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Understanding the Infertility Struggle

I spent some time focusing on my fertility issues and the loss of identity of ever being a biological mom in “He’s Not on the Cross” and was, today, thinking about those very topics again. At my age, it makes sense that my Facebook newsfeed sees a myriad of creative pregnancy and birth announcements, and it causes me think back to when I saw all the engagement and wedding announcements while I remained single. But this is somehow…worse.

 

As most of you know, the majority of people, even extremely good friends, will call you (or text you) with a pregnancy announcement and expect excitement. I mean, why shouldn’t they? They are excited, rightly so, and, as their friend, you ought to be, as well. Plus, a baby on the way is an exciting thing, in general! And you are excited, but…

 

“I know you’re happy for me, but I want to be sensitive to your feelings. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through, especially every time you hear about someone’s new pregnancy. So while I’m happy you’re excited for me, I don’t ever want you to think that I don’t care about you or what you’re going through. Are you ok?”

 

Those words—you long to hear them.

 

What’s amazing to me is that I have heard them. I have one friend who, with all three of her pregnancies, has been amazing regarding my feelings, which makes it much easier to be genuinely happy for her.

 

It’s not that I wouldn’t be happy anyway: this is my best friend we’re talking about! But the fact that she recognizes that I’m not always going to be super cheery about someone’s pregnancy because it hurts to think about it is amazing to me. That she takes the time to think about how I’m feeling, even though she’s obviously extremely excited, will never cease to amaze me.

 

 

Alyssa is an author trying to break into the field, but willing to go where God wants her to with her writing. She writes Young Adult Christian novels in an effort to bring the truth back into the lives of young people in which it is often so severely lacking.

She has overcome 13 brain surgeries, 4 spinal cord surgeries, and countless others since 2009 alone, and battles two organic brain issues, a traumatic brain injury (TBI), Bipolar II, two different anxiety disorders, and more mental illnesses. Her goal is to reach others with the Gospel and what God’s taught her through her ailments.

Alyssa lives in Central Florida with her husband, part-time daughter (a blessing that came with marriage!), and three fur babies.

Check out Alyssa’s blog: http://teacupsandpaperroses.wordpress.com/

And check out her author Facebook page: http://facebook.com/teacupsandpaperroses

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An Open Letter to the Un-churched Husband

Dear Husband,

 

I honestly don’t know where to begin with this. I certainly don’t want to make you angry, but there is something I need you to know: I need you to be in church.

 

And not just you—I need to be in church with you, and our little one with us.

 

I know that fishing is an alluring activity (no pun intended, honestly), but on a Sunday morning? If we’re up that early anyway, why can we not be in the Lord’s house?

 

You see, dear husband, I grieve over the fact that you’re not in church, making it harder to get myself and our sweet, newly born-again child in church.

 

I pray you become the leader I know you can be. The man of God, after His own heart, that I know you can be. The born-again, living-the-life and not just talking-the-talk believer I know you can be.

 

But none of this is possible without our Lord and Savior.

 

My dearest husband, I don’t and won’t pretend to know whether you truly know Christ as your personal Savior or not. I simply pray that, either way, God will grab a hold of your heart—that fishing for men will become more important to you than fishing for mere literal fish, that God’s game plan for your life will become more important to you than the game plan your favorite football team has laid out, that you’ll get back in the Lord’s house and graft your branch into His Vine. Because He’s waiting. He’s there.

 

And so am I.

 

With all the love in my heart,

Your Wife

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Holding on to the Hope of Eternal Bliss

“For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all” – 2 Corinthians 4:17

For people suffering from anxiety and/or depression, sometimes it feels like God is literally the only reason you have for living. It’s hard to “live” for much else when you can’t find joy anymore in activities you used to love. It’s a terrible thing not to find joy in fun hobbies and activities, and God doesn’t want things to be that way. But as I mentioned earlier, He can use it for good. When your life feels emptied of all else, God can be your everything. You can experience an intimacy with Him you never thought possible.

That’s not to say it’s not hard. This kind of suffering is hard, no matter how close you are to God and especially with a disorder that constantly drags you down and depletes you of energy. In these times I think it’s helpful to remember our great hope of eternal joy with God.

The Bible, from the Old Testament to the New Testament, constantly points us to a better world where everything will be made right. That’s why Jesus came—to usher in the Kingdom of God. To all those who trust in Him, He promises eternity in this New Kingdom. He promises to reward those same people for their good works in His name and for persevering.

