A BIG (Little) Miracle

We're pregnant!

This is our little baby, at about 8 weeks.

Now, for all the questions you're wanting to know...

Were you trying? Is this a surprise?
Yes, and yes. When we got married in March, I told my rheumatologist that we wanted to try to conceive soon due to my history of chemo and some interesting visits with a fertility specialist. I had read a lot about couples taking on average about a year to conceive, so we prepared for a long road. We also had no clue what to expect, and received a miracle!

Why is it a miracle?
Anytime there is conception, it's a miracle. I mean, we all know how it happens, but how does it really happen? There's something that God has to do to create a new human being.

"You formed my innermost being, shaping my delicate 'inside' and my intricate 'outside' 

and wove them all together in my mother's womb." 

-Psalm 139:14 (the Passion translation)

Quick answer: I've been on chemo several times before and at one point was diagnosed as pre- or post-menopausal. If you have a cup of coffee and a few minutes, you can read the TMI below :)

Here's why it's a medical miracle for me. When I was 18, I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease, Wegener's granulomatosis. The treatment my physician chose was Cytoxan, a form of chemo that, when taken in lower doses than to treat cancer, had shown to improve the disease. Any form of chemo carries risk of infertility, but I was 18 and a freshman in college with no immediate plans for a family. My physician also placed me on birth control, which was thought at the time to protect the ovaries (we actually know now that it doesn't, womp womp). Over the course of the last 12 years, I've had at least 3 rounds of low-dose chemo (other than Cytoxan), each time to treat whatever flare-up or symptoms I was having.

In summer of 2012, I went to a gynecologist for the first time (I know, I know), because I hadn't had a period in 6 months. She took some labs and then referred me to the MENOPAUSE clinic because I was showing signs of "the change." It was such a weird day when I got that call - I didn't know what to think. It wasn't devastating, but I felt it should have been. In some ways, I think the Lord was telling me it wouldn't be a big deal! Shortly after that, I lost my health insurance and so didn't really follow up with my "Menopuase" MD, not that I really wanted to, anyways! That place was just so depressing for me. Gah.

In August 2013, I got a job including broader health insurance, so I went to the GYN in November to have a follow up, and this time she sent me to a fertility specialist. I was engaged at that time, so we went together. (By the way, these things are super awkward if you aren't sleeping together. The MD asks SUPER personal questions. I'm pretty sure we just stared straight ahead the whole time!) He did a few more tests, and concluded I had low viability for my egg storage. He said the next option was for egg donation, and went on to explain how they match someone with my hair and eye color, height, etc, etc, but it just sounded so weird. We declined, and he basically said, "when you want to, I'm here, but otherwise that's all I've got." That day was really hard - we spent a lot of time afterwards processing and praying - and ultimately giving up any idea we had of a family up to God. We were comforted that although it may not look the way we want, we trusted in Him for the best for us.

After marriage, we treaded lightly on the idea of having our own children, but again trusted the Lord. We were absolutely shocked when we found out - more on that in another blog post!

When I think about this story - the past 12 years' journey - and at one point was diagnosed as PERI-MENOPAUSAL, it's so amazing. There were many family and friends who prayed for healing for me, and the Lord graciously answered our prayers. It is a true miracle! Only He could have made this possible!

How far along are you?

I'll be 11 weeks on Saturday 12/20. Our due date is July 11, 2015!

What are your biggest prayer needs?

Health for baby and mom. Having a chronic disease makes it hard to treat the disease while also keeping baby safe. We have an amazing team of physicians and specialists whom I am so thankful to have as our guides! My prayer is that I would be able to be a good incubator for our baby and that God would guard and protect both of us.

Also, prayer for logistics and budget and houses and life plans. We want to be smart, realistic, and good stewards of what we have, while also understanding what we need and where God is leading our family. Pray for wisdom and guidance from God.


Thank you so much for reading our story - it really is a story of God's faithfulness and promises. Please feel free to share it with others. I want the hope and light of this testimony to  be a inspiration and release of fertility on others. I would've loved to hear this when I was wondering if we'd ever get pregnant! :)

He's coming!

Joy to the world, the Lord has come!

Let Earth receive her King!
Let every heart prepare Him room,

and heaven and nature sing,

and heaven and nature sing,

and heaven and nature sing!

When we sang this song at church last Sunday, I just started bawling. All I could think about was what good news it was - HE'S COMING!!!!

If you've ever been waiting for a miracle, stuck in fear, needing a breakthrough, or just wondering when the hardship was going to end, HE'S COMING!!!!!

The Lord knows, and He wants to save us. His greatest delight is to reach down from heaven and save his children, to use his strong arm to rescue us from where we're at. He LOVES rescuing us.

"He then reached down from heaven, all the way from the sky to the sea,

He reached down into my darkness to rescue me!
He took me out of my calamity and chaos and drew me to himself,

taken form the depths of my despair!"

-Psalm 18:16 (The Passion translation)

I don't know what the atmosphere was like before Jesus was born, but I know people were expectant. They'd been told for hundreds of years there would be someone coming to save them. Someone coming to restore what was lost, mend what was broken, and to save the world from their sins. To hear that this had happened must have been such a joy and relief!

I just love the rest of the song:

Joy to the world! the Savior reigns

Let men their songs employ

While fields and floods

Rocks, hills and plains

Repeat the sounding joy

Repeat the sounding joy

Repeat, repeat the sound joy

No more let sins and sorrows grow

Nor thorns infest the ground

He comes to make

His blessings flow

Far as the curse is found

Far as the curse is found

Far as, far as the curse is found

He rules the world with truth and grace

And makes the nations prove

The glories of His righteousness

And wonders of His love

And wonders of His love

And wonders and wonders of His love

No matter what you might face, there is HOPE and PROMISE in what Jesus brings. I'm so thankful that on Sunday, when I was coming out of place of fear and anxiety, the Lord showed me that He's coming to get me! He's running! And He's here!

