Icky Fish

Floating at the top of the tank upside down the little fish was destined for a trip down the toilet. Nine fish, lucky enough to still be swimming, were speckled with white spots. Ick. What a funny and accurate name for a fish disease. At the pet store the kind man helped us pick out medicine and gave us advice. “Fish are very sensitive. Any temperature change can stress them out.” At home we treated the tank and made very sure that my son’s room stayed at an even temperature. After all our efforts, three fish survived. A couple of months later we added two more fish and a new thermometer. Who new fish could be so time consuming and sensitive?

We control the fish tank. We say when the fish will be fed, set the temperature on the heater, and clean it when we have the time. I can’t help but wonder if they long for control.

Like my son’s fish, the slightest change to my life can cause me to experience those icky feelings. I long to rule my own existence and try to wrestle away the controls my Savior so lovingly put in place to give me His best.  Selfishly, I want MY way. And because of this human behavior instilled in me at birth, born to sin, I am in a constant state of worry.

Grace is refreshing. Without it, I would be lost. Oh, thank you God for your unconditional love. A love so strong that it manages my environment, keeping me at an even temperature, helping me to stay pure and clean, guiding my steps. Acknowledging the tank I live in as His, giving everything to him - an everyday surrender - I am restored. 

Birth Rings

One birth bead, two, three or even four. (One and Two shown in October color. More pictures to come.) Each ring is a one of a kind and made in your size. $10

January to December

No two rings are alike.

A New World

“It’s like a whole new world!”

These were the words coming out of the mouth of my six-year old son. Fear had kept him from swimming and enjoying summer fun for many years now. My husband and I had worked with him, he had taken many swimming lessons, and we had threatened to not let him near water until he would try to go under. His stubbornness would not budge. Time after time when he would go under he would come up crying as if it were the end of the world. Until one day, I forced him under water. Grabbing his body to mine and cradling him close, I held his arms and legs and submerged both of us. Coming up, I expected him to throw a fit but before he could start I exclaimed, “Did you see the bubbles come out of my nose?” Laughing he shook his head yes. Doing it again and again I managed to sink him under in many different ways, each time with no tears. After that he took off on his own, swimming like a fish, and exclaiming loudly about how cool it was under the water. Thrilled, I gave him praise and was astonished at the change.

Month after month I live in a constant state of fear - fear of the unknown, fear of the future. This month I have decided to turned all that fear to my Lord and Savior. Lifting my hands to him, I visualize my fear and Him taking it and giving me peace in it's place. Peace, like arms cradling me, carrying me through the water, taking me under to a new world. 

For God has not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. 

2 Timothy 1:7

Pea Pod Necklace

Three Peas in a Pod! These are my husband (Aug.), mine (Jan.) and my son's (Oct.) birthstone colors. 

Let me know what color's you want and how many you want and I can make you a cozy little pea pod to represent your family. Great for mom's! $15

January to December. 

Each pendant is a one of a kind and no two are alike.

Pea Pod can have as many peas as you like.

Reluctantly Writing

I have been putting this off. Not wanting to even address this issue that has caused so much pain, grief, and stress in my life, I have ignored the struggle within me to share this part of my walk with Christ. Close relatives and friends know of my pain, but where else does God want me to go-to reach? I do not want to be THIS person. I do not want to share this. This is not the way I want to glorify His name. I would do it with a miracle. He may have other plans. 

(I literally cringed as I wrote that. It actually hurt.)

Infertility. I walk with it everyday. I wake up to it. As I walk through the grocery store I endure it. People have no idea, but it is all around me all the time. Making others aware of this pain so that it might help just one other person is my goal.

A DEATH IN THE FAMILY

Grief is the most egotistical of all emotions, and infertility is grief—a grief that no one else understands. Most people don’t have a clue. When suffering through infertility, every day you wake up NOT PREGNANT opens a new wound. It’s another day of death. Every minute of every day is spent mourning the loss of a child-a brother, a sister, a life. They say that time heals all wounds, but not this one. Time is your enemy. Every day is another funeral, another failure. At least, that’s how I feel.

I FEEL ALONE

If you’ve ever experienced the loss of a loved one, you might have a frame of reference for what I am describing. That’s not to downplay the grief associated with death, nor is it to say that the feelings are the same. They aren’t. But they do share the emotional exhaustion and the intensity of pain. Infertility is death, but with this tragedy there is no funeral. There is no gathering of friends and family. There is no closure. And as so often is the case, no one will take care of you because they do not know they are needed or how to respond. You break all ties, further isolating yourself. You can’t go out because—heaven forbid—you may see someone pregnant or with a baby. You start skipping birthday parties and baby showers. There is no way you can endure passing around baby items. Family reunions are out of the question because a cousin has a baby on the way. Getting together “just to hang out” is no fun because they don’t understand. (And who wants to be with a bunch of happy people anyway or, the opposite, who wants to hang our with someone who is depressed?) You’re left without the energy or the will to so much as dial a telephone. Your loved ones begin to wonder, “What’s their problem?” Soon you become a punch line. “What do you think is her excuse this time?” Or even worse, they judge you and say, "I'm over it." But for the infertile it never ends.

