the 48 hour shock

The weekend that followed our Friday diagnosis, was filled with stretches of distraction as well as little to no sleep. Thankfully, we found moments to laugh and enjoy the company of new friends and tender forever moments from seasoned friends. 

By Sunday evening, Ian and I were physically and mentally exhausted, still overwhelmed in shock and beginning to grieve. 

Our son's diagnosis of a congenital diaphragmatic hernia (CDH) is a life threatening and serious condition, but with that being said it also has huge thriving success rates. We believe our son will live and will grow to be a healthy child, despite the heavy road that lay ahead. 

We praise God for the discovery of our baby's condition, because without God we are unsure if this would have been detected. My midwives, nurses, family, friends and ourselves include have all marveled in thankfulness at the time we've been given to save our baby. 

Our son was growing phenomenally, we had seen his beautiful face and his long legs during my bout with kidney stones. We had heard his heart beat time and time again, and I kid you not, nurses and doctors always marveled at his development. It wasn't until I fell down our front stairs on my way to work and landed on the side of my belly, that there was any cause for alarm. 

Within minutes, my tummy began to feel tight and I started cramping. I headed to L&D to make sure I hadn't bruised or tore my placenta. While I was there, my midwife ordered a bedside ultra sound where they checked my placenta, fluid levels and also preformed an anatomical scan (a proceeder we previously didn't get). They told us my placenta, fluid levels looked great but something didn't look right with baby. It was then, the news no parent ever wants to hear, became our new normal. 

At the time, they gave us incredibly limited information, saying they found fluid in areas "that fluid isn't normally found," specifically the lungs. We were immediately referred to a maternal fetal medicine specialist to run more tests. 

The three days we had to wait for our appointment ached on and I desperately restrained from scouring the internet. Faithfully we believed for healing and faithfully we clung to each other.  Our appointment finally arrived and with it came the diagnosis of CDH. 

Our journey is just beginning though it feels like many years have already passed. I spent the entirety of yesterday on the phone with different people from the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia (CHOP). With which we have decided to move our care forward with and our first appointment with them is on November 23rd. 

We cried for hours, holding each other, trying to grasp the reality of our lives changing so quickly. Clinging to God in our time of uncertainty and trouble is the only way we know how to make it through this. Thankfully by the true and utter goodness and grace of God our friends and family have set a canopy of hope, love, generosity, compassion, and togetherness that has already engulfed us tightly. 

To the ones who deeply care for us-

This past Friday my husband Ian and I found out detrimental information about the health of our baby boy. Specialists have found a hole in his diaphragm that has allowed his stomach/intestines to grow up through said hole and into his lung cavity. This condition is diagnosed as a Diaphragmatic Hernia, for more information here is a link. We are transferring our care as of now to Boston, Ma, as Maine does not have the resources to care for our son.

We will be having an appointment with more specialist and a neonatal surgeon, hopefully this upcoming week. We will then have more information about severity and his current state of lung development. Until then, this is all the information we have. Our lives are and will be continuing to change in the coming weeks/months as we prepare for our baby boy's delivery.

We are asking that you would not forget our baby in this season and that he and our family would be in your prayers.

We will not stop believing in the possibility of full healing- nor will our peace and hope be shaken. We fully trust and are relying of God- who has promised to carry us through the deep waters of life.

Thank you for standing with us

Coming clean about my struggle with faith.

I've been putting this off. Writing that is, since the middle of March, and to be honest, I can't be stagnant anymore. I can't keep stuffing things deep down, my sorry heart hasn't anymore room to swell.

All the while its suffocating and stifling, and has greater effect on my emotional well being then I am interested in giving the simple act of writing credit to.
But if we believe...if I believe, God gives us great gifts and great treasures, then I can't forsake the gift that writing has been to my healing process. In fact, sometimes deep parts of me, hope that God's gift of writing to my little heart would be more then a healing process for me, but in turn a catalyst for others, a place that leads them deeper into personal reflection and ultimately where God meets them, face to face, in a very real way.

So where do I begin? It has been seven months since my last post, since the last time I've truly taken the time to feast on one of the ways I delight in worship!

To be honest, this is going to be a process, involving more then one "updating" post. Because I want to talk about all the joy and all the sadness I have seen in so many facets along this journey, in getting engaged, losing a beloved grandmother, returning to Chop Point, losing a friend, questioning my faith, planning a wedding and getting married to my favorite person.