“God ‘will repay each person according to what they have done.’ To those who by persistence in doing good seek glory, honor and immortality, he will give eternal life” (Romans 2:6-7).

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving” (Colossians 3:23-24).

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up” (Galatians 6:9).

“His master replied, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!’” (Matthew 25:21).

“Look, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to each person according to what they have done” (Revelation 22:12).

So hold on. God sees you fighting, and He will reward you richly for it. It will be more than worth it. “Our…troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all” (my emphasis).

 

This is an excerpt from my book Anxiety and Depression Are (Not) Always Sins.

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When Mother’s Day Changes

This Mother’s Day was just like any other: my husband and I took my mom and dad out to eat; our daughter spent the weekend with her biological mom and step-dad but still called me to wish me a “Happy Mother’s Day”; my husband got me something most people would laugh at as a gift but was something I not only loved but needed.

 

So yes, just like any other.

 

Except…

 

It wasn’t.

 

This was the first Mother’s Day that I didn’t need to find the perfect card for my grandmother, someone who was really more like a second mother and thus deserved a card befitting that. I didn’t need to scour the shelves, hoping to find a card that said “Mimi” instead of “Grandma” or “Nana.” If fact, I avoided the card aisles in every store. I couldn’t even bring myself to buy a card for my mom because it would’ve reminded me that Mimi didn’t need a card. Even if I had gotten my mom a card, she would’ve just cried, thinking about my grandmother.

 

This was the first Mother’s Day I didn’t grab that bouquet of pink roses right before checking out with a card, the first Mother’s Day I didn’t have to frantically try to remember if we or my parents had a vase for the flowers, the first Mother’s Day I didn’t buy a jumbo Hershey bar for my Mimi. The first Mother’s Day without her.

 

But this was also a Mother’s Day of firsts for her. I’m not positive on what my great-grandmother’s beliefs were, but if she was a believer, this was Mimi’s first Mother’s Day with her own mother in over fifty years. I know this was her first Mother’s Day with three of her children—her twins, Mary and Joseph, one of whom was stillborn while the other lived mere hours and another baby that no one knows the gender of…except my Mimi now. I also know that she is spending her first Mother’s Day with her one grandbaby that my mom miscarried—she’s spending a Mother’s Day with my sibling before my mom has even gotten that chance.

 

And it was Mimi’s first Mother’s Day spent in the literal presence of God.

 

So, with all that, how can I be sad? Don’t get me wrong: today was hard. All these firsts without her are going to continue to be rough—her birthday coming up, Thanksgiving, Christmas. But she is without pain; she is happy. I’m sure she knows we miss her, but she’s experiencing things we’ve only imagined at this point.

 

So, I prayed a small prayer, that God would wish her a Happy Mother’s Day for me. No, I don’t know how all that works, so I don’t know if that’s something God does—but I like to think it is.

 

If you have your mother here, or someone like a mother, don’t take her for granted. One day, you’ll be avoiding card aisles and crying because you don’t need to pick up the roses.

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He’s Not on the Cross

With Easter approaching, the Cross is heavy on the minds of many. But as it’s been pointed out time and again in the church I attend, we really ought to focus more on the empty Grave. Christ is not on the Cross, and He’s not in the Grave. He’s risen and ascended, and that is where we can find our power—or rather, God’s power to live the lives He has for us.

 

I’ve been trying to rest in this power lately. My husband and I have been struggling with infertility since the beginning of “us.” On top of that, I have Bipolar II, along with a double dose of anxiety disorders (and a myriad of other issues that can be passed on). I often wonder if I’m barren because of my health issues. God has yet to see fit to bless us with a child. You see, I am a mom—I have a beautiful step-daughter, whom I never feel the need to use the phrase “step-” for—but we’ve not been blessed with our own child.

 

Knowing I’m infertile has its own struggles and grief. I never realized you could mourn a child that never was and never will be—a child of imagination. At best, the grief that accompanies knowing you will never bring life into this world is hard to deal with. At worst, it feels impossible. In a late-night fit of anxiety, I turned to my laptop before I began to write this to look up verses on anxiety and uncertainty of the future.

 

And I am glad I did.

 

There are so many promises in the Bible—promises that are possible because Jesus isn’t on that Cross anymore, and He isn’t in that Grave. Promises of a Heavenly Hope—one that is far different from earthly hope.

