the one i never held

this is for my sweet sister melanie...

it's a gorgeous october day. a friend and i walk to the park with our little ones. i am savoring the blessing of new friendship these days and the fullness in my spirit that fall often brings me. so much good is around us. it's hard to imagine that one year ago i was still frantically working at the coffee shop, eric subbing and going to classes, ezri was one month from being born. we had no idea what where we'd be in one year.

and the year before that, we were devastated. 

my friend's daughter is dumping sand down her back and squealing at ezri with pure joy. we laugh and marvel at their joy as we see her son climb the jungle gym. little haley is exactly six months older than ezri... 

she is as old as my first little one would have been. 

i have no adequate way to explain the sadness and sweetness in my heart when i think of it. at this time two years ago, i only had a suspicion that i might be pregnant. i was. but i was almost terrified to take a test. we found out on halloween actually. we'd met eric's dad in wichita for lunch, i'd not been crazy about the coffee, i'd been moody and miserable at the mall, i think we even had an argument.

but i came home, took the test, it was positive. i walked outside and looked at the empty field across from our door as the sun set. that's where i told eric that we were going to have a baby. we were floored. it was much sooner than we'd "planned"... but it was okay. we knew we wanted this before we even married.

i tell my new friend that we would have had one little haley's age... and she shares about the fear and half expectation she had had of miscarriage. her mom had, so she had thought she would. i knew the feeling well. it happened for me.

we lost our baby in november. 

i was certain i was miscarrying while we were away from home. during a trip to see family and watch a play at our college... surrounded by friends who were so happy for us, i could feel my hope slip away. at intermission the night we went to see the play, i remember walking to the restroom and praying praying praying that i would keep this little life. that sunday we rushed the long drive home and went to the ER... nothing could be done for us then but "wait and see" i waited til the tuesday to go to our previously scheduled ultrasound.

our baby wasn't there anymore.

if you haven't lost a little one like this, it's hard to know what to say or do... we had so many love on us and so many share their losses with us. a beautiful friend who had had a stillborn baby boy was there to aid the doctor when i went for the d & c... i can still see her bright and teary eyes over her surgical mask.

there is no loss like this one. there never will be. i never got to hold her. our little ariel was gone before we knew her. and we wept and cried to have my baby back. i still cry for her. 

today i'm crying for her, and for the little one my brother and sister in law have just lost.

there are never words for it. when we lose anyone to death, we cry for ourselves... we are alone, we have lost someone... and there is no loss like the loss of the babe you marked your calendar for with love and anticipation. we shared that we were expecting early, and i am thankful for that, because we were wrapped in arms of love from around the world.

eric and i will always have moments where we think of her... heaven will be sweeter... i think of her there with grandma donna, and so many others... and today i thank our Creator for the bonds we have on earth that comfort us when our joy must turn to mourning.

a year from the day we found out that we'd lost our first little one, our donna ezri was born. and the joy returns and wraps itself around the mourning... you will never stop wondering about the one you lose, but God gives you new moments of wonder... you never will stop aching for that babe to be in your arms, but your heart will ache with joy and thanksgiving again.

I will turn their mourning into joy; I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow."

Jeremiah 31:13

connect >

yesterday was the tenth anniversary of 9/11. i know that i'm not the only one who has had that lingering in the back of my mind for the past few weeks... for me, a person who likes to play the memory game and often, it was a chance to look back on a decade's worth of life.

i was 19. college, sophomore year just started, best roommate situation i've ever had (before eric ;), a very questionable long distance boyfriend who would soon become my fiance... acting class, survey of civ, lifetime wellness... and who knows what else.

my long distance boyfriend - the future ex-husband - was in dallas working that semester... we IM'd about the attack. he didn't call me, i didn't call him. funny to think about now in the context of a long past relationship... i see so many of those things as an indicator of how wonky our relationship was. over this past weekend i've heard so many people recall how they raced to find their spouse, their children, their parents... to hold them and reassure themselves. i was on the cusp of being engaged to this guy and all he said, over the internet, was: well, the sh*** has hit the fan now.

seriously?!!

which is probably why when i think of what i was doing on 9/11 i think of the class i was in when it happened, the chapel service that morning and singing "God Moved In a Mysterious Way" instead.

