trusting your gut: robyn coale

I had it all planned out. 

Living in New York City, completing my dietetic internship at NYU and getting my masters in Clinical Nutrition. I had worked hard in college and thought I had a pretty competitive application.

But a good resume and transcripts don’t impress God. And it surely doesn’t change His plans. 

I applied to six schools. And on match day, I opened up my letter to read ‘Congratulations, you’ve been accepted to the University of Virginia Health System dietetic internship.”

I sat there in Starbucks in complete and utter shock. Everyone around me continued on sipping their coffee, typing away on their Macbooks while my world came crashing down.

My eyes welled with tears. Leaving my computer unattended, I ran outside to call my mom. I needed someone to hear my disappointment. My heart ached.

It was a bit dramatic, but I was crushed. Everything I had been hoping for and planning on was wiped away in the click of a mouse. After lots of tears and talking to my brothers and mom I tried to pull it together. After all, I had actually gotten an internship- something only 50% of applicants could say. 

That day I told my mom I didn’t want to go, I didn’t want to move to Charlottesville. That wasn’t what I had planned and I struggled to rearrange all the pieces of the puzzle.

But over the next month something in my heart changed and I felt a pull. I called the internship director at UVA to accept the internship and began planning my move to the east coast.

And I went. With my Honda Civic full of everything I owned, I drove to Charlottesville not knowing a single soul. Excited yet terrified. Unsure yet hopeful. Anxious yet assured.

Inside my head, I was hot mess. But something inside my heart felt settled. 

This was a new season, and I was ready to embrace it. Whatever that meant.

Thankfully, I am an extrovert. But moving to a new city without knowing anyone forces you to move out of your comfort zone. Say yes to things you wouldn’t normally say yes to. Do things you wouldn’t normally too. To get a bit uncomfortable. Two months after moving, at an attempt to meet anyone and everyone, I ventured downtown to a movie screening for Forks Over Knives that was followed by a panel discussion. 

And on that panel was a brilliant doctor. I was passionate about nutrition [like, I like food a lot- especially vegetables] and I couldn’t believe there was a doctor out there that shared that same passion. So that day I asked him if I could work for him.  

And a week later he called with a job offer. 

A job I thought didn’t actually exist, but here I was 700 miles from home in a place I thought I’d never be. But I was so thankful I was. 

The past two years in Charlottesville have been a fierce yet beautiful transformation. Feeling completely lost and lonely, not knowing where you’re supposed to be or what the next step is.  At one moment feeling on top of the world, but the next feeling like your life is a tropical storm. But little by little, I’ve seen the reasons behind the journey out here. I’ve been blessed with such rich community, and amazing job, and sweet, sweet friends. The ones you’ll have in your wedding. The ones you call for favors that seem absurd yet totally okay to ask for. The ones you feel so grateful to soak up and do life with. And ever so slowly I’ve planted my feet and this place has become home.

Sometimes it takes being stripped of everything you know to trust in the plan for your life. To lean into something bigger than yourself and take a step out in faith. 

But it all began with the pull in my heart to move. To say yes. And go all gas, no brake.

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Read more of Robyn's posts on her blog, The Real Life RD.

trusting your gut: ashley guzman

After driving for two days from Indiana, I stepped out of the car in Denver and felt like I took my first deep breath in years. Between the bright, high sky and mountain views, I was sold. I was on my way to student teach on the Navajo Reservation in New Mexico, but Colorado had already stolen my heart. Every free weekend during that semester of student teaching, I longed to drive the two hours north into Durango--to see the mountain vistas, enjoy the beauty of the changing seasons, and just soak in the feel of a true mountain town. 

Upon returning home after my semester finished, I wasn't sure what to do next. I didn't have a job. I had missed my family terribly. I longed for my own adventure, but was also tempted to follow my older sister to Virginia just to be close. What if I went my own way and I was lonely? What if I couldn't find a job or a husband? Once I looked past my fears, however, I allowed myself to feel the deep pull back to Colorado. 

With great excitement and trepidation, I went. My mom and I packed my car with everything I had, including my dog. Once we pulled out of my parents' driveway, I felt certain that I would find the job and adventure that I had been seeking. We were heading west. 

But, let's be honest...moving to a new city is hard. Trying to make new friends can be scary and messy. Mistakes are made and hard lessons are learned. Believe me, I had my fair share. Along with the adventurous western spirit, there seems to be an unspoken rule out here that plans are always tentative and that you never fully commit until something happens. I struggled to find a sense of belonging. I longed to be with people I loved and who understood me. But, I also saw the enormous blessings of following my gut, which really is following the gentle tug of the Holy Spirit. God honors that. As time went on, I did find those new, deep connections and even renewed some old ones. I came to appreciate how Denver is different from the midwest and to find my place here. Here became my home. 

Regardless of how clear a call is or how willingly we follow, it's never easy. Even years later, I miss my parents and siblings ALL THE TIME. I sometimes get a little whiny in the spring when everyone else is warming up and we're still getting snowed on. But, then I look at the faces of my sweet boys and my loving husband and I know it was a good plan. It still is.

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Read more of Ashley's posts on her blog, Stepping Through the Wardrobe

hi, from africa!

Well, hello! I have a minute of service today and just wanted to say hi really quickly. I'm overloaded with thoughts and am stunned by the things I'm seeing. I'm also completely in love with this sweet pie I met, Happy. She was happy. And beautiful. I can't wait to share more. Happy week to you! Xo.

trusting your gut // even when it's hard: courtney smith

Hi friends! Today marks the beginning of awesome guests posts. Up first is my sister, Courtney! After that, you'll hear from my sister Ashley, a few of my friends and some awesome fellow bloggers! Be sure to check back to read more from them! 

