Tis but a Moment in Time

The treadmill has slowed, and I look around. I've been running so hard for so long now - has it really been two years since I last blogged? 

Blake - 3.5 years old

My oldest is almost 4. He has a will as strong as...well, my own. You "pay for your rais'n," as the saying goes. He challenges every command, has to always know why, and his energy level has been full-throttle since birth. He hates to sit still for very long, as do I. The main thing that distinguishes Blake from me is that he is not a people-pleaser. You're not going to convince Blake to do a thing - unless it's his idea. Nothing in my life has exhausted and challenged me quite like parenting this red-headed wonder. We don't choose the means by which God makes us into the image of His Son, but he'll get the job done! 

In the summer of 2015, only two rotations into clinical year, we were blessed with our second pregnancy. It was planned, but it certainly happened faster than we anticipated. To think there was a day when I questioned my ability to have children with all my problems growing up. Ohh, we make our plans, but the Lord guides our steps. This pregnancy brought me so much healing. I still struggled with migraines and depression, but I took care of myself, took my Imitrex and Zoloft after weighing the benefits vs the risks, and I had a much better experience. Motherhood and all the sacrifices that come with it were already in place. The hard work in some ways had already been completed. I'd learned what it means to surrender my desires when necessary to care for another human being. I was ready this time. 

Big brother Blake

A healthy baby Jace ("healer") was born March 18, 2016 - and we did not take his health for granted, Our dear friends' baby girl went to heaven shortly before Jace's arrival. Baby Mila had congenital heart disease and a rare genetic syndrome that complicated things even further. Her short 4 months here were spent battling for her life at Boston Children's Hospital. Her life made my postpartum time with Jace so sweet because she helped me choose to love every moment no matter how tired I was. Mila's picture is on my fridge, and she reminds me that every day is a gift I have not earned. Her precious eyes speak to me, as if saying, "To live is Christ - every breath of it - and to die is GAIN. This is not our home."

 Jace's easy-going temperament has made the transition from 1 to 2 pretty seamless.  From the moment Blake emerged, it was like he was shaking his fist at anything and anyone that tried to appease him. He wouldn't nurse, hated sleep, refused pacifiers, screamed in the carseat/swing/bathtub, and he had an opinion about everything and voiced it readily. Jace, on the contrary, is very smiley, laid back and content. He loves pacifiers, sucking his thumb, swings, sleeping in the car, being held, nursing, and baths. If he's hungry or tired, he might go, "mah." Oh, man, they are like night and day. It will be quite interesting watching them grow up as brothers. 

Villanueva Fam

 In May 2016, 2 months after baby Jace was born, I walked the graduation stage at Biotech Place. I didn't get my diploma for another few months as I completed what I relinquished for maternity leave, but I eventually became Jana Villanueva, PA-C, nonetheless! I start my first job this fall in family medicine. 

Wake Forest PA Class of 2016

My rock-star husband David

David just started his 3rd and final year of family medicine residency this summer, and he is considering a fellowship thereafter in obstetrics. As a family, we can hardly believe the light is visible at the end of our medical training tunnel. We celebrated 7 years of marriage this year, and medical training has consumed the majority of our time. We are now starting to pray more specifically about what God has for us when David finishes.

What a stud!

 I could not be more proud of my husband. No one could balance the responsibilities he's had the past 6 years of training better than he has. He is an excellent physician, yet he has not sacrificed our marriage or his fatherhood in becoming one. When he has time away from work, he's with us - serving and loving us well. He leads our home with humility, bravery, integrity, and sacrificial love. I cringe when I hear other men talking about how their wives are too "strong-willed" and need to learn to "submit." I'm as strong-willed as they come, but it's a joy to be on David's team because I know he is motivated by our greater good. He lets me be me, with patience and long-suffering, and he entrusts my growth to the Lord. 7 years into our marriage, I have never been more in love with this man. I only wish we had more time to spend together, but as my daily teammate in parenting our boys and striving to love our community well, I couldn't be more blessed.

Jerad and Jessica's Wedding

Other pertinent news of 2016 includes my younger brother Jerad marrying the love of his life, Jessica, and my mom graduating from South University with her DNP!

Babies - graduations - weddings - family reunions...it has been quite a jam-packed summer indeed!

 As I write this, the dust has settled from all the excitement, and I'm drinking a glass of wine on the couch, dark chocolate close at hand, trying to wind down from a long day of caring for the boys without waking David up as he sleeps preparing for his night shift. I rub my legs with muscle gel as I try to recover from yesterday's 7 mile run around Salem Lake - my longest run since motherhood. Autumn is fast approaching, and with it comes my 30th birthday this year. My celebration plan includes running the Bull City Half Marathon with David and some awesome friends, getting my wedding band tattooed onto my finger, and transitioning to the beginning of the rest of my life.

Life is short. Even when it's long by human standards, it's still short. I just want to live it well. I've been poured into by so many people, God most importantly, over the last 3 decades, and now, I just want to spend myself for as many days as I have left. 30 is young, yes, but David and I have already lost two friends we played collegiate soccer with to unexpected deaths, and no one is immune. God blesses us as our Father because he loves us and he loves to give us good gifts, but what truly glorifies him most is when HE HIMSELF is our greatest gift and we have open hands with all that he has given us.

