Remembering...

It's been four years almost to the date. In the final days of September 2010, I was 17 weeks pregnant with our third child. Or so I thought. The bleeding was the first indication that something was completely wrong. I rushed to the hospital and called my husband, who was, at that moment, over 1,000 miles away.

My mom and I sat and waited for me to be taken back for an ultrasound. When the kid finally came to wheel me back, there was a growing feeling of foreboding in my chest. I knew.

The ultrasound tech said very little and at one point turned the screen so I couldn't see it. I'm sure she was trying to shield my emotions, or perhaps she just didn't know how to handle the dread she may have felt for me. Avoidance is always easier.

When the doctor entered the triage room with a woeful expression, I knew my fears were about to be confirmed. Spontaneous abortion, miscarriage, fetal demise. All of these terms were used at different moments as the reality that I'd lost the baby was explained to me. It turned out, the baby had been gone for 2 weeks already. This explained why, when I'd been sitting near the fireplace a week before and rubbing my stomach, I'd noted that I hadn't felt much activity. A week before, we'd also toured a castle that was nestled between New York and Canada. I'd taken the elevator because of cramps.

Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. I know so many women who have lost pregnancies, some who have suffered still births, and others who have lost the baby they'd already had the privilege to hold. We discovered, a couple weeks after my 4 day hospital stay, that our baby was a girl. We named her Hannah Grace Teague. The names Hannah and Grace both carry a meaning of 'favor'. I wanted to name a daughter this for forever. First Abigail, which is the name of our first daughter, then I wanted a Hannah. The day I found out our baby had been a girl, that dream came true.

I write this to you, women familiar with suffering. The loss of a baby at any stage in his or her life is a mark of suffering. In time, God has healed our gapping wound, but the scar will always be there and there will always be a part of my heart that is waiting to meet Hannah. Please, I beg you, do not be silent in your suffering. The statistic is that one in four women will experience a miscarriage. Some will experience more than one. The habit of women is to suffer silently, not wanting to burden those around them with the sadness they're feeling and the emptiness they are falling into. Friend, I feel your pain. I know that ache in your chest that feels like it's become an extension of who you are.

The experience of miscarrying is now forever one of the greatest testimonies to my walk with God. You see, I was born into Christianity. I was raised in church. While others are more skeptical and struggle to believe the words taught through the Bible, it always came naturally to me to trust it. Still, there needed to be a defining moment for me when I really chose it; when I knew, without a doubt, that I was in for life. God is just and He is good. He took my pain and used it to draw me closer to Him, if I would so choose to let it. I distinctly remember a choice. I remember a quickening in my heart that, if it had been any louder, was almost audible. I became very aware that I had to choose one of two things: despair or worship. Do I bury myself in my pain and let it consume me? Do I become angry with God and shut him out?

Or do I find the strength to worship through it? I chose to worship, and God chose to pour out his love and peace into my life. I felt Him more then than I ever had in my life to date.

In my mind, I vividly saw an imagery that has never left me. I won't call it a vision, but it was definitely an image God was planting in my head to strengthen me, then and for forever. In my mind, worship became a weapon, and depression and despair the enemy. I saw a woman, much to brave to be me, clothed in armor and wielding a powerful-looking sword. Each choice to trust was a slash to the enemy. Every word of belief was a stab to it's heart. A warrior, with a tear-streaked face, fighting desperately for her life. The harder she fought, the stronger she became - infused with the Spirit of God and armed with His Word.

You, beautiful woman, are that warrior. You, beloved mother, have a choice. And imagine an army of women, all choosing worship, bound together by our pain.

Please do not hide your story. If you share your experiences, others become brave enough to share theirs. And for them, it might mean freedom they've desperately needed.

He sees you. He knows you. You're never left alone.

I'll fight beside you. I'll worship with you, desperately fighting for your life.

Always,
Laura

Tomorrow... Only a day away.