The O-vershare

Marriage does interesting things to people. One thing I've noticed is I'm suddenly aware of what I say about my husband. I was aware of how I spoke of others before I got married, and tried my best to be honoring and truthful, but when you know someone deeper and more intimately, it follows that there is more to share. Plus, I've noticed that society has made it perfectly acceptable, and almost normal, to "complain" about one's spouse. Somehow, when you get married, you're allowed to bemoan all the things you don't understand:

Why does he have so many white tshirts?

Can't he move the dirty dishes a mere few inches to the dishwasher? Is it that hard?

Does he really have to leave everything so dirty and gross? Boys are soooooo gross!

And on and on. Unfortunately, I am tempted often to overshare and complain. Sometimes the reaction is affirming in my complaint (not healthy, though), sometimes there's crickets and I immediately regret my comment. But what is really beneficial? Does someone really need to know that tidbit? Would I want him to share a similar anecdote about me? Usually the answer is no (if I have time to think about it!). Just because I have information doesn't mean I need to share it.

But sharing is so much fun!

Yes, yes, and yes. Sharing is a natural expression of joy - my joy is actually multiplied when I share it with someone. There is something magical about another human being agreeing in something good and rejoicing with me! Sharing is also a great way to bond with others and find similar threads of interest and thought. When I share something especially honest or vulnerable, it invites others to do the same while also sharing who I am and how you think.

I was recently struck by this Relevant article that listed 5 or so questions to ask before you posted something to social media. As I read through the list, I realized how many times I shared something I probably didn't need to. And how many times I used social media to reassure myself I wasn't crazy instead of being confident enough to keep it inside. Getting affirmation from strangers is not as satisfying as knowing within myself who I am, right?

Anyways, here's a short version of the list, because clicking on the above link and reading the whole article takes too much time: {sarcasm yo!}

1. Am I seeking approval?
2. Am I boasting?
3. Am I discontent?
4. Is this a moment to protect?
5. Is this kind?

To me, the most poignant of the questions above was #4. Just like when you take a picture of something, but in the taking forget to take in the atmosphere and experience, you miss out. There have been several times I wish I had my camera to catch a moment, but realized I caught it better in my mind than a camera or photograph could ever do. Such is with sacred moments - let them be. Sometimes it's best to have secrets!

"Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things."

-Philippians 4:8

I want to only share what is good and encouraging. I don't want to be fake, I want to be real, but with the lens that all things are made good in their time. I want to be respectful, and I want to preserve sanctity and intimacy. And I want others to do the same with me.

The Noise, Part II

Part II: What I Learned from Not Knowing Anything

Observations made during the FB- and IG-less week:

1. How much I touch my phone!
Without FB or IG, I actually noticed I didn't pick up my phone as much. I could check the weather and email, but that was about it. It was an odd feeling, but good because I felt a bit free-er.

2. How much I ignored the people around me
By not touching my phone as much, I suddenly observed that there was a world around me. With people. Who wanted to interact. Before, when I hit a "slow" moment where there wasn't any stimulation or input, I would reach for my phone. During that week, I noticed that I had a choice to actively engage the world around me. I could say hi to a coworker walking down the hall. I could strike up a conversation with a patient. I could go looking for something productive to do. The options were endless!

3. How much other people were on their phones and ignored me
It's an odd feeling. That someone would prefer a small, black box to your brilliant and sassy personality. Especially mid-conversation. I learned so much more than I thought I knew about active listening - eye contact - and DON'T TOUCH YOUR PHONE or even GLANCE at it - people know when you've lost interest and can tell you're done listening. Don't be that person.

4. How much I wasn't missing
Ok, I confess. I did get on FB once, on my laptop, for about 4 minutes. Those were the most wasted 4 minutes of that day - I closed the window and realized, "My life is no much better than it was before." I literally learned nothing of use or value, only facts and tidbits about people I haven't spoken to in years and/or aren't really interested in their lives. If we met on the street, I would say hi and small talk, but life has taken us to different places, and THAT'S OKAY! It's ok that friendships and acquaintances drift apart. It's natural.

I also realized how knowledge can breed pride because you know something someone else doesn't. And fake knowledge at that. How well can you really know someone through FB or IG? What about real life, man to man, deep conversation, crying, support, love through hard times, joy at success, and really understanding one another? I HATE superficiality. I'm a deep person naturally. I realized that FB was a great way to share my heart, but it only made an impact if you know me. And I somehow wasn't as able to keep my attention on the real human beings around me. It was actually embarrassing!

If you haven't seen the following video, take a few minutes and listen:



Next Steps
I've decided to reinstall IG on my phone, and have stopped following several people who I have no contact with and don't really need to know what their lives are about. I am holding myself to only checking it once or twice a day. I'm going to leave FB off my phone so I'm not tempted to check it. The only way I can check it is through my laptop. I also will be going through my feed and hiding those who, again, I don't need to know about their lives. These "rules" are to help me stay engaged in the world around me. We'll see how well they work - I'm sure they'll adapt with me.