Lord, help me run the race you've set before me and throw off anything that hinders. You know my vices well. With open hands, let me hold my plans. With a bowed heart, help me trust you in joy and in pain. And even though busyness and exhaustion are my primary struggles in the present, tis but a moment of time...when the suffering comes, be my anchor, oh Lord.

Green Pastures

A year has passed since I last wrote a blog entry. I realize now more than ever that it's the hardships of our lives that write good stories. So much of this last year has been a much needed season of green pastures. When the race is easy to run, and I'm breathing fine, I don't feel the need to pour out my soul, which is usually why I write.

Don't get me wrong. I'm thankful for this period of time that God has gracefully bestowed...a time during which I don't have to fight for joy or struggle to be in the present because I'm too busy looking backwards regretfully or looking forward idealistically hoping for better days. Lately, my only complaint is being tired, but I'm tired from my life being absolutely full of doing things that I love.

I wanted to catch this blog up on this past year of my life, but not without recapping what the race looked like for me before this year of green pastures arrived. David and I have been married 5 1/2 years. And about 75% of our marriage has been clinging to each other in the rain.

Year 1: My parents' marriage of 25 years dissolved. Anxiety and depression set up camp in my soul, unresolved medical problems plagued my body, and I felt as if I had no idea who I was anymore.
                                             
Year 2: we started med school together until I withdrew a few months in due to illness of body, mind, and soul. Pain, panic, suffering, silence from God...the worst year of my life...and David had med school on top of it all. I went through a lot of counseling, saw a lot of doctors, took a lot of meds and supplements, and cried a lot of tears.

Year 3: I finally felt well for the first time in years. I decided to pursue medicine again but this time through PA school. I got accepted in December 2011...2 months later, I found myself staring at a + pregnancy test with a migraine in shock.

Year 3 was a hard one for our marriage. I wasn't ready to be a mom. My body was barely well enough to handle such stress, and I didn't really even know if I could have children with all the problems I'd had growing up. David was in his 1st year of rotations, studying for boards, and stressed without relief. My labor was long, and my postpartum period was even longer. It was so hard to see the light. So hard to just keep walking.

Year 4: We saw the sun again. David's year was lighter. We applied to residency and PA school together, and even though staying at home with Blake was exhausting, I could sense God's presence again. I led a Bible study, shared a home with some wonderful friends, and I decided that happiness is a choice, and it's up to me to pursue it. No matter what people say or think, who I am is up to me and God.
                                                     

Year 5: David graduated from med school at last, I got accepted to my favorite PA program at Wake Forest, and that's where he matched for residency. We went to Africa as a family, and I faced my fears of serving overseas after all that happened to me in India so many years ago where I picked up the parasites that wrecked my body. That was also the place I lost my rose-colored glasses through which I used to see the world.

When we moved to Winston-Salem this past May, I remember feeling so much relief to be leaving Virginia behind us. I couldn't believe how good it felt to watch the snows of winter melt from my life and to feel the heat of summer. There was a large part of me that wanted to hate the years I spent sick and lonely in Virginia, but it wouldn't be fair. God matured me in that desert in ways I truly needed to grow. He provided for me every step of the way, and I developed some amazing friendships in that furnace. I read many amazing books, learned to serve in obscurity, and I learned so much about who I am and who I want to become. And of course, as the name of this blog implies, all those trials reminded me that this is not my home. I am here running the race God has laid out for me, and he will help me finish strong. I know the next uphill is coming. But for now, I am just enjoying the view from the mountain, looking back on all God has taught me and looking forward with a renewed enthusiasm for what he has planned.

Winston-Salem, to me, has felt like a refuge in comparison to the last few years of my life. We've found an amazing church with a Bible Fellowship group provided truly by the hand of God, and we are close to David's parents and receive lots of help from them with Blake. Our training is vigorous, but we are in it together, and it's easier for me to smile than frown these days, and I haven't been able to say that for a while.

                                     
PA school is time-intensive, but because of all God has taught me the hard way, I know the limitations of my body and have pursued balance from day 1. I have not neglected my time with God, my sleep, my husband, my son, or my calling to serve those God puts in my path. His perspective is the perspective I strive to seek after and maintain even with all the busyness.

I absolutely love my program, and I know that being a PA is the best career for me. And it feels good to learn medicine simply because I enjoy it and want to use it to provide for our family and to serve others with the talents and gifts God has given me. Medicine is NOT my calling, although I used to think it was. My calling is to follow Jesus by dying to myself daily. My calling is to be like Him in every area of my life and to glorify Him with whatever I'm doing, whether it's cleaning up Cheerios, changing diapers, folding clothes, or studying with a friend. Because the reality is, like Job, anyone can lose it all in a second. The only true assurance we have in this life is that Jesus is Lord and he is MY Lord and Savior. He knows suffering as Immanuel, "God with us," he has walked this earth and knows the horrors thereof, and he said he will never leave us...and he will get us home.