I'm waiting anxiously for the season to officially change in Oklahoma. Yes, it's October 8th so technically it's been fall for a little while now. However, if you step outside the door you'll be greeted by thick, humid air and what is forecasted to be a 90 degree day. Those of you who are already wearing thick coats and beanies... I envy you.

But isn't it so typical? Isn't this what we do? We find what's wrong with the right now and sit around longing for tomorrow. I mean, in a few months, when we're stuck in our house because the mid-west was hit by another ice storm, we'll be crying for summer again. That's just what we do.

I don't know about you but I sure miss out on today when I'm craning my neck and crying for tomorrow. {Whoa, that just turned heavy.}

Truly, though. What about contentment? People who are successful, people who achieve their goals, people who do great things and make a difference: are people who have learned the art of contentment. If I'm too busy pacing around, scatterbrained about what's coming next and not focusing on what's right in front of me, I won't ever get anything accomplished. As a writer, I have to be content where I'm at in the process. This is tough for me, especially when I'm first starting a project. I want to see the meat of the story coming to life RIGHT NOW! {Okay, to be honest, often times in writing I do jump the gun and write that scene I just can't wait for way ahead of time. But that's a strategy that works and well... another topic.}

The point is, yes. It's still hot out. But in just a short matter of time, it will be cold. Then I'll wish it was hot. Then I'll wish it was cold............................

Be content. Right now. Where you're at. That doesn't mean don't DO anything. That means do what is right in front of you NOW. Then the next step will be able to come in it's perfect time.

5:30am

It's almost 7:00am as I'm typing this, but I started the day at 5:30. Before you go admiring me for being an early riser, let me stop you. I'm not. Even now, an hour and a half in, my eyes keep peering over at the bedroom door and grow heavier with the desire to sleep as they do. I won't go to bed. But I sure want to.

That's the difference, I think. Attitude. Decisiveness. Determination.
You see, I'm changing the way I look at this morning person or not morning person thing. Because I'm finding it's not really about that. It's about WHO I want to be in the great story of my life.
Will it be a great story at all? And what makes it great?

There are people in my life right now that are making a difference. {And I guarantee most of them get up early.} It might be a small difference, or it might be a move to the other side of the world and shake things up difference. There are many of them. And for a long time now - years, really - I've felt that these people are in a different league then me. I've sat on the sidelines in my "mundane" "normal" life and longed to be like them. I've longed to walk beside them and sit in cafes and enthusiastically tell our stories and experiences and adventures and feel a genuine camaraderie with this species of world-changing powerhouse superhuman. I've longed, but that's the extent of it. Because truth be told, I'm by nature a hermit. I'm socially awkward and uncomfortable and it's SO much safer for all of us if I stay shut away at home where I can't generally screw things up and say the absolute wrong thing or get red-faced when I'm greeting someone familiar I bumped into at the store.

Excuse me, but: What a load of crap.

No, Seriously! I have spent YEARS of my adult life now hiding. I have accepted that I am too awkward and that I make other people uncomfortable because of it and that I'm a waste of their valuable time and energy. I genuinely, GENUINELY, believed that.

I do not write that for your pity, so put away the tissues and hugs ;-) I'm writing it because I KNOW I'm not the only one who's ever felt that way.

The only thing that will make our stories great is if we stop letting dumb, stupid, ignorant lies control our ever move. Listen, I'm honestly worked up about this. It gets at me. When you realize how much time you've wasted and how many people you've grown distant from, all because you've let yourself believe you're just not worth it, it should bring up some feelings.

Embrace those feelings! And let them usher in change.

I woke up at 5:30am when I normally wake up closer to 9am as an act of defiance, albeit a little one. And at the same time, an act of surrender.

I am defying the lies. I am waking up hours before my kids so that the first moment they lay eyes on me, it will be a revved up me who's spent time in the power-infusing presence of God and not a defeated me who's dragging herself around and wishing the day would fly by so I can hide in sleep again. I'm defying my own nature and forcing myself to examine who I am and who I want to me.

And I'm surrendering my sleep so I can give God the first hours of my day. So I can change. I'm surrendering all the things I've believed about myself for a really, really, really long time.

Whether or not I'm a "morning person" plays no part in this. Am I existing just to keep myself safe and comfortable? Or am I making every. single. moment. count. for something OTHER than ME.

I raise my glass of Matcha to you, friends. Here's to living on purpose.

The Lego Theory

So those of you with children will {hopefully} understand. Or perhaps hopefully not. Hopefully your kids are the image of obedience, honest to a fault, and never give you reason to lecture. I mean that genuinely. {No sarcasm intended}

Our kids are incredible. They're funny, smart, exceptionally witty and never ever boring. They are also humans. And they mess up. {Shocker! I know!} 

I was sitting in front of our 6 (1/2) year old son and trying to come up with something motivational to say to him to help him make some better choice. His choices as of late have been... well... 

I look over the room and what do I see EVERYWHERE {just waiting until night falls so they can assault my feet}? Legos. 

Ok, I've got this, I think to myself.

Colton, your life is like a giant lego project. Do you know what kind of man you want to be when you grow up? 

I get answers like: BRAVE, A MAN WHO LOVES GOD, A GOOD HUSBAND, A DAD... 

After my heart is done swelling with pride, I tell him this:

Every choice you make from this moment on is like adding another lego to your man. You're building him, you see? You and God together. Only the right legos will build that man you have imagined in your head. Good choices get you closer to being that man, bad choices mean you have to take a bit of it apart and start that section over. 

The truth is, we all have a vision for who we want to be when we grow up. I know I'm not yet who I want to be. I make bad choices. I have to back up and remind myself who I'm trying to become. Now, it's inevitable that we're gonna mess up. We're human. What's important is that we learn from that mistake and become better lego builders... I mean, oh you know what I mean.

This is so very relevant for me right now in my ambitions. As a writer, I'm one step closer to my goals when I sit down and hash out some words or jump on a promotional page and introduce my work. I'm stalling my progress when I rush things and release a work to soon, just to find it riddled with errors, or I procrastinate and watch too much Doctor Who instead of working. {I'd never really do that......}

Life is like a box of legos. You've got to add the right blocks to get the right results. 

Better than life.

As I sit enjoying my Saturday with my children re-enacting Star Wars around me and my husband resting off this virus we've all been fighting this week, I'm - hang on I need to correct my kid.................. - okay, where was I? Oh right. I'm so happy.
Seriously!
The good, the bad, the really bad, the ugly... it's life. It's living. I'm so happy to be living!
I get angry sometimes. I get irritated and rude and out-of-line.
I also get repentant and I get humbled.
I have giggle fests with my family of four after one of our kids says something hilarious - they are the funniest people - or after my hubby tells a ridiculous story.
I get to see people changing and growing and maturing... and sometimes that gets to be me!

Life is, well, all inclusive!
You have to have the good.
You also have to have the bad to enjoy the good. To appreciate it.

This week we were all sick in different increments with a variation of viruses. There were some bad days in there to be sure. Now I'm dealing with a huge spider bite on my leg and a possible torn muscle in my calf. (Same leg, by the way).

But I'm so happy!

My favorite verse for, well forever, has been:

Psalm 63:3
"Because Your love is better than life, my lips will praise You!"

That's the key for me!

God's love surrounds me and fulfills me and corrects me and changes me.

That's the greatest good there is!

Make today a good one!

Always,
Laura :)

Meaning.

What makes life meaningful?

I ask this because it's my birthday and that's what you're supposed to do, right? Reflect?

I haven't shared this very often or to too many people, but it's what keeps popping into my head today, so here goes.

