knew that it would be ok but completely let myself go down the rabbit holes of fear and forgot the goodness of my Savior. That he was in control, and loved me enough to die for me, and already loved my unborn child as he knitted that baby together in my womb. 

Needless to say, the dinner wasn't the one filled with tears of joy and laugher we had pictured. Both of us were thrilled to find out we were having a baby boy, but I was stuck in the unknown. I regretted staying there, but stayed there nonetheless. I am daily reminded of how good God is through my amazing husband, but Andrew was again used by God in such a great way that evening - he pointed me back to the truth of God, Jesus's love for me and our baby, and the truth that it was completely out of our control either way.

Talking with my doctor Wednesday, she assured me that it was most likely no big deal and told me she really didn't want me to be worried at all about it. The coolest thing though, was that while her tone and confidence in baby's health was helpful, God had walked me through a day and a half of fear and lead me time and time again to truth and comfort. I poured over Psalm 139 and 1 Samuel 1 and 2 -- crying and pleading with God to comfort me, and to forgive me for assuming the worst, even when it was most likely nothing at all. For doubting his goodness and his love for me, and for playing "god" as I determined my fears were the future in no regard to God's true plans.

We have another ultrasound scheduled for the beginning of September, just to see if whatever it was goes away (as apparently most things do). My genetic screening tests were awesome earlier, and it seems as though my doctor isn't too worried. It is so interesting to me though that the littlest of things can catapult me to the most extreme fear and worry. What a difficult but oh so worth it lesson in standing at the foot of the cross and surrendering my plan and child completely to Jesus. 

_________________

Why Owen Ray though?

Andrew and I had thought about names for months, but had not come to a consensus on a boy's name until about a month ago. We knew we wanted something biblical - a strong name of a man who was after God's heart and lived his life for God's glory (as much as a sinner can...). We came up with plenty of names, but nothing really seemed right. Then, as God was revealing some pretty deep sin in my heart, I began to read the book "The Mortification of Sin in Believers" by John Owen. For some reason, the name Owen stood out and I adored it. Apparently so did Andrew :) Owen was a English theologian during the 1600s who loved the Lord and had some pretty legit theology. Who knows what God has in store for our Owen's life, but I can't wait to talk about why he has his name, and have nerdy theology discussions with him and his Dad for fun :)

The name Ray is special for two reasons - both my Dad and Andrew's maternal Grandfather are/were named Ray. I had always wanted to name a son after my dad, and it was a total blessing to be able to have men on both of the sides honored with our son's middle name. 

Our little Owen Ray is already so dear to us and loved immensely. I love seeing Andrew talk with him and read to him every night, and I am constantly reminded of miracles when I feel him moving around inside of me. I am still in awe of what God is doing in our little family, and can't wait to share with Owen how much he was prayed for and loved even before he drew his first breath. 

"For this child I prayed, and the LORD has granted me my petition that I made to him." 1 Samuel 1:27

Back pain and a whole lot of sin.

Out of all of the adjectives I would have used to describe myself, independent was never one I would have chosen. Passionate, old-fashioned, quirky - all yes, but independent? Not even close. Prideful? Probably, but not to a great extent. 

Until this month.

Some people say that circumstances make you stronger. I disagree. I believe without a shadow of a doubt that the God who loved me enough to die for me uses any means necessary to draw me into a deeper relationship and sweeter knowledge of his grace and mercy. Even more, I know he is using my inability to be independent and my current back pain to show me his character in a way I only thought I knew before.

I was diagnosed with kyphosis and scoliosis in middle school, wore a brace for over a year, and have fought back pain since, but haven’t had pain this nearly debilitating since 2009. When I was first diagnosed I remember my doctors talking about how if I ever were to have children I could be in for a tremendous amount of pain, but as a 14 year old I could care less. Now as a 25 year old well into my second trimester of my first pregnancy, their concern makes a lot more sense.

To be honest, I could write a lot about the pain and discomfort which happens when my back is like it has been. I could write about not being able to drive the 15 minutes to my doctor’s office without wincing, or how I had to lay down on the bathroom floor last week after cleaning for a half hour, because I knew the pain was bad enough I had to stop, NOW. But really, the pain isn’t what has most characterized these past few weeks. It’s there, and difficult yes, but what God has been teaching me through the pain is vastly more important.