From Maiden to Mother

Autumn is in the air, pushing back the summer heat and making way for  the turning of leaves. When I feel the breeze, the air even smells like soccer season and trail running. Fall is when I feel most myself.

I haven’t blogged in eight months. I’ve been too busy wrestling with life in ways that I couldn’t put down on paper. I was asked by God to make the noble but difficult transition from maidenhood to motherhood before I was ready to do so. Becoming a mother isn’t easy for anyone, so I hear. But the hardness of the transformation varies immensely from woman to woman, and I think it’d be quite a travesty if I didn’t share my experience with the world. Perhaps, even the darkest shades of my storm will encourage someone and make them feel less estranged. And maybe, just maybe, the ways God has used my journey to better who I am will strengthen others to realize that God isn’t in the business of allowing pain in vain.

My baby Blake will turn one this October. That means I’ve been a mom for almost a year. 11 months into the game now, it is my new normal and even though it still has its challenges, being a mom brings me great joy, but it has taken a while to get to that place.

At my shower, a friend gifted me with a tote bag that read, “Mommy, established 2012.” It makes me laugh every time I use it because it’s so true. By the grace of God, my body successfully carried and helped create a human being for nine and a half months. My pregnancy had its challenges, as all pregnancies do. I have suffered from migraines for most of my adult life, but during pregnancy, I couldn’t take the medications that relieve them. I labored for 36 long, miserably painful and exhausting hours to bring my son into the world. I’m an endurance athlete--a runner to my core--but that was by far the furthest I’ve ever had to push myself, and it left me completely empty. And, as any seasoned mother knows all too well, the healing period begins at the same time that your body is forced to sleep very little in order to nourish an infant who is fully dependent on you for nutrition. My perineum was torn, my breasts were swollen and achy, and I had no idea what I was doing. “Mommy, established 2012…”

Breast feeding didn’t work out for Blake and me. This is the first time that I’ve shared that sentence without feeling guilt and sadness. I want to say to all the moms out there who suffer from post-partum depression that you are heroes in my eyes for just finding the strength to do the next thing needed for your child day by day feeling the way you do. The depression I experienced began only days after Blake’s birth, and it was relentless. I couldn’t sleep when my baby was sleeping because of anxiety and panic attacks. I cried all the time and found it impossible to bond with my sweet boy. Blake and I went to lactation consultants and had friends and family offer advice and assistance, but we could not make it work, so I bottle fed him with breast milk that I pumped for 3 ½ months. My supply was very low, probably due to stress, so eventually, when I couldn’t keep up with him anymore, I went to formula. I felt like a failure. But now, I am proud of myself for trying as hard as I did under the circumstances I was facing.  

The next major challenge of motherhood for me was to take on the responsibility of staying at home with Blake full-time. I know people who have always dreamed of having children and being stay-at-home moms, but that has simply never been me. I had planned to be in Physician Assistant School in fall of 2012, but instead, I was in Mom School 101. I’d never cared for children before, and learning to do so by trial and error was very overwhelming. My family lived hours away, and my husband was in the middle of time-consuming medical rotations. My mind was always spinning with sleep and feeding schedules, void and excrement charting, trying to answer Blake's cries the right way, checking to make sure he was breathing every hour he slept, caring for him when he was sick…I was an amateur at all things “baby.” And just when I’d finally feel like I had some normalcy, he’d reach a new developmental stage and everything would change.

One of the hardest things about transitioning to motherhood was trying to communicate my struggles and emotions without being misunderstood as one who does not love or appreciate my child. I cannot tell you what a dagger that has been. But I am learning that an imperative choice you have to make as a new mom is to stop listening to what everyone else says because they don’t know you or your child like God does. God knows I love Blake more than life and that I am certainly doing the best I can, and he is teaching me to extend grace to those who say things that simply do not help and to reach out to new moms and be a voice of honesty. I’ve made countless mistakes as I strive to love Blake well, but parenting is a learning process like everything else in life, and I can rest in knowing that the Lord will provide and at the end of the day, only His love for me defines me, not how good of a mom I am. The truth be known, motherhood can be idol like anything else can if we are not careful.

My struggles with adjusting to parenthood are what they are, but none of it is Blake's fault. Blake is my miracle, my undeserved gift from God. From birth, he’s been animated and active like no baby I’ve ever seen. He has a strong-will that is determined to do what he wants to do when he wants to do it. He hates any form of restriction, from being swaddled, to Moby wraps, to being strapped into his stroller or car seat, or being told the word, “No.” He is stubborn, like me, but I know that God will use it. He was born to lead and not follow. His fiery red, curly hair, bright blue eyes, and warm smile add goodness to the lives of everyone he is around. He is a fighter, but I know God will teach him to channel it into fighting for what matters, especially Truth. He’s my little guy. And even though it’s been a hard transformation, I am his mother, he knows I love him, and I cannot imagine my life without him. 