 

I’ve always believed earthly hope to be paralyzing. We spend time hoping for things that may never come to pass, and our hope often turns into worrying about things over which we have no control. We often get stuck, unable to move because we want something so desperately it infiltrates every area of our lives, immobilizing us.

 

But our God is a great God, and He is a God Who keeps His Word—that is, His promises. (Which are found in His Word—capital W. And I don’t see the meaning of that phrase and the use of the capital letter to be coincidental. God works out even the smallest of details. And if He can do that, how much more can He work out the bigger details in my life and the lives of others?)

 

Here are just a few verses that really stood out to me tonight, as I grasped for a shred of anything that can give me Godly, Heavenly, Eternal Hope:

 

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in You.”

–Psalm 56:3 (NIV)

 

 

“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You.”

–Isaiah 26:3 (ESV)

 

“Come to Me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”

Matthew 11:28 (NLT)

 

“For I am the Lord your God, Who upholds your right hand, Who says to you, ‘Do not fear, I will help you.’”

–Isaiah 41:13 (NASB)

 

Did these verses magically melt all my trepidation and anxiety? No, they didn’t, but they helped immensely. I pray that they’ll help you, too. God does have a plan (Jeremiah 29:11), and He will bring it to pass.

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Waiting for Her to Die

Waiting for her to die,
Should we be happy or sad?
Should we be sorry or glad?

No more treatment.
No more meds
Those doctors have lost their creds.
No more stuff,
She’s had enough.

“Let me go!
You all must know
I’ve had a good life.
I’ve been a good wife.
And a loyal mother.

“I’ve been a good sister to each dear brother
A little demanding, yes that is true,
But, I’ve always been there for each of you.

“Unhook the tubes.
Detach each wire.
Bath me and put on a fresh gown.
Comb my hair and lay me back down.
It’s time for me to retire.

“I’m going home
No more to roam.”

Should we be happy or sad?
Should we be sorry or glad?

 

 

Anna J. Small Roseboro, a National Board Certified Teacher, wife of fifty-two years, mother of three, is a published poet and author of fiction, and non-fiction texts, but is primarily an educator. She has over forty years experience in five states teaching English and Speech to students in middle school, high school Education Theory, Curriculum Design, and Oral Rhetoric to those in college.  Now retired, she coaches new writers and early career educators across the nation, and emerging leaders at her home church, New Community Church of God in Kentwood, Michigan. Her website is http://teachingenglishlanguagearts.com/

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“Just Come to Him” May Be a Better Prayer Approach than “Get in the Right Mindset”…Especially for Hurting People

There’s a notion that you must speak properly to God in prayer. It says you must be on your best behavior, that you must be in the right mindset.

I’ve heard several references to Christian writers who advocate this. They say to sit in silence, meditate on God’s word and His holiness, or something of the like. This practice can be encapsulated by a quote from Kenneth Bailey in his book Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes: “Twice in the recent past it was my extraordinary privilege to personally greet Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II…How much more should we sense the awesome nature of our approach to ‘Our Father who is in the heavens’ and be appropriately prepared to address him.”

I think there’s a place for this kind of practice in the Christian life. It’s not bad to meditate on God’s word or holiness or how grateful you are to Him. However, I think any attempt to claim this should be our routine every time we pray is mistaken.

As expressed in the earlier quote, many people view God as king and therefore think He should always be addressed as such. God is the King, but I think this earthly analogy breaks down when considering prayer. You’d never address a king with anything less than the best decorum. However, God seems to encourage spontaneous and even frustrated prayer. In a sense, God doesn’t demand that we always address Him with the utmost respect. He’s a king who’s more interested in a genuine, deep relationship. He wants you to express yourself to Him, all the way down from the depths of your soul.

Let’s look at some examples from David and Jesus:

 

“How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?” (Psalm 13:1-2).

“But now you have rejected and humbled us;
you no longer go out with our armies.

You made us retreat before the enemy,
and our adversaries have plundered us.

You gave us up to be devoured like sheep
and have scattered us among the nations.

You sold your people for a pittance,
gaining nothing from their sale.

You have made us a reproach to our neighbors,
the scorn and derision of those around us.

You have made us a byword among the nations;
the peoples shake their heads at us.

I live in disgrace all day long,
and my face is covered with shame
at the taunts of those who reproach and revile me,
because of the enemy, who is bent on revenge.

All this came upon us,
though we had not forgotten you;
we had not been false to your covenant.

Our hearts had not turned back;
our feet had not strayed from your path.

