Courage, Dear Heart

​ I sit across from you.  A table is between us. You’ve been leading this hopeless investigation, listening as I am forced to spill my inmost shames to a man I’ve never trusted. Sure enough, I feel my shoulders fall in defeat as you read me the verdict that I know will change the trajectory of my life. You deem me the liar; the girl who cried abuse. With that one sentence, you subsequently tell the world that my abuser is innocent and the victim in this story.  … I walk past you.  I watch as you quickly look away, knowing that you - my professor and mentor - lied. I see your shame as I refuse to stop looking at one of my own Judas’s. The first person I ever trusted with my story.  I feel a seed of hatred in my heart as I secretly hope it haunts you for the rest of your life, knowing that you chose your job over a girl you were supposed to protect. … I walk up to you at your table with your family.  We’d just talked yesterday; you’d taken my side in his abuse bef...

​ It is not well with my soul. Not this morning. This morning, my soul is so tired. My soul is lost and exhausted and an empty well. Perhaps my Father has a well that does not run dry, but the water in mine  is gone.  Evaporated.  Dissipated without a care of leaving my spirit to die.  “The waves and wind still know His name.” But does He remember mine? Does He remember  me?   Or am I left pounding on Heaven’s door, screaming until my voice runs out? How am I worth anything when I bring nothing to the table? In a Nation where overworking is the ideal, the proof of a life well-lived, then is my life even worth living?  I want to work, to volunteer, to be a good friend. I want to be a sister who’s actually there for her siblings instead of hanging on by a thread. I want to be a wife who can provide something besides emotional support. Because what am I worth in a society where emotional support is a triviality?  “My God, my God, why have you ...

If the name of my blog isn’t an indication, The Chronicles of Narnia has a special place in my heart. I feel such a connection to the Spirit in these stories, even if they are fairytales for children. I’ve rarely needed that connection more than I have in these last two months. My illness continues to worsen, and so much remains unknown. The specialists I have seen yank me around with varying answers; and as grateful as I am for the abnormal test results, remaining positive feels impossible. I have done my best to stay hopeful, but laying in bed for over 14 hours with such severe vertigo that I am bent over a trashcan, unable to see, hearing near gone, violent ringing in my head that exacerbates the pain of the migraines accompanying my issues, being forced to rely on others to help me to the bathroom because I can’t walk and my eyes aren’t working as they should…hopelessness doesn’t feel strong enough of a word. I don’t know how to live like this forever. And I am terrified that this...

But what if it is? In the last two weeks as I’ve dealt with new health issues, including vestibular migraines that cause days of nonstop, unmanageable vertigo, vomiting, and pain at a time, I’ve felt my weakness more than ever.  The tears burn behind my eyes, but I know if I sob as I want, it’ll only cause more damage. I desperately crave the distractions of yoga, walks, and baking, yet I know they’ll do the same. I beg God to regift me the ability to walk without stumbling, my full hearing, and my balance, with no change.  If only the people who believe I am strong could see my hopelessness when none of my wishes come true, and when my prayers go unanswered. (Inhale) God is with me // (Exhale) I will not be afraid.  But what if I am?  (Inhale) The Lord is my Shepherd // (Exhale) I have all that I need. But what if I don’t?  (Inhale) God is faithful // (Exhale) This time will be no different.  But what if it is?  Yet I sit here this morning, writing, ...

Scripture says that Jesus can empathize with us in everything, because He suffered as we suffered - and I never feel it more than I do on Easter weekend . The betrayal He experienced at the hand of one of His closest friends, the physical, social, and emotional pain He endured on the Cross and road to Calvary, the denial coming from Him inmost circle, and the lack of His Father in His most needed time…I’m sure it comes off a bit sacrilegious, but I never feel closer to Jesus than I do during these three days. Over a decade ago, I sat at a table in a Christian institution that preached Godly values as they read off the verdict that labeled my abuser as innocent. As they, without saying it, labeled me as the liar , the guilty party.  Jesus looked down, watching as my best friends testified against me, picking the side of my abuser. My best friends, who’d once told me they believed me, and that they had been on my side.  Like Judas, handpicked as His disciple, sold Him out to t...