I want to end by saying that I plan to be a mom who works outside of the home once I get the opportunity to finish my medical training. Why? Because I trust God to use more people than just me to make Blake into the man he created him to be, and I know that God gave me my talents and passion for medicine and healing for a reason. As hard as it’s been, I am glad to have this season of life to stay home with Blake because it has helped me learn him and has taught me what it means to truly sacrifice myself constantly for someone else. Taking a shower, sitting down for a meal, a good conversation, a quiet time with God, exercising without lugging around a running stroller…they are all luxuries to me now because Blake’s needs come first. Loving him has cost me a lot, but that is the type of love that Jesus has for his children, and life is all about becoming more like Him.

I thank God for giving me the privilege of being Blake’s mom. He chose me to be the one he calls “Mommy,” and that is not a title I take lightly. But I am also more than Blake’s mom. I am a daughter, a granddaughter, a sister, a wife, and a friend. I’m an athlete, a writer, a chocolate and coffee-lover, and I have dreams, passions and talents I plan to share with the world. Most of all, I am God’s unique creation. I do not fit into any mold but his, and I trust that He will teach me all I need to know about Blake and how to love him well through all the seasons of life to come. I am like no other mom; no other mom is like me. But I am the perfect mom for Blake.

Thank you God for bringing me through all the hardships that accompanied my pregnancy, my delivery, my post-partum period, and the months that followed as I transitioned from being a maiden to a mother. It was not my timing nor my finest hours, but you are using every struggle to refine me, and not only that...you orchestrated it all to BLESS me. Give me wisdom as I seek to love and teach Blake alongside David in a way that glorifies you, and thank you for being a God who wants my honesty more than my performance because you specialize in working on the heart. I entrust Blake to you today because he is yours more than he is mine.

I love you, Blake. Thank you for your patience, your grace, and for all that you've taught me the last elevens months. I look forward to all you'll teach me in the future.

Remember God

As I write this, I’m enjoying the beautiful sunshine of AL, the comforts of my home of origin with all its fun and familiarity, and the blessing of having so many loving hands to help with Blake. My apartment in Blacksburg, VA, is without power and water due to the snow storm, and I am glad to have a warm place to take refuge. But someone very important is missing, and that's David. He is working night shift in the emergency room in Wytheville, and living in VCOM housing for the weekend. The verse in Ecclesiastes comes to mind, “What does a man get for all the toil and anxious striving with which he labors under the sun? All his days his work is pain and grief—even at night, his mind does not rest.” I can see the fatigue brought on by 3 yrs of medical school on his face. It’s not just the demands and stress of his training that is burdensome, but not being able to provide for Blake and me. I’m so glad that we are almost at the end of that tunnel. Just a year and a half, and he’ll be getting a pay check, however small it may be. I look forward to that, not just for security, but to see my hard-working husband get the compensation he deserves.

This season of medical school has been harder on me than I ever expected. The combination of my parents divorcing, being sick for several years, having to put aside everything to heal and get back on my feet and refocus, only to be blindsided by a surprise pregnancy, have my body wrecked to bring him forth, and then all the postpartum difficulties…God knows it’s been a hard 3-4 years. So often, I wish I could edit some of the painful parts of my story. But I have hope that there are better years to come—for our marriage and our family--and I still have hope that God will bring good from all the bad. I often think, "If we made it through all that, we can make it through what’s next," as much as I wish there were no more hard things coming.

One thing I have learned the past few years is that everyone struggles. All people have troubles—believers and nonbelievers alike—and it is foolish to wish to have someone else’s life. We are all broken. We all have a reason to put the past away and hope for better days. We all have to face down our demons, although, we all struggle with different things. Everyone shares the same fate. And “time and chance” happen to us all. King Solomon of old warned us that it is not wise to say, “Why were the old days better than these?” It is not wise to say these things because one, those days are not as good as you remember them to be, and two, it is impossible to go back. All we have is the present. It is better--as Solomon found out the hard way--to eat, drink, and be glad in all things so that joy will accompany you in your work all the days of life God has given you under the sun.

Solomon, wise with age and life experience, urged us to “remember your Creator in the days of your youth before the days of trouble come and the years approach when you will say ‘I find no pleasure in them.’” I understand this advice now. I understand, now that the days of my youth are closing and the days of trouble have come and continue to come. “Remember God,” I say to my downcast soul. Remember that your spirit will return to Him and you will have peace. Do not lose sight of him, oh my soul, even though you see him through a glass dimly and hardly understand his ways. Remember him, for to whom else shall you go? Life is too hard to have no where outside of yourself and the aid of others to turn to. 

My son Blake is so much like his father...like the way he HAS to pay attention to everything around him. He just can’t miss a thing. No time to sleep when there’s things to look at, listen to, and be a part of! And his serious expressions, oh, so David. He studies everything and everyone with a look that is so identical to a look David has when he's in study mode. So much to observe—a whole world to explore. He brings such joy to my life. It makes me sad to think about him having to face the sorrows of this world and the temptations his flesh will afford, but what can I hope for him more as his mother than for his life to be God’s? I want to protect him from all pain. I want him to have no hardships. I want only happiness for him, and never disappointment. But he is not mine. He is God’s. So God help me to trust you with him, for in reality, even my best efforts at love fall extremely short of your care for Blake. Help me to resist the urge to always rescue him from pain, and help me help him find You faithful in it so that he can have peace with you no matter what comes. May Blake know you better than I do, Lord. May I learn to find satisfaction in my work during all seasons and find my enjoyment in You, God, and the things you give so that Blake can learn these things from my life.