My heart is swollen and I can't keep from weeping thinking about it all.

The place I'd like to start, which feels like a giant elephant looming over me every where I go, is the journey I've been on in regards to questioning my faith. I want to start here, because I believe its the underlying piece to this season of my life and this season of healing.

I haven't wanted to open up about it. Especially when all I've done since I was 15 was throw myself, wildly into the arms of the church, wildly into the arms of ministry, wildly into the palms of other broken, hurting, lost people. Who want's to admit they've been wrong about something they've believed and put everything into? Who wants to crawl back, naked and afraid, wondering how delusional they could have been to spiral this far out of reality.

It is so painful for me to think about the morning that I was awoken this summer with a violent nightmare, one that played all around me, one that I couldn't escape. I began to see religion for what it was, ugly, controlling, manipulative, striving, corrupt and evil. I wanted to run away from God, the church, my christian friends, I wanted go home and tell my family they were right all these years, and that I would gladly conform to the greater thought of the Universe and humanism.

But mostly, like many other pivotal moments in my life, I wanted to dissolve. And I lived most of the summer and early mornings of fall wanting to dissolve into nothing. Wanting to escape the ever present questions of how I could have fallen so deeply into something so shallow.

Until my sweet Jesus met me one morning, oh how He laughed when He saw me, He was filled with such joy. And I thought to myself, I have really lost it now, I am beyond help, I am not even a christian, I don't know the first thing about love or Jesus.

And that's where God stepped in and told me I was wrong. He wasn't gentle, the usual approach to which I had attributed God, He was urgent, persistant. He was clear- I was wrong, so wrong it was awful. I had fallen into one of the many deceits religion has to offer, which is putting my own human qualities and expectations on God, thinking God judges like we do, thinking God hates like we do, thinking God is intolerant and impatient and unloving and unforgiving like WE ARE. Like you and I, like the world is, like the church and the unchurched alike.

I had wildly chased the church, ministry and people, seeking wisdom, acceptance, status and this summer Jesus intervened and ripped me from the depths of religion. He opened my eyes to what I worshiped- which was a far, far shot from the true cry of my heart. He beckoned me, come wildly chase Me, come wildly chase My heart, come wildly chase people the way I see them, come see how I feel about the world and all My beloved children.

Stop chasing the church, stop striving after ministry, stop giving yourself to hungry, hurting, lost people. Just be- sit in My love, My energy, My healing, My thoughts, just be yourself. Stop feeling like you have to change, stop feeling like you can't be who I made you to be because those who are rigid and scared and need love have told you that you're not doing it "right".

And so here I am- again. Just Raelyn, the ragamuffin, baptized in a Bob Marley shirt, who loves to talk about pornography and wild love, who has struggled with depression for years and usually makes conservative christian's mildly uncomfortable on a regular basis.

Right now I am tender and healing and fragile-That's okay. I am allowed to question and dig through my hurt and challenge the church and challenge the world.

There is freedom in Christ- I can be who He made me to be, washed free of religion, washed free of expectations, washed free of labels.

Thank you for loving me, even in the chokehold of religion, thank you for freeing me and giving me a glimpse of Your heart for the the world, thank you for giving me revelation on how to love better and more fuller, on what's important. And most of all thank you for showing me that You love ALL your children and that all the hurtful and excluding boundaries that the church has set up all these years are not YOUR boundaries. I love how radical and outside of the box You are Jesus. Please keep me in your secret place forever and teach me how to love the church, give me a heart for the religious, give me more compassion Jesus, lead me into deeper wells of humbleness and empathy.

I want to be wild for you-

RL

A Trying Season-

Walking with Grief 

Do not hurry

as you walk with grief;

it does not help the journey.

Walk slowly, 

pausing often:

do not hurry

as you walk with grief.

Be not disturbed

by memories that come unbidden.

Swiftly forgive;

and let Christ speak for you

unspoken words.

Unfinished conversation

will be resolved in Him.

Be gentle with the one

who walks with grief.

If it is you,

be gentle with yourself.

Swiftly forgive;

walk slowly,

pausing often.

Take time, be gentle

as you walk with grief.

Celtic Prayer by George MacDonald  

Revival raged through my veins the night I heard about America. 

