Dwell in Me

Seeking God in the Every Day

Category Archives: Finding Things to Be Thankful For


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He Lives in Me

I go up and down a lot. And Christmas was tough. And the week after Christmas, full of decompressing and allowing my repressed emotions about all the baby talk of Christmas to come through, was really tough.

But then we started a new year.

Isn’t it beautiful how we can hope (or at least pretend) that a new year will be completely different than the old one? We can discard that old, worn out, used up year and trade it in for all the joys and excitements, for the hope and promise of a new, beautiful year.

And this is going to be my year of fruitfulness. So, what does that mean?

I’ve decided:

  • We will do everything in our power to conceive a child. That includes continuing and adding lifestyle changes that have some chance of helping us. And it includes trusting God to remember us. (Genesis 30: 22, “Then God remembered Rachel, and God listened to her and opened her womb.”)
  • We will take advantage of the opportunities presented to us. That means we’ll be doing some traveling this year, which I’m really stoked about. DH has a crazy schedule that involves a lot of time off between his long shifts. So, we’ll be going to Southeast Asia in March, which I am really looking forward to.
  • I will read the Bible. I have been doing a daily plan on my phone. It’s a bit of Old Testament, a bit of New Testament, Psalms and Proverbs every day. I’ve read the Bible before, but it feels new and different in light of our current circumstances. And I’ve been highlighting passages that strike me about infertility.

In the past few days, I’ve had a realization that we’re not going through this without reason. I don’t believe that it is God’s will for his children to suffer, so I really don’t believe that we are dealing with infertility because it is what God would have chosen for us. Our infertility is a result of a fallen world. But, given that we are dealing with infertility, I do believe that “God works all things for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28)

And I believe this means that going through infertility is going to bring us to our right family. I don’t know what our family will look like, but I believe infertility will lead us there. Who knows, maybe we are simply supposed to have twins. Maybe God will use us to provide a home for another person’s child. Whatever path we end up taking to get to a complete family–whatever that may mean–I trust that God is going to lead us to the right end.

Maybe this is something obvious to everyone else. But it just finally sunk in.

And as I was driving down the road today, I heard a beautiful song. I keep singing to myself, “Hallelujah, he lives in me!” What a wonderful and necessary reminder!

If God lives in me, and I believe he does, what powerful work he can do through me and even within my own body. The God who conquers giants and tells the dead to breathe can surely heal our broken bodies. This God has already shown me miracles. He has loved me when I was most unlovable. And I believe he will keep showing me miracles.

I pray I’ll have the eyes to see them.


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Happy Anniversary, Happy New Year

My husband is amazing. He is a strong man and a man of God. And he loves me. How he loves me!

I cannot say enough about the wonderful man I married. This man would do anything for me.

We met in college and dated three years (almost) before we were married five years ago today. On New Year’s Eve 2007, we started our new year and our new life together as newlyweds.

Although we’ve both said 2012 has been the worst and hardest year of our lives, I am so grateful it has not hurt our relationship. Dealing with infertility and the fear and the hopeless days and the heartbreak has not torn us apart. It may have strengthened us. It may be growing us as a couple.

DH is my best friend. My confidante. Truly the man of my dreams. Happy anniversary dear! I wouldn’t be who I am without you.

Five years.

It’s gone by quickly in many ways. But the number is hard to swallow in light of our infertility. This is not where we thought we would be five years in. I look back and see how so many of our plans and expectations have been turned upside down or inside out. And infertility has been the greatest blow of all.

But we keep going. And we’ll get through this. And who knows, maybe this will be our last anniversary to spend alone. Maybe this time next year we will be sleep deprived and wishing for a night out, just the two of us. And we’ll look back on our infertility and say thanks to God that there is a wailing baby keeping us up at night.

So we’ll live it up tonight, in the hopes that this is our last anniversary without children. Maybe we’ve lived our last year as a family of two. We look forward to 2013 and all its promise and all its hope and we’ll enjoy this night. Because we can. Because we have each other.


