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Give Me Grace : Staying in My Body, Meeting God on My Mat

Posted on August 2, 2014August 9, 2014 by lisha epperson

Or didn’t you realize that your body is a sacred place, the place of the Holy Spirit? Don’t you see that you can’t live however you please, squandering what God paid such a high price for? The physical part of you is not some piece of property belonging to the spiritual part of you. God owns the whole works. So let people see God in and through your body.

1 Corinthians 6:19-20 (MSG)

It’s always way too early or way too late. Peeling my body out of bed before sunrise or making it happen just as the grown folks hour begins – I roll out my mat.
As prayer and holy meditation, I try to live out these words.

Consider your body a living sacrifice holy and acceptable toward God – that is your reasonable service – Romans 12:1

Only I struggle with discipline and stumble repeatedly over “the things” that make it difficult to meet my fitness goals. My one word for 2014 challenges me every day. But I know how important this is and when I get there it’s a sweet time of communion and contemplation. The deepest connection and conversation with my body. With my God.

Bed rest and working through the emotions of a pregnancy I never thought would happen rocked my world. Infertility did a number on me folks. I lost the connection and confidence in my temple. All of this…is me working to get that back. Still.

Truth is it would be easier to check out. Let that part of me wander off in the wilderness with a few other dreams. But I can’t. This is the one that promises to help keep me alive. I want to live His redemption in a healthy body. So I fight to balance what’s reasonable. Teeter and twist around the line between what I can and what I want to do. I make every moment count. I’ll take the holy hug of a few minutes on my mat when I can. It’s my dance, my devotion, my committment and call. I have to do this.

Surrendering my body to the stillness of my mat drowns out the cackles coming from the “all or none diva” in the corner . I know every step matters. As long as I’m consistent – there’s grace for the God honoring discipline of exercise.

So when I’m desperate for a stretch, I throw the mat down. I push past the voices that mock and shame, the voice that tells me I don’t have time.

And I breathe and count the rhythm of His word.

you are God’s temple and God’s spirit dwells in you

Feet hip width apart, shoulders down, long neck

Chin to chest roll down 2,3,4,5,6,7,8
And hold 2,3,4,5,6,7,8
Soft knees 2,3,4,5,6,7,8
Roll up 2,3,4,5,6,7,8

again, 2,3,4…

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight….#GiveMeGrace Continue reading “Give Me Grace : Staying in My Body, Meeting God on My Mat” →

An Infertility Testimony: {a guest post by Ashlie Haddock}

Posted on July 31, 2014August 9, 2014 by lisha epperson

I met Ashlie Haddock on her Facebook page dedicated to infertility awareness. I was delighted to wear a pink ribbon with her and her many followers in honor of infertility awareness month in April 2013. It wasn’t the first time I publicly supported efforts to bring this seemingly unspeakable struggle to the forefront – but it felt like it. I admire Ashlie’s committment to the cause…especially since she’s still in the trenches. Read her story. She shares the personal testimony of a marriage strengthened through solid lessons on faith.

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I believe any struggle or circumstance can be used to glorify God if we allow it to. As I have struggled with many heartaches, struggles, bitterness and suffering the past 5 years, God had laid it upon my heart to give my testimony. I pray my testimony can help others.

2 Corinthians 1:4 Who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.

TESTIMONY

I believe God has given me much comfort through my journey and I feel I should share my story so that God may speak through me to help comfort others. I praise God for where I am today and how far I have come in our journey. I still have a long way to go but I must always look ahead and remember how far HE has brought me.

In 2003, I met Trent and he proposed in 2007. While dating, we had a 4 and a half-year long distance relationship which I will discuss later. While discussing our future, we talked about starting our family. We talked about if, for some reason we couldn’t have kids, we would adopt. We also talked about what type of church we would attend as we both came from different religions. We got married May 3rd, 2008 and on May 16th, 2009, we started trying to get pregnant.

After a year of no pregnancy we began wondering what could be wrong. We never imagined we couldn’t get pregnant as our families never struggled conceiving. We finally got a diagnosis and were told we were sterile. Trent was born with a congenital absence of the vas. After getting our diagnosis as we were leaving the doctor, I will never forget the look on Trent’s face and sound of his voice. Before we could even get sat down in the car to leave Trent asked, “Are you going to divorce me?” I always knew, but realized more in that moment, what a special marriage we had. I knew there was nothing that could break the marriage God had given us. Later you will see how I feel God was preparing and strengthening us while dating to endure infertility. Only 2 weeks after getting our diagnosis, an adoption fell into our laps. We were still grieving and trying to cope with our diagnosis. After many prayers, we couldn’t go through with it. It was devastating but we turned it down. We still had hopes that somehow we could carry our own child. In the middle of all the IUI‘s we did with known or donor sperm, we got approached with another adoption falling into our laps. The mother decided to keep the child. And then a third and forth potential adoption – and they fell through too. Here we are today 5 years after first trying to conceive, 3.5 years after our first diagnosis, 1 turned down adoption, 3 other potential adoptions that didn’t work out and 9 failed IUI’s later. We walked away with empty arms a year ago in February.