in some ways, i think my life started to explode that fall too.

homecoming came, and i was suddenly engaged and planning a wedding for spring break of the following year... and struggling with mixed emotions that i never expected when i imagined myself finding "mr. right". he was in texas, because he was on academic suspension from our school, and i was alone in tennessee. i don't think i realized it then, in fact i know i didn't until i returned to the US from Italy in 2005, but i had begun to disconnect.

things weren't what i had thought they'd be, and i was too naive to see why and too scared to get out. and so as the president began to advise us to continue living our lives as usual and to spend spend spend, i began to believe that where i was and how i was being treated was normal. as we buried our shock and horror at what had happened to us as a nation, i buried my normal healthy reactions (the ones he told me were wrong) in shopping for stuff i didn't need with money we didn't have. i quit school. i took prozac. i thought there was something really wrong with me.

my family held on as much as they could... the line stretched from kansas to georgia, my grandmother died in June that year... the line stretched from kansas to Italy, i nearly died in June of that year.

alone in military housing, each apartment a mirror of the other, i took long bubble baths and ignored the laundry and the garbage and the yelling when he got home... i took the dog for walks, talked to my mother every day long distance, and finally tried to talk to my him about how awful everything was. another explosion. he yelled the word "divorce" in a string of irate sentences and left to God knows where, the door slam echoing on the tile. i went upstairs, opened the bottle of perkaset and took it all. there was nowhere for me to go, and (i thought) no one to help me.

10 minutes later, i called the only friend i could think of and she raced me to the hospital. i don't even feel anything when i think about my time in there... i have a memory of an Italian nurse squeezing my hand and speaking soothingly as they pumped my stomach. my heart is only beginning to ache now.

that was June 2004. i was completely disconnected. the hands of strangers brought me back, the actions of our military's employees got me home (i can never praise the chaplaincy and services on that base enough), and i began to wake up.

it took the US until the recession in the winter of 2008 to wake up... by then i was sitting in my car listening to NPR and not wanting to walk across the frozen parking lot to work. i'd been divorced (after a year of working desperately to fix things) since April of 2006... an engagement ring sparkled on my hand again, and i was longing to be home with the man who loved me, listened to me, understood me and who was loved and praised by all my loved ones.

since then, i've been repairing the last walls that were broken. i'm safe, i'm surrounded by those who love me and i even love myself (and that one took a while!), and i have a connection to those who hurt that the 19 year old who wasn't even sure the first reports of the 9/11 were real would have ever had.

lately, these themes of connection>disconnection|reconnection< have been rolling around in my heart, touching on my spirituality, on my choices as a new parent, on our choices as a society (global and national) and my choices as a human being... our hearts stopped when we saw how vulnerable we were and how quickly the world could go sideways, what else could we do but hunker down and bury the hurt with things and anger toward those who hurt us? there are many who have shared much more powerful insight on the impact of 9/11 and what it has done to us as Americans, and as global citizens, for me i have recognized in myself this touchstone... this stone of remembrance that has helped me begin to honor the journey i've made.

"Here I raise my Ebenezer, hither by thy help I've come. And I hope by Thy good measure, safely to arrive at home."

thank you for remembering with me, thank you for connecting.

the (dis)illusion of control

have you ever noticed our human tendency to fool ourselves into thinking we're in control? of anything outside ourselves? we learn so quickly that we can manipulate little things around us... and some of us are very much prone to allowing others to "control" at times...

ezri is on her tummy, on her little blanket, staring at the mirror i've propped up. she has become adept at grasping it and drooling all over it... but when she gets truly dissatisfied with it, and her position, she screams. it's actually kind of cute. but she knows, already, that if she makes enough noise someone bigger than her will come running and fix it.

smart baby.

recently, i heard someone say (basically), "i guess i didn't start praying for the right thing soon enough". wow. this made my head spin. the whole phrase makes me cringe. it implies that the speaker thought that in order to get what you want, you have to get your christmas list in to God by a certain time... that, somehow, we can simply order up our future by dialing in the right prayer at the right time.