So what?
This is ME. This is how I interact with social media and the world around me. This is not you. I pass no judgment on anyone except to say, YOU HAVE A CHOICE. You have a choice to look at your phone or ask the person next to you a question. You have a choice to let social media and your phone overtake your life, your outlook, and how you perceive yourself. You have a choice! Make a good one :)

The Noise

A Week Without Facebook and Instagram, Part One

Due to some fears of mine, I always have to know what's going on around me, specifically so I'm not surprised when something blows up. It soothes my fears to gather as much information as possible - not just what's actually happening, but details like facial expressions, items on someone's desk, words on a piece of paper. Nowadays, I call it being perceptive or really discerning. In several ways, God has redeemed my behaviors and I am able to walk into a room and feel the emotions, collectively and sometimes individually, that are in the room. It's a great gift, and I'm blessed to be able to respond to others' needs by having that extra sense.

This paranoia of information, if you will, of course is subconscious. I would carry my phone with me at work at all times in my back pocket, checking FB and IG in between patients, when I'm walking from one side of the hospital to the other. I would check it the first thing when I woke up (to open my eyes and get my brain moving), and check it before I went to bed (to make sure I didn't miss anything big). I had to know the latest! Because there's nothing more embarrassing than not knowing what's going on, right? In this world of information at our fingertips, it's almost shameful to not be in the know. {sarcasm there}

CNN did a recent article on teenagers and FOMO (fear of missing out) - how teenagers have anxiety about seeing on social media their friends hanging out without them, or finding out they missed something someone posted. It piqued my interest. Then one day, my husband asked me bluntly "why do you look at your phone so often?" and I hadn't realized I did. One day at work I noticed how many people were on their phones with other people (without phones) standing nearby. Slowly, through several observations and pricks of my mind, I realized I used my phone for distraction, and inadvertantly, ignored others in doing so.

But if I stopped scrolling FB every hour, how would I know what's going on? How, then, could I prepare myself for what was to come? I enjoyed the "noise," so to speak, the extra information that made me feel safe and knowledgable in the world. I wasn't ready to make any sudden moves. I liked the noise too much.

But in church one Sunday, I felt the HS was asking me to respond to that problem. In an odd movement that I don't quite remember doing, I deleted the FB and IG apps on my phone. It was scary. I was letting go of control over my environment, and placing it into the Father's hands. I knew He was safe and good, but I wasn't trusting Him with my world.

The next day, I was listening to a Bethel sermon by Danny Silk on expectancy and it wrecked me. He basically delivered it straight to my heart:

When you put God in a box, you will always be disappointed. Your expectations will never be met. But if you let God give you expectancy for His goodness, you will always be satisfied. Expectations are rooted in fear, and expectancy is rooted in His promises. 

I was slowly giving back to God the control He needs to work perfectly in my life. Without giving Him full control, I was limiting my experience with him. It was a hard week in learning to do that - but also so relaxing. I didn't realize how much I was trying to control my life instead of letting it happen.

In the moments where I began thinking about the next day, or wondering what my friends were up to on social media, I recalled the Message's version of Matthew 6:34:

"Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don't get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes."

So, all in all, I've learned the WHAT: I use my phone for distraction sometimes, I tend to ignore others when I'm on my phone, and I need to release control of my world and embrace each day as it's own. It's been AMAZING to be able to be present with those around me. So much life is happening and I was missing out! I can't believe I functioned for so long without engaging my world - crazy.

I would encourage you to just take a step back from your phone and social media consumption: when do you grab your phone? What is your intent in scrolling through FB, posting something, or liking a friend's post? Just think. Don't feel ashamed or guilty - just observe. There is such power in knowing what we're doing and how we affect others. If you feel completely at peace about your engagement with social media and your phone, great! If not, do something! :)

Next up on Part II: What I Learned from Not Knowing Anything (and what I'm going to do about it)

Coming up for air

Recently life has been hard. We're in the midst of it. In the thick of it. We know there's a way out; we know it will end. We just don't know how. {I apologize for the vague-ness of this post - will post details when it's appropriate to do so.}

This past week was especially hard - trying to make it through the situation we're in while also waiting for news on a possible new situation that could "rescue" us. We were supposed to find out on Friday what would happen. I was looking forward to Friday all last week. Maybe they'll call early, today. Then we can know now! The week dragged on; we heard nothing. Friday came. I woke up, weary and done with the week, hanging for dear life on the hope that by the end of the day, we would know SOMETHING. All day Friday, I was checking my phone every 10 minutes. It was really hard to focus on the tasks at hand - I could focus for 15-20 minutes, but then would be sucked back into the reality of anxiety. Waiting. Fear. What's going to happen?

Even when I went to work out, ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT was finding out the news. The news. Just tell me something. Yes or no. What's it going to be. Six o'clock rolls around, and Brent finally calls the guy and we get SOME news. We need to wait a little longer. Hang out in limbo. Almost there.

Very anticlimactic.

I just melted onto the couch. All the stress of having a day-long anxiety attack was too much. I didn't know what to do. Despite my laid-back attitude, I don't deal with stress well. It kind of overtakes me and I have no usual way to get out. So we talked. And prayed. And cried. And remembered that God is good, that He has a plan, that He knew this would happen. And really, there's nothing we can do for the weekend. We can either choose to be miserable or choose to enjoy the freedom of knowing God is in control. We chose the latter.

We ate amazing sushi and watched Antiques Road Show. I had brunch with basically my bridesmaids and house party. We had a double-date wine picnic. We adventured to Fiesta for our grocery shopping. We hung out with another couple in our house while they graded papers and we experimented in the kitchen, conversation flowing freely. We served our church and were encouraged by each other and also a few surprise people. Slowly, we crawled out of the depths into some sense of normalcy.

This morning at church I was reflecting on how different Friday at 6 pm to today was, and came across 2 Corinthians 7 (MSG):

"When we arrived in Macedonia province, we couldn't settle down. The fights in the church and the fears in our hearts kept us on pins and needles. 