But you crushed us and made us a haunt for jackals;
you covered us over with deep darkness.

If we had forgotten the name of our God
or spread out our hands to a foreign god,

would not God have discovered it,
since he knows the secrets of the heart?

Yet for your sake we face death all day long;
we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.

Awake, Lord! Why do you sleep?
Rouse yourself! Do not reject us forever.

Why do you hide your face
and forget our misery and oppression?” (Psalm 44:9-24).

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46).

 

This is the kind of communication He wants. He’s not interested in a “respectful” façade (Jesus says in Matthew 6:7 to refrain from empty words in prayer). He knows you at your best and your worst anyway. Why would He care about a proper appearance when you approach Him? He wants you, more than anything, to draw closer to Him. Spewing all your “junk” at Him, so to speak, does that better than approaching him with “proper etiquette.”

I’ve heard so many people say they feel they can’t pray. How can I with all I’ve done? How do I talk to Him? I feel too much shame, guilt, fear, hurt, anger (and yes, this could be anger at God), apathy, distrust, confusion, distance. I can’t bring myself to pray. To these people, it wouldn’t be helpful to say, “You need to get in the right mindset before praying.” No, to these people I say this: Just come to Him. Just start speaking, even if it’s frustration.

I once heard a therapist say, “If you don’t think you can pray, just go home, open up a window, and scream (a certain curse word I won’t repeat here). That can be considered praying.” While I don’t necessarily endorse the expletive, I agree with his point: Let everything out, don’t hold back. Start spewing. If you spew consistently, you may be surprised how deep your prayer life is a year from now.

Again, meditation and quoting God’s word before praying isn’t bad. But for those of us who are addicted, feel numb to God, feel hurt by God, feel mad at God, feel they can’t see Him, are scared to approach Him, or fill in the blank, just coming to Him may be the best way to pray.

 

“If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” (Matthew 7:11).

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

“whoever comes to me I will never drive away” (John 6:37).

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The State of Numb

“Numb (adjective): unable to think, feel, or react normally because of something that shocks or upsets you”

 

The above is one of the definitions of numb, as stated in the Merriam-Webster online dictionary, and, although it makes complete sense, no one ever warned that a state of numbness would overcome me during the loss of a close loved one.

 

I had figured I’d cry relentlessly, whether sad tears or happy ones from sweet memories. I knew I’d feel as if a piece of me were missing. What I didn’t know is that I would get to a point at which I didn’t feel anything.

 

At first, I thought I was suddenly heartless, and there are times I still feel that way, although I’ve been told by multiple people that this is normal. No one had mentioned that a stage of the grieving process can be complete numbness. Not even peace—just nothing.

 

Navigating the waters of nothingness is difficult. When you feel nothing and keep praying for peace or even more tears that don’t come, it’s hard not to feel like you’re a monster for not feeling something. There’s a song out by Lady Antebellum that states, “I’d rather hurt than feel nothing at all,” and how true that is! But when you don’t feel anything, you still need to live.

 

My life verses have been such a rescue in this time. For just about everything in life, I go back to Isaiah 55:8-9: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts” (KJV). No matter how hard it may be, I must keep reminding myself that God doesn’t act like us humans: He doesn’t even think like us! It’s frightening in a sense but comforting because when I can’t see the road ahead, when I can’t even see the next step, He’s there and already has it figured out in His way and timing—which is nothing like mine.

I’m still walking through this uncharted land in which nothing makes sense because I’ve never lost someone this close to me. What makes it more difficult is the fact that, at the time of writing this, the person has yet to go home and see our Father’s face. I’ve been watching this person actively pass for a week now, in a mostly comatose state, and numbness was the last thing I thought I’d feel.

As I continue on my way, I’m learning. I’m learning (again and again) that God is faithful, that He doesn’t leave us or forsake us, that He is love, that His grace is sweet and sufficient, that His mercies are new every morning. I cling to Him as my rock because He does know what He’s doing and simply wants me to be still as He does His work.

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We’re All Hurting. So Why Don’t We Talk About It?

Let’s be real: we’re all hurting. If not, then I maintain you’re in the minority.

 

After starting the recovery process years ago, I noticed how many people around me were hurting. I saw the benefits of recovery for myself and realized most people would also benefit from recovery and/or therapy.

So why aren’t we more open about our problems? Why aren’t more people in therapy or recovery groups?