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Busy Busy (Thank the Lord)

I’ve been a terrible blogger lately. I think it’s because I’ve been busy with all the Christmas preparations. We had a Christmas-party filled weekend that started with a caroling party at our house, his company party, and the church’s Christmas pageant on Sunday. We’re hosting DH’s family at our house on Christmas Eve, and I have been gathering groceries, wrapping gifts, and trying to finish my present for DH. Oh, and I decided in a fit of inspiration (read: insanity) to try to make homemade gourmet marshmallows for the members of his family as Christmas gifts. I’ll let you know how that goes.

I’m so thankful for this busyness. Especially because in the few moments I find myself alone with my thoughts (like waiting in the customer service line at Walmart, ugh!), IF has been starring center stage. It’s worse than normal. And when the radio plays my now least-favorite song of all time (“A Baby Changes Everything,” by Faith Hill), I change the station as the tears start flowing.

Oh Christmas.

I do so love this time of year. Except when I remember that while the whole world is expecting a baby, my womb is still empty.

Merry Christmas everybody. Wishing supernatural comfort, strength, peace, and joy to everyone dealing with hurt and loss this holiday season. I may be back before the 25th; I’ll definitely be back before year-end.


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A Slight Detour

I promised in my last post that I would write about David as the first in my “They Were Called” series. And I will. But right now I need to take a slight detour. I started studying David and am a little overwhelmed by the amount of reading I need to do. And I am hosting a Christmas party on Friday. I hope I can post about David next week.

Now on to the detour:

Today we celebrated a Christmas brunch with the ladies in leadership for my Bible study. We’re studying Hebrews, and this week’s lesson mentions Abraham and how patient he had to be while waiting for the fulfillment of God’s promise that he would be a father of many. So our homework asked how long we’d ever had to wait for something for which we had earnestly prayed.

Of course, the first thing that came to mind is our continuing daily prayer for complete healing and for a healthy pregnancy that leads to a healthy baby. We’ve been actively, earnestly praying that prayer since we started trying to conceive about 15 months ago. We’ve been hoping to be parents, as a couple, for nearly 5 years of married life, and we have been talking about being parents for close to 8. I’ve been planning and expecting to fulfill my calling to be a mother for most of my life, and I would say explicitly for at least the past 10 years. I know that is not a long time. Fifteen months of actively trying and daily praying is especially short compared to the 25 years (I think that’s right) Abraham and Sarah waited for their son. (In my defense, I don’t expect to live nearly as long as Abraham and Sarah; Abraham died at 175 and Sarah lived to be 127.) But it is still painful. It is still something we are waiting for. And, unlike Abraham, we wait without having received from God any promise that we ever will have children.

Another thing I’ve been praying for in the past few months is a person I could meet with in person and talk to about infertility treatments and all the pain and grief and the many challenges that go along with infertility. I love having a blogging community, but I was missing the personal contact that only face-to-face encounters can provide. Of course, we have been really picky in who we have informed about our infertility. How would I find anyone if I wasn’t willing to open up?

And God is so great. Today he brought someone to me.

D is in my Bible study leadership group. Today this is what she shared (paraphrased):

I was up this morning at 4:00 because I couldn’t sleep. And I turned to look through and go over my Bible study questions. And when I got to this question [the how long have you waited question], I felt as though God was telling me I needed to share something. We normally don’t share that we really struggled to get pregnant. . . .

After three years of TTC, she and her husband were fortunate to be able to participate in a study for a new drug. They ended up becoming pregnant in the last month of the study with their son. He is now 19. They had wanted to have many children. A year after their son was born, they started TTC again, ultimately with IVF. It didn’t work for them. And she said she has always struggled on the one hand with why they only had one child while also being so grateful to have one child. She said it is especially difficult now as their son is away at school and really leaving the nest.

When the meeting and the brunch were over, I sought her out, away from everyone else. And I told her what we are going through and how I had prayed for her. And I cannot tell you how much her hug meant to me. We both wiped away tears as we talked about how difficult it is to walk this road. She talked about how no one understands what we’re going through unless they’ve been there or are there. I know she’s right.

