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Pain

Sitting With Grief

Sitting With Grief

Jul 23, 2018 //  by Jen Perrine //  1 Comment

 

We shake with joy, we shake with grief.

What a time they have, these two

Housed as they are in the same body.   -Mary Oliver

When I read this excerpt from a favorite poet, I was reminded of a time these two feelings were very much housed in my body. A time when grief and joy were so intertwined, there didn’t seem enough room for them to coexist. I felt both life and death pulsating in my heart and yet I needed to embrace both.

My husband and I always imagined having two children. It just seemed to make sense to us and all the dreams we held for our family. At first, we didn’t have any vision of boy or girl and truly didn’t sway one way or the other. However, as time went on, we felt as if God was telling us through many avenues that we would have a girl and then a little boy.

Well, 7 years passed and we now have three little girls whom we could not imagine our lives without. After our Bella came, we naturally assumed our little boy would follow. At the next ultrasound, “It’s a girl” was announced. And a few years later, another little girl filled our womb. After that last ultrasound, I felt the ground crumbling beneath me. It felt as if I had lost the compass of his voice and I was aimless. I had just witnessed the miracle of life inside of me yet felt death all around me. The life of a little girl was realized yet it felt as though I experienced the miscarriage of a promise. Where was our little boy? When did I lose the ability to hear his voice?

After those two ultrasounds were some of the hardest moments I have experienced. It was a type of complex grief I didn’t know how to navigate. I should hold joy yet I felt sadness. I should be grateful yet I felt disappointment. I even had to sit with a friend struggling with infertility and try to tell her my story without feeling overcome by shame. I had no words for my grief, and as it didn’t seem like an “acceptable grief” I also spoke few.

When held in the grips of grief, at times others offer little solace. Room is not afforded to make sense of our own loss. The process of embracing loss is often stunted by humble words of God’s control or His power to turn the bad for good. Words can contain truth yet hold little comfort in the moment. So often when we experience discomfort, we want to rush others’ process. But when we shortcut grief, we forfeit the depths of joy to follow its journey. Sitting with others through the grief is both a struggle and an honor. It is a struggle when the depths of grief seem so fragile.  I heavily rely on the Holy Spirit to guide me when listening to another’s story as a counselor and friend. It is an honor because the place of vulnerability at the heart of grief is sacred. It holds the promise of joy when all the person sees is fear and sadness.

So many tried to comfort me in that season, but when the depth of my fear was that I had lost His voice, I knew it was His voice I needed to hear to pull me out. I harbored lies that He no longer trusted me and manipulated me into having three children with the empty promise of a son. That fear and pain needed to be uprooted but with tenderness. In the midst of my pain, God asked me: “Jen, when do you take freedom away from your children?” I responded, “When the cost is too high.” His tender words: “Jen, Wren River (our third daughter) not in this world was too high a cost.” At that moment, acceptance washed over me. Fear dissipated. The lies slinked away with the darkness that had seemed to loom over me. I chose to walk the path of grief, and I stumbled upon stones of joy. Joy came as I gave way to grief’s journey.

The moments of grief still come over the words I thought I heard. I still wonder if the miscarriage I had was our little boy. I question the feeling that our quiver is full but the promise remains empty. But the lasting peace of His words is still so real. He spoke when my heart was postured to listen. He sat with me in the pain until I was ready. He waited to speak truth until I could be comforted by it. Beauty cannot rise from ashes if  blown away with empty breath.

Learn to sit with people in their pain. Be slow to speak and eager to listen. Allow the pain to wash over them in the safety of embrace. Make space for the freedom to put words to the loss, a space to question without the fear of appearing wayward. Hold the hope of better days and trust joy will come, but don’t allow that to stunt their time of grief. Be still and wait until He speaks. Only He knows the truth that holds their comfort.  Only He knows the path ahead.

 

 

 

 

Category: Grief, Pain, Reflection

Finding Proximity

Finding Proximity

May 3, 2018 //  by Jen Perrine //  1 Comment

Lately, I have been meditating on the word “proximity”. So many of the issues of disconnection in my own life have been met with the solution of proximity. When I choose to draw closer and press in to connect with the person rather than the behavior or put a face to an issue, I grow and gain further momentum to see the truth. There is both power and perspective to gain when we choose connection over distance.

