by Cassie Glubzinski
Summers are insane. Can I get an 'Amen'?
For some reason I spend the Spring looking forward to what I've idolized as a much needed 'summer break', and when it comes I find I've gotten whiplash from the sheer amount of things needing done: gutting the kids' toys and clothes now that the seasons have changed, packing the luggage for a car trip to go see family, planning outings and play dates almost every day in order to avoid my kids' boredom, contacting long lost college friends in hopes of reunions or at least long talks to catch up, and so much more. Life, at least at our house, tends to accelerate to alarming speeds as soon as 'breaks' appear on our calendar.
This summer was no different. The entire month of July saw us all home as a family for a whopping five days. Five days! and three of those five days my youngest daughter was sick with rotavirus (hooray for ER visits!). Yeah, we have a tendency to fill our schedule to the brim and then struggle to stay afloat...
But this summer brought a new joy to our family as well. My husband and I have been trying for eight months to have number three. Now, eight months isn't really all that long of a period of time, but for us it was unexpected. We've never had trouble conceiving before, so this was weighing on my heart heavily, and I was beginning to feel discouraged. I wanted so much to have another child, and I felt like a failure every month I didn't conceive.
But then I got home for one night before heading back out on the road, and God blessed me with a positive pregnancy test. I was beyond thrilled! As soon as my husband came home from work I shared the amazing news with him, and we found a fun way to tell our parents as well. I was only five weeks along, but I was already so deeply in love with this little child.
We made our way to New York for a wedding, and then to Pennsylvania to pick up our kiddos from my husband's parents. They, too, were excited for us, and our daughters vehemently insisted that they wanted only a baby brother (Newsflash: mommies and daddies don't get to pick the gender of their baby). It was a treasured moment.
We got home and began telling a few close friends and dearly loved ones, and our joy was great to share. I felt so amazingly content, excited, and simply full.
Then Wednesday I started to feel funny. I had some pains through the day in my abdomen, but didn't want to think the worst. When my husband was getting ready to board the Metro I had him meet me at Walter Reed. After a few hours in the ER our fears were confirmed: our baby was gone.
This was our second miscarriage. The first was in between our girls, and I was eight weeks along. This baby left us at only six weeks, yet the hurt seemed to linger on a far deeper level. All those feelings of failure resurfaced on a new level, and they made valiant attempts to consume me.
But God is so good. The morning after the news of the miscarriage I was reading my Bible. I happened to be in 1 Corinthians, and was reading the passage about sexual morality. Paul is exhorting the Corinthians to remain pure, because their bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit (verse 19). The thought resonated with me. I had awoken to the feeling that my body was a tomb. And the Lord used that moment to remind me that my body is His temple.
My body was not designed to be a tomb. I was designed for worship. I was designed for a purpose. I may feel like a failure sometimes, but I am never a failure because God still resides in me. I am His temple.
"Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies." - 1 Corinthians 6:19-20