I wrote this in November, which now feels so long ago.
My husband just gave me a shot in my left butt cheek as part of the last option we have to try to get my Progesterone levels to rise. Dr. Bell calls Progesterone "glue," as in the material that holds my developing fetus to my uterus wall. I need more glue or the baby growing inside me might simply unstick.
As we were leaving Wal-Mart today, a man was standing on the side of the road holding a sign that read "Homeless Anything Helps" and his dog's leash in his other hand. On Sunday when I was leaving Wal-Mart, there was a different young man sitting against the front of the store with a sign and a dog. On Sunday I bought the guy a sandwich and some water, the dog some food and treats. When I came out of the store, the man was gone. Cody and I drove home and returned to Wal-Mart this afternoon to give the man and his dog, Lady, some food and drinks. I couldn't get out of the car to hand the guy the food because I didn't think I could do so without crying. As Cody walked away from the man, Cody reached out and hugged him. Lady jumped to meet Cody as if she wanted a hug too. As we were driving away, I watched the guy pull out his sandwich and hand Lady a treat.
A couple of days ago I took my volleyball team to the state tournament. We snuck into the tournament as the lowest seed in the state. We didn't really deserve to be there, but we made it nonetheless. We played a one seed from the east. We lost. It was sort of close, but it never felt like we had a chance. At some point during the match, I jumped from my seat to celebrate a good play and felt an uncomfortable sensation in my stomach. I thought of the missing glue. I sat down. I calmed down. I thought about how different coaching volleyball is today compared to six years ago when I started. Six years ago when the seniors staring back at me red-faced and crying in that locker room after the match were just seventh graders. I coached those kids for six years. But I know the end of most things comes fast and quick. I know this. I tried to thank those seniors for playing all those years. I tried to tell them that the wins and losses are not really the reason people play sports. I tried to tie a bow on the end of something that I know is significant for people around me, but I couldn't. I couldn't talk about the end of those kids' high school careers because I was caught up in the idea that it was also the end of my coaching career. I wanted to cry, and I refused. We called it up. I left the laundry bag on the floor. I hugged kids to try to communicate what I needed them to know. I thought about the glue and the baby inside of me. I thought about the end of my volleyball career. I wondered if I would miss coaching one day. I worried how the end comes fast and quick.
I went to church last week for the first time in some months. I've been completely unconnected with the idea of God recently. His presence I have missed for quite some time. There have been too many question marks around me to feel like there is any divine presence in my world. We went to a new church that felt the way church should feel. There was stained glass windows and a vaulted ceiling. Organ pipes and pews and hymnals. The (female) preacher spoke about the unfair and inaccurate idea that with God there will be no hardship or struggle. She noted that some people feel the presence of God immediately after asking for it. Other people gradually experience God, which sometimes leads to questions about His existence. I would tell you my faith in God has been gradual. I'm a person that needs to be coaxed and convinced of things. I don't jump in with two feet before knowing all the details. Recently there has simply been too much for me to buy in. Throughout all of the questions, I have always wanted to believe in God. My brain recognizes the benefits in believing of something beyond the grind of life.
At some point throughout the service, the congregation offered up names of people who need prayers. As I stood with my eyes closed listening to the names of people, I thought about the living being inside of me. I considered the struggle to get this point. I realized that in my tunnel of hardship over the past few months (or years) I probably haven't paid attention to the good stuff as much as the bad. I realized that the questions I have about God started gradually. There were holes in the story that bothered me for so long, and somewhere along the way I reached a breaking point. At some point, the questions turned into an immediate disbelief and I haven't looked back much at all. Sunday as I walked out of church I felt like something had changed. I haven't completely bought back in to the idea of God. I know that my version of religion and God has to be something individual to me. I know the road back will be gradual.
The most important part of God's grace (according to the sermon on Sunday) is the ultimate salvation. The immediate and gradual happenings in this world are secondary to the end, the ultimate conclusion. There are a few things in this world that are ultimate happenings - things that are significant enough to surpass the immediate and gradual in-between. Creating your own human being has to be an ultimate experience. No matter how many immediate and gradual steps lead up to that moment, there will be a point in time when someone hands you your child, the ultimate goal.
The ultimate is so hard to keep in focus in the midst of the immediate and the gradual parts of life. People are homeless and young people grow up and no one has the answers about what we're all doing here. Nonetheless, I think being pregnant has to be an event that realigns what is true and real in this world. Being a parent is not fleeting. It is permanent. It is the ultimate. And it is terrifying.
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