We couldn't relax because we didn't know how it would turn out."

I actually don't have a clue why they were so nervous specifically, but man! That's what I felt like! The passage goes on to talk about how a visit from their friend Titus took them from "worry to tranquility in no time!" I was amazed that someone else, namely Paul and his friends, got just as anxious and worried as I did! I'm not a weird basket case that can't keep it together. I'm a human being!

We're still in the waiting stage, but I think we've learned a little peace along the way. There are still hard decisions to be made, and wisdom to be discerned. but at least for this weekend, we have come up for air. And it's clean. It's fresh. It's perfect for what we need.

Kansas

In May, my husband and I made the decision that we needed to visit my paternal grandparents on their farm in Kansas. There were rumblings since Christmas of them moving out of their house on the farm and into a sort of retirement-independent living community in town. During a discussion with my father after his own visit to see them, I felt a tug on my heart. My father said they were going through old boxes, photographs, and memorabilia, sorting what they wanted to keep and give away. Along with those items were a lot of memories, stories I've never heard and my grandparents may have never told until that point. If they were going to leave the farm, I needed to visit one more time and pay homage to the memories I had made in the house and with my grandparents, to the stories I will tell my children, and to the place in my heart that the farm has a hold on.

In Brent and I's conversation, I was telling him about what my father had said, how they were sorting through their lives and making an effort to both literally a figuratively move on. I recounted how I had spent, on two separate occasions, a week at their farm sorting through their old photographs and making each my grandmother and grandfather their own heritage scrapbook, filled with their ancestors' pictures, stories, and in the process, learning more about who I am. I told Brent about how my grandparents are people I deeply respect and love, and how my grandfather was born on the property he still lives on, almost 90 years later (that, in and of itself, is amazing!) Now Brent had only met them and visited the farm once, a visit that lasted possibly only 24 hours. But what was happening during my telling him these things was that I was realizing why it was so important that I go visit: my grandparents were the most consistent and steady family I had growing up.

Of course they aren't my only family growing up. I have been blessed with a large, loving, hilarious, and mostly uncomplicated family on both my mother and father's side. But for some reason, my paternal grandparents had a special place in my life. Maybe it's because there's a part of me that wishes I was raised by them, living a simple country lifestyle, surrounded by the beauty of a Kansas agricultural landscape. Maybe it's because, year after year, we would visit and they would still be there, still their same old selves, still believing that the Lord is good, still married, still providing the best poppyseed bread and mashed potatoes you could find anywhere. Their house changed very little over the years: they painted the wood paneling one year, got new drapes another. But I know their farmhouse like the back of my hand, and am amazed in it's simple, yet sturdy construction and use.

Their farm is one of the safest places in the world for me.

So when we actually visited in early August, we did the usual small-town Western Kansas activities: walked around the dirt roads, attended the county fair complete with funnel cakes, demolition derby, and pork burgers, as well as simply just sitting around and visiting. That's another thing I love about their farm - besides being in the quiet, peaceful country, there really isn't much to do. You just hang out. And I loved it! During our visit, Brent and I, as well as my father and stepmom, observed the changes going on, had discussions, and wondered at the best course of action. I knew the purpose of my visit, though: to grieve and rejoice. To find closure in a part of my life I am so grateful for.

On the last morning we were there, Brent and I went on a walk around the property, stumbling through overgrown grass, sliding along the gravel, and marveling at the freshly-cut wheat fields nearby with the perfect and clean blue sky as a backdrop. We even snuck a few shots in the cornfield. Towards the end, we sat on the concrete slab next to a large steel building that housed expensive farming equipment and decades of tools and farming supplies, shaded from the morning sun. I don't remember what we said, but I just started crying. The kind of crying that begins as a tight knot in your chest, comes out in unattractive gasps and sniffles, and generally makes me self-conscious that this might be one of those moments where Brent wonders who this lady is and what is happening to her.

I was so grateful to God for allowing me to have this place, for having these grandparents. I was mourning their departure and the change in their living situation, but most importantly, I was learning how to let go. I was learning how to appreciate their presence in my life, yet as I sat there depositing snot onto Brent's shirt,  I was also learning how to cling to a new presence: my husband. I was learning how even though I had a physical picture of steadfast love in my life through my grandparents, the Lord was standing behind them with even more steadfastness and faithfulness. I was learning to step forward and into a new life.

The Lord has never abandoned me. He has always been looking out for me, meeting my needs, and providing in ways that I can only realize later. I'm so thankful for the influence my grandparents had on me and can only hope I can love like they have, consistently and faithfully, powered by a God who never sleeps or slumbers. A God who sees all and knows my heart. A God who is very, very real.

Why Newlyweds Disappear

Starting when I was in college and then until the time I got married myself, I noticed a curious trend with friends that had recently gotten married: they disappeared. Not like really disappeared like in Harry Potter (soooo cool though!), but I just didn't see them that much. They would be absent from daily life and often events that normally I would expect them at. They would do curious things like say "I need to get home before dinner." Or "we're having date night tonight." Isn't every night date night? I mean, don't y'all just have dinner and stare into each other's eyes all the time? It was very weird.

My outlook on marriage at that point was that you get married so you can hang out with your best friend ALL the time as opposed to just a few hours a day, but really nothing else changes. Your current relationships, both male and female, stay the same. You can still be expected to show up at social functions, speak to your friends and family the same way, and have the same level of interest and care for them. 

Yup, not so much. Here's why we disappear. (Or at least, my opinion.)