"The Land of the Free" finally free.  It was the last weekend in September (9.29.13) and I wept over "10,000 harvesters" 10,000 people being raised up and sent forth to see a nation free from shackles. That was the night I stopped asking God "why?" That was the night I began to mourn for my family and the ones I loved from high school and summer camp, that was the night I decided it was all going to be worth it. 

Every last painful thing.

Leaving home has been hard. 

For the last 9 months I have been trudging through a season of deep sorrow. And as I prepared for our great adventure north, grief kept finding me. I packed and sorted through what to keep, what to put in storage and what to take with me to Maine-but the memories and pain I had tucked away in old familiar things that had fallen behind my bed and underneath white leather couch cushions were found again. 

The grieving of lost loved ones, false realities revealed, and radical family changes wasn't going to cease existing come March 1st. (Though parts of my heart hoped and prayed they would.) 

Depression war'd within me and I was faced with an incredibly pivotal moment- Did I believe and trust that following Jesus was bigger then the pain I was experiencing within my heart, within my family and throughout the lives of those I saw around me. 

Yes. 

And though from the outside looking in it seemed too obvious, yes, yes, yes- I believed and trusted. Within my heart and mind, things were a different story. I had to, and still have to, make very deliberate steps to continue to walk in freedom, though many days it feels too difficult to reach. 

I am thankful that God has answered my prayers and sent me to the pioneer's land to love children. 

I am thankful that God is so good, gentle and merciful. 

I am thankful He has given me an intentional time of healing and purging of pain.

And I am thankful for all those who have loved me in this trying season, for my family who has weathered great trials and tribulations and for the opportunity to live out my dream- though I am weak and have little to offer.

Despite whatever odds my mind tries to conjure- I am still clinging to hope and expectant that great things will blossom here in the land of the Chickadee! 

Here are a few other things I've learned since being here; 

Grilled asparagus is tastier then baked asparagus, especially with garlic, butter and fresh squeezed lemon. Coconut oil is a great deep conditioner for hair, an amazing dental hygien agent and the best face moisturizer. Sugar is giving me mad acne and its time to purge it from my diet. In the middle of March, 2 feet of snow is normal, I have also learned the true essence of shoveling, scraping, and why everyone lifts their windshield wipers before a big storm. And in the midst of a mid-March snow storm how to fill a 5 gallon jug of gas and fuel up a snow blower. Mainer's are pioneers, the life of a pioneer is cold, tough and includes lots of work. And I am totally unprepared and need to invest in a real winter coat, mittens/gloves, snow boots, and wool socks. 

Guess I shoulda thought that through before moving up ;)

Editors note- GOD IS SO GOOD! After writing this post, I got a message from one of my campers from this past summer, who had bought Tiffany and I brand new snow boots, winter coats, thermals, gloves and socks! 

Walk in Love,

R

We're moving to Maine.

Finally I feel as if I'm walking out alive. Burned and bruised from the unyielding secrets that wrecked my reality months ago.  I'm Alive. I'm Alive. There is no brokenness inside. I laugh now, at the process and journey to Whole. I laugh because I'm not there and I laugh because I'm closer then I've ever been, but truly I laugh because Wholeness feels a lot like laughter and life.is.funny.

I remember the beginnings of dreaming, it was raining outside in late July. I had the most radiant of people all around, they ranged from 14 to 17 and knew everything about the world and life and love. Most people will tell you teenagers don't know anything about life but they are so incredibly wise and so under heard. We (but I really mean they) decided that we'd buy an RV and establish a mobile, traveling church where we'd all play important roles like hugging sad kids, visting old people who used to be young and living radically together for Jesus. We dreamt for a long time about Wholeness and family and somehow, somewhere the love that connected us and the dreams we dreamed changed each of us that July. And I will never forget, how could I ever forget the handful that rekindled up a dream in my heart that I thought was long dead and gone.

Abby. Isabella. A.J. Bekah. Ines. Sam. Phoebe.

Seven months later the beginnings of a dream dreamt out of pure hearts and pure faith is now unfolding into reality. 

On March 1st Tiffany, Ian and I are moving to Maine!

There is sadness in our hearts as we leave our loved ones and families, but there is also eagerness, expectancy and an adventure we are in awe to be on. Each of us has a different dream and calling to which Maine beckons us- but at the root we all want to see revival, families restored, lost sons and daughters found and love radiate throughout the beautiful state of Maine.