I went for a walk with my cocker spaniel Mocha today just to think. I feel like all I do the last few months is think, analyze, pray, acquire information and opinions, and think some more. I would say all I think about is “to go to PA school, or not to go to PA school…’tis the question!” But that’s not really true. Ever since Blake was born, I just think about everything. I think about my life—I remember the past, try to make sense of the present, and wonder about the future. I think about my parents, my education, my experiences and relationships and how those things have shaped me into who I am today, for better and for worse. I think about my mortality, the fleetingness of life on this earth, and how hard it is to grow up. I think about God, who he is and who is not, who I wish he was and who I wish I was. And I think about the bitter-sweetness of the human experience. But as Solomon wrote centuries ago, “When times are good, be happy. But when times are bad, consider: God has made the one as well as the other.” 

I sigh under the weight of the realization that I don’t have nearly the control over my life that I once thought I did, and I am faced with the reality that the only one who is in control is God. That is supposed to bring me comfort and peace since he is all-good and all-loving, but the pain, suffering, and wickedness that he allows in the lives of his children makes trusting him a bit hard for me. I grew up with a father who would do ANYTHING to rescue me from pain. Even now, there is no limit to his love in action for his only daughter. But God doesn’t seem to be as interested in rescuing me from the pains of this life. He seems way more concerned about using all things to make me holy, to bring himself glory, and to detach me from this world and reattach me to him. But most of the time, especially when I’m hurting, I want God to be more the rescuing type.

I still often wonder where God was in the darkness of my seasons of depression and panic. I’ve never felt so alone, so hopeless. I can relate to King David in the psalms when he says his eyes were worn out from tears and his bones ached with sorrow from searching for his God. When it all comes down to it, that’s why I fear going overseas to do mission work in the future. I picture going somewhere, and giving up everything here to do so, and then I fear God withdrawing his presence, and I never want to experience that darkness again. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to blame God for all the hard things in my life or in the lives of others. I just don’t understand how he works. I have a hard time having a conversation with God when I can’t see him or hear him. I have a hard time following the Spirit’s lead when there are so many voices and I have so many vices. Most of the time, I just feel like a failure in life. I don’t feel that way just because life hasn’t turned out like I had hoped for or planned. I feel the weight of my sinfulness and inability to love well. I guess I struggle to rest in God’s grace and to accept myself with all my flaws. It’s tiring to be so introspective and so constantly aware of my sin. So, if you are a person of prayer, and if you ever think to pray for me, pray that I will rest in the grace and love of Jesus. 

When I’m resting in those things, as rare as those moments have been for me, I am at peace, and it’s a peace that no circumstance can thwart. Oh, peace. As I get older, peace is the most desired virtue. No money in the world can buy it. No situation or success can warrant it. Only peace that is given by the Spirit of God himself is true peace. That peace, for me, is when all striving ceases, my imperfectionism in all areas doesn’t matter, and I feel free. Perhaps that’s the closest taste of heaven I can know this side of Glory. Out of that peace, I best love others. Out of that peace, I best serve God. Oh, that blessed peace that Paul says surpasses all understanding. Remember God, I say to myself. Remember God, and find rest.

I Think I've Become a Grown-Up

Well, it's official. I'm a mom. It was definitely a transition to no longer just be known as Jana Watson three and a half years ago when I married my husband David. In addition to being the daughter of Janet and Warren Watson, I became Jana Villanueva, or another way of saying it, "David's wife." But in addition to that mega life change, nine weeks ago I became Jana Watson Villanueva, the mother of Blake Marshall Villanueva. And by Joe, I think I've become a grown-up.

I wasn't ready to have a baby. Pregnancy took me off guard completely. It wasn't my plan, and I didn't welcome the reality of it readily. I wanted to be happy. Pregnancy is a gift from God; I know that, but I had so many things I wanted to do first. The gift of new life was acknowledged by my soul, but the timing was premature according to my mind and heart, and I don't think I really came to terms with it all until several weeks after that new life arrived. That was just my experience, in the raw.

While pregnant, I deeply missed freely participating in the things that I believed identified me, like playing soccer, riding my bike, running long distances, and pursuing a career in medicine. I thrive on being independent and spontaneous. I love coffee and chocolate and have always firmly believed that the intake of both, especially at the same time, can cure any bad day. And I really, really appreciate the migraine drug Imitrex, for without it, I would have a very difficult time enjoying my life. Pregnancy interfered with all the things I loved and held dear. First, I realized that week-long migraines were just going to have to be accepted since I couldn't take Imitrex while pregnant. In fact, I celebrated my positive pregnancy test by laying on the couch in extreme pain for several days with a migraine I had no way of treating.

Strike One.