And I realized something. I have the great fortune of going through infertility in an Internet age with a great blogging community (thank you all for writing!) and people I am connected with who can understand what we’re going through. People who can lift us up in prayer and who we lift up in prayer. Real people who need this community as much as I do.

She didn’t have that.

I hope I can be community for her–albeit a little late–as I know she will be for me.

Praise God for 4 a.m. meetings and answers to prayer. Praise God.


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Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving. I have so much to be thankful for. It takes effort to remember that today while cramps pulse through my body, a constant physical reminder this day of what I don’t have.

I am trying to praise. To praise the God who is outside of time, the God who sees the whole story, the God who knows where we are going and how we will serve him. The God who satisfies the longing soul.

And part of me wants to beg and plead for immediate answer to our prayers, to complain about the road we’re on, to demand that if he loved me, he would do what I want him to do.

What a petulant child. Who am I to question the God whose plan is perfect and whose ways are not my ways?

I do not know the why. I do not have the answers. But my God surely does. And he promises that all things work for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28).

So today, while I am thinking about Thanksgiving and feeling the physical pain and the emotional heartache of what I don’t have, today I am thankful. I am thankful for infertility.

Not because I feel like it has made me better in any way.

Not because I would ever have chosen this for myself.

Not because I can even fathom how this could possibly be for good.

I am thankful for infertility because I choose to believe what God has said. I believe this is for my good. I am thankful because it is God’s best for me. Because God is using it for good and for his glory, albeit in some way I cannot now understand.

Thanks be to the God who sees, the God who provides, the God who heals. Thanks be to God.


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He Satisfies the Longing Soul

I’ve been in a good place lately. We’re still infertile (as far as we know), but I’m either really in denial or beginning to come to terms with things. I guess we’ll find out which when a. I have my next breakdown, b. we start fertility treatments full force in the new year, or c. I find myself peeing on a stick if my period is late. (NOTE: both a. and c. would indicate denial; b. could really go either way.)

At any rate, I figure I should be thankful for the peace I have and not squander it. I’m glad I’ve been able to spend many of the past few days thinking about and doing things that are not related to infertility. I know some of what I say (especially “if we have kids,” instead of when) and some of what I do (like mentally preparing myself for dealing with baby stuff) is done through a filter of infertility, but it hasn’t been as all-consuming or tragic as it was a few months ago.

I also feel like going through infertility and the questions and pain it raises has helped me dig deeper in my faith. I’ve been communicating with God on a deeper level, in large part because I’ve been able to be honest with him and I’ve had something deep and meaningful to be honest about. 

A few days ago, I came across Psalm 107: 8-9:

Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love,
for his wondrous works to the children of man!
For he satisfies the longing soul,
and the hungry soul he fills with good things.

My soul has been longing. For children. But I think that longing has been misplaced. I should be longing for God and trusting him that what we are going through is for our good and for his glory. That what he wills is better than what I will. And that his ways are not my ways.

At my Bible study the other day a woman talked about how we need to lay our wills on God’s altar with cheerfulness and thanksgiving; we should gladly take on the will of God, believing it to be better for us than our own desires.

Profound.

I have been struggling to do this, but I am trying. And I think it’s in the trying to obey–even when I fail–that I am blessed with peace.

Thanks be to God, the God who satisfies the longing soul.


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Going Home

I’m leaving tomorrow to go home–to St. Louis–for Thanksgiving.

I was home in May. That was before we found out our infertility diagnosis, but after we’d been TTC for 9 months. When we first started trying, DH was back in school and I was our sole breadwinner. (Let’s just say that as a freelancer, I don’t win very much bread!) DH’s mom had been pretty clear a few months before that she didn’t think we had any business procreating until he was out of school because “parenting is more than a 40-hour a week job” and we wouldn’t have much money. (Yes, that really upset me. IF has, surprisingly, really mended that relationship somehow.) So, anyway, I called my mom before we started trying to find out if my parents would also be ticked if we got pregnant. She laughed and told me they’d be delighted. I also expressly told her not to tell a soul, not even my dad. Of course, I thought we’d be pregnant within the next month or two and I wanted it to be a surprise when I told everyone.

