Skip to main content

The Uglies

Here's a funny story,
I recently took a mental hike and stepped in something pretty stinky. When I looked down to see what that something stinky might be, I found myself ankle deep in a........
of the Uglies.
My own, in fact.
I think I must have suffered an implosion of sorts, and everything that was "in" decided to come "out".
Out came the angry witch lady who yells at her dog for being alive.
Out came the petulant toddler screaming at her husband....., who dared to say words.
Out came the lazy sloth....., who decided that living in a pig sty could actually be cozy.
Out came the sullen teenager, who decided that silence is the best sort of communication.
Out came the despairing and wilted lily, who decided that life was Just-So-Totally-Over.

Oh boy did it steam and did it stink.
I must have been saving it all up for months.

It's funny how emotions can build up like that.
Like a giant 2 liter bottle of soda shaken up and ready to explode. Then add a tablet of alka-seltzer to the mix and watch chemistry at work.  An awesome, spraying arc of all the things you really want others to see in you, flying through the air in unmitigated speeds of earth shattering, humiliating, glory.

This process is what I like to call, The Uglies.
They suck.

I thought I had been doing well in my life process. I've been eating better, getting exercise and actually feeling good about it, even looking ahead into the unknown as if it has exciting possibilities for me.

So what toppled my tower of awesome?

Me. I did it.

I looked at myself and felt shame. I'm the barren woman. I'm the social outcast who can't do the one thing that a woman was specially designed to do. I'm the mother who couldn't save her baby. I'm the wife who let her husband down. I'm the woman who can't lose weight. The angry friend who doesn't celebrate when you tell her you're pregnant. The woman who grieves because her arms are empty.
The woman who got really, really mad at God, because she felt like He had lied to her. The woman who is full of  "can't's"

In my youth the barren woman was an unknown entity, a woman I didn't get, so therefore, she was unimportant to my spiritual growth.
As a soon to be mom, the barren woman was to be pitied, I mean, how sad for her, right?
As a woman who has born and lost a child, the barren woman was to be avoided, I don't want her cooties infecting me.
As a woman who struggles with infertility, the barren woman is my sister. I love her and I feel a kinship with her. She doesn't pity me, she understands me, and I finally understand her.

Talk about eating a big spoonful of Humble Pie.
Here's the crazy thing I realized after throwing my tantrums and pity parties and testing every ounce of patience my husband contains;
My goal was the promise.
Not the giver of the promise.
I trusted the awaited evidence of the promise more than I trusted the one who gave me the promise in the first place.

This week all the oozing, sliming, stinking, Uglies decided to surface. I'm glad they did. I saw things about me that I don't like, that I would be mortified if others saw (needless to say, my husband deserves some accolades for surviving the onslaught with grace), but in that tangled and messy pile, I remembered that I simply need Jesus.
He's not afraid of my snotty nose or my tantrums.
I need Him because He gave the barren woman hope. Because He loves her.
He opened her womb and gave her a child. Because He loves her
He told her that she mattered. Not only that she mattered, but that she would be honored forever. Because He loves her.

He doesn't see me as a woman who can't. He sees me as His daughter who can. Because He says so.


Popular posts from this blog

The In Between

In that cave,
That dark and cavernous empty space,
A small light flickers
A warm glow piercing the cold shadows.

A little girl is crying,
Sitting on a rock and crying
That little girl is me.

The sorrow wraps around her
Swallows the air around her
I'm afraid it will never leave.

In that dark cave,
That lonely, damp cave
My Jesus sits beside me.

He's sitting in the darkness with me
And the darkness is not scary for him
He's not afraid of the dark like I am.

I was talking to a friend who has recently lost a loved one and I got this picture of  a little girl sitting in a lonely, dark cave. I could almost feel the dampness seeping through the stone that she was sitting on. The darkness was heavy, a weight I could physically feel. But as I looked through the telescopic lens of my removed perspective to the girl sitting on the stone and weeping, I could see Jesus sitting next to her. He was holding her as she cried and there was a warmth emanating from him. A soft yellow glow that encompassed h…


(This is not a pretty entry, but I felt it was time to finally share it. For a long time after my Edy died, I felt ashamed of the relief I felt. I felt ashamed that I didn't want to kiss her head because she was no longer alive. I felt like a complete failure as a mother, that I didn't deserve her and losing her was my punishment for being such a failure. God has walked Dustin and I through so much healing since then, He has amazed me with His faithfulness to restore, encourage, and heal all that has felt so very, very broken since losing our baby girl. There is still not a day that goes by that I don't think about her or miss her, but the grief no longer haunts me. I see how, in the hands of our very loving Father, the shadows of grief are dispelled and grief no longer becomes a fearful thing. Not quite friend, but no longer an enemy. Only God can turn our sorrow into joy, and that joy is so deep it becomes a cornerstone. It is no fleeting feeling, but a river of strength…

To Be Surprised

Anyone who has lost, knows the trepidatious prayer. The one barely spoken, Whispered in the dark surrounded by fear and doubt and the fragrance of despair.
I walked foward, one foot in front of the other, wincing from the pain of my poorly thought out shoe choice, my fingers lightly pinching the underside of my father's be-suited arm.
"When I wrap my arms around you Every mistake we made crumbles When I wrap my arms around you Everything echoes a new song." - Sondre Lerche 'To Be Surprised'
It's the song playing through my tunnel vision. I'm so very focused. And so very happy. You're looking at me and your face is twitching with a million unshed tears. I can't stop smiling. My feet are really killing me now. I let go of my father's arm and take your hands instead. I want to swallow your eyes with mine so you can see my heart. Because it all makes sense now. Each tear I had cried in loneliness has culminated in this beautiful moment where I see that God has heard my p…