Not long after losing the twins last May, I started with a women’s online Bible study called She Reads Truth. I felt rather lost, alone, desperate for a steady place to turn to read my Bible on a frequent basis but also learn and grow from that. I felt like I was sinking into a world where God was very far away and I didn’t know how to get back to Him.

A year later, it’s been life changing.

I’ve been continually blessed by this community of women (and occasional men!) that study alongside me. Being asked to write with the other women was one of the highlights of my blogging journey – it has really forced me to question why and what I truly believe and how I can share that with others in a way pleasing to God. It’s also been incredibly humbling to write and know I’m responsible for my words and then actions – sometimes that can almost be overwhelming but I trust God knows my heart and you all definitely know I’m no where near a perfect Christian. The humanity/bound to fail thing really helps when I’m feeling a bit less than angelic.

Like while writing this I just yelled at Bella to stop hitting the dog with the dog bed.

As we start a new study in the next few days, I’d invite you to join in with us. For just this time, or maybe ongoing. Read on your phone, download the YouVersion app that publishes our work, subscribe by email, and find our community on Facebook, Instagram with the #shereadstruth hashtag and @shereadstruth, and Twitter.

Thank you to those of you who support this group. The writers, the behind the scenes people, the commenters, the faithful prayer partners. I have been changed and blessed forever because of what God put in a few women’s hearts and then laid His hands on to bless. May our online presence be a gift to Him.

We’re hosting a vlog/blog link up today for our anniversary! Please feel free to join!

It’s 5:30 am. And for nearly the past year, Monday through Friday, I wake up as Sam gets ready for work. It’s a rare morning I’m able to get back to sleep, so while he showers I flip on my iPhone, read the news, check Twitter and Facebook, and scroll through my beloved Instagram.

It’s all to keep my mind busy. Letting it wander in the dark leads to anxiety and memories I don’t want to process yet again.

But lately – lately.

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When I was little, I remember hearing over and over in Sunday School that one day we’d go to heaven and praise Jesus forever and ever.

And I thought to myself, “NOPE.”

I honestly did not want to do that. Wasn’t heaven supposed to be amazing? Why would I want to die and then just stand around singing hymns all day? We did that for 15 minutes in the service before they dismissed the kids to Sunday School, and it was horrible. I couldn’t see over anyone’s head, the songs were old, it was loud.

For a very long time I’d secretly thought perhaps hell might be better. Sure, eternal burning and all but at least you’d probably get to jump around and do something exciting once in a while.

It was like picking the lesser of the two evils. Burn in hell or don a robe and sing old hymns for a bazillion years?

This past month for She Reads Truth we studied and wrote up daily devotionals with the book of Hosea. I’ll admit – at first I was like, “Who? I’ve barely heard of him, he can’t have been that exciting. WOMP WOMP.”

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As each day passes with this pregnancy, I have this glimmer of what I can only describe as hope that grows more and more.

Like a tiny light seeping under the door in a dark room. Each day that door opens just a little wider. The room gets a little more light.

I can breathe. I can think about newborns. I can talk with Bella about “baby brother” and what we might expect in those first few months after he’s home. I can visualize myself in the hospital, holding him and crying tears of joy and yes, some of loss still. I’m able to make future plans that revolve around him being here. I create content on Babble that isn’t just loss or fear focused – and do it with humor. That’s something I’ve struggled to do organically for nearly a year.

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The car brakes sharply in front of me, and I glance up from the side mirror as I try to merge over just in time to swerve and miss hitting it. 60 mph on the freeway, that would have left some damage. My heart races and my hands are clammy as I pass by shaking my head. Under my breath I mutter, “Thank you God for protecting me.”

And then resentment pops up. Why didn’t God just prevent the entire thing? Why even have the car brake, or be there at all? Was that necessary and why? So I’d say thank you? Or be reminded I’m not in control?

Yeah. I know that. Believe me.

As time passes from the loss of Preston and Julian and the poor hospital treatment that left me shaken to the core, I find my unquestioning faith in God having a plan become entangled with, “Why did it have to happen at all?”

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