Crybabies Unite

I remember a night in my high school years, probably some of the tougher times on my poor mom, that I came home from a football game and was just so down. She was always good at getting me to talk things out, and I remember saying, "Do you ever just feel like crying? You don't really know why, but you just want to cry?" Of course, I was asking my sweet, sensitive mother, who had been quite well-known in that time to shed a few tears here and there. And she kindly said, "You bet I do!" I don't know if this is just a disease that afflicts those of us from Venus and not those from Mars. Or at least the Martians probably wouldn't admit it. But there are those days....

For those of you just tuning in, even though probably most of you know me well, let me catch you up to speed. I was debating how much to share of the crummy stuff, and when to share it (blog #2 sounds like a good place to start). My friend Luellen told me today, kindly and wisely, that there are people who care about me and want to know these things so that they can be praying. Well, get on your knees, Brothers and Sisters, because here we go. A few months ago, I had a miscarriage. There, I said it. And a lot of you who know me are thinking, what? I didn't know she was pregnant! Well, it was very early on. I had only known for about a week and a half or so that I was pregnant, and like any superstitious woman, was biding my time to make the big announcement. I had not yet "felt" pregnant. We told our families and that was about it because we were waiting for the right time. I started spotting the week after we told my family (Abigail even got to run into the kitchen wearing a sweatshirt that said "Big Sister"). I went to the doctor and was prepared for what was about to happen. Dr. Denise said that probably something just didn't line up right in the chromosomes, and that it was nothing I had done. I knew when it happened (when it started) and then it was pretty much over. I had a couple of days of feeling kind of sorry for myself. I know that might sound selfish, feeling sorry for myself. I think because I had not had "symptoms" of pregnancy, I had not really bonded with the idea of being pregnant yet. I could look at Abigail and realize that I am able to have kids and that this was just supposed to happen this way. Paul and I had some sweet moments to talk it over, and then we were ready to move forward. This was in March. I don't bring it up now for belated sympathy. I have very much accepted and moved on, and really it was not that "bad" of an experience over all, compared to what many women go through. I think as time has gone on, I just realized that it was not something I needed to keep inside. I have gradually told people when it pertained to the conversation, and we are all okay here in the Cooper house with this matter. It just felt like it was time to tell it.

And the rest...Paul's mom has stage 4 breast and bone cancer. Our house in Muncie still has not sold and the property taxes will be almost tripling in August (on the market over a year now). That's it. Those are my Big Three. The three things I pray about the most. The three things I cry over the most (really Paul's mom and the house are what I cry over....I am just waiting on God for the baby part). The three things that seem like they are always in the background of everything else...my prayers, my/our decisions, my/our schedule, my/our checkbook. They are just there, and I have absolutely no control over any of them. And when I pray, I just see over and over again a big flash in my mind's eye of the word "WAIT". I have realized that the word "wait" has all new meaning to me now, and yet I have no idea how to do it.

So today, I was having one of those blue days. The kind of day where I still do laundry, and made spaghetti sauce homemade for dinner, and checked my email, and played with Abigail, but this hovering stuff is in my head. When Abigail took her nap this afternoon, I sat down for my quiet time. And I bawled. Before I even opened my Bible, I bawled. I tried to pray, and I cried. And I needed so desperately to hear from God. To know that He was hearing me. So first, I opened to my next chapter reading through I Samuel, and wouldn't you know it...it was David and Goliath. I think whenever anyone is going through hard times, the number one suggestion is for them to read Job (anyone ever grow weary of turning to Job for someone who had it way worse?) and then you read David and Goliath. I kind of smiled through my tears, and told God all of the giants I am facing right now. And felt a little hopeful for the same victory that David had.

Then, I flipped over to Psalms. Sometimes I read whatever chapter corresponds with that day of the month. So, today being the 7th (or was it the 6th?), I began to turn toward chapter 7, but then got stopped to read chapter 6. And here, as I sat on my couch in my living room, crying about the same Big 3 I have cried about for much too long, is a portion of what I read:

Psalm 6:6
I am weary with my moaning;
every night I flood my bed with tears;
I drench my couch with my weeping.

I know, right? Here I had just read about David's slaying of this big giant, and then I read the psalm that HE WROTE saying that he gets wearing of crying out to God about the same stuff over and over again. And that he "DRENCHES HIS COUCH WITH WEEPING." I have been a believer since the fresh little age of 8, and have read this Psalm, I'm sure, many times (I love, love, love the Psalms). And here I am, drenching my couch with David. I don't think I have ever had a verse speak to me so much, right then and there. I don't think I have ever felt so related to, so watched, so understood. But that wasn't even the best part...

Psalm 6:9
The Lord has heard my plea;
the Lord accepts my prayer.

I needed so badly to hear from Him. My dear friend Charlotte (get used to this name, I'm sure I will mention her more) loves one of God's names being "The God Who Sees Me" (Genesis 16:13). The One who sees me cry. The One who sees my heart. The One who sees me exactly where I am today. I felt so "seen". The fact that I opened to that Psalm, not being sure whether today was the 6th or the 7th, and reading the psalm that spoke to me right where I was, crying on my couch....I was being watched, for sure.

So, that is where I was today, and probably will be again. I don't want to be in this place as often as I am, but I wait. Today, tomorrow when I wake up, I will actively choose to wait on God. To wait on Him to act. To wait on Him to provide. To wait on Him to heal. To wait on Him to breathe life. And this is the verse I was given while looking for the one listed above:
Isaiah 64:4
From of old no one has heard or perceived by the ear, no eye has seen a God besides you, who acts for those who wait for him.

So, I will wait on the God who Sees me.