After a long, cold winter and now an equally long, rainy spring, I am ready for some warm weather and this weekend has not disappointed. It is hot! Summertime hot! Warm weather often turns people’s hearts towards love, especially those currently without a romantic relationship in their lives. Having a great relationship often tops many people’s lists for creating a life they love.
However, past experiences have many of those same people questioning the likelihood of experiencing a great love. So, today, I am starting a new series on relationships beginning with a post on hope of a great love, even another great love. This series consists of reposts from our newsletter A Stitch in Time. I hope you enjoy it whether reading for the first time or second!
For Those Looking for Love:
“What you said gave me hope,” Tara said. She was in the audience the night before when Reggie and I had shared about handling baggage before and during a relationship. Her comment took me back.
A teenager in my life had a tendency to tear people down after a conflict with them. Their words hurt, so this teenager would respond in kind, and criticize and/or belittle these people in an effort to make them appear less and him more. In an effort to discourage his behavior, I inquired, “Wouldn’t it be better to rise above than tear down?” I believed rising above would help his self-image and self-talk (thinking) so much more.
Let me explain. If the teenager and the other person were both on a scale of 1-10 and the other person was above the teenager, pulling the other person down only changed the other person’s location on the scale. It did not change the teenager’s. He was still in the same place. In other words, instead of trying to change the other person (which you don’t really have the power to do), why not focus on the one person you can change—yourself? And not just with words, change yourself by changing your thinking.
Many people, myself included, fall prey to talking rather than doing because talking is easier. Like water, we follow the path of least resistance. Unfortunately, the path of least resistance rarely creates a life we love. To do that, we are going to have to work beginning with working on ourselves.
I am a morning person, always have been. Without any other stimulus, the sun naturally wakes me up before seven o’clock most days. Mornings are usually the most peaceful and productive part of my day. In fact, I write most blog posts in the morning and today is no different. Though I have always been a morning person, I have not always enjoyed them.
You see, as I grew closer to Christ, I began to spend my mornings with Him. After we married, Reggie and I developed a routine based on this model. During the week, Reggie would spend time with God, get ready for work, and then wake me to pray together before leaving.
So, most of my mornings began praying with Reggie. After that, I continued my time with Christ solo before starting my day. However, immediately following Reggie’s death, mornings were a painful reminder of what I no longer had—Reggie. Understandably, there was a season when I dreaded mornings.
Being without Reggie was hard enough, but unfortunately, in my grief, I responded in a way that was at odds with who I am naturally. Basically, my body wanted to get up, but my heart wanted to stay buried under the covers.
Tomorrow is Mother’s Day, the day we in the United States celebrate motherhood, mother figures and all they have done for us. Unfortunately, not every woman feels like celebrating or her joy is bittersweet. For many women who have experienced a miscarriage, Mother’s Day is a painful reminder of our losses. Though statistics show that as many as 20% of pregnant women have experienced miscarriages, most women suffer in silence. This Mother’s Day, I am breaking the silence to raise awareness.
Prior to my miscarriages, I knew that miscarriages were possible. However, because of the silence, I had no clue how many people, many of them close to me, had suffered this pain. So, I thought it was something that only happened to other people, and a small group of other people at that.
In fact, when I was in my thirties, I was looking for a new gynecologist. This was not a unique situation. I had switched doctors before, but this occasion now stands out in my mind. This time, I distinctly remember filling out the medical questionnaire and coming to an entry for “# of pregnancies” next to another for “live births.” Having yet to be pregnant at the time, I quickly scribbled a zero in each not really processing what the entries meant and moved on.