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Judgment is not a virtue

8/27/2015

Yesterday, a woman rang our doorbell to ask if we wanted our curb painted with our address number. Ours is faded badly and needed to be updated. I almost said no. Then, I figured it's a legitimate hustle for someone needing extra money and since we hadn't done it - why not?

I was leaving for a meeting at church so I volunteered to pay her in advance. When I returned home, the curb wasn't painted. Sigh. I'd been played.

I almost took to social media to rant last night. (That's what it's for, right?) For some reason, I thought better of it and shrugged the lost money as a lesson learned. "They'll get theirs for stealing my money," I thought self-righteously.

Tonight, when we got home, we found her husband painting the curb. Turns out, he didn't have the burnt orange paint I'd requested in his van, so he had to get it and come back today. He had gotten off schedule and promised to finish the following day.

Lessons learned: Patience is a virtue; Judgment is not.

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Putting Pain in Perspective

8/20/2015

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Eight years ago today, I suffered a miscarriage.

I don’t use the word “suffered” lightly. It was one of the most difficult ordeals I have ever encountered. The physical pain was nothing compared the emotional wreckage that was left after I read the words “spontaneous abortion” on my discharge papers.

Devastated. Hopeless. Forgotten. No three words could have described me better on that day and the weeks that followed.

My husband tried to comfort me to no avail. Already the mother of an almost two-year-old, I felt that I knew exactly what I had lost. How could I ever recover from this emptiness that filled my broken heart?

I journaled. I prayed. I cried. I went to grief counseling and eventually found my way. I placed my faith in God and gave my heart to my husband finally ready to return his love.

Two months later I discovered I was pregnant. Three months later I found out I was carrying twins. Can. You. Say. Shocked?

The joy of hearing two little heartbeats was accompanied with fear that I had not known in my first pregnancy. Would my body fail me again? Was this too good to be true? There were lots of questions with very few answers. Only faith. Only hope.

The following June, I delivered healthy twin boys at 37 weeks and one day.

By the time August 20 rolled around, I had two 11-week-old babies in each arm. Even then, I felt compelled to read my grief journal. The words stung. The pain felt so real and so intolerable.

I read the entire journal while I squeezed the boys even tighter. That loss had put the plans in place for the angels I was holding now. I couldn’t see it then and I’m glad I couldn’t. That grief deserved all the energy I had put into it.

Without paying attention to my pain at the time – and working to get through it, I’m not sure I would have recovered enough to return to my husband and share the love that eventually made these two wonderful lives. I had never seen such a beautiful rainbow after such a devastating storm.

This was the first year I didn’t read the journal. Not that I didn’t pause and remember her short little time with me inside my body because I did. I do often.

However, I can’t think of her without thinking of the two little boys who came to me after she was gone. Their presence is a gift for which I am forever grateful. Every time they smile or laugh or dance or sing; it puts that pain in perspective. And I smile right along with them.

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The Value of Intersection

8/11/2015

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Listening to a representative from a local shelter that helps families affected by domestic violence provided some sobering thoughts. My county had the highest per capita murder rate of women killed by intimate partners. Before their death, none of the murder victims had sought shelter with any of the local organizations whose mission is to save them. Not one.

The presenter stated to a stunned audience, “Where there is intersection, she does not die.”

When we cross their paths, we can help them and probably save their live, she reiterated.

If the trained staff can just make contact with the women, the victims’ survival chances increase. If they are removed from the danger, they are put in a safe place and protected from those who want to hurt them. They are trained and equipped to start their lives anew. But, first, they have to seek refuge and be removed from the threat.

Seeking help is easier said (or written about on a blog) than done. It can be embarrassing and overwhelming. Still, the facts are clear: those who get help get helped.

I’ve been like that with God. I’ve been wandering aimlessly at various points in my life needing to cross His path to get back on track. And, when we have intersection, my life is changed.

I’m so grateful for the many shelters in our county that provide safety and security for victims of domestic violence.

I’m also grateful for my Heavenly Father who interceded in my life and placed me in His loving, protective arms.

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Who's Shay?

Shay is a married, working mother of three boys whose interests range from politics to sports to cupcake tasting to classic television. She's seen every episode of "Friends" and "A Different World" and searches for "Law & Order" whenever she has the remote. Insightful and perplexed, Shay writes when her heart is full. Some are based on her Christian faith; others on her whimsical observations of life. The power of the pen gives her peace keeping her grounded in a challenging, overwhelming yet fulfilling world. All writings have copyright protection. Writings from a previous blog are being combined into this one.

Judgment is not a virtue

Putting Pain in Perspective

The Value of Intersection

Who's Shay?

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