We're essentially new people. We have consciously made a decision to start a new life together, and part of starting a new life is figuring out how to LIVE. Firstly, how do I live with another person? Why do they fart under the covers and laugh? Why do they take so long brushing their teeth? Does everything really need to be THAT clean? Secondly, if I'm forming a new life with this other person, how well do I know them? My pastor's wife remarked that she remembers wondering 6 months into marriage, compared to when they got married, how little they knew of each other! I need to spend time with them to understand not only their likes, dislikes, etc, but who they are as a person and how I can help them become the best version of themselves possible. These answers don't just come magically when you say "I do," walk down the aisle, and are suddenly married. They come over time.

It's not that I don't want to hang out with my friends, relate with them the same way, and/or spend time and energy pouring into them, but I've found a new person that is my priority. This is not to say I don't do any of the former things AT ALL, they just are put aside for a bit as my husband and I figure out who we are, who we want to be, and how this whole marriage thing works.

Eventually, we'll get to a place where we can reintegrate, if you will, but it takes a little time. It's hard because it's different, yet so so good. And it's needed. I promise!

New Name: New Identity

The first day back at work after returning from my honeymoon, my intern was following me around as I was rounding on my patients. After writing a note in a patient's chart, I signed my name as usual, but then stopped short and stared at the only signature I'd ever known: Rebecca May. She noticed my pause, saying, "Aren't you going to sign your new name?" I was dumbfounded. I guess so? What is my new name? How do I sign it? Is it really MY name yet? Is it official? Who says?

It wasn't until a month later, after submitting paperwork and driving all across town that I held two, small pieces of paper that announced indeed, I was Rebecca May Bassett. It wasn't until then that it felt real. I would go to a doctor's appointment, but get confused when they asked my name - am I Rebecca May here or the new one? Con artists must be pretty smart to keep up with all the aliases they have! I could barely keep straight who knew which name and when people questioned my pause, having to explain the situation. I know who I am, I promise!

One step in the journey to becoming Mrs. Bassett was leaving behind my given name: Rebecca Suzanne Jecha (ye-ka) May. Oof, I know, it's a long one. But it was mine. I was originally sans the Suzanne, added when I was 5 years old. The only thing I remember about the name change announcement from my parents was my deep sadness that I wouldn't be able to rhyme my name anymore - Rebecca Jecha May had such a nice, rhythmic ring to it!

So there was a process or handful of moments when I would stare at the new name, then back at my old one, and mentally release my identity as the former in order to fully embrace the latter. As it goes with changing your name, so does your identity. What you are called greatly impacts your identity, who you think you are, and how others perceive you. Naming children must be such a weighty task!

Another thing I realized was that I actually began the name-changing process 10 years ago at Camp Eagle when my friend Mitchell randomly asked one day, "Hey, can we call you Reba?" I had no objections, it sounded cool, so I obliged. Unbeknownst to me, God was preparing a new chapter for my life, one that began small, but as I graduated, moved to Kansas, then moved to Austin, it began to write itself into the most beautiful, redemptive story I could never have thought up. Since moving to Austin, God has increasingly dug into my heart, exposed the lies and hurt that was there, and graciously and warmly healed and redeemed who I thought I was as He was forming me into who I actually am. Thus, my new name began to rest comfortably in a new heart: Reba.

So when I married my husband and "took" his last name as my own, replacing my past with my future, I was in essence forming my new identity.

Reba Bassett, an entirely new woman in more ways than one.

Why I Write

I'm not a professional writer, but I do enjoy expressing my thoughts verbally and on "paper." Typing seems to be the fastest way for my thoughts to record themselves, and I often find myself typing my journal entries instead of physically writing them because there is just so much to spew out.

I never know when I'll have an observation, idea, or topic I feel the need to write about; it just happens. Sometimes the only way to fully understand and process something is for me to explore it through writing. Akin to a sudden need to use the restroom, the illustrious David Sedaris has remarked that he often can't control his writing prompts, creating lots of awkward situations in which he MUST WRITE in the basement instead of spending time with his in-laws upstairs, in one example. I usually write ideas in my phone to look at later when I'm uninterrupted and feeling the "flow" to write.

But I really just write for myself. I have no desire to be a famous blogger, writer, or have anything go viral - in fact, that would make me really uncomfortable. I write because I want to understand myself, and in sharing it with others, want them to understand me, too. I write because it helps me see my ideas and thoughts in an organized fashion, which is typically not how they initially show up in my brain. I write because it soothes me to have something resolved; something finished and posted. Even though the issue may not be finished, I at least have part of the puzzle I can use as a signpost when I navigate the process later on.

This blog is simply me processing life. There is a lot that is new, a lot that is changing. And I don't want to miss any of it. I hope you enjoy my journey!

On Being Blunt

One thing I highly value is efficiency. Whatever is the quickest and most productive way to get something done is the best. While I am a verbal processor and can want to explore things out loud often, when a question is asked that I can answer quickly, I do. Why waste time beating around the bush? Just be honest.

Apparently that's a unique trait.

There have been several times my husband and I have, to anyone else, the most bluntest and honest conversation, usually covering a lot of ground in about 10 seconds. I'm so thankful that he's not intimidated by it, and in fact, appreciates the way we communicate. It would drive me crazy if it took 20 minutes to cover the same ground, especially with someone I know better than any other relationship.

Case in point, we were sitting out on the patio after dinner one night, across the table from each other, and he asked what I wanted to do that evening. Rather than say "maybe we could watch a movie" or "maybe we could go on a walk" with several winks and bats of my eyelashes, I simply said, "I think I need some touch time." I tend to receive love and comfort through physical touch, and instead of suggesting ways that could happen and letting him guess until he got it right, I simply said what I really needed, the deepest, most honest answer I could give. He laughed, and we ended up snuggling on the couch, talking and relaxing. My honest answer gave him freedom to pick any number of options, knowing the real felt need at the time.