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It is an absolute honor to contribute to Whitney's amazing blog. I learn so much from her wisdom and beautiful writing every time I read her posts. I do not have the eloquence she possesses, but I am excited to be able to write a post during her absence. (side note from whitney: that is not true - she's amazing :))

I have always known I have wanted to be a mother. 

Growing up, when anyone would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would say, "I want to be a ________ (teacher/doctor/nurse/artist)" but would think in my head, "I just really want to be a mom." 

Mothering was modeled beautifully by our mom and I know that Ash, Whit and I all have a strong mothering desire deep within our souls. 

Several years after Ryan and I had been married, we decided we would begin the journey of having babies. We felt ready and excited. And then a year passed with no pregnancy. My self worth and sense of identity started to crumble and I felt inadequate as a wife. Thankfully, after much patience and prayer, we were able to get pregnant and welcomed our daughter and then a son into the world. 

In 2010, we were overjoyed when we became pregnant a third time. We were thrilled to be so blessed to be expecting another precious child and went into the pregnancy with much joy and thankfulness. 

At my 12 week ultrasound, our obstetrician found a concerning second sack next to the baby. He originally thought that perhaps it had been a twin that had not survived and wanted to see me again in a week. 

Being an optimist, I asked if I could still run (to which he said definitely no) and I walked away feeling a slight twinge of worry, but not accepting the gravity of our situation. 

A week later we went back in to see him. The sack had not dissipated at all and he noted it was as large as the sack our sweet baby was in. He concluded that I had had a large hemorrhage that had contained itself. I was again told to be cautious in my activity, but he hoped that with time it might dissolve. 

On New Year's Eve, we were celebrating with friends when I began to have the most intense contractions. I was 17 weeks along in my pregnancy and was absolutely not willing to allow myself to believe I was in labor. I gritted my teeth through the evening and immediately got into bed when we got home and prayed all night that things would stop. 

The next morning, I awoke sore from a night of contractions that had felt like my insides were ripping apart. My optimistic resolve was starting to fade, but I was not willing to admit to myself that worry and fear were creeping into my heart. 

Over the course of the next 10 weeks, I lived through a cycle of contractions followed by horrible hemorrhaging. As the days crept on, I got weaker and weaker as I lost more and more blood. We prayed day by day that this little one would hang on and that we could make it much further. 

And each day as I saw my OB, got iron and blood transfusions, and clung to our baby's life, I started to realize the seriousness of what was occurring. I knew in my gut that things were going horribly wrong, but also knew that for our baby's sake, I had to hold on for as long as I possibly could. 

As the weeks went on, it became more and more clear that we were not going to make it to term. What had initially begun as a prayer to have the hemorrhage disappear, became a prayer to make it into week 30. Many people kept insisting that I go on bed rest, or start mag sulfate, or get another medical opinion. But, my gut was telling me that if we allowed ourselves to be hospitalized, they would deliver our baby too soon. I knew that each day that passed was critical for our baby's development. So, as long as I was not dying, I wanted to press on for as long as possible. 

And then, after a night of never even making it to bed due to such severe hemorrhaging, I knew it was time to listen to my gut again. 

I called my OB and asked to have my blood work checked. Immediately after the results came in, we were admitted to the community hospital. Then hours later transferred by ambulance to the larger academic hospital. As soon as we made it to the room, the OB's rushed in and said it was time for a c-section. I burst into tears and begged them to give us more time. Ryan asked them to check my blood work once more and see if we could give our baby a few more days to receive steroids. Thankfully, they agreed and we were able to make it through the night. 

The next day, things seemed quieter and we started to have hope that I could possibly stay in the hospital for a few weeks allowing our baby to incubate a bit longer. Although I was getting weaker and weaker, our baby seemed stable inside me. 

On the Monday morning, Ryan got up to go round on his patients a few floors below me. And suddenly, I awoke to a contraction unlike any other I've ever experienced. I tried to tough it out for a few minutes before calling him and asking him to quickly come back. I prayed and asked the Lord what I was meant to do, and knew without doubt, that it was time. I knew that it was time for our baby to be welcomed into the world. I called for help and was immediately rushed to the operating room. 

Once there, it became clear that my I was in DIC and that my placenta was no longer able to sustain our baby's life. Our sweet Crosby was delivered at 27 weeks and weighed 2 lbs 6 oz. 

The months that followed were traumatic and stressful and some of the hardest days we have lived through. But, we felt so very supported by friends and family. The love of the Lord was so very real to us in those 10 weeks in the NICU and His presence was palpable. 

When I look back on the months prior to Crosby's birth, I am overwhelmed by all that we went through. And I am also overwhelmed by how much I knew to listen to my gut. 

I knew when many were pushing us to be admitted, that it was not time. If we had been admitted earlier, I am sure they would have delivered him and his outcome would not have been so favorable. I am thankful I felt peace in listening to my gut. 

And when I knew I could no longer sustain the pregnancy, I am so thankful I felt led to call out for help. Although I did not want to listen to my gut, I knew in my soul that it was time. Had we waited even hours longer, we could have lost our precious baby. 

Looking back on the winter of 2011, I am amazed by how we knew when to carry on and when to cry out for help. And I realize that this was not me listening to my gut, but rather the Lord leading us through those very dark days. He held my hand as I contracted through nights alone. He gave me peace as I endured weak and painful days. He was my Rock and my Comforter through it all. He loves me so very much and had a perfect and beautiful plan for the start of Crosby's life. 

Although that period was the most difficult phase of my life, I knew He was always by my side. And that is the best feeling I will ever have in my gut.

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Read more of Courtney's posts on her blog, Z'ville to C'ville