We cannot wait to sink our roots down in the boonies of Midcoast with others who have pioneered before us and are still pioneering the land.

Here's a link to a post that goes more in-depth about our journey and what God has been doing in our lives these past several months.
click here :)

I really feel as though the resounding word that has been repeating over and over in my heart and mind since the summer has been "You call me out upon the water, the great unknown where feet may fail."  I am thankful for all our family and friends who have encouraged us to continue out upon the water, where plans aren't all figured out and trusting in God is scary. I truly believe we are continuing into a season 'where feet may fail' but am so ready for God to pave the way.

God isn't religion.

The Spirit of Religion has come, day and night I strain for freedom. For his ways are just like bondage, they are ways of silence and oppression. Religion has seeped his way in, declares himself 'Church' and the Accuser is pleased. For there is no room for the Spirit of Love when Religion still reigns.

When I first heard the phrase,
"He doesn't call the qualified, He qualifies the called" 
I was unsure of what the implications meant. You see, I didn't grow up going to church or practicing any sort of religion with my family, but my parents did afford me the sweetest gift and that was my freedom to choose. So once I encountered God, face to face, at 15, things were never the same for me. My encounter with Him was so divine I ran to wherever I thought I'd find Him and I wound up, quite literally on the doorstep of a church. Very soon I become disillusioned by the people and the message and the political agendas that those in authority where preaching. I began to despise church, and the more Religion was revealed to me the more I wanted Jesus, the more I cried out for freedom from condemnation, judgement, and bondage, the more my gentle God beckoned me. In High School, I was propelled into rebellion for the sake of boundaries and expectations the church had placed on me and my generation, I spiralled for years, unwilling to conform and unable to find others alike.

And so it goes, the phrase of a young, wild rebel who holds no qualification in the realm of church, is called. I have been called since late June 2008 and have fought and cried and begged against it. My poor parents, damaged, abused, lied to and led astray by the confines of The Church and Religion. I'm sure most any other path would have pleased them more then to have a daughter live a life of abandon in the name of a man who was twisted by others and brought only pain and turmoil unto them.

To my parents, friends who I grew up with and those that find their way here- I want to apologize on behalf of those of us who have been deeply moved by the love and spirit of Jesus and refuse to conform to the ways of Religion. I am sorry you have been abused, I am sorry you have been lied to, I am sorry you have been rolled over, ripped off and ransacked. God isn't religion. Jesus came to free us.

God calls the broken, damaged, wounded, lost and says YOU ARE WORTHY. YOU ARE PRECIOUS. YOU ARE GOING TO CHANGE THE WORLD! He calls all those who look and are completely unqualified by the world's standards and calls them sons, calls them daughters, believes in them and entrusts them with the hearts and souls of the world.

I still am in a state of rebellion- I will always rebel against religion, conformity, and bondage to a checklist of rules on how to "get into heaven." God isn't religion. Jesus came to free us. But now I have found the greatest way of rebellion, most clearly represented as Jesus Christ's life on earth. And that is to radically love, radically forgive, and to never give up on anyone! There is always gold to be seen, reconciliation to be had and love to be shared.


-Walk in Love

My thoughts about your sexuality.

Who cares? Sincerely, truly and wholeheartedly, who cares about my thoughts on your sexuality?

I sure dont. 

I'm tired of the division between human to human, I'm tired of the ugly language and the hardened hearts, within all spectrums, sides and communities.

But what I do CARE about and what is relevant and important and what I have many thoughts on, is wether or not you know Jesus and have a relationship with God. Mainly because God is bigger then our sexuality and because Jesus didn't come to be divisive, He came to unite. He didn't come to bind, condem and shame but instead He came to free the soul from bondage, from all condemnation and all shame. If I call myself a Christian, a follower of Jesus, light of the world, I can no longer adhere to an ideology that oppresses. I refuse to continue to be apart of a movement that points fingers, puts up walls and labels groups of people without ever entering into personal relationships.

So I'm here to say I don't care about my thoughts or your thoughts, though I do care about YOU and will respect YOU and love YOU regardless. Because that is what Jesus' love and purpose and destiny was all about, love. Reuniting the lost and the hurting with God.

That is what I care about. Love.