I had half-hearted moments with God, but it was a fraying life-line to comfort my fears of hell. The life I live wasn’t a Godly one, basically stumbled from one bad party to the next in what I thought was a lovely dress. There were many nights I watched the sun come up from the wrong side and it wasn’t a pretty sight. But I was sure I was having the time of my life.

It was evident in my poetry; I was concerned with my soul. I claimed it to be a string of pearls, training wheels, and seed I’d get around to sewing. It was treasure, more so a bargaining chip to flip in God’s direction. Tragic how careless I was with it.

There were times I recalled wanting something from God though I was raised in a church that only the good were allowed words with him. So, while I struggled, I put more distance between God and me. In desperate times I’d open my bible, as though I were scratching a lottery ticket searching for hope to put to good use until I was on my feet again. Then it was like, “See you later old friend until I need you again.” And how I pushed the distance each time, fating my soul an eternity in hell. Yea, it was evident I was really concerned about my soul! Thankfully God was! And how blindsided was I when he played his hand, because Motherhood wasn’t my plan and my pregnancy didn’t go by the book…

My water broke two-months early and I was quickly brought in and informed of the worse. The following morning, a dreary May morning, things fell apart. My eyes filled with tears, while my husband held my hand, “I assure you, you aren’t having contractions,” the nurse said. Had I known any better I might have put up a fight. But I took her word, without so much as a Tylenol, I dilated to ten and pushed my son’s feet out. It was five seconds of relief quickly trampled by fear, as panic erupted. Nurses flooded in and ripped me from the shelter of my self-absorbed world.

I woke up with my mom by my side, twenty-nine and I’d never been so happy to see her. She was aware of the situation based on yesterday’s plan to stay on bed rest in the hospital. However, my mom had frantically made the drive that morning because she had a feeling. I had yet to comprehend how bad things were as I was wheeled into the NICU. I assumed they’d place him in my arms and everything would be perfect. Reality quickly hit and without faith I can’t begin to tell you how hard it hit. My precious baby was in this incubator, tangled in a mess of wires, with a mask taking up his face. I reached in for his little hand, tears burning my eyes, as I prayed, for the first time really prayed to God, for I had just fallen in love.

Jack only weighed 4lbs. He couldn’t breathe, eat, or maintain his own temperature. He was attached to wires that sounded like fire bells when his oxygen levels drop, taking my heart plunging with it. Three days passed before we finally got to hold him and our time was limited. I cannot explain how it felt when they tucked him into my shirt and he nestled up. Those minutes raced by and I was in tears as I held on tight. At that moment my wonderful husband sacrificed and surrendered his five minutes for me.

The doctors couldn’t explain why my water broke. It wasn’t until much later did I understand this was God’s doing. My unexpected pregnancy was the answer to my husband’s desperate prayers for help. While I was pregnant all I wanted was to get back to my party. I am so thankful God interfered and put an end to our plans. My son’s birthday marks the day I first walked with God and the day we centered our marriage a round God. 

They say you have to hit rock bottom, a blunt statement, but until your anchor hits do you finally stop drifting. There’s nothing flattering about my twenties, the bar scene, or the in between. I’d like to bury what I couldn’t burn, but that doesn’t seem to be God’s plan. While life is so much sweeter since I live and breathe faith, I still struggle to hear God. My heart is heavy, my soul is fragile, and my mind can be quite destructive. While I have finally snagged faith in an uncertain, uncalm world I know it is temporary to the foundation my faith truly needs. 

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Jen Miller

My name is Jennifer Miller, but I prefer simply Jen. I live in Hawley, MN. It is a small town built along the railroad tracks and surrounded by fields. I married my high school sweetheart in 2005 and we have two little boys, Jack (5) and Grey (3). Motherhood took me by surprise just before my 30th birthday and since then I have been stay at home mom and have loved every minute of the craziness. I am a staff writer for the Hawley Herald and do most the work from home. Being an introvert it took me out of my comfort zone, but so worth it because I love writing. It is something I do every day and it allows me to be home with my boys.

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