pretty sure that's not how God works. i'm not even sure the person who said that realized how that sounded, or that s/he thinks that's how prayer works either. but what frightens me, and makes me take a hard look at my own habits and phrases and so on, is how easily that idea slipped out... and the fact that it implies a sense of perceived control.

i just finished writing something for my daughter in which one of the big things i shared with her is a statement that i have made a mantra at times: the only person i can change is myself. i've had this lesson taught over and over in my life. through a failed marriage full of mistrust and control and anger, through my own struggles with addiction and depression, and even through meeting and falling in love with my best friend... through positive and negative experiences, i've learned and relearned that i cannot control another person, ever... and i can definitely not control any situation that comes my way.

what i can do is work on me, and accept that life may throw some weird things my way but i can be flexible and open. when i open myself up to whatever God is pulling me through, i can grow and learn anything. some of the worst times in my life have become tipping points, the climax that leads to life changing decisions big and small. because i have been in a relationship where the person i loved thought he needed to "control" me, i know how it feels to be crushed into a mold that isn't me. after that, you fight anything and everything that might mean conformity.

years later, i've realized that not everyone or everything will control me. i can make choices. i make the choice every day to teach my child how to live in this world as an equal with delight and curiosity, i make the choice to love those around me whether they appreciate it or not, i make the choice to do right and to be unafraid of what others might think. i can be loving and considerate and still do what i need to do...

and it's so much less stressful than battling to control every tiny thing around you because you are afraid of the unknown. in my experience, as soon as you think you have a handle on it all, the whole thing comes crashing down and you have to start again. that's just too much work for me.

education

next to godly living, the biggest priority and most valued achievements in my family life have been centered around education. i've said to friends before that religion and education (and religious education) are the family businesses. not that we have loads of family members infiltrating the public education system, or that we have a large percentage of hebrew scholars discussing open theology and what have you's at reunions (though that would all be very cool)... but that after or right under the central theme - god-focused life - we all have been taught (ha!) to revere learning in any state.

i told mom the other day that she has a didactic personality.

this is equal parts nature and nurture in my opinion. if you take my mother as an example, she gets her habit of constant instruction (in her wonderful, gentle nature) from her genes (thank you Loy and Donna) and from her parenting and life experiences (oh, thanks again Loy and Donna ;). and she's passed it down, with the equal participation of my father, one of the best teachers i know.

and i see it in myself - a self-described know it all with too much "trivia" in my head. i may not be constantly constructing a lesson with my daily dialogue like some of my esteemed relatives (uncle stan is one of the best in finding a way to sum up every convo - i love it), but my eyes are open and my ears pricked to any useful piece of daily info - you never know when someone might need to know about the history of crisco (did you know it was originally intended to be marketed as SOAP?) or how to get in touch with the local chamber of commerce to promote your charity of the month. i know the most random things, and they are the most remarkably useful things sometimes. i can tell you all about how to relocate to henderson tn by the way.

since "imparting wisdom" seems to be a biblical kind of thing to do, i suppose i shouldn't be surprised that it's ingrained in my life patterns. perhaps every preacher's kid and teacher's kid feels this way too.

lately, i've thought a lot about what we will teach ezri. i can see eric telling her all about world history, video games, how the us government works, and challenging her to think critically about everything she encounters, how to laugh at the slapstick of animaniacs and wit of cs lewis - he will have so many gifts to share with our little girl. the images i have in mind are of a relationship that is forged over time, like the ones i value between myself and my parents and so many of those educator-relatives (like my granma Wheat and her wonderful insights)

she'll probably get used to my political rants, my musings on being a woman in our culture and belief system, and learn to roll her eyes at my inconsistencies. i hope some of it will make sense. i hope that she learns to do what her grandma Donna always said to do when listening to someone else - to find the meat and spit out the bones.

education is part of a lifelong pursuit, a romance with knowledge and a thirst for growth. it is not a period in your life that revolves around class periods, dry tests, popularity contests and competition. it's a daily curiosity and a passion for what you have faith in. the best teachers in my life will always be mentoring me and urging me to push further... they remain with me. some of them are called instructors, by vocation, others are simply repositories of love and wisdom who have inspired me (ron and judy warpole, julie osburn, becky youngblood, chara watson... it's a long list)

and their characteristics that i will arm myself with as i forge this new relationship with the little ball of energy kicking and squirming under my ribs? patience. humility. love. honesty. fearlessness. hope. discernment. an open and listening heart.

