Agents of Grace

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Breathe. Slow, steady. Focus. Make it through.
I had been in labor for 38 hours.
I can’t believe I am here in the hospital. Everything is so different than I had planned.
I stare at the IV in my wrist, snaking its way beneath my skin. Cringe.

I’m so tired.
Exhaustion, sleep coming swift and strong between these contractions.
Chris is here, holding my hand.
I’m so glad he is here, I miss my mom, thoughts circling distantly in my head.
Again. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Keep counting. Make it to fifteen and it’s over. Contraction passed.
Sleep comes again, sporadically, I’m so tired.
I cling to Chris, he is here. I’m okay.
I hear his voice, steady and strong, praying for God to do a miracle in this birth, for him to help us.
It will all be okay. I trust him and I trust God.

Two hours later I watch the doctors talking silently by the door.
I know my time is up.
Nothing is happening. I feel so sleepy. If I could just find some more energy to push.
They come by and listen to the baby’s heartbeat, strong.
I love her so much.

They talk to me then, their words stealing the air from my lungs.
It’s time to make a decision for the baby’s safety. You need an emergency cesarean.
My eyes betray the brave facade and tears fall, tracing their way down my cheeks.
I look to Chris. Confused. Why is this happening?
We pray. We make the choice and say yes.

A team of doctors and nurses rush in.
The lights are so bright.
They put me on a hospital bed and start attaching things to my skin.
Monitors, I think they are.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Breathe. I try to tell them to wait, it’s hard to talk.
They wheel me into the operating room.
I keep asking them where Chris is and then I realize that he can’t come inside.

For the first time, I am afraid.
Fear grips my heart and I ask Jesus to help me, please. A simple prayer.
I miss my mom.
The doctor with the kind eyes looks at me and asks to pray for me.
A special message from Jesus that he is still with me.
I am not alone.
I am not alone.
I repeat it, a mantra.
Jesus is here. I am not alone.

I feel the needle go into my back. Strangely, it doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.
I vaguely think about how my perspective of pain has changed.
My body begins to go to sleep.
What a strange sensation.
I fight the fear.
I will not be afraid.

The doctors begin to cut my body and I can feel it.
Not painful, but I can feel the movements, tugging.
I feel faint.
But then I hear her, my precious Jubilee.
She cries and I see her for the first time and nothing else matters.

I don’t know what day it is and I don’t even think about it. The days just turn into moments and I am so filled with so many emotions, so many moments. There is a new tiny soul and I focus all of myself into caring for her, feeding her, changing diapers, loving her. There is so much love, the strongest emotion that swells in my chest and threatens to spill over in the form of tears, but the best kind. Family here, helping, moments so filled. Stories and laughter and our new baby and dinners together and so many wonderful moments.

And then all of our family goes home.
The three of us spend our first few days alone together as a new family.

I wake up for the first morning with only my husband and my daughter in our house, both sleeping soundly. I make myself a cup of coffee and open my Bible for the first time since I had Jubilee. Spending my first moments alone since birth, I examine my heart. I let myself feel.

Disappointment.
Confusion.
Joy.
Love. So much love.
Doubt.
Pain.

I wonder why God let this happen to me.
I know I have a healthy baby, and people say that is all that matters.
But I realize that there is so much more that matters, like the state of a mother’s heart after birth.

For the first time since I let Jesus into my heart, I doubt Him.
Sitting at my kitchen table, watching the first kiss of sunlight come in through my window, I doubt Jesus.
I let the emotion take its full course. I know in the deepest part of my being that I should not try to cover it up or hide it, but that I need to feel it.
I know that He sees my doubt. And I know that I need to show it to Him. To sort it out.
But the feeling of confusion doesn’t go away.

The first week of Jubilee’s life comes and it is so incredible.
My days are spent in awe. Awe that we created a life between the two of us. Awe that God gave her to us. Awe that we are entrusted with a soul to care for. Awe that she is so tiny and so precious and so full of personality.

6 days later I am riding in a taxi with Chris and Jubilee, on the way home from her first checkup, and it all came to me, a flood of emotions.
I look out the window and everything is winter. Grey. My heart feels so raw. I sink into the feeling, wondering what to do with it.
The words leave my mouth and I hear my voice break. “I’m not sure if I trust God anymore.”
Chris looks at me with compassion in his eyes. “I know, Ellyn.”
I’m surprised but only for a second. Chris knows me so completely.
I love him so much for that.

I spend the next half our on the way home pouring out my heart to my husband.
Voicing things. The hard things. The things that Christians avoid. The things that I have always avoided.

Sometimes bad things happen to good people. Sometimes bad things happen to Christians. But it has never been me. Since I have been saved, God has always answered every single one of my prayers exactly how I thought it should be answered.

