A Forging by Pain

 forge ¹  (fôrj, frj)

n.

1. A furnace or hearth where metals are heated or wrought; a smithy.

v. forged, forg·ing, forg·es

v.tr.

1.To form (metal, for example) by heating in a forge and beating or hammering into shape.

2. To give form or shape to, especially by means of careful effort: forge a treaty; forge a close relationship.

intr.v. forged, forg·ing, forg·es

3. To advance gradually but steadily: forged ahead

I have been meaning to write this for some time now.  I've been ruminating on this thought - reflected in the title - since the beginning of September. A few weeks before I wrote the title for this post, I received some news threw me into a Giant Wrestling Match with God. On par with Jacob's wrestling match. Only that I demanded that the Lord bless me and he didn't. At least, he didn't bless me the way I wanted.

(It would be easy to try to come up with some quick redemptive "insight" into how he did bless me at that point, but I think that his blessing will be revealed in the future, with clearer vision looking back. And it's not lost on me that Jacob's blessing came also with a limp.)

What did result from that news was that the terrible pain I was in - the wrenching pain and confusion -  seemed to intensify everything. Everything. Everything about what I thought about my circumstances, the future, If God was Good, my anger with "his plan," my insight into what I wanted. What I demanded.

 In the midst of all of this, I pondered - a lot - the idea of sanctification by fire,  by crucible.

In the past, I thought that the idea of burning dross from silver (me) sounded quite painful, thank you. In my mind, though, it was always the image of silver being refined "until you can see his face in the reflection." Right? yes? It almost sounds pretty.

These current circumstances, they didn't feel like silver becoming pretty. Certainly it felt like burning, but burning with pounding. Hammering. With Careful Effort. Hard. Black.

I was being - am being - forged.

Yep. Like this.

This is what sanctification feels like.

Isn't it beautiful? I think so. I think the photo is beautiful, and I think wrought iron is beautiful when it is completed.

But as the iron, as that thing so strong and beautiful in the end, when it is demanded that it change and form to another, it is weak. Helpless. Lying there, Burning.

I can't help but read the last definition above: To advance gradually but steadily. It is wonderful that the word has so many robust and appropriate applications. I am advancing in my faith, gradually, steadily. He is not disappointed with my slow progress.  Psalm 72:13; Psalm 138:6

And this morning, while reading my devotions, I came across this hymn:

Beneath thine hammer, Lord, I lie

with contrite spirit prone

Oh, mould me till to self I die

and live to thee alone

With frequent disappointments sore

and many a bitter pain

Thou laborest at my being's core

till I be formed again

Smite, Lord! thine hammer's needful wound

my baffled hopes confess

Thine anvil is the sense profound

of mine own nothingness

Smite, till from all its idols free

and filled with love divine

My heart shall know no good but thee

and have no will but thine

 Frederic Henry Hedge

And then I quietly quit Facebook

A few months ago, I noticed something happening. I would wake up, get a cup of coffee, log into facebook, and stare at all the things going on in people's lives. Good things. Shiny lives. Every now and again a prayer request of some kind as an indication that something was amiss, but by and large just posts of how well things were going in other's lives.

So I started posting a lot of Spurgeon, Scottie Smith, other pastors that were slowly ministering to my heart.  Hoping it would stem the tide of Shiny, and get to Real.

But it remained that I would log off of FB and get ready for the day feeling outcast, covetous and angry with God.

I tried managing my Newsfeed so that only certain people would pop up, but Facebook is tenacious that way. Take people out that are semi-close friends of yours, and the really random people start showing up. Oh, and they have lots of perfect lives, too.

So I quietly quit Facebook.

I didn't make a splash, didn't announce it ("I'm fasting from FB, message me" kind of a thing.) Just...stopped logging in.

Knowing that I had made a habit of checking FB,  I revamped my Google Reader, which I truly can manage with interesting articles and those blogs that are so very encouraging to me. Many of them - frankly - have to do with grief, and how God redeems lives, and gives joy in spite of the shadows and valleys. People share more of their lives  - the good and the hard - when they have multiple paragraphs to do so.

I'm happier. Well, more content. I pay more attention to the voice of the Lord. I read my devotions in the morning, instead of FB.

I do check a few FB pages about once a week - those of friends I actually talk to regularly, just to be sure that I'm keeping up. Some of the college students we work with, my husband's page.  I have notifications set up if people message me.

I just stopped looking at the Feed. Feeding me shiny, happy lies of unbroken lives.

A Poem I love

We cried,
“How long, O Lord, how long
   will we be made to wait, and swallow jagged shards
      of that unchristened chalice
         of whose warm wine we never took a taste
            and all we drank was emptiness unplanned?”

And he replied,
“Until you learn the song
   that only sorrow sings, of how my soul regards
      your ev’ry wound, and malice
         has no place in my design, but all is paced
            to come with double blessings in my hand.”
                                     
                                                               John Piper

How good is this?

A few days ago, I had lunch with a dear friend that, now that I live in Chattnooga, I don't get to see very often. We talked a lot, cried a little, and grieved the pain the Lord has seen fit to send us. It was an amazing time of encouragement, seeing the emotion in her face and knowing that we could so thoroughly relate to one another. 

This poem strikes me the same way. Poetic and accurate, it reflects to me my experience, but it encourages me that someone else knows what I am feeling.

It also reminds me that all grief is the similar, though each person grieves different losses.

Here I raise my Ebenezar

I began putting this post together in January/February, and I can tell from what I originally wrote, I was in a brighter place back then. The difficulty and sadness that I've been experiencing lately makes no less potent the following emails, blog posts and notes from my friends.

Lately on this journey,  I've been made very aware of the support and friendship that I have been given - a gift from the Lord.  I walk through the valley of the shadow, but my friends have their arms about me.


"I pray for you a lot on Sundays, when I glance over to the back few rows on the east side of the sanctuary. I imagine you and Adam there, and I am reminded to lift up your body and your spirit before our gracious God. Jesus was fully capable of changing the hearts and minds of everyone around her [the woman who bled for 12 years] so that she wouldn't be seen as an outsider, but instead He healed her body. What I'm saying is, as much as we may pray for God to transform attitudes and desires, I'm also still praying -- with deep conviction and fervency -- for Him to honor the promises that are bound up in the Incarnation and to have mercy on your body, too."

"Oh Hannah...(deep sigh). I don't really have enough words, but I do have tears.  I'm sorry to hear this news.  I do pray that your surgery results will be more positive than negative, that God would provide a miracle.  He can.  I know this. Love you and miss you terribly."


"But I'm glad that you still have a place for me. Despite the miles and years and experiences that may separate us, I am still that friend who stayed up all night with you talking about everything, and I am only a phone call away."

"Thank you for sharing your heart - being able to walk with you on this in any sort of meaningful way, much less a way that has been helpful, encouraging, or made you laugh, feels like such a privilege. Being an instrument of grace always awes me, mostly because I'm very VERY aware of how much I swear!"

I didn't have the chance yet to respond to your post about helping someone through infertility, but I so appreciated what you had to say. When you wrote earlier you mentioned that people are uncomfortable around suffering -- what to do with the normally upbeat girl who bursts into tears when you say 'hello'? Obviously there's no better teacher than experience for how to walk with people through suffering, but there's a lot to be said for telling people flat out: no, it's not helpful to offer advice about taking your temperatures every month or your cousin who just adopted. Yes, a wordless hug is adequate and welcome. 

(from a blog about our journey of friendship) But my love for her wouldn’t let me be someone who faded into the background, so I had to do something. In the end, I decided to write her a letter. A handwritten one, because she's worth it. In it, I said that I didn’t know what to say to her...other than how deeply sad I was for her. I didn’t know how to react...other than to pray. Basically, I didn’t know what to do...other than be available. In short, all I had to give was myself." 

Hannah, I wanted to tell you that C and I prayed for you last night with tears. love you so much,

Oh, Hannah. Oh, Hannah. I'm so very sorry. What difficult news and statistics to hear. I'm torn between being optimistic and saying "F*** the numbers," and being realistic and mourning with you. Maybe I'll do both. We serve a great God who is so difficult to understand, because rather than protect you from this, He has somehow prepared you for it. And He will take your hand and walk you through it. And on the other side, somehow, there will be children. I'm just confident of that. You will know His abundance, and it will look differently than you expected, imagined, and hoped for. You will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.

I'd already planned to email you about a time to get together next week, but after reading your blog just now, I feel even more intent on seeing you. My heart aches for you, Hannah, that you have to go through such a difficult time! I wish there were something I could do to ease the emotional, psychological, spiritual, & physical ache of this journey of infertility. I'm praying for you, and petitioning God on your behalf, and I know that's probably one of the best ways to help.

