The Other Side

So here I am on the other side.

The other side of a very long uphill climb looking back down on the path I’ve traveled and enjoying the view from the top. I haven’t had much to write about this year because I was internally processing the avalanche of emotions and thoughts I was feeling during my pregnancy, Travis’ birth, and my glorious 12 weeks of maternity leave. I was journaling, but not sure what I wanted to put out here on my blog.

Let me just say this:
It was so very worth the wait.

Despite the struggle.
Despite the heartache.
Despite the depression.
Despite it all.

I know that is cliché.
I know.

Cliché or not, it is undeniably true and I don’t know another way to say it.

It doesn’t mean the memory of the pain is faint or extinguished. I still remember how I felt at this moment last year wishing I could muster up a reason to feel gratitude at Thanksgiving and not feeling one ounce of it despite my best efforts. I remember dreading the oncoming Christmas holiday and that unspoken feeling of inadequacy that came only from my own, self-inflicted condemnation. In the midst of suffering, hope and joy were buried in a darkness so thick I could hardly to breathe.

But oh the joy of the other side!
And the memory of the journey to get to this point is still so vivid and has flooded my heart with compassion, grace, and prayers for those still climbing.

Last December, right before I saw those long-coveted two pink lines indicating my life was about to change forever, I remember writing a post about the meaning behind my new tattoo. (A tattoo I got while pregnant without realizing it! Haha) You can read that post here, if you’d like

I am referencing that post because it was so timely and spot on with where I was and where I was about to be. Coming out of the darkness I was in to a light so bright and so beautiful that I now truly feel like laughing because of how different everything feels. The darkness did not cling to me, but was washed away by this new light. When I thought I would never see light again, it came suddenly and was brighter than I could have ever imagined.

This is how Jesus saves.
Not by rules and religious regimentation.
Not by condemnation and shame.

Jesus loves by entering your darkest time, reassuring your heart of His presence, and bringing you gently and joyfully into the light.

Hard times are inevitable, but Jesus is our hope.
I will go through dark times again I am sure, but this experience has changed me entirely. I cannot forget how close and how secure I felt in Jesus’ arms in the midst of my pain. I cannot forget how in His grace and mercy he didn’t answer my prayers for a baby right away, but instead gave me Himself. He is the answer to my pain. He is prized possession. He is my hope and my reward. When the next hard season comes, I will know where to turn and Who to lean on.

wmn_light-in-the-darkness