Then I had to face the reality that the Physician Assistant School I had worked so hard to get acceptance to was no longer going to be my destination in the fall. No, instead I would be eight months pregnant wobbling around peeing every half hour feeling miserable. So many questions ran through my mind as the admission department told me the best they could offer was a year's deferral. Would I be able to go to PA school with a one year old while David was still tied down by medical school? That seemed absurdly difficult. What would I do for child care--all we have is loan money! I began to feel like it was God's idea of a practical joke to gift me with the ability to understand science and create in me a passion for medicine only to ask me to bury it in the sand.

Strike Two.

Next, I had to say goodbye to the marathon and century I was training for with my husband. I kept running for most of my pregnancy, even though it hurt every step by the end, and I was going so slow it was really a classified shuffle. But it was the century race that was the hardest. The day David signed up without me was crushing, and I don't think I could have explained the depth of disappointment I was feeling inside to anyone. I felt so limited. So trapped. I slowly lost the permission to play soccer as the months went on. By the third trimester, I couldn't even walk over a couple miles because I was in so much pain.

Strike Three. How many strikes are there until you're OUT?! Too many loses to mourn all at once.

I could write all day about the hardships I faced emotionally while growing baby Blake inside of me. It took me almost six months just to embrace the fact that this was God's plan for this season of my life. Then I began to fear the future. I feared childbirth, I feared parenthood, and most of all, I feared losing myself in the mom role. I have seen too many women get completely lost in caring for their children. And, I wasn't ready to give up my independence. I like being able to go on spontaneous dates with my husband. I like going out for a run or ride whenever I feel like it or hitting up a coffee shop to journal or chat with a friend. I cherish hot showers, reading books, road trips, going out to eat every once in a while, and going on exploratory hikes. And I am very comfortable with being a student. I like having time to myself to study and master material and then to be tested on that material and get a score that quantifies my efforts and helps me be satisfied with my work. I love all these things, and I was no ready to give them up. It made me cry to think about it.

This is just the honest truth. And if God has taught me anything over the past few years it's been to be honest with him and others about my life and what goes on in my heart. It's the only way to grow and it's the surest way for God to receive glory as he brings good out of my messiness. I had a friend tell me that I should not complain about being pregnant and be grateful out of respect for all the women who try to get pregnant but can't. I remember feeling like forcing myself to feel like that was no more helpful than for me to always clean my plate because there are starving children in Africa. I want to be grateful. But I want to be authentically grateful, and I believe that the Spirit of God within me is powerful enough to handle my struggles, and He can take my ingratitude and change my heart over time and enable me to choose thankfulness by His strength and grace. Then who gets the glory? Me, for being so good at guilting myself into telling people I feel grateful for something that inside really sucks? Or God, for working inside of my heart to change my attitude to be like His? You get the picture.

So now, nine weeks postpartum, I think I've become a grown-up. And by that I mean I've surrendered to the death of self that God is asking of me in order to care for my baby during this season of my life. I've matured into motherhood, not quite as gracefully as I would have liked, but the transition is occurring slowly but surely, and I can say I am finally grateful to be Jana Watson Villanueva, David's wife and Blake's mom. I am learning that my identity is not wrapped up in the athletics, the academics, or in the things I can and cannot do or eat. Nor is my identity defined by my relationship to my parents, husband or child. Who I am is  unswervingly and eternally rooted in the way I uniquely display the image of God. No one else can live my story. It was written by God especially for me, and the glory He brings to himself through my failures and sufferings is what my journey on this earth is about. The things he teaches me about himself, myself, and others is what makes life worth living.

I can laugh at myself now as I seemingly have "new mom" plastered across my forehead as I easily go a full week without a shower, get excited when I can check off one item per day from my to-do list, and carry a diaper bag and breast pads wherever I go. However, I am being refined by my Maker in the process. In the midst of having to let go of my independence, spontaneity, and sense of control over the details in my life, I am finding a form of freedom I did not expect. I am gradually setting perfectionism aside (cause who has the time or sanity for that?) and letting the grace of God reign. The depression that darkens the door of my soul so often and the anxieties that war against my mind day in and day out are not going to paralyze me forever. I am learning to take my anxious thoughts to the God of my life who can be trusted, even when I'm in pain or experience loss.

As a new mom, I feel constantly exhausted and weak, overwhelmed and inadequate. I feel like I can do nothing in my own strength...and this is such a God-glorifying place to be! I can rest in His ability to work in my life, whether or not I can successfully breastfeed my child for a year, become a medical professional, or run 26.2 miles. I am humbled by how much self-denial and hard work caring for a baby can be, and I am in awe of all the moms who care for their children day in and day out because they love them. I respect and appreciate my own mom more as well as I experience the sacrifice it takes have the responsibility to care for another human being. A lot of the things that used to matter so much and seem so big and so important now seem so insignificant and small. And as it goes with all hard things in the life of a Christian, God is using it all for good to make me more like Him and to prepare me for whatever next season my life holds. He's the author, of the good chapters and the hard.

Well, I'm a mom. I'm a grown-up. I accept it, and I trust that it'll keep getting better with time.

