Peanut butter, a timeless comfort food, has always held a special place in my heart. Yet, its significance deepened dramatically following a particular experience that not only mended a void within me but also profoundly altered my perspective on life itself. This transformative period marked a turning point, especially as I embarked on a journey of sharing my story online.
After receiving a powerful nudge towards blogging and recognizing a profound personal mission, the peanut butter narrative became one of the first deeply personal accounts I shared, external to my pregnancy journey. It was an act fraught with trepidation, a feeling that, to be honest, still lingers.
These posts delve into my innermost thoughts, my deepest feelings, the exhilarating highs, and the crushing lows of my experiences. I lay them bare for all to see, a vulnerable act that often prompts the question: Why?
Embracing Vulnerability: The Power of Sharing Your Story
Why choose such an open path, especially when the topics venture beyond culinary delights like this killer PB Banana Bread? The answer lies in a commitment to promises I believe were made long before I even understood them. We are each entrusted with a purpose, a mission far grander than simply living a comfortable life. It’s a journey of self-actualization, of becoming the best version of ourselves, and crucially, of empowering others to do the same. It’s about being that beacon of hope, that unseen angel, for someone silently struggling right beside you.
My journey to fulfilling this purpose isn’t confined to the digital realm, though the impact of online sharing is undeniably vast. Daily, I seek guidance to perceive and acknowledge divine intervention in my life, and then, to articulate these moments in a way that resonates with others. My aim is to be a source of light for those navigating through darkness, both online and in my everyday interactions.
Living with Purpose: Acts of Kindness and Unseen Blessings
This commitment extends into tangible acts of kindness. Every holiday season, we make it a tradition to pay for the groceries of the person behind us in line. This practice began as a quiet prayer following that initial ‘peanut butter’ experience, a promise to pay it forward. Initially, it meant leaving a few dollars at the checkout whenever I could. As my blog grew, so did my ability to honor that promise, sometimes covering an entire grocery bill for two months straight. Each time, I recall the face of that man, a symbol of the profound interconnectedness of humanity.
I consciously chose to let adversity and pain sculpt me into the person I aspire to be, rather than remaining a victim of circumstances. This shift in mindset has been nothing short of amazing. When I give, I often pray, “Heavenly Father, I don’t need any blessings in return.” Yet, without fail, the blessings return tenfold every single time. It’s a testament to a divine connection, a playful understanding where I feel permitted to address Him with such candidness. You can never truly repay Him; the essence of the trial is purely for personal transformation. He sees you, He loves you, and He’s waiting to help you evolve.
Echoes of the Past: A Moment of Profound Vulnerability
You know how certain smells or sounds can transport you instantly back to a specific moment? Like the scent of peppermint reminding Anastasia of her grandmother, or the smell of rain evoking memories of home. For me, a particular image and accompanying sounds immediately pull me back to a pivotal moment in my life, seated at a doctor’s table. My breathing grows heavy, my chest tightens as I type these words. I remember it all with chilling clarity.
I recall the soft crinkle of the paper beneath me, the hushed breathing of the nurse, the gentle tightening of the blood pressure cuff – often a children’s cuff, along with NICU needles, as everything else felt too large for my frail state. Most vividly, I remember the deafening sound of silence.
We all knew what was coming. It was time for another admission. The thought of returning, of enduring that experience again, was unbearable. I knew it would mean feeding tubes, a life-saving intervention that, in my state, felt like a cruel enemy.
Dr. Haskett entered the room, and with a quiet, tender voice, said, “Carrian, I need to admit you.” In that instant, I broke. The resilience I had clung to, the affirmations of faith, of overcoming, of divine healing, of finding good even in adversity – they all vanished. All that remained was raw, uncontrollable tears.
I heard him relay the instructions to the nurse outside: “She needs to be admitted right now. She’s having a hard time, she started crying when I told her.” The weight of my circumstances crushed me: no stable home, severe weight loss, a baby whose ultrasounds indicated heart issues, and now, the hospital. Again.
The Crepe Analogy: Finding Meaning in the Struggle
Yet, amidst this profound despair, that hospital stay became worth it for a single moment, beautifully captured by Cade with our girls on the day of my release. It was a story I didn’t fully grasp until we stood together on stage, addressing thousands of women. His words are forever etched into my heart.
Standing on that stage, looking out at a sea of faces, Cade began to recount this story. At first, it seemed aimless, but soon I found myself swallowing hard, fighting back tears. Cade’s words, inspired and imbued with the most tender love, resonated deeply within me.
He described how, after my hospital release, we returned home, and I lay exhausted on the couch while he prepared crepes for our daughters. Children, as many parents know, ask a lot of questions. My girls were filled with concerns: “Why did Mommy have to be so sick? Why did she go to the hospital so much? Why did she have tubes in her, and why did they stick her with so many needles?”
Cade, with remarkable wisdom, explained to them, “Mommy is going through a bit of a rough time right now. She doesn’t feel very good because of her pregnancy. She’s kind of like crepes.”
“Right now,” he continued, “we only see a big bowl of goo” – (I remember thinking, thanks a lot, Cade!) – “we can’t see its full potential. But what happens after Daddy pours this batter into a hot pan?”
“It undergoes a heating process that allows the liquid to take shape and form into a delicious crepe. Then, you get to add Nutella, berries, bananas, and anything else you want to make something truly awesome.”
“Mommy is like this crepe batter,” he concluded. “Even though she is struggling right now, she is really being refined by our Savior, and she will become even better than what she originally started as. She’s becoming something amazing.”
Transformation Through Adversity: A New Perspective
Cue the flood of tears. Was that truly how my husband saw me? Someone in the process of becoming something amazing? Was this also how God and our Savior perceived me? Do they watch us in our “hot pan” moments, cheering us on, witnessing the miracle of our transformation while all we feel is the intense heat, utterly unaware of the profound change taking place?
That moment, years later on a stage, those words pierced me with the force of undeniable truth. At the time, going into the hospital had seemed to serve no purpose beyond health, a goal that felt increasingly elusive. I had begged for healing, only to worsen. But looking back, I wouldn’t change a single part of my story. It was then that the phone rang, bringing news about the house…