So, in May, I was surprised to find out that most of my family (I mean, from siblings to aunts and grandparents) knew we were trying. When I confronted my mom about it, she said she had to tell people because it was taking so long and we needed their prayers.

DH and I were furious. And when we found out we were infertile, we were even more upset. I think partly because it’s possible we’ll end up adopting, and I don’ t really like the idea that my family will see our adopted children and whisper to each other, “You know, they didn’t plan on adopting,” or “they tried to have their own kids, but it didn’t work.” I know those things are true, but it doesn’t mean I want everyone (especially any future adopted children) to know that our family represents some kind of plan B  in action.

But, there’s a short-term upside to this. I am heading home tomorrow with the expectation that no one will pester me with the dreaded “when are you going to have kids?” And, as an added bonus, there aren’t any babies in my family yet. Until this summer, DH and I were the only ones married out of all the cousins. One of my cousins married this summer, but I think (hope?) they’ll wait a little while before they try for kiddos.

I know I’m super lucky in this and that many of you may be dreading those holiday gatherings. I wish you all the best and will be thinking of you over the next week and through December that you would be able to take joy in your family time (or lack thereof!) regardless of your situation.


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Baby Shower

The day of the baby shower has arrived. I was dreading it, but I actually enjoyed making a pair of booties and an appliquéd onesie for DH’s best friend. The expecting couple went to Texas Tech, so I put their logo on the booties I knitted and used logo fabric to make a necktie appliqué.

Et voilà:

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Anyway, I got through making the gift, but I’m worried about the shower. DH’s mom is coming, but otherwise I’ll know only the mom-to-be. I’m sure it will be a day of invasive questions.

I hope being prepared for the baby deluge will make it easier to handle. It’s better than being caught off guard.


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Defining “Glory” and Finding Joy

This post is sort of a part two to my previous post. If the last post was confusing or muddled, this one may be worse. Apologies if that’s the case.

When I had my “wrestling day,” I came to realize that I don’t value my salvation the way I should. To truly value the price that was paid for my sin, I need to recognize that my sins are great. So many people testify about salvation by saying things like “God has done so much for me, I can’t help but love him/be joyful/serve him/praise him/[enter any number of nice things for God here].”

I’ve always wondered about those people. I mean, they must have been really bad before they were saved, right? And I’m sitting here praying like the Pharisee in Luke 18:11: “God, I thank you that I am not like other people–robbers, evildoers, adulterers–or even like this tax collector.”

I am embarrassed to say that I often think that my sins aren’t so bad. I mean, I know (head knowledge) that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23) but I’ve been lacking any conviction of that (gut faith).

So two nights ago, I was dutifully answering my Bible study questions (we’re studying Hebrews; this week is 2:9-3:6). And I get to: “Look up ‘glory’ in a dictionary or Bible dictionary and write its definition.”

I was feeling moved, so I pulled out my old Greek reference books (I’m a total geek, in case that wasn’t already evident!). The word used for glory is δόξη (transliterated: doxa). And my Greek word study dictionary had about 5 pages of definitions and explanation of the word. A lot of the definitions were tied to specific verses. I found it fascinating.

It had a special part about Romans 3:23. My book said that when Paul writes “fall short of the glory of God,” it means that we don’t live up to what God has intended for our lives, that we don’t line up with the image and character of God.

For some reason, that got through to me.

I may not have murdered anyone or cheated on anyone, but I do know that I have not lived up to what God intended for me. I know that I don’t align perfectly with the image and character of God. And because of that, no matter the nature of my sins, I needed a savior just as desperately as all those people who may or may not have done really bad things by our worldly definition.

And if I can see how desperately I needed salvation, how truly short of God’s glory I fall, then I can have such gratitude for what God has done for me.