And so I let the words come, violently.
I don’t understand what happened, I tell Chris.
He didn’t save me.
God didn’t answer our prayers.
We prayed during my pregnancy for a safe and uncomplicated birth.
We prayed during labor for God to do a miracle.
Even when we went to the clinic, we prayed that God would come through for us and that we wouldn’t have to get a cesarean.
But He didn’t come. He didn’t help. I don’t understand.
I feel like I can’t trust Him anymore. Like I’m not sure of his intentions toward me anymore.

Sometime between the hospital room and the operating room, I decided that God didn’t answer me. He didn’t come to save me when I needed him. And my heart was broken because of it.

My tears fall as Chris listens to the pain flow from my lips. It is incredible how speaking out loud can cause the heart to begin to heal.

Chris looks at me and sees straight into my heart, like he has since I met him.
We spent the afternoon talking, listening to each other, examining my feelings and my heart. I told Chris everything that I felt. I let the tears come. I listened to his counsel, the counsel of my husband, the man God chose to lead me. And He led me somewhere that I have never been able to go before.

In those two hours, I realized more about myself and my heart than I have in the past year.
And at the end of our conversation, our journey through emotions and feelings and the messy parts of life, I knew God better than I ever had, and I realized how completely my character had changed through the experience of pregnancy and birth.

My parents say that from the very moment that I was born I was fiercely determined to do things my own way. I gave them quite a struggle, being their first child and a complete rebel. My childhood is described with stories of being a wild child, scaring them half to death with my crazy stunts, and being completely impossible to discipline. Bless their hearts. I really think Jesus is going to give them an extra crown in heaven for raising me!

My parents divorced when I was 11. And somewhere in that year of my life, I decided that I was grown up enough to make my own choices and that I would never listen to anyone else. It has always been the year of my life that I remember everything changing. The year when I was 11, the year when my family changed, the year when I changed. Things happen in the process of divorce that cannot be prevented by even the most kind and well-meaning parents. Children change during the storm of divorce and their eyes are sharp and keen. The reality of life changes and they change along with it. It is a sad fact of living in a broken world with broken people, a fact that I carried with me like a shield and a banner for 13 years.

My life has always been split into three parts. Before 11 years old, after 11 years old, and since I got saved at 20 years old. There is the before 11 part of life that is filled with childhood memories, bliss, unawareness. And then there is the part after 11 when I seemed to have woken up to the reality of a new world. And the most beautiful part, after 20, since I have been saved.

Sometime along the way, after my parents got divorced, I decided that I knew better than they did. About everything. I know that I was a hard child to raise, especially during those years. They couldn’t tell me anything because I simply wouldn’t listen to them. (Sometimes parents get all of the blame during times like those and we don’t realize that they too are suffering.)

When I started high school, I was strong in my identity of being independent. Independent and free. Free from my parents telling me what to do. Free from listening to anyone. Free from following anyone. I was proud of that. Proud to make my own choices. After 4 years of those choices, I found myself to be anything but free. Being trapped in a terrible thing doesn’t just happen all at once. It happens slowly, secretly, in a way that you don’t really see the full effect of it until it is too late. That is my testimony. I led my own life, made my own decisions. I chose to go to a few parties. The next year I chose to drink. The next year I chose to give myself to someone before I was married. And the next year I chose to do drugs for the first time. I graduated from high school when I was 17.

The next few years were the most painful and sad years of my life. I remember being 19 and thinking that all of the good things in life were over. I was so lost in the circumstances of my life and I blamed those circumstances. I blamed everyone. Except for myself. It was as if I were trapped in some kind of awful movie. To tell you the story of what happened during those few years of my life would take hours and some good strong coffee. It is another story for another time and place. Just know that I went through a personal hell, an intense season of pain, and I came out of it believing two specific lies. The first being that I didn’t need love. And the second being that I didn’t need anyone else.

I got saved when I was 20 and it was the most incredible and beautiful thing that has ever happened. But I carried a part of my past into my new life, and that was my special ability to listen to everything someone says, and completely dismiss it all because their life was different than my own.

I remember the first few months of my friendship with Chris. There was a day that we all told each other testimonies of what God did in our lives and how we got saved. I remember how I felt being with all of my new friends from church and how, after listening to their stories, I knew that they could never, ever understand me or my life. We came from completely different worlds.

I was amazed at how many people in the Christian world had really lived moral lives, good lives, trying their best to follow Jesus through high school and into college.

There have been so many times that I have looked at Chris, tears in my eyes, and told him that he should leave me alone about something because he would just never understand. His life was different. There were so many nights that we left our marriage counseling appointments and I was in tears. Our lives were so different. Anything about our pasts and how that would effect our marriage, tears. Anything about raising children together, tears.

How can you understand my heart, my world, when you never even came close to experiencing anything like it?

And so I carried my shield. A shield of pride. Protecting my heart from talking about my past. Stopping me from sharing my testimony with other people. Always believing that people who lived different life situations than my own could never really give me real advice.

Until a couple of weeks ago, I would have never admitted that. I’m not even sure that I could have ever understood that about myself, having buried it beneath so much emotion.

I have lived for so long in my independence. Seeking no counsel. Being completely proud of that.