A Symphony of Blase

I’m not sure that I could feel more blasé. I’ve been sick for a week with strep and some sinus viral ninja that refuses to let me return to normalcy, no matter how much I try. But really, the last 3 weeks as a whole have felt so melancholic, and I can’t seem to pinpoint why. I do miss David, who is definitely preoccupied with studying for the infamous Boards exam, and I completely understand that. But I still miss him. We are celebrating our three year anniversary this week; it’s strange how such amazing gifts and undeserved blessings can become familiar and common. Marriage is like that. David is the love of my life, a man I desired to have and hold for three years during college without much hope of it ever becoming a reality, and now, I’m celebrating 3 yrs as his wife, and it feels surprisingly ordinary. I have an amazing husband who loves me and cares for me daily. It’s just a testament to how we were made for a greater romance, the one with the true Bridegroom. I long for Him, and I long for the way things were meant to be, not just in the world around me, but in my own internal world. Don’t we all?

The thing is, generally I can peg my dissatisfaction on something not going right in my life or on something that I don’t have, that if only I obtained it, I would be happy. But right now, in this season of my life, if I’m honest with myself, God has not withheld any blessing from me. I’m pregnant with a seemingly healthy little baby boy, I have the best husband in the world, a loving family and family-in-law, lots of great friends here and abroad, my material needs are all met, and I’m healthy (besides the temporary bug I’m fighting)…the list could go on and on. I’m so blessed on every side. But I still feel sad or empty or lacking in some way. Why are the greatest moments of life on this earth still devoid of enough-ness?

I’m getting older day by day, and the beauty of my youth is fading before I ever fully saw the beauty I hoped I’d see in myself and enjoyed it. Life goes on just as it always has since the beginning of time, cycle upon cycle of life and death, joys and sorrows, pain and relief. We all go to such great lengths to just feel like everything is okay, or that at least it will be really soon. For me, I know that one day, everything will be okay. I have that hope in Christ,the vision and longing for the new heaven and earth that God has promised to those who are his children, which is what I am by grace alone and no merit in myself. But why don’t I go out and proclaim this truth to the world daily with great joy! Why do I instead retreat to a blanket and a cup of tea or spending time with people who are easy and make me feel at home with myself? Why after encountering the love of the King of Glory do I still err on selfishness more times than not? How long oh Lord will you wait to make it all right?

I get chills when I read the words of God that offer promises of things like “restoration,” “new wine,” “redemption,” and “new life.” I know deep down that when I look forward to little things like the next fun event, fulfilling accomplishment, encouraging accolade, material purchase, hot meal, life change, new start, crazy adventure, or time with people I love, I’m really just finding the motivation to keep walking this lonely journey through earth. But each of those motivational moments passes by and fades, leaving me empty again wanting more. It’s only the words of God that help me care about this life and what it means.

I’m so messed up. So inconsistent. And hypocritical. Stubborn. Great at and willing to justify my actions and quick to judge the actions of others. I self-protect & manipulate. I’m like a wave tossed by the wind at times; I am often the man who looks in the mirror and then forgets his reflection as soon as he walks away. Am I being too hard on myself? Never. These things are true about me. They are my vices, and that's not all of them, folks. I know that I know my sin better than anyone, and that’s only because the Holy Spirit refuses to let me walk around with a big head in complete ignorance of who I am apart from Christ.

But I am so glad that God knows all of this about me and chooses to show me patience, grace, and love all because of my hero and life source, Jesus Christ. My greatest joy, hope, and motivation in this life is this: “Set your hope fully on the grace to be given you when Jesus Christ is revealed,” in 1 Peter 1:13. My whole hope for happiness, satisfaction, and acceptance is in standing before God one day and saying, “I have nothing to say but I deserve anything you see as just. But one thing I have done, and even this only by divine aid: my hope is set on the extension of your grace to me by the blood of Christ, which is able to powerfully purify all my wretchedness.”

Isn’t this the beauty of the Gospel? That even though I know God’s Word and have grown up into Christ for almost two decades, I am still a sinful creature concerned much with creature comforts and the pleasures of this world, yet God will finish his work in me. This is how he receives the most glory, I do believe, on the Day of the Lord. I will stand before the Bridegroom pure, white, without blemish, and glowing with righteousness, and I will be worthy of marrying Love himself. This is an indescribable miracle. As I struggle through the dailies in this life, and I sigh in front of the mirror as I use cosmetics to cover the acne scars and blemishes, bathe in the warmth of showering waters to cleanse myself of the filth from the day before, and try to make myself presentable enough for the world to bear…I look ahead to the day when I will glow with the beauty of Christ flawlessly without putting forth any effort at all. Thinking of that day is enough to push through today—all the messiness of life, the meloncholy that not even Starbucks can cure, the shattered dreams, the confusion and chaos or misunderstanding others and being misunderstood, all the sickness and loss, the suffering and shame, the having to live with one’s self before a holy God who sees all things…it’s manageable only because of Jesus, Immanuel, God with us.

Thank you, Jesus. Thank you for hope, the very food that energizes the soul and helps us press on to the finish line where we will meet you face to face. "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy, he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. We are birthed into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil of fade, kept in heaven for us. Through faith we are shielded by God's power until the coming of salvation is revealed in the last days. In this we greatly rejoice, though now for a little while we suffer grief in all kinds of trials." 1 Peter 1: 3-6

Take courage, friend, and be strong in the loving grace of our Savior Christ the King. Life's hard. Everyone's is. But you're gonna make it.