But beyond efficiency, I also prize being blunt and honest because it's taken me awhile to be ok with who I am and what I really want to say. I used to be a person who saw my value as very low, and therefore what I wanted to communicate as not important. It's taken a lot of healing and disbelieving lies to get me to feel like I have a voice that people want to hear. I haven't "arrived" at being totally honest (not sure anyone does!), and often have to remember to just "get it out there" instead of letting myself be intimidated by how I think the other person is perceiving who I am or what I'm saying.

But I do feel much better when what's really going on can be put out there instead of waltzing around the issue, hoping someone will know me well enough to guess my needs. I feel safe when I know what is the truth, what is the status quo, and what might happen in the future rather than just guessing and waiting and wondering. I think I do it more for myself than anyone else.

I've also had to learn tact, and how to balance compassion with honesty; listening between the lines. And it's tough, probably just as tough as it is for someone who isn't used to honesty and being blunt. Regardless of your communication style, the bottom line is to listen. You'd be surprised what some people really are saying.

30 Thanks

{no particular order}

1. How completely different my life is now than when I was dreaming it up at age 10. The Lord has been so good to redeem and completely blow my meager expectations out of the water! I could never have imagined where I would be today.

2. My amazing, hilarious, strong, honest, and adventurous husband who loves me so well. I am a different and better person because of him. And he's pretty cute. :)

3. That I am not perfect.

4. My grandparents, their parents, their parents, and the generations before me. Each action my ancestors had has affected my life, and I am so grateful for each. I particularly am thankful for my grandparents, as they've taught me so much about respect, laughter, work ethic, and love for the Lord.

5. A job that is many many many answers to prayer and fasting; a job where I teach and facilitate exercise and recovery, interact with and love on people, and yet come home with stories of hope, healing, and interesting patients!

6. Sweet tea, over ice, with sliced lemon, in a mason jar. My end of work treat.

7. The opportunity to play guitar and lead worship for our small group. Half the time I don't have a clue what I'm doing, and I'm so thankful it's not about my skill. I get to be a part of some amazing stuff!

8. The beautiful combination of sun, water, and quiet. So healing and restorative.

9. The 3 summers I worked at Camp Eagle/Eagle Quest. I got a lot of my work ethic from the continual experiences of being handed a task and told to go do it. I learned resourcefulness, time management, and ultimately how to have fun doing it!

10. The 9 months I worked for Starbucks. There are things I learned and experienced that I could not have done so anywhere else.

11. Freedom.

12. Brownie batter. Yum!

13. Music. There are just some things that can only be expressed through singing, listening, and playing. So thankful for it's therapeutic effects, mood-boosting aspects, and ability to make me cry!

14. The knowledge that I am loved, and loved deeply. This truly gives me the greatest happiness I've known.

15. The feeling of clean sheets the first time you lay on them.

16. This may seem odd, but the first time you smell yourself on a backpacking trip. It reminds me that I'm in the middle of nowhere, that I don't have to shower, and that I'm doing something completely different than my usual life. And it makes me appreciate the shower at the end of it!

17. Dr. Tew, my rheumatologist, the first doctor I met upon moving to Austin. He not only is a big sweetheart, but is calm, gives me perspective, and understands my needs. He also is a doctor who fought to keep me as his patient when my insurance changed. I am so grateful for his care and direction over the past 4.5 years of craziness!

18. Sentimentality. I am so grateful for a way to enjoy memories, give respect, and value what really matters. I cry a lot and keep seemingly insignificant objects, but I love it!

19. My church. Who would've thought I would become one of the crazy and happy dancers during worship? They have provided such a beautiful atmosphere for my healing and maturing in the last 4 years.

20. Dry milk and saving butter wrappers to oil a pan. These practices I grew up with taught me a lot about the value of what I have access to now.

21. All I have, I have received as a gift, not based on my performance or failures.

22. SUMMER! I could do this all year. The Lord knew what He was doing when I was born in June.

23. The newness of marriage. It's almost as if I have one story: before I got married, and now I have another. The world is before us!

24. Stories. One of my favorite volunteer jobs was to record the life stories of elderly individuals in the hospital. There's something so tender and humbling about hearing someone's story, and I'm so grateful for how it helps me love and relate with them more, knowing where they're coming from. We all have a story!

25. This goes with summer, but SUN and WATER, typically together. I feel so alive after being outside in the sun, cooling off in the water, or just letting the water calm me by staring at its consistency and peace.

26. I have an amazing community of friends and family. It's so heart-wrenching to see patients who literally have no one to care for them. I'm so grateful I have such a beautiful mix of people who I can rely on and they can rely on me.

27. Through all of my health issues, I have always been able to exercise, in some form or fashion. Being active, working out really hard, pushing it, lifting too much, being sore, sweating... these all help me de-stress, improve my physical health, but most importantly remind me that I am ALIVE! I am so grateful I can breathe and do what I love, regardless of my trachea size. :)

28. The combination of bacon and avocados, so full of texture (and fat). Nothing better!

29. Pictures from NASA of the universe. It helps me see God's perspective as well as remember His hugeness! (follow them on instagram!)

30. Finally, I am thankful for these amazing 30 years the Lord has given me. I can't imagine what the next 30 will look like... but I'm excited to see what story He writes with my life!

