The Faith Collective

Two months later we found ourselves in the ultrasound room. “Well, I have some news," the tech said as she typed 'Baby A' and ‘Baby B’ on the screen. "There are two sacs! You have two children coming.”  I began crying and laughing at the same time. We were having twins! Jenna Mazey (now Greiner), who was always ready for an adventure, was having twins! Exciting, right? 

Then why wasn’t I handling it the way I thought I should be?

At age 19, I found myself married to who I thought was my forever companion only to discover that a pornography addiction had such a hold on my spouse that it left me divorced, broken, and completely shattered at again, age 19. We didn’t even make it a year together.

This was not part of my plan! This is completely unfair! How could I have not known? I thought it felt right? Do I not know how to recognize the Spirit in my life? I’ve lived a decent life! The injustice of it all sent me into a downward spiral of doubt and questions.

Fast forward a few years, and a bad thing happened. I found myself the victim of rape, and I had all the guilt and shame that comes with that. I felt guilt for going over to my boyfriend’s house when I knew his parents weren’t home. I felt shame, as if I’d broken that covenant with God to wait until marriage. And I felt that surely, God couldn’t love me anymore.

Was my rebellion part of the plan? Was I supposed to suffer rape alone? What about when I sobbed  in agony when I got a divorce at only age 20. When the gun was pressed  against the fragile skin of my head was that planned too?  Was the pain from childhood meant to be carried alone? Where was His love when all I had to feel ok was drugs and alcohol? For one who has suffered it might at first glance seem cruel to think that it was in some ways planned but not to the soul that has faith.

My husband and I spent much of the next week at Primary Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake City with Matthias, where he had a surgery to biopsy the tumor and place a port on his chest for chemo. He was diagnosed with stage 3 neuroblastoma, and the months of treatment began. All told, our little guy would go on to spend 79 days in the hospital and have 5 rounds of chemo, 4 surgeries, and 5 blood transfusions, along with a garble of other acronyms.

I had been living in Mumbai for almost two years. I had fought my parents to move there on my own for what I was certain would be a uniquely creative job opportunity. Having been in an all-girl Catholic boarding school all my life, they probably understood I wasn’t ready to live in a big city by myself, but I was stubborn. Very stubborn. I left them crying at the railway station, certain this was my ticket out of my humdrum existence.

If it weren’t for my abusive mother giving me away, having to flee Afganistán, my arranged marriage, the loss of my son, the imprisonment of my ex-husband, and all that I endured since then I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t be doing what I am doing today. The Lord strengthened me through my experiences. Now I don’t see them as punishment and a curse, I see them as a blessing in my life.

There was a small church nearby and I began to attend. It wasn’t the same denomination as my childhood church, but I was a part of a Christ-focused community again and I was ready to be spiritually fed.

Juanita is my maternal grandmother. She is the grandmother that marked a big path in my life. She came from humble beginnings, and she did all she could to raise five daughters on her own. She immigrated from Mexico to the United States with the clothes she had on and nothing else.

As we walked the streets, we were encouraged to reach out and humanize the members of the colony with a simple handshake or touch. But now that I was here, with that rancid smell and that heavy heat, I was filled with shame as my fear of contracting leprosy had robbed me of the ability to perform even this simple act.