He Wounds and He Heals

“See, I am the only God. There are no others. I kill, and I make alive. I wound, and I heal…” (Deut. 32:39)

Dear Father,

These last few months have been the most difficult months internally and physically I have ever known. This is not my attempt to really understand “why” nor do I think you owe me anything. All I want is to learn what you want me to learn and be free of the suffering. But I have learned an even greater, much more difficult-to-swallow truth—you have not only allowed this period of hardship in my life, but you DESIGNED it. You wound and you heal.

I’ve always had a head-knowledge of that reality—that you use all things for good for those you love according to your will. But it’s one thing to know that and a completely different thing to believe it when the darkness is suffocating you without relief. It’s one thing to believe you are good when everything is going as planned and when I am healthy and comfortable. But I have to go to a whole other level to believe you are good when I know that you in your divine sovereignty planned this storm. It is one thing to say I trust you when I am succeeding at my dreams, but it’s a whole other animal to trust in you when my whole world is shaken and I feel like every day is my last.

This is what I’m learning through this season of suffering: you wound and you heal, but you do it because you love me, and you know what I need. You know where I must be refined and you know that sharing in Christ’s sufferings is always an opportunity for me to know you more. And you know that the world is a mess filled with broken, hurting people that need to know that your Gospel was meant for them; the more I can identify with the sufferings of Christ and of others, the more I believe you can use me.

Not being well for so long for so many inexplicable reasons has really taken its toll on my heart and my mind. I’ve felt so misunderstood by others as I concurrently struggle with understanding myself. I’ve come up with a lot of logical, probable causes for my health problems, the latest of which has been relentless anxiety accompanied by terrifying panic attacks. For one, I have run myself ragged for the last 6 years of my life, always striving and stressing; for that, I blame no one but myself. Two, I’ve been through a lot of emotionally trying things that perhaps I haven’t properly dealt with, like wounds from past relationships, my parents’ divorce, and believing lies about you and who you say I am. But I’ve come to the realization that it doesn’t really matter so much why I’m going through this trying time nor should my response be to fix it and make it go away. That is what comes naturally, but it is fruitless. I want to know you more through this, Father, and I want to come out of it closer to you than I’ve ever been.

Everything in my life since I’ve quit med school has pointed me to what you are trying to teach me—that my suffering will never match what my sin deserves, and that NOTHING is outside of your sovereign control. Studying the book of Isaiah has shown me how you use both good and evil to discipline and correct your people.

Listening to the Desiring God series of sermons on your sovereignty in suffering has encouraged me immensely. I really valued what Joni Eareckson Tada said about the crosses that we carry—she, a quadriplegic, made it a point to say that her wheelchair is NOT her cross to bear; she reminded Christians everywhere to never equate our cross with our sufferings. For instance, going through this period of anxiety, my migraines, and my losses in this world are not the crosses I bear. The only cross I bear is my sinful nature—my flesh that must die daily so that I can be as you intended me to be. Your image in me that is so marred can only be restored if I allow you to purge me of my prideful independence from you. You use suffering to bring us to a place of humility where we willing take up that cross and receive the life Jesus died for us to have.

So I guess through all this, I have realized that the sufferings on this earth will never end; my hope is found in you alone, and the harvest of the hope is sown mostly in Heaven, not here. I’m beginning to understand that yes, Jesus did conquer fear, death, sickness, sin, and Satan on the cross, and because Christ lives in me, I am your child and share in His inheritance. But here is the key: only you determine how much of that inheritance I get to experience this side of Glory. I can pray for healing, and you can heal and sometimes will, but not always, for you also get glory from providing the grace to endure. I can ask you anything with confidence, but I must be willing to receive anything with joy.

If Jesus’ execution on the cross was your doing (Acts 2:22), then why should I expect anything less in my life: “For it has been granted to you on behalf of Christ not only to believe in Him, but also to suffer for him (Philippians 1:29).” Father, show me how to endure suffering as a good soldier (2 Timothy 2:3) for I know without a doubt that I struggle not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, authorities, powers, and spiritual forces of evil that war against me because Satan is a roaring lion crouching at my door who wants to have me (Eph 6:12; 1 Pt 5:8)! ! Help me, Father, through your Spirit, to claim authority over the enemy’s schemes, and assist me as I dress in your armor morning after morning to run the race set before me.

Thank you for never leaving me or forsaking me; thank you for sending Jesus to take my punishment—I rejoice that the One inside of me is greater than the one in this world, for Christ has overcome the world (Jn 16:33)! And he is greater than my heart, even when my heart condemns me (1 Jn 3:20).

Lead me and guide me I pray, Lord, as I seek to live a life worthy of you. And protect me from the evil one, in Jesus name. Amen.

Hosea 6:1, “Come, let us return to the LORD. He has torn us to pieces but he will heal us; he has injured us but he will bind up our wounds.”