I love Idaho.

God always sends me here when I need to heal.

When I need miracles.

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When I can’t go much further.

I have writer’s block.

Some chapters are dark and dreary and need to wait to be written.

Too lonely and unsure.

I was supposed to be entering my second trimester of pregnancy this week. Instead, I am recovering from surgery.

There was no heartbeat. Just the other day.

But I am alright.

I know I am in the hands of the living God.

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I wish I could be different sometimes.

Sometimes I wish I could be the pretty girl who is feeling blessed and who gets along with everyone. Someone who doesn’t seem to constantly fail.

I feel fat today.

Fat and blechy.

I keep thinking about these women in Florida–nice, fun, beautiful women for whom I had a fine regard.

Women with whom I associated because of my church obligations. They were cute. Fun. They had many talents and were friendly with each other.

I worked with them up until the end of my time in Florida. I was a bit overwhelmed at the end there–pregnancy, horrible morning sickness, John out of town most of the time, my Aspie daughter having some really big challenges….

And on top of that, I realized these women had decided to find and discuss my flaws.

It was really hard for me to know these women were critical of me. I daresay that it is oh, so easy to be critical of me. I am a blunderer. Somewhat of a mess, most of the time. But, I was, at first, completely oblivious. I thought the world of them, so I thought they could, at the very least, put up with me.

No, I was not to be tolerated but with a bit of derision and some backbiting and meanness thrown in.

I never said anything to them. What could I say?

Yes, I see your point. I am really a mess. Thanks for taking the time to discuss it amongst yourselves.

What could I do? The hardest part for me is that when it happened, it became a wall to them accepting my love for them. Because I really loved them. But, loving them somehow made me feel stupid.

For example, why would they care if I, the object of their many observations about my failings, loved them? Wouldn’t it seem a bit beneath them to accept love from someone so unacceptable?

I don’t know. But, this week, when things were hard, for some reason the reality that I was the object of gossip by some fun, cute, church women made me cry.

It somehow seemed to magnify the icky thoughts I was having that somehow I failed by losing a pregnancy this week. And I almost could imagine what they would be saying when they discovered I had a miscarriage.

And my imagination got the best of me and made me cry.

I understand logically what happened with this miscarriage, but my heart is having a hard time with it. It’s hard to let go of life.

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Because in spite of everything, life is beautiful, and with all my soul I believe that life wants to keep on living–no matter what the cost. That no matter how difficult, life is worth it.

But, you know what is neat? In the midst of my affliction and feeling blechy and unlikable and ugly, my dear friends in Eagle Mountain literally rescued me. We don’t have a home yet, so we stayed in my friend Michelle’s basement. The same basement we stayed in years ago when temporarily homeless waiting for our house to close three days after I gave birth to Ephraim. Her ministering angel self and all of her angel family made us feel loved.

My friend Jen (though not from Eagle Mountain), brought me lunch and drove me to my house lot and prayed with me and then took me to get a lemonade because she knew I wasn’t quite ready to face the family yet. She also let me borrow her 15 passenger van for a few days while we waited for ours to get there.

My friends Kristal and Cindy took my children into their homes and loved them just as I would have all day long. They let me come over and have a conversation with them–just fun, happy talking that got my mind off of feeling discouraged. They made me laugh. Their love for my daughters made me cry tears of gratitude.

My dear, sweet friend Kariann did my hair and gave me compliments that went straight to my head and in the ultimate act of love, presented me with a tray of treats from Blue Lemon. I cried. I know I don’t deserve it, and maybe that’s why it means even more. She did it anyway.

She loves me even though she knows me really well. And it is humbling and makes me feel more beautiful and worth it

My adopted daughter brought over her beautiful baby and I got to meet him for the first time. I got to meet this little person who means so much.

And the truth is, I felt home for the first time since Joy died, I felt home.

I felt loved, in spite of my blechiness and my overall messiness and dorkiness and sassiness and I-talk-too-muchness.

And then I read well wishes and prayers from my friends who read my blog and whom I have known for many years. What you all didn’t say is just as important as what you did say. No platitudes, no judgmental remarks….nothing but heartfelt love and care and compassion and inspired words of kindness.

It was balm to my soul.

And in the end, I didn’t feel so icky. In the end, I felt home. And I know I will be okay.