For one, there’s still a stigma around therapy and recovery. For many people, if you tell them you’re in recovery or therapy, they immediately wonder what’s wrong with you and if they should even be around you. Your reputation is instantly tarnished. This is despite the fact that those same people are hurting inside because of a break up or the death of a loved one.

We want to display a good image of ourselves. We want people to think we’re smart, we’re beautiful, we’re upstanding, we’re successful, we’re godly. In short, we don’t want others to think we have problems.

But that’s the thing: we all have problems. We’re all trying to look perfect for each other, yet none of us are. It’s a big masquerade.

Many of our problems simply come from hiding behind these masks. We’re lonely, depressed, anxious, grieving, hurting. If we’d just open up and receive support, we’d feel better. Many of our wounds would be healed. We’d be happier.

Instead, we feel crushed by the pressure to appear perfect—like we have it all together. We feel trapped because we’re terrified of others knowing the truth. And it eats at us. Because of this, some feel they can’t go on another day, which is one reason why seemingly perfect people fall from grace overnight or take their own life.

I pray that our society—including churches—would be more transparent about personal problems. I pray it would become more “mainstream” for people to discuss their issues. I pray we would throw away the masks and be real with each other. I pray hurting people would feel less terrified of coming out into the open. I pray the stigma around therapy and recovery would end. I pray we would truly connect with one another.

 

There’s freedom in honesty. There’s freedom in true connection.

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Acquainted with that Song

While this poem doesn’t fit tidily into any of our three categories, I think it is more than appropriate to publish it this week in honor of Martin Luther King Jr. It is a profound poem, and I hope you enjoy it. – W.R. Harris

 

A Short Background of the Poem by the Author (Originally Published in TEACHING ENGLISH MIDDLE SCHOOL LANGUAGE ARTS: Incorporating 21st Century Literacies)

You probably recall from attending poetry readings yourself that poets often explain the incident that gave rise to particular poems. Invite your students to do this and model such an introduction yourself. That was done before reading the draft of the poem evoked by the Robert Frost poem, “Acquainted with the Night” read that day. Here is what I gave as background for the poem.

In 1996, I was a part of a team of teachers who, sponsored by Rotary International, served as ambassadors of education to Kenya, Uganda, and the French island of Mauritius. I had never been to Africa and was thrilled about the opportunity, but a little apprehensive at the same time.

Families who were curious about us and about our country often volunteered to be our hosts. On our last evening in Mombasa, Kenya, our new friends had a lawn party and invited members of the local Rotary groups and their families to attend. After dinner, they asked each member of our team to speak about our time in Mombasa. When I arose to speak, trying to compose myself and gather my thoughts, I looked up. Seeing the brilliant night sky, it all of a sudden it struck me that I could be standing on the soil of my ancestors; they could have stood in this same place and witnessed such a sparkly navy blue night.

As a fifth-generation descendant of African slaves, I don’t know where exactly in Africa my family is from. Nevertheless, standing there in the Kenyan night moved me deeply. Tears leaked from my eyes; primordial memories arose and clogged my throat; I couldn’t see; I couldn’t speak, but somehow I began to sing the old Negro Spiritual, “Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child.”  To this day, I have no idea why that particular song came to me. Nor did I realize how deeply lodged in my memory that experience had become—until I began patterning Robert Frost’s poem “Acquainted with the Night.”  It was then that I understood Epstein’s point that writing is a form of discovery.

Describing my African experience did help my students understand that we humans often do not know what we think or feel until we read what we write. I encourage you to write with your students, too. You, too, may unlock something memorable about an experience you have had and may write a poem you are willing to share with your students. Here is mine.

 

 

Acquainted with That Song

 

I have been one acquainted with that song.

I’ve sung the song in tune—and out of tune

I have held that high note oh so long.

 

I have sung the song—clear like a loon.

I have kept within the music’s beat

And swooped down low, yet staying right in tune.

 

I’ve sung that song and let my voice just soar

While deep within my soul, the words brought tears

That slipped right down my cheeks; my heart just tore.

 

That song, reminding me of trials sore

Experienced by people who did so long

For freedom, justice, rights, and so much more.

 

Freedoms they’d awaited far too long.

I have been one acquainted with that song.

 

—Anna J. Small Roseboro, “Acquainted with That Song,”

patterned after “Acquainted with the Night” by Robert Frost

Published in TEACHING ENGLISH MIDDLE SCHOOL LANGUAGE ARTS: Incorporating 21st Century Literacies (2010)Rowman and Littlefield: Education