Giving Permission

{This is a follow-up to the post Who is this person next to me?! as I've continued to explore this topic as well as talk to several people who have had similar experiences}

It's so funny how you're in the oddest places, when all of a sudden you hear a word or see a picture or hear a lyric that you are acutely aware of. It's like time stops and all you can do is zone in on the stimulus that caught your senses. Well, I was in BodyPump class the other day, and the bicep track was Kelly Clarkson's Bad Side. I was intrigued by a few of the lines, so here's all of them for your reference:

Oh oh oh, there's a place that I know
It's not pretty there and few have ever gone
If I show it to you now
Will it make you run away?

Or will you stay
Even if it hurts
Even if I try to push you out
Will you return?
And remind me who I really am
Please remind me who I really am

Everybody's got a dark side
Do you love me?
Can you love mine?
Nobody's a picture perfect
But we're worth it
You know that we're worth it
Will you love me?
Even with my dark side?

Like a diamond
From black dust
It's hard to know
What can become
If you give up
So don't give up on me
Please remind me who I really am

Don't run away
Don't run away
Just tell me that you will stay
Promise me you will stay
Don't run away
Don't run away
Just promise me you will stay
Promise me you will stay

I don't know why I'm so surprised that pop music would have such deep lyrics, but I was encouraged. Someone else feels this way! And not just people I hang out with and know personally! Songs have a way of uniting us by establishing a common viewpoint, whether it be a struggle, question, or observation. I love it.

So I began thinking more about how a major question of marriage is, "Do you want to deal with my stuff? My junk? The stuff no one else knows? The weird stuff? Will you still love me?" That's the risk of promising to love someone else - you don't really know them until you love them deeper. You have no clue what you don't know, and that's why it's so scary sometimes!

However, I would submit that an even more important question could be, "Do I want to deal with my own stuff? My junk? Am I comfortable with not only someone else seeing it, but actually dealing with it?"

Lately I've had a few days where my junk is just THERE and I can't avoid it anymore. My husband is exceptionally patient and gracious, giving me space when I wake up grumpy and haven't had my time with Jesus yet. But beyond understanding how I respond is the challenge of actually giving myself the grace to be a mess. Why is that a challenge? Because even though we want to appear well, everyone's a mess! It's easy to just see the outside of who we are, but really there's SO much going on that we don't know, even to ourselves. It's hard, but recognizing my humanity and giving myself permission to be imperfect are probably the healthiest things I can do in my marriage, and in my life.

So give yourself permission to not be perfect today. And smile. It gets better. 

Freedom

Yes, this is a cheesy Memorial Day post. I am a very sentimental and emotional gal, so anytime people begin talking of patriotism, America, the soldiers who fought for our freedom, and sacrifice, you'll probably find my eyes getting teary. I had an experience recently, though, that put it all into context. 

Friday evening, we stopped in a picturesque small town in Texas (the one famous for ice cream) and had dinner. Afterwards, we went for a walk around the town square, where a gaggle of fancily-dressed 8th graders and their parents were taking awkward pictures precluding their graduation that evening. As we commented on our own junior high years, we started to notice small plaques and memorial stones around the courthouse. There was a particular monument that caught my eye when I read the inscription. 

... and to those who gave the supreme sacrifice for our freedom...

The words "supreme sacrifice" made me stop. In a moment, I got it. It made sense. Not only am I priveleged to be an American citizen, where soldiers have literally sacrificed everything they had so I could live the way I do, but I also have a Savior that did the same. 

He gave the supreme sacrifice. Not only in His death, but His life brought me freedom as well. I literally am free from the burdens of my past because he chose to sacrifice himself. Death brought freedom. 

Someone else's sacrifice gave me freedom. 

Freedom to make choices like what I wear or what my role in society is. Freedom to worship as I did yesterday morning, in a church in downtown Houston surrounded by veterans and grandmas and southern accents. Freedom to be myself. 

Also freedom from the past. Experiences that have hurt me, choices I have made, the scars from these remain but I am left with nothing but a story. My freedom in Christ has given me a new life. A new, fresh start every morning.

The pastor ended his sermon yesterday with a question I am still pondering: "What do you do with that freedom?" My first thought was gratitude. I want to be better at being grateful for what I have. I also want to honor my freedom by being a good steward of it, not taking it lightly. There is so much I have I don't even realize. Sometimes I wonder if soldiers coming back from Afghanistan or Iraq are sad when they look at America and see what they've fought so dearly for, sometimes coming back without their best friends. Since they're the one making the sacrifice, are they proud of how we honor it? Or do we not realize how much it cost?

I'm just beginning on this journey to realize what my freedom means. I have a feeling it will be a long one, and I'll never truly figure it out, but I'm looking forward to trying. 

Happy Memorial Day, y'all.

On Being "Wife"

If you remember the movie Mona Lisa Smile, you'll remember that it was about Julia Roberts' character, who was in charge of several bright and ambitious students who were on track to change the world (in her eyes, at least). The only catch was that it was the 1950s, and as Topher Grace's character bluntly put it, his new wife having a lawyer job in the city will hardly give her time to get home to make dinner for him by 5. 

I remember watching the film with my mother on a rare mother-daughter date while I was attending college. We went to Jason's Deli afterwards and she proceeded to tell me what it was like to grow up and go to college in that same culture, where your destination after college was to get married. How articles like this one from Good Housekeeping defined the way that wives viewed their role. (In truth, the article is under much debate as to its authenticity, but nevertheless provides a glimpse of what was probably true). 

So here I am, an (almost!) 30-year old woman, recently married, in 2014. Society has changed a lot since the 1950s, and yet my first week as a wife turned out to be a flop, personally. Let me rewind. During our dating and engagement, my thoughts often went from "I can't wait to be a wife and do this for him..." to "after we're married, will he expect me to do that?!" As I should have, I was constantly seeing if our lifestyles were compatible; would I enjoy living with him? Can I see myself making a home with him? Do I want him to be the father of my children? and so on. It seemed like everything was tracking.