So far, I have learned that I am much more like the Galatians than I ever would have cared to admit. In Paul’s letter to the Galatians, he makes the case strongly and passionately that Jesus’s work on the cross is all that is needed for salvation, and that if we are to add ANY work (whether that be following the Jewish laws like circumcision for the Galatians, or me adding my various roles and titles of ministry at Mars Hill, or a clean house and dinner made for Andrew) to the cross in attempts to earn favor with God or a more right standing before him, makes Jesus a joke the cross absolutely worthless.  

Whether I could see my sin or not before my back pain began again this month, God has been showing me that I have attempted to justify myself apart from only believing the cross for so many years. My fears of being lazy around the house if I don’t have it perfect by the time my husband comes home from work, and my dread of him having to make dinner or help me run my errands like grocery shopping only were the tip of the problem. What it comes down to really, is not believing that Jesus is enough for me. That I can do it on my own, and that I need to be perfect to be a good wife, or a good follower of Jesus. I so badly wanted to fulfill my role as a wife, that I forgot the most important part was to adore Jesus with every ounce of my being. As for ministry, I worried that backing down from roles because of the pain would be seen as a cop out, and laziness as well. That instead of grace, those around me would see my weakness as failure and a lack of love of Jesus. I so deeply wanted those around me to know the redemption that God has for them, that I pushed through pain that should have shown me I needed to rest, in order to maintain the level of discipleship and ministry was doing. 

How incredibly wrong and sinful I have been. How much unbelief? The greatest thing is though, that even if I was blind to all of this, God never was. And never for a moment would he leave me sitting in this mess of lies and doubt and “Jesus + my works = justification and righteousness”. No, the God I love is such an incredible God that he would use anything to get my attention. C.S. Lewis has a quote which says: “pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” 

Without question God has used this pain to show me his love and patience with my sin. The idea of “sitting around” all day terrifies me. I want to do something, and serve, and love my husband well. But yet, the ways I have been prior to now are not the ways God is asking me to walk in during this season. This means a ridiculous  amount of my independence and pride needs to die. The fear which stops me from taking up offers from friends to help me clean, and go grocery shopping for me needs to be laid at the foot of the cross and repented of. The pride which is mortified at the thought of a friend seeing how dirty my bathroom really is needs to come before Jesus and see him as so much mightier. The feeling of uselessness which is spurred on by greeting my husband as I lie on an ice pack on the couch when he gets home, rather than putting dinner on the table in a perfectly clean house, must trust in my Savior’s total and complete work on the cross and not in my picture of an ‘ideal wife’. 

Funny. When I found out I was pregnant I began praying for many things, but the one on repeat (along with Baby Titus coming to full term as a healthy baby who loves Jesus even from my womb...) has been that God would bring me to a place where I could not even fathom spending a day without being in his Word, or praying. That even during the chaos which is motherhood, I would know without a doubt that I could not make it through one day, one hour, one moment without my Savior. God seems to be answering this. Not quite in the way I was anticipating, but in a way far more deep than I pictured. 

Yes, I am praying for God to supernaturally take my back pain away. Or that he would work through the physical therapy (I start with a more specialized therapist this coming week actually, as my former therapist could do “nothing more” to help stop the pain or progression). But ultimately, I am praying that God would draw me closer to him, and that I would lean on him like I never have before. That he would break me where I need to be broken, and mold me into the woman, wife, and future mother he desires me to be. It’s not an easy season, but I know God is bigger. And I am extremely grateful for Jesus’s work on the cross, a husband who loves me enough to gently demand I rest and lay down, and a community and church which are meeting needs I never knew I had.  

We shouldn't be having this baby.

We shouldn’t be having this baby.

It sounds surprising and shocking. Why joyously announce a pregnancy when you think you shouldn’t be having a child? To tell you the truth, it is shocking, but not in the way you’re thinking.

