My other half died in the womb we shared and though we never got to play barbies or open presents together, I always want to be the best at things. I feel misunderstood by the world a lot. My love language is physical touch and I crave close friendships. Gaining three older sisters in my teens was a dream come true. When someone has my personality, I air on the side of freakily telepathic.
Last weekend we celebrated my birthday with one side of the family and I heard my mom so loud and clear, a sort of sword piercing my heart.
"It's a good thing I only had one. I don't even like kids." she said it just like that. And of course she was talking to my best friend pregnant with twin boys (who lost a triplet). Over the years she has joked a lot. About not wanting me and screwing me up so bad. Sometimes it doesn't sound like a joke but it is not her love nor her provision for a child I doubt.
It is how a woman could honestly not want children--not like them. It is that I am alone and I shouldn't have been but God ordained it and it and was. Mom says God knew she couldn't handle two of me. I say life is ever precious and I wish we shared a room. Sometimes, I miss this baby that should have been, that was. I miss memories we never had and I miss the loneliness that would have never been.
Today as I celebrate twenty-two years of life I remember the preciousness of it all and yet it is fleeting, the blink of an eye I remind myself.
Hearing my mom for the third time in a couple weeks boldly proclaim her dislike for kids last night, her thanksgiving for losing a baby. Realizing that I spent a third of my years trying to die. All of it weighs heavy like my suitcase I lugged inside after getting back from the beach last night, sunkissed and more alive.
Even in a year where my dad jumps off the deep and plummets into rehab for the umpteenth time, in a year where the secrets that have tied me down are loosed and brought into the light, in a year where this family in the country changes my world, in a year where my best friend is hiding two humans under her growing belly and my adopted momma is mourning a year of great loss and my mom is thankful that God only allowed me to live. I breathe the cold air as I run through these country roads and I have to stop to weep because I am alive at the age of twenty-two and life is straight up messy.
This year, my flesh drives me away from hope and yet He has a plan and purpose and He counts the hairs on my head and I live. Deep breathes of grace, not by anything I do or deserve. Grace abundant.
I am thankful for this day because God's grace is so incredibly evident in this celebration. Because He gave me life and now my life is for His glory. Because whether or not I was really wanted from the start is irrelevant since I am here, since He chose me and set me apart before I was a day old. Since His ways are higher then mans.
Because even if my mom doesn't like kids, these twenty-two years she has loved me hard. Grace.
Because the Lord allowed me to live even if my twin never took a breathe outside of the womb. Grace. Because even at the age of eighteen when I tried so hard, He just wouldn't let me die. Weeping grace.
And because at that age of twenty-two I feel ancient and withered like the tree out my window and sometimes I blow with the wind. Life has hurt and even this year I have been close to the fire and so much has been burnt away with the leaves I smell in the icy breeze this morning. Oh I know the suffering of the year and I think some days it lingers thick and musky on my sweater.
But today, today I say strip down the layers and dance because the victory is coming--it's here too, in these twenty-two years of life, in living life with Christ and learning to be free and learning to trust for He has made a way. And one day it's all gunna end and He will stand victorious and I am redeemed and bought and He calls me beloved.
Friends, I am so thankful for you and the way you speak Truth as the winds blow hard and in the quiet and the storm I hear the echos loud and continuous and here we are...twenty-two years and I pray He is glorified until my last breath.
Today as I celebrate twenty-two years of life I remember the preciousness of it all and yet it is fleeting, the blink of an eye I remind myself.
Hearing my mom for the third time in a couple weeks boldly proclaim her dislike for kids last night, her thanksgiving for losing a baby. Realizing that I spent a third of my years trying to die. All of it weighs heavy like my suitcase I lugged inside after getting back from the beach last night, sunkissed and more alive.
Even in a year where my dad jumps off the deep and plummets into rehab for the umpteenth time, in a year where the secrets that have tied me down are loosed and brought into the light, in a year where this family in the country changes my world, in a year where my best friend is hiding two humans under her growing belly and my adopted momma is mourning a year of great loss and my mom is thankful that God only allowed me to live. I breathe the cold air as I run through these country roads and I have to stop to weep because I am alive at the age of twenty-two and life is straight up messy.
This year, my flesh drives me away from hope and yet He has a plan and purpose and He counts the hairs on my head and I live. Deep breathes of grace, not by anything I do or deserve. Grace abundant.
I am thankful for this day because God's grace is so incredibly evident in this celebration. Because He gave me life and now my life is for His glory. Because whether or not I was really wanted from the start is irrelevant since I am here, since He chose me and set me apart before I was a day old. Since His ways are higher then mans.
Because even if my mom doesn't like kids, these twenty-two years she has loved me hard. Grace.
Because the Lord allowed me to live even if my twin never took a breathe outside of the womb. Grace. Because even at the age of eighteen when I tried so hard, He just wouldn't let me die. Weeping grace.
And because at that age of twenty-two I feel ancient and withered like the tree out my window and sometimes I blow with the wind. Life has hurt and even this year I have been close to the fire and so much has been burnt away with the leaves I smell in the icy breeze this morning. Oh I know the suffering of the year and I think some days it lingers thick and musky on my sweater.
But today, today I say strip down the layers and dance because the victory is coming--it's here too, in these twenty-two years of life, in living life with Christ and learning to be free and learning to trust for He has made a way. And one day it's all gunna end and He will stand victorious and I am redeemed and bought and He calls me beloved.
Friends, I am so thankful for you and the way you speak Truth as the winds blow hard and in the quiet and the storm I hear the echos loud and continuous and here we are...twenty-two years and I pray He is glorified until my last breath.
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