This week, I had a really rough day with my daughter. I became lost in a toddler storm that if provoked can wreak havoc on an entire day. The more she lost control, the more I grasped for it. I lost sight of her. I saw defiance and opposition, but not her. There was a moment towards the end of the day where I took a deep breath, looked at her and asked God to tell me about her. Tell me the truth wrestling inside of her that I was too emotionally invested in my parenting strategies to see. I had been putting distance between her and I all day when she and I both needed me to press in. God reminded me of who this little girl truly was: teeming with life and energy, resilient to the elements. Everything we admired in the name we had chosen for her. Once I saw her again, when I had gained proximity to her truth, I softened. Empathy came. Remorse followed. And healing began.

God is teaching me proximity softens while distance divides. When I press in to gain proximity to others, I often find it experientially rewires pathways in my heart that compel me to empathy. And if I keep engaging that experience, it leads me to act. Experience is a brilliant teacher, changing our perspective in a lasting way that we can re-access over and over again.

I remember when Kevin and I lived in Spain, every Friday we would venture down from our little mountain village into a neighboring city to help coordinate a game night for the homeless. Sitting with those men and women, playing scrabble and listening to their stories engaged my heart in a way that completely rewrote the script in my mind of why the homeless might be homeless. These men were intelligent, vibrant and simply broken by life’s circumstances. Before homelessness was something I could easily ignore or write off by joining society’s view of their situation. But now that I gained proximity and I knew these men and their stories, my heart shifted.

We must place ourselves within the pathway of the world’s problems if we want to see clearly. When we remain comfortable, nestled in our communities that may look a little too much like us, our perspectives become myopic. A few weeks ago I felt God telling me “a myopic perspective cuts out the peripheral. If you want to see what I see, engage the peripheral around you”. In these last 6 years of motherhood, I have found my focus becoming narrower. I have been so focused on my babes, surrounding myself with mothers not too different from my own convictions and parenting paradigms. I spent this time in proximity and have grown to know and love my people, yet I find my heart being drawn to the peripheral of my own world and my eyes being opened to an even broader perspective.

As I said before, experience is a great teacher, but sometimes in pursuit of the grand, the small steps are left untaken, dismissed as insignificant. I am finding every single step towards gaining perspective is important and propels me to deeper growth. God has been drawing my heart into the racial tension and divide in America. I could dismiss it, ignore it, or put it on some untouched intention list all under the guise of feeling like I don’t have a grand realm of social influence or am restricted by this season in life. Those are the small, crippling lies that keep me from engaging any issue. So I read the article. I listen to the podcast. I download the book on Audible. I move closer. Each step I take breaks my heart a little more and engages my mind in a way that pulls me towards deeper connection to the injustice.

Just a warning about proximity: it doesn’t always engage this softer part of you. Sometimes when you step into a deeper empathy with an issue, deep sadness or anger can come. Because when we choose to enter someone else’s story and step into their pain, we feel it. However, if we can turn the anger into passion, it can motivate us to protect. And if we can take that deep sadness and turn it into tenderness, it compels us to draw closer and maybe make their world a little less lonely. Either way, proximity breeds hope.

So where do you need to press in? We cannot engage every single issue at all times, but I was once asked, “What breaks your heart and baffles your mind?” and told to start there. Wherever you are in life, allow proximity to bring hope to those around you and to your own heart as well. When you are struggling with connection to someone or to an issue, pray for proximity. Take small steps to position yourself to their story and their pain. See past the surface and gain perspective. Bring hope.

Category: Pain, Reflection, Uncategorized

The Strength That Lives in Weakness

The Strength That Lives in Weakness

Mar 15, 2018 //  by Ashley Perry //  3 Comments

Steffany Gretzinger, a Bethel Music artist, is releasing a new album at the end of the month. I have loved Steffany’s music since I first discovered her several years ago, so much so, that my husband and I used her song, “No Fear in Love” during our first dance at our wedding, and another one of her songs during the ceremony.  Her songs have helped me work through a lot of pain, heartache, and questioning.  Needless to say, I am pretty excited for her new album to come out.

Last weekend for my birthday, I attended a worship concert where Steffany premiered two songs off her album.  One song, called Save Me, had an exceptional impact on me.  (I encourage you to check out the song when you have a free moment).  I left the concert that night wondering why Steffany and I weren’t already best friends, because she obviously knew so much about my life and felt comfortable sharing it with the world.

