Whispers

Whispers I
Whispers II: An Old Man in a Plane
Whispers III: Obedience
Whispers IV: A Yellow Butterfly

For many people there are dramatic events, life altering moments that propel them to change course or aid them to return to the right path. This has not been the case in my life. God instead sends me little whispers and I am ashamed to admit I am often not listening. There are times when I heard but misunderstood. I have called out to God in pain and often felt abandoned and alone. I prayed for help and seemed to have not been heard. As a teenager struggling with my family’s divorce I used it as an excuse to distance myself from the church and eventually God. When I lost my first baby the unbelievable need to feel God’s presence again was awakened in my heart. An encounter with an old man in a plane was an ignored whisper. The baptism of a Godchild was a start home out of obedience. A yellow butterfly was a gift of love allowing me to open my arms and embrace a God I had hurt and wanted to be close to again.

I started to spot while driving with Jason to his new duty station at the M.C.A.G.C.C. in Twentynine Palms, CA. We spent six weeks in a hotel room waiting for base housing, knowing I was going to miscarry and waiting for the inevitable to happen. I cried mostly and hoped that a miracle would happen and my baby would be alive. I didn’t want to leave the bed for fear that I would miscarry in public. At nineteen weeks I finally miscarried. I delivered the placenta alone in a very cold hotel room bathroom. The details of that delivery are the clearest I have of the nine (update: now ten) I have been through.

Later that week, knowing that it was over, I hopped on my bike with a map and rode around the small town for the first time. I needed to find the church. I had to sit with Jesus. I needed to know I would see my baby someday and that there was meaning to all this pain. I was drowning with the grief and guilt that this happened because I had turned from Him. I found the church. The front door was locked and I was too shy to ask around if there was an open chapel. It was enough to sit outside and know He was there present in the Tabernacle. Even as I questioned my catholic religion and couldn’t make sense of Jesus and how is death saved us, my heart still knew the Eucharist was Him! I would like to say that it was some divine moment and I instantly returned to the Sacraments, but I had a lot more baggage to deal with. God is ever patient and faithful even when I am not.

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