Ten years ago, I sat in the dining hall of a Christian camp. A man my father's age sat with me. It was April, and I had no idea... I had no idea how the next ten years of my life would be measured by this month.
"You need to let him see who you are."
It was the prophetic word from a man named Bob. It was the best advice I've ever been given. It was the key that started a journey.
I was full of anxiety. I couldn't drive a car. I couldn't, for the life of me, pass a college math class. I froze up any time I had to speak in front of a group of more than five people. I hardly ate. I hardly slept. I had no idea who I was, and the me I was hiding had been hurt so many times, I didn't think it was worth exposing.
I tried anyway.
He was the most gentle boy I'd ever met. There was a safety there that I had never really known. He was the first person who asked me to take up space with no reservations and no conditions.
By the next April, I was planning my wedding. I was graduating college. I was driving my own car.
Five years later, in the throes of infertility and emptiness, God saw fit to give me three new additions. Not by birth or adoption, but fruit nonetheless. Three incredible women, whom I have the privilege of calling friends.
Two years later, in April, we found out we were expecting our first child-- long awaited Josiah, a little mess of a promise.
Three years have passed, and April is the month when we lost our next little possibility of life.
Who knows what next April will hold?
Maybe life, maybe not. Definitely revision of some sort.
It seems that Aprils bring either death or resurrection for me.
All I know is that I can't hide from it.
Ten years ago, I sat in the dining hall of a Christian camp. A man my father's age sat with me. It was April, and I had no idea... I had...
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