There have been a few times in my life when I would say I was in a very bad place. Not often. Not horrible. But very nervous making and very uncomfortable. There have been a few times when it seemed that nothing good could come of the situation I was in. Where no amount of imagination could render a good outcome from the chaos or crumbs that surrounded me.

There were the years when the only thing in the world I wanted was children – and the clock ticked – and there seemed no hope on the horizon. It was hard to walk through those years and pretend things were all right when I knew they weren’t and when I was aging by the nano-second, and my dream of children seemed always to elude me. The big family I dreamed of eluded me, but the perfect baby came as a gift.

How many tears were shed as I despaired the passing of years? I gave up all hope. Somehow between tears, I asked God to please help me to deal with what I couldn’t wrap my head around – the idea of being childless. I tried to put it behind me. I tried to just realize that I couldn’t stop living that I had to find some way to make it through the new days. Somehow, I managed that. The days passed, and I busied myself with life as best I could. I tried to keep tears to a minimum. Don’t know that I always succeeded very well, but over time, I quit feeling quite so desperate about being childless. Then one day in August I learned I was pregnant. I was almost afraid to hope – after all I had given up hope. Our child was due on March 28th. No baby came. No baby came during the whole first week in April. Then, on the second Sunday in April, which just happened to be Easter, The Resurrection of Our Lord, our little one decided to make an appearance. I got to listen to church bells ring while she dawdled just a little bit longer for good measure.

Occasionally, after that wonderfully joyous year, there were other times when unexpected deaths, loneliness, and loss seemed to interrupt our days. I’m usually a pretty upbeat person and am not unduly borne down by sadness or depression, or really by unhappiness of any kind. But there were days when I hardly knew if I were coming or going. I guess that is pretty common in many peoples lives. Loss or threat of loss, anxiety, fear – all manner of things for which we are ill prepared when they come upon us unaware.

Now, again, I am in the midst of such a time. No one has died. No one is ill. No one is in a physically dangerous position. But my husband and I are facing something that I have never encountered in my life, and he has not faced for decades. Our backs are against the wall financially. It isn’t a pretty picture. Part of the problem is due to our choices.  We each credit choices we have made. Both of us have contributed to our situation – and in both cases – with the best of intentions. When he reads this blog post, and he will, he may squirm at my public sharing of private information. Well heck. Who would write a blog at all if they coveted privacy above all else?

The last few days have been a roller coaster of ups & downs. I find myself having conversations with dead people. Six of them to be exact. It doesn’t matter who – none of them are saints by the church’s reckoning. Just six people who loved us, once upon a time, and might still hear us, and might be willing to do us a favor. The favor you ask? Well – what the priesthood of all believers is always doing for each other – saying a prayer for us.

We aren’t looking for handouts or a hand up – we are looking for a miracle. If you can pause in your day to say a prayer for us too – well that would be much appreciated. Why? When your back is to the wall, there is only one place you can go. To the author of life and the giver of every good and perfect gift. There is nowhere else to turn.