I grew up wanting to be a stay at home mom. Oh, I wanted to be a singer, an actress, a marine biologist and a teacher, but deep in my heart, I desperately wanted to be a mom. Late in elementary school through undergrad I battled anorexia. I always had irregular cycles, but lost my period altogether for nearly a year after many years of starvation. It scared me. I told myself that something had to change or I would never be able to have kids. Once it returned, things did change, but in a terrible way.

Five years later I found myself deeper into my eating disorder than I ever imagined was possible. By “found myself” I mean I willingly walked into a sinful relationship, and instead of heeding the gentle warnings of my Savior and God I turned my back on him. This relationship, I thought, had “saved me” from anorexia. Like Gomer though, I thought my lover had saved me, when all the while God had provided and saved me with his own hand and provision (Hosea 2:8). In reality, the relationship turned more and more unhealthy, and was characterized by manipulation, control, abuse, and sexual assault. I wanted out. I wanted to feel numb. I wanted to die. I cut, I starved, I purged, and I continued to run from the God who had saved me.

Through the grace of God alone, I left that relationship. I had physical and emotional scars, but God had broken in and broke my heart to him once again - I was the prodigal daughter. God lifted the depression, the cutting, the purging, and the starvation. I struggled to believe a man who loved Jesus would ever want something as tarnished as I, but God continued to walk with me. I found him redeeming every part of my heart, especially my sinfully false beliefs about his forgiveness and goodness. The following year, a man who loved Jesus began to pursue me. I didn’t know a lot about him other than he had been redeemed from much,  and that he loved God more deeply than I ever thought was possible. He worshiped Jesus, he loved me well, and 3 1/2 months later he asked me to marry him. As we walked through dating and engagement we walked through our pasts, and it became time for me to face a dark reality with my future husband - I may never be able to have children. The years of abuse I wrecked my body with had stopped my cycle completely. A round of hormone therapy had been tried, but was unsuccessful. My sin had deep consequences. My godly fiancé stayed. He comforted me, lead my back to the truth of Jesus, and prayed for me. 

One month before our wedding I decided to try one last round of hormonal treatment. Only hours before I picked up the prescription, Andrew called me. He had a “weird” feeling and wanted to know how long the drug could be active in my system, and if there were any warnings about it. I called the pharmacist, who informed me it had a small precautionary warning - due to the drug forcing a menstrual cycle, if in the unlikely chance I became pregnant during the treatment, it could become abortive. It would stay in my system three weeks, which meant 3-4 days into our marriage. Through tears streaming, we knew I could not risk it, and cried out to God. I felt as though I looked like Hannah (in 1 Samuel 1:12,13) but God comforted me in the truth that he, and he alone, opened and closed wombs. We prayed for my womb to be opened by God, and cried, and prayed some more. 

Two weeks before our wedding, I started my period.

After our wedding, and after my hopes of conceiving on our honeymoon were gone (I thought for sure that was God's plan - how perfect right?), WebMD said that my periods were still too off for conception. They had their red warnings signs up saying that they calculated I was not ovulating, and should seek medical help. I was angry. I was hurt. My "perfect plan" might not happen. But, in those weeks, and through many tears, God brought me to a place where I could honestly say I deeply wanted a baby, but without hesitation I wanted God’s will for my womb above a child. 

The end of April though... I saw a pink "+". 

We’re now ending our first trimester, and are still in awe of God’s hand in our lives and this pregnancy. A few weeks ago my OBGYN’s jaw dropped when she heard about my medical history and irregularity/absence of periods. She commented about how it was unusual that I could have gotten pregnant under those circumstances, or actually at all. All we could do was shrug and smile. 

So, we really shouldn’t be having this baby. But God’s plan was different than our “should’s” and “should not’s”. This baby, who God is knitting together in my womb, has been prayed for, and prayed over, and longed for so deeply. Falling in love with my child causes me to stand more in awe of God’s grace and power and love than I ever have in my life. 

Baby Titus truly is a miracle. 

For you formed my inward parts;

you knitted me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

Wonderful are your works;

my soul knows it very well.

My frame was not hidden from you,

when I was being made in secret,

intricately woven in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed substance;

in your book were written, every one of them,

the days that were formed for me,

when as yet there was none of them.

(Psalm 139:13-16 ESV)