This year has been nothing short of the unknown: grief, countless doctor visits, multiple ER visits, thousands of miles back and forth to OKC, therapy, finishing two certifications, moving and renovating a house, and learning His calling on my life at the deepest understanding to date.

The unknown seemed like a continual familiar fog surrounding miscarriages, a diagnosis of lymphoma, another diagnosed auto immune disease (Hashimoto) and thyroid issues specialists couldn’t name. 

I could see His plan in us scaling down and starting fresh with the chaos.

And when we were starting to find out answers through a procedure that came to a screeching halt in my surgery prep when two nurses came to me and said: “Jillian, you’re pregnant. “

Those words stung because I’ve seen those two pink lines so many times and then disappear within 8-10 weeks. Leaving hope to turn into trusting and leaning into a Savior in the loss. Two of those losses happened just a few months prior to all the diagnoses we had learned.

My ENT rushed to our side and said, “THIS IS A BLESSING.” In that moment, he ministered to us in a way that so often we’re on the other side of that conversation. It felt surreal and it felt like the fog thickened.

James and I sat in our car in utter disbelief for a long time. Him holding me while I sobbed as text message after phone call rolled in asking how the procedure went.

The fog hasn’t lifted because I’m still praying every time they check the heartbeat. Or when I don’t feel this baby move for a long time I immediately start praying over its life.

Any control I ever thought I had—-Jesus stripped me of that this year. I can control nothing but Jesus can control it all and calm the wave of every storm.

Two words the Lord gave me this last year were heal and victory. I shared heal here but I kept the word victory close to my heart because I just didn’t see how it fit… until my sweet husband said the word in a prayer very soon after we got the news about this new life.

There is so much unknown. And the fog is still here. Not in a way where I’m angry or feel out of control but rather in a resting place where the Savior is holding us.

The fog feels more like a security blanket  In trusting in Him in the deepest way possible. For I know I’ll be H E A L E D, if not on this side, it will be on the other side in eternity. That’s VICTORY.

This baby, that’s a victory. 

How my job/calling is transitioning, it’s a VICTORY. The discipleship that’s taking place in and outside of my home, IT IS A VICTORY. All because He’s in control. 

And if this fog brings this kind of  victory, I don’t know that I want it to ever leave because this proximity of Jesus is the sweetest presence I’ve ever known.

And I know the victory isn’t meant for me. It’s all for Him. For His glory.

But as for me, it is good to be near God.  I have made the Sovereign Lord my refuge; I will tell of all your deeds. Psalm 73:28