Somehow, once we got back from the honeymoon, I shifted into this "wife" mode, which included more of the 1950s version of the article than I could handle. It was a blend of all that I had heard and seen in my life, from my own mother, friends who were recently married, and perceived societal norms.  But it wasn't working. In short, I eventually had a breakdown where we resolved the tension of me wanting to be a good "wife" and my husband simply wanting me to be ME. Myself. Yes, be myself. That's all he wanted. He could care less if I ironed his shirts correctly or had the perfect meal ready when he got home. He just wanted me to be myself!

I'm still navigating my "wife" philosophy, but I can tell you it includes mostly my personality, wit, charm, and servant heart. In short, it's me! If I were to follow a list of rules, either from Good Housekeeping or from the society around me, it wouldn't be authentic. My husband and I have a relationship. We figure things out between us. What works for us may not work for others. And each couple has to figure out what's healthy for them. Anytime you have someone dictating rules of relationships, it becomes an irony of sorts. Isn't the point of a relationship to look at the other person and figure it out between you?

I love how our marriage is a relationship and not a formula. I love how I have the freedom to be who I am and be loved for who I am, not for what I do or how I perform. And I love that love flourishes in relationship, not in rules or guidelines. We each make our own way, so give grace to those around you, but most importantly, give it to yourself, too. 

Who is this person next to me?!

After we returned from our honeymoon, we were opening cards and gifts, and I opened one from a friend who had gotten married last year. It had some congratulatory lines, and then, "...marriage is for sure an adjustment!"

Womp womp, I thought. Well that's cheery! It's an adjustment! I was thinking more along the lines of "enjoy your happy lives together" and "it's so nice to be in love!"

She couldn't have been more right.

In the past two months, I've learned A LOT. A lot about myself, a lot about this other person that I promised a lot of things to. One thing that has been most surprising is how much this other person is all up in my BUSINESS, if you know what I mean. All of a sudden, if I'm having a bad day, they want to know why. They want to fix it. They're also there. Unlike my previous living situations, I can't just shut my bedroom door and spend time alone, sulking, eating brownie batter and watching Frozen. Not only is it hard to recognize myself that I'm having a bad day, there's someone else who wants to join in and love me through it!

But I'm having a bad day. I'm cranky. I'm not being nice to you. In fact, I'm not providing anything for you. I'm loving you incredibly poorly right now. 

I'm adjusting to the idea that there's someone who wants to love me for who I am. While that sounds amazing, it's really scary. What if they find out I'm weird? Annoying? Sometimes lack self-control? Like to eat brownie batter and watch Frozen? And then I realize that's how God loves me, for who I am. In fact, he made me the way I am, so there's no surprises with Him.

Funny how marriage has opened my eyes to the Father's love even more. What an adjustment, hard and beautiful, all at the same time. I know what my friend means now. :)

Don't Be a Hero!

{I'm back. Sorry for the hiatus. After a whirlwind of getting a new job, getting engaged, and now married, I am finally entering the world of normalcy where I have time to think and actually type out my thoughts. Bring a cup of coffee, or in my case, chai, and enjoy.}

So yesterday didn't go quite as I had planned. I'm stuck in the middle of a weekend I had reserved for recovering from sinus surgery, finding myself with all kind of free time, which I am gladly enjoying with my husband. The surgery was cancelled because concern over adequate room in my throat to pass the ventilation tube. All in all, it's a good thing, as they discovered I'm having a recurrence of subglottal stenosis (narrowing of my trachea), which they can fix on the next surgery. I'm very thankful they were cautious and did the right thing; just a little frustrated there's another bump in the process to healing.

When you have a chronic illness, it takes perseverance. You have to develop your own way of accepting the ups and downs, aches, pains, inconveniences, what-if-someone-thinks-I'm-weird, doctors visits that don't go well, and the ones that do. However we choose to deal with the chronic illness mentally, there's still an aspect of accepting what is the "normal" standard for your health. You learn that a little ache here, a little shortness of breath there is maybe just how life is going to be. It's your new normal. So when I began experiencing more shortness of breath in late February, right before my wedding, I figured it was just the "normal" that went along with my frequent sinus infections. It just became a part of my life. I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease. My sinuses are shot. I will be short of breath to some degree for the rest of my life.

So as I was laying in recovery yesterday, working to listen to the anesthesiologist - (by the way, why do they do that? Don't they know you can't see and/or remember anything?) - as he discussed why my throat was so closed up he couldn't get the tubes in it, he said something I'll never forget. Somehow between the technical descriptions and pictures, I heard the phrase "Don't be a hero."

Don't be a hero.

Why would he say that? At some point yesterday afternoon, crawling through my post-anesthesia brain, I remembered that the shortness of breath I experienced in February was probably subglottal stenosis. Today, I mused that maybe I should've mentioned that, pushed my ENT to look down my throat, maybe I should've fought more. Maybe I just did't believe I'm worth fighting for.

When you suffer much, you get used to it. It's sometimes a sad truth, and after this weekend, I never want to get used to suffering again. I may have been diagnosed with an autoimmune disease, but I don't have to take it. I deserve to be healthy. I deserve to have a higher quality of life than being so short of breath it takes me a whole 5 seconds to fill my lungs in between sentences. There was a point, when I was first diagnosed at the age of 18, that I allowed my family, friends, and doctors to fight for me. That can't happen anymore. I need to fight for myself. I need to stop being a hero and living with the symptoms.

To quote a popular ad campaign, because I'm worth it. And so are you.