During the drive home, the lyrics to her song ran through my mind:

 

[I tried to be the hero for a day
But all my superpowers failed to save]

 

Two years ago I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD). ADD can be a confusing, frustrating and inconsistent neurological condition to live with each day.  I always sensed that I had it, but never knew how greatly it impacted my life. Growing up, I tried very hard to compensate and even cover up my shortcomings. I struggled with a lot of the common symptoms: racing thoughts, disorganization, difficulty focusing, impulsivity, mood swings, you name it. Majority of the time I felt I was inadequate. I tried to live up to a standard I saw everyone else reaching…seemingly with much less effort than it took me, which became a constant source of my shame. My self- worth was wrapped up in how well I could or could not accomplish something. I wore the brief moments of self-sufficiency like a badge of honor. “See, look at me! I do have worth. I’m not just a failure.”

 

[So I turned in my ego and my cape
I was made to fly but not this way]

 

 Throughout my life, I tried to so hard to measure up, to be the hero in my story. But more times than not, my attempt at superpowers failed miserably, only exasperating my lack of self-worth.

My ego would not allow me to turn in my cape. It was my symbol of protection from all the lies that told me I was anything but strong and capable. Thankfully, my relationship with God has always brought me back to the truth that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. So, I really was made to fly, but not this way.

Now, I do not believe there is anything wrong with wanting to be a strong, capable woman. We all possess those desires and abilities. But even Wonder Woman had help every now and then! We were created for so much more than being our own hero. We were created for relationship.

  

[My weakness is my honor not my shame]

 

Because I yearned to prove my worth, needing help from anyone, even God, was a constant reminder that I was not “good enough.” In my mind, the need for relational support equated to shameful weakness. But as Steffany so eloquently put it, weakness is my honor, not my shame. My capability (or lack thereof) does not equate my worth.

Pondering her lyrics, I realize there is a quiet strength that lives in weakness. In the humble ability to honor others with our vulnerability. As if to say, “I honor you because I value your presence in my life enough to be real with you. That I am struggling. That I don’t have it all together. That I wear a mask of competency on a daily basis. So come on in. Because I can’t do this alone.”

This is definitely easier said than done. I can testify. As I continue to heal from the shame and lies I have carried, I begin to see the beauty and purpose in vulnerability. I encourage you to be the hero in your own life when you can, for it is always so empowering to stand strong in who you are! But when the time comes that you need an outside your comfort zone type help (and you will), ask for it. Be brave enough to know your worth amidst your weakness.

There is an African Proverb that says, “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.” My prayer is to go as far as I am supposed to in this life. And I pray the same for you.

Category: Pain, Reflection, Shame

Rediscovering Myself

Rediscovering Myself

Feb 17, 2018 //  by Di Kaemingk //  Leave a Comment

Nate and I have been married for almost 6 years. More than half of those have been using trying to have a baby. I won’t bore you with the timings, details, medical procedures, etc., but it’s been an emotionally exhausting journey. And it’s lead me to a journey of rediscovering myself.
 
As a woman, I have spent my entire married life planning around kids. 
  • I have had to get a job that had a good maternity leave policy and flexible hours
  • We spent years getting out of debt so it would be the best for your family
  • We bought a huge house in the suburbs and even had the babies rooms picked out
  • We’ve had our kids names picked out for three years and one of my friends just took one of our names (not on purpose)
  • I passed up opportunities in Chicago
  • I spent 4-5 days a week at acupuncture, chiropractic, and naturopathic doctors
  • I spent $30,000 on surgeries and fertility treatments that landed me with miscarriages (plus more expenses).
  • Trying to have a baby was all-consuming.
 
After my miscarriage, I spent months avoiding kids
  • I didn’t grocery shop during the day because that’s when all the stay-at-homes mom s would go.
  • I couldn’t go to my bible study because there were multiple pregnancy women. A couple times I made it to the parking lot, had a panic attack, popped a Xanax, and went home and watch Food Network with a bowl of ice cream.
 
After 4 years, I’ve finally found out that motherhood could not define me. Maybe motherhood will be a part of who I am, but it is not all of me. It’s not all I have to give, and hopefully, it won’t be the defining moment in my life. Because along the way, I’ve lost who I actually am, what I love to do, and what my purpose in life is. Who I was made to be. I spent so much time thinking that thing would define my life, that I never dreamed how I could have an impact with it.
“The fulfillment of our promises cannot be our substance because we need to eat every day.” – Lisa Bevere
In order to move on and find those things again. I need to shift my focus from family to who God has created ME to be. What are my gifts and talents? What can I contribute to society?
 
So, at 31-years-old I’m finally rediscovering myself. It’s scary. According to society, I should have this all figured out by now. But I don’t. And it will probably take me some time. So I hope you’re willing to walk on this journey with me and learn a little something about yourself along the way.

 

Category: Healing, Infertility, Pain

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