And I think that gratitude is where joy begins. I can be joyful because I know what a great thing God has done for me. That gift of forgiveness–of making up for my shortcomings–outweighs the temporal pain of barrenness. It doesn’t mean I don’t feel that pain or that I don’t suffer now, just that the joy should remain throughout.

I haven’t quite gotten there yet. Still working. But as long as I am still wrestling with these things, I think I am moving forward.


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For Such a Time as This

I haven’t talked much about anything but infertility and how that’s affecting us here, but here’s a little backstory about how life doesn’t go according to our plans–with a little admission that sometimes those deviations from our plans for ourselves turn out to be better than we expect.

DH and I met in college. We were both economics majors. And his goal was to be an economics professor. He didn’t feel that his BS had prepared him sufficiently for the PhD, so we headed to DC where DH got an amazing job at the Federal Reserve Board–about the best possible place to work if you want to go to graduate school in economics.

He took one to two math classes at night each semester until he had the equivalent of a bachelor’s in math, too.

Last fall, he sent out applications. And we waited.

Believe me when I tell you that DH is an incredibly intelligent, hardworking, and dedicated person. His resume for grad school was top-notch and his recommendations were from some wonderful people in his field. I’m sure his recommendations were stellar, too. The only person I’ve ever known not to like my husband is a girl at his office who has complained that their boss shows him favoritism. What she calls favoritism most people would call respect for a job well done. 

By all accounts, DH should have been accepted into a great program with funding.

That didn’t happen.

With the wisdom that comes with time, we’d both tell you right now that the way our lives got rerouted was for the best. DH will tell you it’s a miracle he didn’t get into grad school. God brought us to Texas (where we’d both said we’d never choose to live), and DH went to school to study math full-time at A&M for a semester before he ended up getting his current job here in Houston. The job pretty much fell into his lap, and he loves it.

I guess all that should be helping us trust God in our current situation. I think it is helping, when I think about it. God hasn’t taken us on any wrong turns yet; He’s never let us down. But how easily I forget that he is in control, that he is guiding us and has been guiding us all along.

The whole grad school thing was hard for us, and it was hard for DH’s parents. It was hard for them (as it was for me) to see their boy deal with all those rejection letters. When it came time for us to go to A&M, DH and I had a lot of peace about it. After months of anxiety about what we were going to do, the day DH sent his application in to A&M the anxiety was lifted. I don’t think his parents had that same peace at the time. It took them a few months–maybe until DH got the unexpected job offer–to really come to terms with the new direction our life was going.

When we told his parents about our infertility struggles, I know they were wondering why God would put us through something so devastating so soon after the last difficult test. We were wondering too, honestly.

Yesterday I got this e-mail from my MIL. I’m glad she’s feeling better about things, and I found her words encouraging. Her e-mail is a good reminder that God is sovereign and he’ll see us through this.

I have just got to tell you guys that my whole thinking on the [infertility] matter has taken a turn. . . . Now, instead of questioning God, I am thanking him for orchestrating the moments and details of your lives to get you here into Houston for this time in your lives. The whole time we were wondering WHY? about the grad school business and the econ professor path . . . He knew that you needed to be here; in Houston; . . . a location that is monetarily beneficial, in a good-paying job. God didn’t wish this [infertility] stuff on you, but knew about it (since he knew all about you before you were born), and he has orchestrated your life with perfect precision to get you right where you need to be . . . for such a time as this!

“And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?” Esther 4:14 (I know this was so she could free her people, but I do think it applies here too).

Lately I’ve been feeling better about our infertility. I’m glad DH’s mom is feeling better, too. I tend to forget that this IF thing affects our families, too. It’s such a deep personal issue that it’s hard to see how other people we care about are also hurting and questioning why we’re going through this.

I still have some really terrible days, but on the whole I feel more at peace with what we’re dealing with. I’d still like that miracle healing, and I am so hopeful that we will be able ot have biological kids. But I’m okay with where we are right now. Ask me tomorrow and I might scream and yell and cry, but today I’m doing well.