Joshua's leg was cast from the toes up to his hip. He was bed ridden for about a week. A week too long for him! But soon he was up and performing stunts with his crutches and healing well. Meanwhile I continued on in my melancholy demeanor. I lived my life mostly devoid of strong emotions and faith. I went through the motions of wife and mom neither enjoying or despising my duties thereof. Darren on the other hand, was certain that this was a divine time for us. I made verbal assent to this fact, trusting that he knew. But, I was not able to take any steps forward in my own faith.
Figuring this would be as good as a confirmation he would get from me, he started a Calvary Chapel, May of 2004. For him it was an exciting time. He knew that this is what God had been calling him to all along and now he was finally doing it. I was there physically through it all but not spiritually. I showed as much support as I could muster. I wasn't even able to attend the first meetings which we held in our home on a weekday evening. I had asked my supervisor to switch me to swing shifts. I didn't do this on purpose to miss the home meetings but rather my primary purpose was to be home with the kids in the morning because they were on summer vacation. Missing the meetings was just an added benefit that I secretly enjoyed. Deep down inside I knew that God had not forsaken me and I had not forsaken Him but I simply had no idea as to where to go next in my walk.
The churches start up home group grew very quickly and it was time to find our own building. Darren had finished the paperwork of his personal affiliation with Calvary Chapel so that we could officially call the church a Calvary Chapel. A local Seventh Day Adventist church was not using their building on Sunday mornings and agreed to rent it out to us for our use. The arrangement was perfect and Darren and I (to a small but growing degree) were excited to see God work.
On a personal level, God was going to use something very familiar to begin the process of healing in me. I sat in the doctor’s office summer of 2004 and explained to her why I really didn’t want to be pregnant again. Of course, she knew what I had been through and she agreed. She wanted to be sure, just for the record, that I wasn’t pregnant and then she could move on with plans. After waiting the twenty minutes in her office, she walked in with a rather ominous look. My heart sank. All I could think was “oh no”. Over and over in my head. “Oh no”. She sat and watched me cry. What else could she do?
My mind was in complete disarray on the way home. I was pregnant and there was nothing I would do to change that fact. I had waited for years at one time in my life to hear the words, “you’re pregnant” and now I dreaded them. Pure anxiety. I couldn’t be mad at God; I didn’t have the energy to be mad.
As the pregnancy progressed so did my anxiety. As a matter of fact, I used my anxiety as an affront to the false doctrines that had recently become odious to me. Almost as if these teachings were embodied in human form, I struck out at them with the weapons I had at my disposal. Anxiety, fear and negative confessions were those weapons. I recognized the fear and anxiety for what they were-human emotions-devoid of power outside of myself. Although, I had almost nonexistent faith, I was newly determined to place God in control of my life rather than my emotions or my words.
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