My husband and I decided to opt out of writing a Christmas letter this year. We wanted this to be a time of celebration and joyous occasions, not a dismal reminder of what we have lived through, what we have seen, and the bruises that still hurt if you push hard enough.
I would have been eight months pregnant this Christmas. We were supposed to be saving for a home and a future college fund. I was supposed to be whole, to remember what it feels like to be carefree and light-hearted. We had plans for his job, and my next book. No where in there was I supposed to still be wearing size 2 jeans. No where in there had I factored in a mountain of medical debt from losing our first little one. No where in there did I get the memo that I would be assaulted and forever changed. No where did anyone tell me that anxiety is not just a word, but something that shakes your entire core. No where in there did I believe we would have to move so far for work, and place our plans on hold....
Life is what happens when you are busy making plans. And plans were meant to be broken.
I believe with every fiber of my being, that I will be whole again. That I am whole, but that some of the pieces don't quite fit right. I believe in the unwavering power of God's love, and that He alone has given me the strength to see this year through. I believe that life is never unfair, and those who believe with all their might can find love and peace and joy in any circumstance. I believe that I am living out my purpose and one day will write a story to change a person's life. I believe God's voice is always audible and in my darkest of moments, I hear His voice, His heartbeat one with mine.
I believe that life is all about moments, and I treasure these moments, the good, the bad, the beautiful, the ugly, the breath-takingly scary, the life-altering, the hold-my-hand and never let go moments.