HOW CAN YOU HELP SOMEONE YOU LOVE?

If you know someone who is having difficulty with infertility, understand that they need you. I can’t tell you what they need, except to know that you are there for them unconditionally. Unconditionally means when they are crying, weeping, screaming, out of their minds with sorrow and saying things or doing things they don't mean. Your relationship will likely be a little bumpy for a while. Heck, it might be a lot bumpy. You must take it upon yourself to single-handedly keep the relationship alive. Don't get too wordy. Saying "I'm sorry" is enough. A hug is better than trite words or long lectures that you think will help. At least once a week, you also need to ask specifically about their infertility and how things are going. Maybe they won’t want to talk about it. Respect that. But maybe they need to vent. Listen and be supportive; that alone will go a long way. Ignoring the issue only makes a person feel isolated and alone. Finally, I want to encourage you to be persistent. This isn’t a grief that gets easier with time. It gets harder. The longer they go through this, the more painful it will become and the more they will need you. One more word of advice if you are infertile: surround yourself with people who lift you up and who encourage. Avoid those people who are blind to pain and tear you down.

NEVER TRULY ALONE

This has been my life year after year. Five years of attempt after attempt at getting pregnant, I am exhausted but still trying. Anger has been a companion on my journey as well as bitterness and I fight with them everyday. The pain has become a friend that reminds me of the pain my Lord and Savior experienced on my behalf. If you want to read more on that read my article Feeling the Pain.

You can't connect with a loving God when your heart is filled with rage. And I have been filled to the point of explosion. When I am almost to explode, He reminds me of who I am and what He has done for me. What keeps me still trying? It is the picture of my Savior on the cross-the picture of hope. I cling to His faithfulness, His promises, and His unconditional love for me. This does not mean that I am going to get exactly what I want, but I continue to hope that my desires can match up with His plans for me. He shows me love when every morning I wake up with that death, that awareness of infertility, and I make it through the day. How could I ever leave Him? That would be insanity. He gets me through. The pain is never ending but I am enduring because of Him.

The Tree of Life Pendant

I love this piece. It is 1 3/4 inch across. I have another one that is 2 inches and it is just as beautiful. (Picture is just slightly larger than actual size.) The Tree of Life comes in many colors: Fall red, Spring green (shown), Pearl, Winter white, Summer green (Darker than shown), and an earthy brown shell color. Comes on a black cord with lobster claw clasp. Beautiful and so fun to make!
$20

Each pendant is a one of a kind and no two are alike.
Also beautiful as Christmas tree ornaments.












(More pictures to come with other colors.)

Potluck

The table was piled with food. Crispy seven layer salad, cheesy broccoli, savory fried chicken, creamy fried potatoes and so many different casseroles I lost count. The desserts earned their own table and consisted of many chocolate dishes piled with cool whip, along with cookies, cakes, and pies. It was a beautiful site to behold. The gym where the food was laid out had transformed from a place of sweating play to a place of gathering and worship. Strong arms set up tables. Chairs were squeezed together to make room for as many people as possible. Our church had a potluck dinner about every month and I looked forward to it like it was Christmas.

Even before the line was formed, I would spend my time in the church kitchen watching the ladies lay out the food. Old hands prepared nourishment for the young. Young mothers prepared food for their men and children. It was a bustle of activity you could not watch without anticipation. The air was full of love, joy, and togetherness. With the smell of food in the air and the kitchen made cozy warm from the ovens, I watched my church family work together towards one goal. When we were all finally gathered in the gym the pastor thanked the Lord for the food he had so lovingly provided, for the hands who had labored over it, and for a place to gather in freedom.

Standing in line, surveying the spread, I chose my first course. These special Sunday’s I liked to pretend I was the queen of England. I would start with my favorite food-the seven-layer salad. Oh, how I loved every bite, so different from the last. After, I would have my second course-meat and potato, veggie and buttery, soft bread. The last course would be a casserole and then I would be free to enjoy dessert. Dessert was never just one thing but a plate full of several different small pieces of each dish-my favorite part of the whole meal. On these special Sunday’s our parents never told us what we had to eat. We had freedom to choose. It was wonderful.

We were allowed to sit wherever we wanted. Usually, I sat with friends and enjoyed our silly stories and games. Sometimes, however, I would sit with one of those women who I had watched make the food. There were a few in the church who were like grandparents to me. I loved them. As I sat by them, relishing every bite of my meal, they would ask me questions about the happenings of my young life. They talked to me as if I mattered. They cared.

Church potlucks have sadly seemed to go out of style. Now that I am grown I realize what I loved most about sitting down and eating with my church family was the feeling of community and knowing I belonged to something larger and grand. Praying together. Nourishing together. Those old hands are now a cherished example of wisdom I am trying to glean. I was fed in that community until I was full. Fed and filled in many different ways.