If you had rescued my soul from this harsh world, but had not provided answers for my illnesses,  Dayenu. It would have been enough for me.  If you had provided answers for my illnesses, but had not been with me in the midst of the abuse,  Dayenu. It would have been enough for me.  If you had been with me in the midst of the abuse, but had not provided a way out,  Dayenu. It would have been enough for me.  If you had provided a way out, but had not been within my spirit when dad died,  Dayenu. It would have been enough for me.  If you had been within my spirit when dad died, but had not given me a husband who treats me tenderly,  Dayenu. It would have been enough for me.  If you had given me a husband who treats me tenderly, but had not given us the perfect Church,  Dayenu. It would have been enough for me.  If you had given us the perfect Church, but had not seen us through dozens of impossible financial situations,  Daye...

A womb that will always be empty. A nest forever free of little hens.  I thought I was okay. I am okay, right?  Since having to make the decision, I’ve told myself so many things to make myself forget how painful this might be. I push, push, pushed it down, until I could pretend that it didn’t exist - the agony of knowing my womb will never grow a child full of both Ethan and I. I’d never know whose laugh that child would get, whose eyes, whose sense of humor. Whether he would have a strong personality like me or a gentle personality like Ethan. Whether she’d need braces, or get lucky like I did. Whether he’d be a ‘sports’ kid, or an ‘academic’ kid.  No matter the option, it wasn’t choice. I knew in my heart that regardless of so many mothering possibilities out there, my physical body is incapable of caring for a child from womb through adulthood.  I told myself it doesn’t matter, because I’d have been a shit mom anyways. I’d have little patience, I wouldn’t be lov...

God’s in it. God’s in the surgeries that go wrong. God’s in the offered hug from a “no-hugger” out of nowhere.  God’s in the seizures that haven’t happened in 3 years.  God’s in the friend who asks if she can pray for you. God’s in the overnight hospital stay you don’t know how you’ll afford.  God’s in the gift cards to help with groceries.  God’s in the pain that won’t go away.  God’s in the email to a worried mom, asking if an entire seminary community can pray for her daughter.  God’s in the strep that comes at the worst possible time. God’s in the joy that comes from gluten free pizza dough from a friend.  God’s in the disability hearing that seems like a total lost cause.  God’s in the Whisper that reminds you that He’s the God of lost causes.   God’s in the abuse that makes you lose hope in love. God’s in love of a husband who proves it still exists.   God’s in the fertility news that breaks your heart more than you admit.  G...

How proud he was of my for my first prom.  How he ran out of the dug out on my first home run, and almost got kicked off the field for the rest of the game. When he made those shitty scrambled eggs after going out at 2am on one of my terrible pain nights, because I really wanted eggs and we were out.  His hug and tears picking me up at IWU, and giving me his IronMan medal because “I was his IronMan.”  Telling me he was proud of me when I got cut from volleyball, because he was never brave enough to try out for a sport he could get cut from.   Training to run the Fort for Fitness with me and being my softball coach.  “Calling Dr. Dad!”  Sweaty hugs and the designated “grumpy goose” on vacations. Awful snack ideas at the cottage and the Deca-Pentathlon.  Running a lap with the Michigan flag before kickoff, and knowing how loud he’d be screaming with Michigan beating OSU the last two years.  Saying, “And that, my friends, is what we call ‘closure,’” ...

She was so filled with light.  That sweet girl, with the big, bright smile, and the deep brown eyes. She had a big personality, and a big heart to go along with it.  She was so hopeful. She didn’t believe in Monsters - even if there were Monsters, she knew that her God was big enough to stop them. She was invincible, she was safe, nothing could hurt her. She had the Mighty Word of God on her side - the Sword of the Spirit and the Shield of Faith. If she needed to fight off dragons, if she needed to fight off evil, she was equipped.  Her God was Mighty. Her God was invincible. Her God lived inside of her, and she was untouchable.  But the world did - touch her, that is.  There was a deep darkness that laid beneath the surface of the green grass she once loved. There was a creeping evil that hid underneath the dirt, crawling up. Its roots began wrapping themselves around her ankles.  She looked down, in panic. She frantically searched the beautiful, clear blu...

