I’ve written about it before. But there are days when my heart is so full of gratitude that I think it might burst.

God graced me with a group of women who have enriched my life as a result of my mission trip. I have a text strand with a few of them. We send out prayer requests, God praises, worries and celebration to each other. I know when I text them that they will hold my needs in prayer, or celebrate my praises as their own. And I have another beautiful soul from my trip who Tommi has taken to. She has a granddaughter with special needs, so she just “gets” Tommi and she loves on me and Tommi in a beautiful way. There is never judgement. Just love. We have had lunch with her twice since my trip and Tommi asks for me to schedule those lunches and interacts with her during our lunches with ease. It just makes me smile.

God is continually growing our village. Giving me people who share my faith and grow my faith and love on us; giving Tommi examples of strong, Christian women who show him love and grace. Thank you, God, for these new friends.

And then there’s my core group: Ali who doesn’t mind the days (sometimes frequent) when Tommi tags along to work with me and who talks me through the storms and off several ledges, Tosha who listens and advises and has become a safe harbour for Tommi and Stacey who shares his interest in crystals, saints, and spirituality and invests herself in him. And my roomie Stacy who is my constant prayer warrior no matter the praise or need she is there sending up the most faithful prayers. I think you four know my unending and overwhelming gratitude and love, but it never hurts to remind you.

Brad. Anyone who knows us or reads my blog knows my eternal gratitude for him. Even when he asks me to do the hard thing (step away, let Tommi self-regulate, ask my MamaBear to back off) I do it because 1. I don’t want to disappoint him and 2. I know he’s giving me good advice/strategies.

Mom, Dad, Tina and Kyle who love him and us in spite of the hard (or harsh) moments and who never waiver in their love and support.

And Jackson. Who is sometimes brutally honest in his assessment of the situation, but always has my best interests in mind. He is my heart and soul and he has put up with a lot of shit in his life as a result of Tommi’s needs. It’s weird when your first born gives you advice at 20-something years old, but I often listen because his advice is usually spot on.

It’s almost the 16th anniversary of Tommi’s adoption day. January 28, 2007. It’s not easy raising a child period. It’s really not easy raising a challenging , neurodivergent child. It has caused many a disagreement between Todd and me, many a harsh word or thought. Many things not shared. Many nights of tears. But honestly just as many successes and celebrations. And many times when I questioned God. But as I look back on the last 16yrs, I consistently see God showing up in the hearts, prayers and actions of our village. And I see such growth in the three of us. I sometimes worry about the future, and then I remember this, that one of my mission sisters has said to me multiple times since I met her: Matthew 6:34: Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself…

Today is 18 months since we first worshipped with White River Christian Church. Seems a bit weird, I know, that I would celebrate 18 mos at a church, but our lives have been changed by the people and the worship at WRCC. My faith, once very much waning, is now strong and central in my life. My kids enjoy going to church. And Todd is finding his place there as well.

Step back in time – 2004 – Jackson was 3 and we decided to have another baby. Seemed an easy thing…we had no real trouble with Jackson. God would surely provide as He had with Jackson. From July 2004 through March 2007 we had 7 miscarriages. The first three of them happened on the same day of each pregnancy 7 weeks and 5 days. The exact same feeling each time, the exact same outcome. It was a terrible time in our life, it’s a wonder we made it through still married. Over those 3 years we racked up some pretty good medical and travel debt while seeing two different specialists in Chicago and “treating” ourselves to material wants to soothe our hurts that ordinarily I don’t think either of us would have actually moved forward spending money on.

I was physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually empty. The look of pity I received from every living soul who knew what we were going through, including Todd, made me sick to my stomach. All these years later, I can still see those looks and it still makes me seethe. I spent hours screaming at God and when my pastor at the time would come around and hold my hand and pray with me I wanted to rail against his words. I kept asking him why God kept taking my babies, and he kept telling me that God isn’t doing this…but no one could tell me who was, and why. I retreated into myself, kept the sadness and darkness bottled inside as much as I could and I stopped talking to Todd about the important things. I was on a mission to have a second baby, and nothing was going to stand in my way. When Todd said we didn’t need a second baby I would yell and push him away. I gave a million vials of blood, I gave myself hundreds of shots, I peed in more cups than you see at a college party, I had so many tests and procedures and I drove to and from Chicago many times to see two specialists who “definitely will figure this out.” Spoiler Alert: They never did. Each vial of blood they took made me more sad, more poor, more angry, and farther away from Jesus. I remember praying, but it was all selfish prayer and I never listened for His answers.

I rallied for Jackson, trying to make his childhood happy and wonderful despite my insides screaming for help and hope. He and I have had this conversation in recent years and he remembers noting of this time; he doesn’t remember my sadness; he doesn’t remember my days in bed. He has happy memories of those years. And for that I am eternally thankful.

As the months went by, I changed jobs (maybe less stress than working at Riley Hospital will be the solution), I did hoards of research (this is how I deal with any trauma in my life – I look for the answers in medical text and by asking questions), I reconnected with my best friend from high school who was having her own pregnancy woes (one of the few belssings of the journey), and I floated further away from Todd. When I say it was a gift from God that we didn’t end up divorced, I am not being dramatic. We connected when the calendar said we had to, we drove to and from Chicago together quietly and as he tried to figure out how to connect with me, I dove deeper into my mission.