Four years ago, we lost a daughter to a mid-pregnancy miscarriage. Technically it was too late in the pregnancy to be called a miscarriage. It was one of the hardest things my husband and I have been through together. I spent 4 days in the hospital and had my first emergency surgery during that stay. Why in the world would I bring this up on a day like today..my birthday???

Because that was one of the most significant times in my walk with God. There have been several times in my 28 years that I've petitioned for God's peace. I've begged and snotted and cried out for it. But that day, the day I couldn't even muster the strength to ask, He breathed His precious Holy Spirit over me and I didn't even have to. He knew I wasn't strong enough. And like a loving Father, he knew what I needed and just met me where I was. It changed my life. Seriously.

You see, I agree that the beautiful, happy, celebratory moments bring so much joy to life. The moments that we spend cuddling our kids and giggling together bring fullness.

But what brings meaning?

I think what brings the most meaning is the nights I spend nursing my sick kids who are puking and crying and need tummy rubs when my eyes don't want to stay open.

I think what brings meaning is the hug that comes after making up from a big fight with your spouse.

I think meaning is long all-nighters working for your dream and persevering even when you're ready to scream so that one day you see it all come to life before your eyes.

Meaning is spending grueling hours working under the hot sun in a garden, to finally one day reap a harvest.

I think meaning is found when you have a complete mental breakdown over health issues that lasts weeks or months and your parents still look at you with respect and understanding in the years following (true story).

Meaning is discovered when the only way you make it through the day is with a silent "Help me..." prayer and you do, day by day, make it.

And I am still finding so much meaning in the fact that in the moment of our biggest loss, God had me. I was safe, tucked in His love, and He didn't make me beg for comfort. He just knew.

Meaning is so often found in the hardest times. Don't despise your struggles and the things that break you down. Allow the process to play out. If you'll cling to God (and by cling I mean holding on desperately until your knuckles turn white and your finger are aching, but you DON'T LET GO) I PROMISE that somewhere down the road He will help you find the meaning in the pain. Doesn't mean He caused it, it means He was there, rooting for you and loving you, and can cause good to come from what was meant to harm you.

He'll give it meaning.

What is your work really worth?

I've read posts by other creators and artist who say "You have to value your own work, or no one else will..."

When I first pushed 'Publish' on KDP and allowed Amazon to make my first book available to the world (literally), I was nervous. Words are so personal, even in fiction. How will the world receive them? I did a little research on how to price my book and ended up pricing it at the lowest possible price where I could still benefit from the 70% royalties. $2.99. There wasn't any kind of strategy in this. I was simply afraid that if I priced it any higher, no one would buy it.

Over the last couple months, I have uploaded the book again, correcting minor grammatical errors I had missed (self-publishing with no budget also mean self-editing until you have a team of beta readers who agree to do that for you...). My very first review was a 5-star from someone I'd never met. That's when it started to hit me, that perhaps I needed to start believing in my talent and trusting I was on the right path. It was exciting!!!

In June my sales started to plummet. The longest stretch without a single sale happen near the middle of the month. 9 painstaking days without a single sale.

I couldn't figure out what was going on. I had earned 12 reviews (nothing monumental but a great start!), all of which were 4 or 5 stars. I knew people were enjoying the book. So why the drop in sales?

Then I read a blog from a successful KDP author. He did an experiment, slowly raising the price of his book and what he found was a turning point for both him and me.

When you price your work too low, be it books or photography or paintings, people will see how much you value it and will do the same. Just like enthusiasm is contagious, so it the value you place in your art. This author saw an immediate increase in sales simply by pricing his books at the value he believe they deserved.

I did this. I only took a small step, raising my price by $1 to the grand total of $3.99/book. The result was surprising. Where as I only ever had POSSIBLY one book sale a day, now I have multiple sales a day!

Don't be afraid to place a higher value on the work you are doing. Don't sell yourself short because of fear! Be confident in your work and allow others to be as well.

Love always,
L