Until the last few weeks of pregnancy and then labor.
I needed so much help.
And through that need, God changed my heart in the most wonderful way.

Chris’ parents came to stay with us to give us their help.
And I studied my heart and how I felt about help, about dependence.
They offered it and I accepted it, but I would have never ever asked for it.

Pride.

Throughout pregnancy, I believed that I could create my own outcome. That I could be completely independent from all advice. People gave me advice about cesareans and I dismissed it, knowing that would not be my own situation because Jesus would not let that happen. Emergency cesareans happened to other people, not me. I would simply call upon the Lord and he would rescue me.

During labor, I needed so much help from Chris. I needed him to help me stay strong, to stay brave. I would have never been able to do it without him.

In labor, I needed help from the doctors and nurses who gave me the emergency cesarean and saved both me and my baby. I needed the help of modern medicine and of trained physicians.

After the cesarean, I needed so much help from my mother in law. Help getting up out of the bed. Help changing Jubilee’s diapers. Help breastfeeding her in the middle of the night because my stomach was so sore that I could not pick her up by myself. Help back at home cleaning my house. Help cooking and washing dishes and doing laundry.

From various people, I received more help during the past month that I have in years.
And all of the sudden, I was on the other side of the spectrum. Christians who had problems weren’t in the other category, they were in my category. With me. Together. Everything suddenly seemed so complicated.

The day that I voiced my doubts to Chris was the day that Jesus restored my faith in Him.
I realized that I had been so prideful for so many years, believing that I always knew best and that I could get through life just fine on my own.
I realized that God called me to be a missionary, depending on His provision and for other people’s donations for every single need that I have.
I realized that God is a Father, always doing what is best for us even when we don’t understand.
I realized that my will is not always God’s will.
And I realized how much I needed to repent. For all of the times that I looked down on people who had lived a Godly life. For all of the times I had judged them for not having been through experiences like the ones that I had been through. For all of the times that I dismissed their advice thinking that they had nothing to offer me. How incredibly prideful I had been, forgetting that they have the holy spirit of God living inside of them, the very answer to every single problem, the great counselor Himself.

I realized that my way of thinking was wrong.
Jesus was there for me.
He did rescue me.
He completely changed me through that experience.

Jesus was there in the love of my husband who supported me and encouraged me through 40 hours of labor.
Jesus was there in the miraculous provision that paid for our hospital bills.
Jesus was there in the hands of the doctors and nurses who performed the surgery and saved Jubilee’s life.
Jesus was there in the prayers of the medical team when they prayed for me before the cesarean.
Jesus was there in the support and love of my mother in law who stayed by my side.
Jesus was there in the smiles and kindness of my family.
Jesus was there in the beautiful life of my daughter.
Jesus was there in the love of my sister and the nights that she stayed up and helped me with the baby.
Jesus was there. Jesus never left me.

Today, I am transformed. During labor, I became.
I became something new.

Today I am humble.
Jesus has changed my heart from being so hard and prideful into something so humble and thankful.
Today I am at the very beginning of understanding myself.
Today I have a completely new and deeper understanding of who God is as Father.
Today I realize that I will never again pray for my own will but will always pray “Thy will” be done.
Today I know that Jesus loves me eternally and that His heart for me is always good.
I know that God will do what is best for me, always.
I know that there are so, so many people who can offer me so much advice and wisdom.
I know that what I carried around with me was a shield and that I have put it down and will allow God to work in my heart now.
I know that I will share my testimony freely, unafraid of how other people will see me or if they will look down on me because my testimony is beautiful and it is a miraculous story of God’s grace and love.
I know that I will never again fear to tell my story.

I know that sometimes in this world, things happen that we do not understand. Things do not go our way. Things do not go as planned. Sometimes, prayers go unanswered. People are hurt. People die. Hearts are broken. But that does not change the truth of who God is. His ways are higher than our ways. He is infinite and we are finite. I know that it is important to feel the feelings and face them. It is important to tell God we are angry at Him if we are angry. It is important to treat Him like a person, because He is real and alive and He will meet us just where we are. Above all else, I know that He loves me. That He is here for me. And I know that I can trust Him. We can trust Him.

Sometimes, the hard things in life are just agents of grace, things that happen to us that are difficult and cause us to question everything, but that draw us deeper into relationship with God and show us things about ourselves that we would have never seen if not for the thing that happened to us. Sometimes, agents of grace come in the form of a disappointment. Sometimes they come in the form of a death. Sometimes, they come in the form of an emergency c-section. Sometimes, we won’t understand. And that’s okay. It’s okay to be angry and hurt and confused. It is okay to feel all of those human emotions that God created us with.

I have learned something so beautiful about life. We need each other, so much. And we all have something to offer one another. Something so important and so precious. And I have learned something so beautiful about God. His heart is pure toward me, His love is unfailing, and He is so much more than what I can imagine. So much deeper than my thoughts can go. He works all things together for the good of those who love Him, even when things do not go how I plan.

Standing on the brink of this new place, I am thankful.