     “But please, please - won’t you - can’t you give me something that will cure Mother?” Up till then, he had been looking at the Lion’s great feet and the huge claws on them; now, in his despair, he looked up at its face. What he saw surprised him as much as anything in his whole life. For the tawny face was bent down near his own and (wonder of wonders) great shining tears stood in the Lion’s eyes. They were such big, bring tears compared with Digory’s own that for a moment he felt as if the Lion must really be sorrier about his Mother than he was himself.       “ My son, my son,” said Aslan, “I know. Grief is great. Only you and I in this land know that yet. Let us be good to one another.”  “MOM!” My brother screamed, as me and my mom were eating downstairs. My other brother was at work, and my sister was at her basketball game. As soon as I heard his scream, I just knew. “Dad’s on the bathroom floor! He’s not moving!”  I ran up the stairs as...

 “ To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one . Lock it up safe in a casket or coffin…but in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will begin to change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable ” (C.S. Lewis).  I hate that quote. C.S. Lewis is my favorite author, because his words are so powerful; unfortunately, I don’t often take them to heart. Instead, they are pretty words on a page that should  mean something to me, but don’t.  “To love is to be vulnerable.” Seriously, I hate  that. It wasn’t until I learned what it meant to be an 8 (the “Challenger”) on the Enneagram that I fully understood why this bothered me so much; I honestly thought I was broken, and I was really embarrassed by how I viewed vulnerability. My husband, Ethan, is a 9 (the “Peacemaker”), and he has a really diffic...

 “I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient  for you, for My power is made perfect  in weakness.’  Therefore, I will boast  all the more gladly  about my weaknesses… for when I am weak,  then I am strong ” (2 Cor. 12:7b-10b, NIV). I didn’t really understand these Scriptures until today. I’m an 8 on the enneagram, and if you know anything about 8s, you know that weakness…well, it’s not really our jam. As a matter of fact, the 8 that is writing this will do everything in her power to avoid weakness, to avoid vulnerability, and to avoid anything that could force me to lose control over myself.  You may be thinking, “But Taylor, what about this blog?” Yeah, sometimes I can be vulnerable on here - but it’s a hell of a lot easier behind a screen than face to face, especially when it’s with someone I trust. In my 8...

“Thanks for the good time, babe.”  Those were the last words I heard my sexual assaulter speak. Though he wasn’t the last of them, he was the first. In my heart, I believe that this horrible day set the cycle into motion.  I was only 17 at the time, and a police officer actually interrupted the interaction. “Not in public, guys,” he said to us, somehow thinking it was mutual. I was terrified, and I wanted to scream,  “Please, help me! Get him away from me!”  But I was a 5’5 120lb female, and he was a 6’1 180lb+ male. I was so scared, I was shaking. Before he left me, he said those awful words. “Thanks for the good time, babe.”   I went home and curled up in bed, shaking and crying into my pillow. I didn’t understand what had just happened - in fact, because of those words, I convinced myself it was consensual. I blocked out the parts of the assault when I was hitting him as hard as possible, screaming at him to stop. I blocked out the parts when I felt terrified...

I wake up out of my restless sleep.  I look around, see the dogs, take a deep breath. Everything feels okay in this moment. And then…it starts. Heart is racing, hands sweat, and tunnel vision begins.   Get the dogs out of bed, move the pillows, straighten the sheet, make the bed. Straighten all of the drawers, get the chair ready, fold all the blankets in the house. Brush my teeth, 6 sections, 20 seconds a section, then mouthwash for one minute. Take the dogs out, get Marshall his medicine, get my coffee. I’m ready for Jesus Time -  Wait. You didn’t floss.  Heart is racing, go and floss. For a brief moment, my heart calms down. So I go and sit in my chair, and put in my headphones.  Wait. The corner of the bed isn’t straight.  Wait. Marshall needs combed again.  Wait - did you lock the door?  Wait - did you leave the oven on? You haven’t been in the kitchen, but you need to check. I sit down and begin to journal, but I can’t finish before the intr...

When I started at my college in 2017, I had no idea that my feminist principles would come at such a cost. I had no idea that when I began to “Defend the weak and the fatherless and uphold the cause of the oppressed”  I would lose the respect of many whom I loved and treasured. I had no idea that my now husband would be “warned” about me by someone whom I thought was a friend.  “Be careful,”  this person said,  “because just so you know, she is super passionate about women pastors.” I had no idea that when I took a stand for women’s equality, my husband’s closest friend would refuse to come to our wedding, and beg him not to marry me. I had no idea that my passions would be called a sinful by professors and classmates. I had no idea I would receive hateful messages that would keep me up at night, crying, because I just wanted to love.  I had no idea that I would be left behind by those with whom I thought I was close.   How don’t they know my hear...