 It was hard and very painful for a long time - sometimes it still is. This area right here was the hardest for me and it took the longest to come back out into the light. I had to lay my heart open before the Lord over and over and over. It was actually a moment of real awakening when I realized for the first time that I was truly unable to be what I was supposed to be for others - happy and joyful for them. I came to the very end of myself and had to cry out to God for the strength to give myself over to Him and to let His righteousness fill me. That was the only way. Little by little He has done just that. 

Praying as always for success! I remember how it feels pointless to pray after a while: "Lord, you already know this. You've heard it from me a million times already." Mom sent me this quote from Charles Spurgeon the other day, "Prayer pulls the rope blow and the great bell rings above in the ears of God. Some scarcely stir the bell, for they pray so languidly. Others give but an occasional pluck at the rope. But he who wins with heaven is the man who grasps the rope boldly and pulls continuously with all his might." I am trying to be that person of prayer for you. Besides the pregnancy you so long for I am also praying that you will be like the righteous man in psalm 112 who "is not afraid of bad news; his heart is firm trusting in the Lord."

So here I raise my ebenezer. Samuel raised his ebenezer when the Lord gave complete victory over their enemies. May he do the same for me - giving me complete victory. But if not, my friends are each a rock to me, supporting me, as does the Rock of Ages. 

A Silent Grief

I read this article a while back, and it is just as good today as it was a few months ago. The title is a little ironic, because I seem to be anything but silent on this matter, but I know my readers love me and wish to be on this journey with me.


A Silent Grief - Pastoral Reflections on Infertility

Manipulating God

I feel myself trying to manipulate God: If I just push myself into submission, push myself into acceptance of my infertility situation, then I will get the balm I want. If I finally realize how deeply I need the cross, how sinful I am and acknowledge my sins, Jesus will give me my desires.

This is a hard place. How does one truly want Kingdom work when you do not care about Kingdom work? How does one love Christ for his sacrifice, when you feel that you've sacrificed a lot, too? Indeed, even feel as though you've sacrificed enough?

 I ponder Corrie Ten Boom's story about forgiving the guard at Ravensbruck. (http://www.familylifeeducation.org/gilliland/procgroup/CorrieTenBoom.htm). If she prays for the love to forgive, why should I not pray for the ability to love Christ more than myself? To pursue God more than my own desires? Yes, I want a good gift from the Lord, but I want it for my own personal kingdom. I do not doubt this is the spiritual weed the Lord is pulling from the garden of my heart.

 I cannot do it on my own. He must give me his saving grace. He must change my heart.

James 1

English Standard Version 
Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.

If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him. But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind. For that person must not suppose that he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways.

The Message 
Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way.

If you don’t know what you’re doing, pray to the Father. He loves to help. You’ll get his help, and won’t be condescended to when you ask for it. Ask boldly, believingly, without a second thought. People who “worry their prayers” are like wind-whipped waves. Don’t think you’re going to get anything from the Master that way, adrift at sea, keeping all your options open.

New International Version
Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. That man should not think he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double-minded man, unstable in all he does.

A little tiny voice

Three months into infertility treatments, there are few things so difficult to bear as hope.

This tiny little voice, pointing out the strange feelings your reproductive system creates three days before your period. Because so many hallmarks of a period are also hallmarks of implantation and early conception. That people do get pregnant from fertility treatments. Otherwise, well, they wouldn't be offered as a treatment. That God can do anything he pleases. And Maybe - just maybe - this time he will be pleased to give us a baby.

So, this tiny voice brings hopeful dreams: what would it be like to look at my husband with tears of happiness, instead of sadness, numbness and disappointment? To tell people who have prayed for so long with us that we're finally pregnant? To have hope fulfilled? To, for a momentary second, feel the relief of success?

Then remembering the crushing pain of the last month: "not pregnant" in indisputable digital display. On our fourth anniversary. When we were so hopeful, so positive this month would be the best shot. The knowledge that the ultrasound this time showed I ovulated on the side that is most damaged from endometriosis. Knowing that side is unlikely to move an egg properly, fertilized or not. Thinking about the fever from illness that came for two days after the last fertility treatment.

With all that proof, wouldn't you think I would rest in the knowledge that I'm not pregnant?

But there it is. The tiny little voice of hope.

Is a Lie I've been Told

So, when I first heard this song, I told Adam I thought it sounded like a Christian song (it's not). But the way he holds each note until the next is familiar and - well - a little typical of Christian songs.

I listened to the words, and the song, well, it endeared itself to me. Not just the imagery of feeling alone, not listened to, and depressed, but also the hope in the lyrics, "Never fear, No never fear," "to believe I walk alone is a lie that I've been told," and "This too shall pass."

It seems like a Psalm - both crying out and the remembering that it will pass. Remembering we do not walk alone - God and others inevitably walk with us.  We walk through the valley of the shadow of death. We don't stop (even when it feels we've been camped out there for a long time), and another hill is just around the bend. The mountaintop comes, even if it doesn't look like the mountains we've climbed before.

Anyway. Here it is:

(Updated for the google people out there: It's by Fort Atlantic, and below is a link to a youtube posting of the son with a photo montage of HIMYM. My music loving husband would say, "buy the song!" And I say: welcome! Hope you stick around :) ) 

All my days are spent

All my cards are dealt

Oh the desolation grows

Every inch revealed
As my heart is pierced

Oh my soul is now exposed

In the ocean deep

In the canyons steep

Walls of granite here I stand

All my desperate calls

Echo off the walls

Back and forth

Then back again

To believe I walk alone

Is a lie that I’ve been told

So let your heart hold fast

For this soon shall pass

Like the high tide takes the sand

At the bitter end

Salt and liquid blend

From the corner of my eye

All the miles wrecked

Every broken step

Always searching always blind

Never fear, No Never fear

So let your heart hold fast

For this soon shall pass

There’s another hill ahead

Gifts III

More in my little series, "Gifts from Friends"  - A quote from Michael Card, by way of my very good, very faithful friend:  

"Our failure to lament also cuts us off from each other. If you and I are to know one another in a deep way, we must not only share our hurts, anger, and disappointments with each other (which we often do), we must also lament them together before the God who hears and is moved by our tears. Only then does our sharing become truly redemptive in character. The degree to which I am willing to enter into the suffering of another person reveals the level of my commitment and love for them. If I am not interested in your hurts, I am not really interested in you. Neither am I willing to suffer to know you nor be known by you. Jesus' example makes these truths come alive in our hearts. He is the One who suffered to know us, who then suffered for us on the cross. In all this, He revealed the hesed of His Father." 

~A Sacred Sorrow: Reaching Out to God in the Lost Language of Lament

(I love that hesed means "loving-kindness." That in Jesus' deep suffering and grief, the loving-kindness of the Father is revealed. Maybe in mine, too. ) 

Gifts From Friends II

During the last 3 weeks, my friends have been amazing. So amazing, I'm going to share their wisdom with you.

"And neither of [those difficult events] take God by surprise, and He'll love you hard enough to see you through, even if you're mad at Him in the midst of it. Happiness isn't a zero sum game, or a pie that you have to fight for the biggest piece, but it sure can feel that way sometimes, as though the happiness of others just makes your pain more pronounced. And I don't know what to say to help that, but I wish I did. I wish I could salve your heart in a way that satisfied and left you feeling calm or at least content. I'm glad we serve a God that can."

Gifts from Friends

Sometimes, gifts from friends aren't physical items. Sometimes they are poems:

It must be, God, Thou hast a strength to give
To him that fain would do what Thou dost say;
Else how shall any soul repentant live,
Old griefs and new fears hurrying on dismay?
Let pain be what Thou wilt, kind and degree,
Only in pain calm Thou my heart with Thee.

But Thou art making me, I thank Thee, Sire.
What Thou hast done and doest Thou knowest well.
And I will help Thee: gently in Thy fire
I will lie burning; on Thy potter's wheel
I will whirl patient, though my brain should reel.
Thy grace shall be enough the grief to quell,
And growing strength perfect through weakness dire.

~George McDonald

For everyone wondering

For those who would like to really know what it's like for an infertile couple, this series is pretty darn accurate - and pokes fun at the places that really are ridiculous!  Perhaps the reason I laughed so hard is because these situations are so universal to those with unexplained infertility.

How's the Weather? and What We're Reading

After some crazy heat in GA and TN, the last few days have been cloudy, rainy and delightfully grey. Especially on the  mountain, it has been - at times - downright cool.

Adam was gone to Pennsylvania for two weeks and finished the intensive class part of the Masters of Education he is pursuing. He is currently required to read "The Narcissistic Epidemic"for his class, "College Kids in America." We've been reading it out loud to each other.  It is interesting, terribly depressing, scary - and funny. I'd love to recommend it to a number of friends, but currently - as I do not have kids and it doesn't look particularly good for us in that regard - I think I might get responses such as a) protesting, b) denial that they give their kids everything and c) being cut off from my friends!

If I could encourage my Parent Friends, please don't ever tell your child that they are special. They are not special. Unless they are 3 and producing Mozart-quality symphonies, they are not special. They are loved by you. They are special to you. The entitled, "special" message that kids have received over the last 15-25 years has now resulted in a marked increase in selfish, compassionless narcissistic tendencies in adulthood.

Ok, sermon over.  The problem with that last paragraph is that I know the 4 friends that have kids and also read this blog have no difficulty telling their kids "No." So the friends who need to read this book won't. 

Subject two: I have delved into photography again, getting ready for a 2013 visit to:

Now, Rick Steves was one of my favorite shows to watch on Saturday mornings in St. Louis, when we could get PBS. Here on the mountain the TV signal isn't as good, so we don't get PBS. (We do however get 5 channels of Evangelical sermons. Accept Jesus into your heart, y'all.)

As we get closer and closer to the end of our fertility struggle - when we finish with the current (so-far unsuccessful) treatments - we also get closer to visiting our friends and the culture and history of Germany.  Of course, I'd rather have our own children, but focussing on something that can be planned and executed has kept my spirits up in the face of disappointment. 

And finally, Here are some of the fantastic views out our back window: 

Clouds

A friend of Adam's asked me the other day if I had been taking a lot of photos of sunsets lately. He works at the college and knows how beautiful the summer sunsets can be. 

"No," I answered. "The sunsets are most beautiful when there are clouds present."

"And it's been so clear lately."

"Yes."

I was just looking at the photo I have as my masthead on this blog and realized what I like the most about it is the contrast of dark and light. I love that the sun is streaming through the clouds.

I think God must love it when his grace and love for us and work in our lives streams through our grief and pain. Just like clouds.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

"God Moves in a Mysterious Way"

William Cowper

The kind of day it's been

Every night I take 10 mg of Zyrtec (Because Tennessee? The allergy CAPITAL of the world) and 10 mg of Singulair (Which is amazing because my asthma is no! more!) and candy that masquerades as Calcium Chews.  I always eat the calcium last, because it's like a little good night treat to myself. Its like a "good job! you made it through another day. And you're doing so well fighting osteoporosis!

Some days are so tiring, you just eat the candy-masquerading-as-calcium-chews first. Because you're just so tired.

But good tired. I-worked-hard-and-accomplished-a-lot-today tired.

Grieving

It is the day before Mothers day.

I am grieving.

I wonder how many of my friends, those that I know have suffered miscarriages or are infertile, are not yet grieving the loss.  I wonder what it will be like tomorrow for them. To remember the dream, or the little person, that was never realized.

I wonder about the church service. Will leaders remember the barren?

I look at my scars: the four, tiny, 1 inch incisions my good doctor made to eradicate my disease. They are healed, slightly red, starting to become white and fade. They are hidden. But they are there.

How many hidden scars are there in the women of the church? Tiny, fading, no longer bleeding, no longer scabbed over, but always there?

I remember God's faithfulness, his nearness. The way he has given me faith to endure and faith to learn over a year and a half of painful sunday services. The way he -without fail - brings the image of embracing the cross to my mind as I weep in church. He is faithful to remind me that he is ever present, and that he knows my every tear.

I remember my friends, my oh-so-faithful friends, who are always willing to be there. Always supporting. Always caring. Always praying.

I think about my own mother - and I celebrate her courage, her faithfulness, her transparency, her love. I will celebrate her tomorrow, both privately and publicly.

Today I am grieving.

Eat to Live and Jillian Michaels

I nearly always have to start conversation about nutrition/health/working out with the disclaimer: I absolutely realize that I'm in the healthy range of weight.

ok. now that we have that down.

I also have realized that - HOLY COW- my metabolism is not what it used to be. I was never a healthy eater, nor did I think about systematic exercising when I was in my 20s. I worked out, but lets be honest: it was about vanity and maybe, just maybe, seeing that cute college guy working out in the gym.

Sometime after college, I thought that Taco Bell was legitimate (cheap, right? and TASTY!), and I put on about 15 pounds right out of college. Which is ironic, because I don't think I really gained any weight in college.

In my late 20s, I dropped a few pounds getting ready for my high school's 10th reunion and my sisters wedding, all happening within a few months of each other. Now, THAT was motivation.

Now? I have no motivation. Except to be, you know, healthy.

So I picked up this book called "Eat to Live" on a recommendation. The author is a physician, Dr. Joel Fuhrman, and makes the argument that our bodies will do best, and fight cancer and heart disease best, if we make nutrients a priority and calories...well, not.  His little slogan is "Health = Nutrients/Calories."

Yeah, if you did that math right, you're thinking the right thing: Vegetarianism??

And he's not quite a vegetarian, because he admits there are a few positive things about meat, and that people need meat. Because he's a bit fanatical about nutrients and a bit overzealously anti-free-radicals and other things that  make me...well, confused about how cancer is created, but whatever. The gist of the book: Eat your dark leafy greens. a lot. Like, 90% of your food ought to be veggies, 10% carbs and meat.

Ok, so that's the first part. Second part:

I am the tiniest bit obsessed with Jillian Michaels.

From the Biggest Loser? Yeah, she cracks. me. up. She's about as boot camp as Dr. Furhman, but she's anti-soy, and he isn't...and .....yeah, you don't care.

But this absolutely made me laugh - late at night - and I love her back and forth with people: "How much red wine?"





Ok, so that's what I've been reading and watching lately. Have I been converted to eating 90% of my calories from veggies?? Well, yes, in theory. But in practice?

Two words: Chicken Chimichanga.

Stop Apologizing

Yeah, I'm just going to stop constantly apologizing for letting this place sit with no updates.  Instead, here's a random sampling of what I've been doing and thinking about.

• Yep, so hotflashes, they come and go. Sometimes I notice that it's a hotflash, sometimes I'm just "Wow, I'm really warm all of a sudden. Take this jacket off."  I have to be honest, I thought hotflashes would announce themselves a little more. Some kind of "here I come...get ready...AHHHHHHHH! HOTFLASH." Instead, I tend to do what I've seen my aunt and mom and other ladies do.  "Whoo-whee! I am WARM. What the heck?"

• The end of the Lupron will come in April, so I have about a few weeks left. I've really, really enjoyed not having to deal with the everlasting question of "am I pregnant or not?" There's a part of me that just wishes we would know for sure that we won't ever get pregnant, because a) I could respond to everyone that says, "oh, you never know," with "Well, yes, I do. And so does my Fertility Specialist." And b) not deal with the roller-coaster of hope and then hopes dashed.

• I'm definitely getting the "are you guys going to adopt?" question more frequently.  Please, friends, don't ask anyone who is struggling with infertility this question. It really really doesn't help anyone. If they are, they are, and they'll tell you all about it. If not, it just makes them  - ok, me - defensive.  The poor person who asked got a bit of a treatise on how adopting doesn't quell grief.

• Went home for the funeral for my granddad (see previous post). Going home was good, but for the first time, I returned to where I am now without the deep sense of ambivalence that I have always experienced. Ever since I can remember, flying away from Billings made me sad and I usually cried as I would leave. This time, I didn't feel joy at leaving, but I was just ready to get back to my life. I think "Leaving and Cleaving" is a more of a process and not an event than I initially believed. But my family is a big part of my life and I love them. It makes sense that I wouldn't be able to just drop them and -  BOOM - cleave to Adam like they never existed.

• Adam and his co-workers chose the Resident assistants for next year. So, part of the reason I headed home without him was that he was putting in 18 hour days, interviewing 19-year-olds to be head of their hall next year...and THEN doing his normal job tasks in the evening hours. The RAs are a big part of our lives. We see them daily, and are usually having them over for dinners or hanging out. So, picking a new team was a big deal for him.

• A while ago, I bought a little gadget called a Fitbit, a pedometer that tracks every move I make. I finally got it working properly  - my fault, really. The Fitbit online support was fantastic and fixed my problem immediately.  Apparently, I "walk" so briskly, the little bit thinks I'm running. RUNNING!  It is currently challenging me to burn more than 1049 calories a day by moving (that includes walking to the car, or to the laundry, etc) per day. So far I've surpassed those numbers, usually putting in an average of 7.2 miles a day...about 50 miles a week. (Most everyone walks about 2 miles in a day, just going from place to place.) Tryin to keep this up - Of course, the other side of that coin is to stop filling my face constantly. I've never been much of a sweet tooth, preferring popcorn and chips to sweets. Well no more! Chocolate Cake, you are now my #1 frenemy! 

That's it from the Mountain. More to come...hopefully sooner than later!