This is a hard post to write.  I have known of the verses in God’s word that tells us to give thanks in everything.  We all know that it means to be thankful regardless of what happens.  This is much easier to recite, much harder to practice when the time comes to count the hard eucharisteo.  I had hard things growing up.  Parents divorced when I was 4, Mom married a rather controlling man when I was 6, living between two completely different households and trying to figure out where I actually belonged; none were fun but I just took each day as it came.  I didn’t think much about whether I should be thankful or not.  At times I saw bright spots or positive aspects, but I don’t think I really thought about thanking God for my situation.  I did ask God lots of questions though.  And He always made it known that He was there.  I hung on to Him and knew I wanted Him.  I left home rather quickly to go away to school right after I graduated, and was married at 23 to my farmer, Parker.  It would be 6 years before God would give us our first daughter, Riley Quin.  We had tried for almost that entire time to get pregnant, but I did not have peace until 6 months prior to becoming pregnant.  I fought God and Parker the entire time sure they both were against me.  Parker kept asking for God’s will, not for a baby.  I was just kind of mad.  I didn’t thank Him for not creating a baby with us, but I finally released it to Him.  Six months later, I held my first positive pregnancy test in my hand.  It truly was a wonderful pregnancy, without issue, and Riley Quin was in our arms safe and sound.  My fertility issues seemed to be gone.  When Riley was 10 months old, I went to the ER in much pain due to an ovarian cyst that had ruptured.  While there, it was discovered that I was 5 weeks pregnant.  Within the next hours we found out that the baby had already died in my right tube.  Within the week, the tube basically ruptured and it was lost as well.  Ten months later I heard from my doctor that I was pregnant again.  We didn’t have time to celebrate our second child, we were so excited about this baby and the 7 week ultrasound was set up.  I was at risk for another tubule pregnancy, so this ultrasound was necessary.  Parker couldn’t be with me, so I took my 20 month old Riley with me and went praying for a heartbeat in the right place.  The ultrasound tech took Riley out of the room as the doctor told me that this pregnancy wasn’t going to work out.  There was no heartbeat and he recommended a D & C.  As I had no signs of miscarriage I refused the procedure and said I would wait to see what happened.  I returned home with my Riley, devastated.  I walked into her room, the room in which she was supposed to share with her sibling.  I cried out to God with arms up to help me praise Him.  It was Wednesday and our church had a midweek service.  It was not an option to not go.  Both of us needed to be in church.  We cried as we worshiped.  We cried as we prayed with our pastors and friends.  We cried and we worshiped and lived the hard eucharisteo.  Within the week, I was back in the hospital in immense pain, but still the ultrasound showed no heartbeat anywhere.  The pain eased, they were releasing me.  In the hallway, I was caught by somebody and told that another doctor had ordered a higher sonogram.  Apparently, the ultrasound tech in the office the week prior noted to the doctor that she was measuring a heartbeat in my left tube.  He ignored her.  My regular doctor was unavailable and this one was a specialist in reading early ultrasounds and refused to listen to the tech.  Thankfully God had another doctor from the office check my chart and he ordered the higher sonogram.  Immediately there were many doctors surrounding me when they found a baby in my left tube.  The tube had already ruptured and I was bleeding out.  They were buzzing about the rare condition of having twins with one in the uterus and one in a tube.  All I heard was that two more babies were gone and one’s heart was still beating.  And they were yelling that if I didn’t consent to surgery immediately I would die.  Again, I cried out to God that He had to do this hard thing, I could not choose.  The doctor knew my concern over the baby’s heart beating in that lethal tube and assured my husband that I had already lost so much blood that by the time he got to my tube, the baby’s heartbeat would have stopped.  God did the hard thing.  I thanked Him again.  He didn’t have to tell me that.  May I tell you how very tender our God is when He cries along with us when He chooses to do hard things?  He assured me that He was the One who chose to create three souls and that He chose to take them home at His appointed time.  He assured me that my kids were very much alive with Him and I would know them some day.  They were not lost to me but waiting for me while worshiping our Lord Jesus.  They would never know sin or pain, only Him.  So, I thanked Him for His amazing gifts of giving me three more children, then taking them home.  These precious ones are my hard eucharisteo.  Thank You, Sweet Abba.  Please tell them I do miss them and look forward to looking into their precious faces some sweet day.  I love You and praise You!