so keep on teaching me, teachers.

a first attempt

it is another unusually brilliant sunny day in northern italy. the roses and geraniums are profuse and embarassingly bright. it's humid, but not unbearably so. i've walked the dog, managed to take a shower and even prepare a meal. it's more than i've been able to do all week. the house is in disarray, beds unmade and trash piled up and begging to be taken out...

an argument errupts moments after he comes home. i think about it now, and can understand his perspective. he'd worked all day, i'd been home all day - why can't the house be clean? why can't i take care of it, it's not like i'm working?

these memories intrude on my every day life at times. sometimes i can simply push them back and say it's past... they are remnants of a struggle long ago set aside. there are times though, when this and other more searing images press into my heart and i cannot set them back in their place easily.

the prompt for recent remembrances:

an "exchange", as a friend termed it, on my preferred social networking site that stirred up a good question, old feelings, and a desire or prompting to share. although it's been my determination from day one of separation and then divorce from my ex-husband to be open about the difficulties and growth earned from it, i really do not relish sharing deeply. i don't think that i need to.

but it hit me this morning, as i said goodbye to my sweet eric as he left to job hunt once more, that i have reasons to rejoice, and reasons to share, and how will anyone know who i am if i don't tell them why i believe what i believe?

am i an evangelical or what?

so, to the good question:

"stefanie, why are you - the daughter of a couple devoted to christian ministry and fairly conservative and moderate in all respects - a feminist?"

okay, so this is something that i feel - in person or online - that i can never fully answer in one fell swoop. that may change over the years, as i hope age will teach me to be wiser and more concise, but in the meantime i wish to tackle this.

my first answer:

i identify myself as a feminist because it is the right thing for me as a Christian and a woman in my culture to do. like so many things that we come to realize about ourselves in early life, becoming comfortable with saying, "i am a feminist" has been a natural part of recognizing who i am as an individual and that it is something about me that has been there all along.

the old feelings:

are connected to the memories. they are so complex and tangled. many are connected to an attempted marriage that ended in heartbreak, some are connected to the naivete that my young sheltered self had ten years ago, some have been around me as long as i can remember.

- the gut reaction occurred when someone i respect said, "i want nothing to do with feminism... i am content to let my husband lead... and, i don't see the need to vote and don't value my right as a woman to do so..." (these are paraphrased)

- memory: being told that i am "the wife", and i should allow my husband to take care of all major decisions. that i had no right to spend money that was supposed to be "ours", and that because i wasn't working, the only thing i should do is maintain the household. i had no input, and was treated to an array of explosive and abusive remarks if i asked about my husbands whereabouts after work, how money was spent etc.

this experience was created by a legacy of teaching, in example and word, that is not Christ-like in any way and is the result of generations of a simple precedent set: women do not deserve the same rights as me. an implicit, subconscious message that is acted out far more than verbalized.

the abuses i dealt with came from a young angry and confused man who had never seen a healthy marriage of two Christian individuals... and i don't repeat this story to blacken his image, but to say that i have some strong feelings as to why it is important to continue reminding women of their worth. i believe that young men need to see their mothers own who they are, and to be respected and valued as individuals by their mates.

my prompting:

and desire is to explain my stance. i hope it is a stance of many other women with similar backgrounds to mine - those who were raised in a perceived "conservative Christian" atmosphere - and that others might join in the conversation.

so here it is. i believe that feminism is something that can and ought to be embraced by women from all walks. that it is a movement that should be open to all persuasions in the political, religious and lifestyle spectrums. until it is just that, we as women have not won our cause to create a world that is fair and equal for all.

as a Christian, while on this world i have an obligation to stand up for those who have no voice and to protect the sanctity of life around me. i cannot ignore an injustice that affects me so directly.

as the second wave coined it: the personal is political. and for me it intersects with this: the spiritual is personal. i cannot see how the son of God could teach anything that would encourage us to view half of the world as secondary in any way.

this is my start, there will be more. in the meantime, books:

the feminine mystique - betty friedan

faith and feminism: a holy alliance - helen lakelly hunt, Ph.D.