This journey has been the most painful thing we have ever experienced and is still something we battle but I have learned so much through our struggles and want to share some of God’s blessings. Continue reading “An Infertility Testimony: {a guest post by Ashlie Haddock}” →

Give Me Grace : A Second Chance

Posted on July 26, 2014July 26, 2014 by lisha epperson

Second chance…

GOD, my God, I yelled for help and you put me together. GOD, you pulled me out of the grave, gave me another chance at life when I was down-and-out. (‭Psalm‬ ‭30‬:‭2-3‬ MSG)

You did it: you changed wild lament into whirling dance; You ripped off my black mourning band and decked me with wildflowers. I’m about to burst with song; I can’t keep quiet about you. GOD, my God, I can’t thank you enough. (‭Psalm‬ ‭30‬:‭1-12‬ MSG)

A baby. Swaddled potential and a basket of dreams. New life. Gods’ promise of hope. A wished upon falling star…captured.

My friend is the new mama of a healthy baby girl. And today, I write through happy tears because she’s been granted a second chance.

The miracle of birth is not lost on me and I have a God story to tell. I hold the stories of victory close because I know the battle for motherhood is real. There’s something special about the testimonies of women who fight for the title. My friend is an infertility warrior. We met on the field.

She is the mother of one son through adoption. A son whose sudden passing shattered every thing she knew about the world. It’s said a mother shouldn’t have to bury her child and tasting even a sip of that bitter brew, through her experience, tells me the saying is true.

“I’m mad at God.”

The pain in these words rang through the halls as I sat outside a memorial service delivered by Reverend Calvin Butts. He was referring to the untimely passing of a young mother in our community. I knew what he meant and appreciated his transparency in that moment. His humanity couldn’t comprehend why something so terrible had to happen. He was thinking of the husband and child she left behind…and he’d loved her and it hurt. The reverend said those words through tears.

So hearing the news of my friends loss at an annual picnic a few years ago was more than any of us could bear. It wasn’t fair. I was mad at God too. I know He’s sovereign but I’ll be honest – I was mad anyway.

Last night I heard the news. She gets a second chance. A second chance at motherhood, a first chance at a daughter, another chance at life.

I drank in the picture of their daughter and prayed His favor over their family. They aren’t young, or new parents. They’re brave and wise. This is a bold step of faith and they’ll need God, like we all do, to raise a little girl for His glory. She’s here! I imagine their sorrow turned joy, their mourning turned dancing. They’re celebrating the life of a son…gone too soon, the grace gift of a daughter and a God who declares this season new – a second chance.

Rejoice with me. Her name is Mariel.

and this song, a little gospel in my head – “Special Gift” by Donnie McClurkin

heaven sent me a wonderful, very special, beautiful gift

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

♥

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On the Work of Motherhood and Dreams

Posted on July 25, 2014July 25, 2014 by lisha epperson

Lying across the “big bed”, an open window invites a breeze to tickle my spine. Stretching out like this feels good for the kink living in my lower back and I pour myself into the purr escaping my lips. Unplanned moments of self-care are welcomed and I melt into the lifetime of that heartbeat.

I hear the hum of a hospital generator and nothing else. I wanted to write, but when I sat down at the computer my littlest lovely called out. In the middle of working out his daytime drama in dreamland, he needs my touch, to sleep peacefully at night.

And that’s cool. Until it ain’t. My life feels interrupted and right now, parenthood is paralyzing. Every day it gets harder to keep up with what I consider my passion. I’m struggling with the chasm between what I have to do and what I want to do and the bridge connecting my dreams and reality is under construction. I can’t find my way over, back or through. Motherhood is an exhausting job and one I wanted most, but sometimes, I wonder if the work of parenting should trump everything else. And if there’s a way to do it all.

I recognize the holy hard work I do as an all-consuming calling. It colors my world, bleeding a hodge-podge of tie-dyed crimson. If asked, it’s the work I’m most proud of. But when I consider other dreams, even for a second, it jumps to the front of the line. Every time. Refusing to take second place, even temporarily, parenthood photo bombs my life. There’s very little space to carve out a cleft for writing or dancing or dreaming.

Number 3 at home is compulsory school age now and September will mark the beginning of my life as a homeschooling mama of many. I wonder if I can juggle it. Middle school math is a brain frazzler and the effort to launch my lovelies secure in their faith while focusing on pursuing their dreams is a full-time job.

I dream of advancing the kingdom beyond my 4 walls. Is that possible for a full-time parent/ educator? And, if I can’t is that enough? My reach, my parenting platform seems insignificant when I watch friends trot off to places of higher learning, successful second careers outside the home or life changing missionary journeys.

And then I’ll have a day like today. Motherhood affirming days where everything clicks and my tank of mommy juice is full. My children laugh and play well together. At least one of them will say something profound or flat-out funny, letting me know – I’m raising good people. A few words will flash dance on paper before getting lost in my heart. I’ll wake up feet firmly planted in the ground of my motherhood because I’m not trying to separate my calling and passion. I’ll know – I’m where I belong. The soil is rich and roots me. And there’s time. For all of it.

I see the imprint of feet next to me and feel assured by women walking the same road. Their strength buoys my efforts. They may not offer to do my laundry but always, always breathe grace. I feel the melody of my story mingle with theirs. The God glimmer of his promise lies in the footprints I see ahead. He’ll walk this thing with us. We’re not alone. Our work matters. All of it.

Writing in community with The High Calling