Today would have been my 30th wedding anniversary.

Looking back, the way that life turned out was NOT what I had planned (although most of what I had planned was about what I didn’t want…I didn’t want to live in a small town my entire life and I didn’t want to marry a farmer).

There are good memories and bad memories.  Some of the bad memories are really, really bad.  I choose to let go of the bad ones.  My goal is for my children to remember their dad in the best way that they can.
It was a long, weird ride.  I don’t regret it.

I regret my part in making the challenges…but I don’t regret doing it.

When my kids were little I worked for a little while for a historic neighborhood association. One day I was driving around (long story, but I was doing my job) a block where a little house had been torn down. That was the first time I noticed “that” house. It had been empty for years, it was boarded up, siding was missing, as was part of the roof.

But it grabbed my attention. No, God grabbed my attention.

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I have to admit, I’m way too sensitive and way too passionate on this one. But it hurts to be told that you don’t trust God because of your beliefs in this area.

Let me share a little of my history. When I was first married, I had my first miscarriage at around age 21. And then another – and then I stopped ovulating. At 23 I started fertility treatments (didn’t trust God with my fertility, after all, it is God who opens and shuts the womb).

Every single month – my body betrayed me.

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