On the mountains, I will bow my life
To the One who set me there
In the valley, I will lift my eyes to the One who sees me there
When I’m standing on the mountain, I didn’t get there on my own
When I’m walking through the valley I know I am not alone
You’re God of the hills and valleys
Hills and valleys
God of the hills and valleys
And I am not alone

Those lyrics are from a Tauren Wells song-I’ve had it running through my mind for days. Life is a series of hills and valleys. We just pray the hills outnumber the valleys and that we remember God is with us in both. A few weeks ago in church, our worship pastor talked about gently grabbing God by the collar and telling him, while holding on tight, that “God-you are my God. And we’re doing this together, we’re gonna walk this together. And I need you to hold me just as much as I’m gonna hold you. And I’m gonna believe that this moment isn’t going to define me. And I’m gonna believe this isn’t gonna change my life because you are my constant. Whatever is gonna change around me, this is not gonna change me. I have built my house on you. You are with me.” I’m gonna lovingly grab his lapel and hold on to Him. Talk to Him. Tell Him that I need Him and I’m walking this with Him

I’ve got you, Lord. And you’ve got me.

I’ve personally been in a valley most of the past month. Tommi is doing fantastic. Doing well in school, working hard on his baking business (want to place an order-look him up on Facebook!), he’s well medicated and happy. I should be elated. But even in the midst of good, grief and sadness can creep in. And I’ve been full of grief and sadness. Much like losing a loved one to death, I have lost my daughter. I have a son now. Tommi is living his truth and his truth is living life with a new name and pronouns. The difference is, my lost daughter still lives in my home. Still interacts with me on a daily basis. I can still see and hug him. It’s a different grief than any I’ve experienced before and a grief that most people in my circle don’t understand.

It’s no surprise to anyone that in my current mindset I talked to Brad. He talked to me about how you have to grieve to reach acceptance. And that my grief will return over and over again. Which prompted me to ask if grief keeps coming back, how do I ever reach acceptance? His response shook me at first, made my sadness even deeper, but as I’ve played that conversation over and over again I’m starting to get it. The acceptance he’s talking about isn’t acceptance of the end product (Tommi being transgender) but acceptance of the process of grief. Of knowing what I’m feeling. Identifying it. Allowing it. Interacting with it. And knowing how to move with it and through it instead of letting it cripple me. That is my ultimate goal.

Please don’t get me wrong. I support Tommi. I want Tommi to be mentally strong and healthy and to live his truth. And this is his truth. But in living his truth, he has changed mine. I have memories of a little girl with long blonde curly hair who loved dolls and makeup; I have the reality of not being a girl mom; and I had dreams of a future bride in a beautiful dress with Bearbear incorporated into her bouquet. Those are the things I grieve…not Tommi himself.

When we were asked to adopt Tommi, I thought it was to fulfill my desire for a second child. To complete my family. To heal my heart. God gave me Tommi to give Tommi the family he needed. The family who would fight the fiercest battle, support the wildest dream, give him a safe place to land, and teach me what it truly means to be a child of God and to grow and live my faith…in both the hills and valleys.