Our memories of those days are very different. Mine centered around pain and anger and a ton of tests I endured, his is highlighted by a trip to a FedEx where he had to craft a tiny box to fit a specimen bottle into out of a large box and a roll of packing tape we purchased there. It was a nice box, but that box memory caused a lot of pain as well. Our experiences couldn’t have been more different.

And then, after my last miscarriage at 13 weeks on March 22, 2007 I resigned myself to finding another way. We took foster parent classes, got our license, were asked to adopt Tommi, and followed that new path with anxiety and excitement. I think everyone, including myself, thought adopting Tommi would not only fulfill my desire for that second baby, but would also heal my wounds. At the time it felt like God had a hand in that journey to Tommi, and I know now that he did, but it was far from the quick solution for my head and heart. I had been living in constant trauma for 3 years and a new baby didn’t just click me out of my funk and into my faith. The next several years were hard, and my questions to God just kept coming.

I always had my faith, but it was thread bare. And my relationship with Jesus was on a back burner to put it mildly. Actually, I don’t know that I had a “relationship” with Jesus back then. I was a believer, but it was a single sided and selfish relationship on my part. I stopped going to church regularly, and when I did go, it was usually to see family, not to worship Jesus. I will admit that I didn’t realize that at the time. I thought I was a strong Christian.

And the next number of years flowed by with a difficult little kid who challenged me at every step. Along the way Tommi also taught me so much about special needs, about advocating for others, about loving unconditionally. I continued to question God about things like why is this kid such a challenge; what would a second bio kid have been like; am I doing the right things for Tommi; why is this so hard; am I giving Tommi too much of me and Jackson not enough? And Todd and I together made probably the worst parenting decision we could have made – that he would do all the things with Jackson like Scouts and Karate and I would do all the other things with Jackson plus everything with Tommi. I made parenting decisions on my own and didn’t fill him in. I took Tommi’s side or came to his defense every time there was a fight or a problem between Todd and Tommi. I chose Tommi over and over again. I still do that, but with help from lots of therapy I’m getting better and Todd is more understanding.

Back to my faith journey, We stayed at our home church for so long because I was born into that church and I couldn’t imagine leaving. It was safe there, I knew who I’d encounter and what would happen each Sunday. I didn’t want to leave with my life-long pastor still at the helm. Then his successor became an unexpected supporter of our family in maybe our greatest time of need, when Tommi came out as transgender. But when he was “encouraged” to leave by members of the congregation, we decided it was time for us to leave too.

We went to WRCC for the first time on July 3, 2022. We had a list of churches we wanted to try before settling into a new church. WRCC was the first one we tried because their service was in the park that day, and we thought it would be a good day to slip in, have church, and slip out unnoticed. Ha! My roommate from college was there, my aunt and uncle were there, and SO many scout and community friends saw us. I cried through the whole service. I felt like I was betraying my roots. But we enjoyed the music and message enough that we returned the following Sunday…and every Sunday since…for the last 18 months. That list of churches we had, we still have it – but we’ve never moved past #1 on the list.

WRCC has opened up a world of love to us. Most importantly the love we receive and also give to Jesus, our savior. But also love from people who said “welcome” and “sit here” and “do you want to join us.” Never in my life have I been excited for Sunday so I could go to church. Never in my life have I listened to a message and taken notes in my Bible. Never in my life have I rewatched a message, taken notes on said message and told others about the message. Never in my life have I thought about a message weeks and months into the future. Never in my life have I called or emailed my pastor wanting to talk through things about my faith or my children’s faith. Never in my life have I even dreamed of going on a mission trip – now I’ve been on one, made some amazing friends/Sisters in Christ and I cannot wait to go on another one and take Jackson with me – hopefully Belize in Summer 2025. Never in my life have I learned SO MUCH about the Bible, Jesus, God, and their roles in my life and my role in sharing their Word. Never in my life have I anticipated the songs we would sing or the message I would hear at church. Never in my life have I raised my hands in praise while worshiping in church (I always thought those hand-raisers were weird – now I am one of them!). Never in my life have I worshiped my Jesus the way I do at WRCC. Never in my life have I been in a women’s group, and 2 Bible Studies at all – and now I’m in all 3 at the same time. Never in my life have I started almost everyday with a devotional, a chapter in the Bible and writing in my prayer/gratitude journal. And before this Christmas season, I never knew why the magi brought Baby Jesus the gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh…if you don’t know, I’d be happy to share what I learned! It’s cool stuff

WRCC has changed my kids too. Tommi, whose black & white autistic mind struggles with the idea of an unseen God who knows his story already, listens to Lance and is asking good (hard) questions. He bought a bible and asked for a devotional for Christmas. He loves watching and listening to Philip and the worship team—he even chose to go to two services one Sunday when WRCC had a night of worship on a Sunday evening. Jackson watches service on YouTube sometimes and never misses a Sunday service when he’s home from school.

I realized recently that WRCC has not only helped me find my way back to my relationship with Jesus, but is helping me to build a stronger and more beautiful relationship by the day. And I find myself sharing my faith with others which is something I’ve never felt comfortable with in the past. My faith was nearly wiped out by our life circumstances, but now I stand strong in Jesus and move forward with the consequences of the decisions we’ve made along the way, knowing Jesus is right beside us and the Holy Spirit is within me helping us navigate this life. I need to just ask…and then be quiet and listen for where he is leading me.

This turned into quite the blog post. It doesn’t matter if anyone even reads it-Writing is a form of therapy for me and this all just poured out and my soul feels lighter for it.

Philippians 4:13 I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength