Every Friday, Lisa-Jo Baker provides a prompt for “Five-Minute Friday“: Write for five minutes only–no editing, no rewriting. This week’s prompt is “She.” Here goes . . .
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She wants what she wants when she wants it. She wants to follow God’s plan.
She tries to listen to the will of the Father. And she tries to tell him the way things should go.
She’s learning to trust, learning to take a new step forward after backsliding two, or three, or four.
She isn’t willing to let go of what she thought she’d be. She yearns to be willing to sacrifice everything to God.
She knows these contradict, but she wants to have it both ways.
It’s never quite what we’ve planned. Never quite where we thought we’d be or thought we’d go. It seems easy to believe when things are going well–but she remembers, it’s easy to lose track then, too. It’s easy to start relying on yourself. It’s easy to think you’ve got it all under control.
Oh, she still wants that control. Wants it badly. Argues for it. Fights for it. Won’t. Let. Go.
And yet, he gently coaxes, gently teaches, gently guides. She is encouraged, uplifted, reminded who she is. She is a child of the King. She is a sinner who relies on, needs, breathes in only because of, wants, and rests her hope on Grace.
She doesn’t have it figured out, but she still thinks she does. Thinks she knows what’s best for her. Thinks she’s the only one who could possibly know what’s best for her.
She’s party to a battle that goes on and on. When she thinks she’s surrendered her all and truly looked to Him to be the everything she needs in her life–then she finds herself once again wrestling for control.
She knows, in her head, that these new paths, these plans that weren’t hers, are good. That they are right and exactly where she needs to be. But her heart takes more convincing, more prodding, more reaching down deep and falling on knees and asking for help. More digging down to the bottom and finding Love.
I will place enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; He will crush your head and you will strike his heel.” (Genesis 3:15)
I’m going to try not to get too theologically deep with this one, but I have been thinking about this verse quite a bit lately. In context, this is part of the curse on the serpent following the first sin. The crafty serpent convinces Eve to eat from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. In the process he displays all of his evil wiles and powers of deception. Eve eats the fruit and passes it along to her husband, who appears to have been standing passively by and waiting for her to make a decision. He follows along (first peer pressure?) and before you know it, God’s good and perfect creation falls to sin.
For satan, this seems like a battle won. In the war of God vs. lucifer, it looks like God: 0, lucifer: 1. He has deceived God’s image-bearers, leading to the first death and to the end of innocence.
All three persons are found guilty before God: Adam for eating the fruit he knew he shouldn’t have eaten, Eve for doing the same and, really, for choosing to listen to satan over God, and the serpent, the “craftiest” of all of the beasts, for pushing them to sin. All three will be penalized. Adam will henceforth have to work to draw forth sustenance from the ground. Eve will suffer pain in childbearing. And the serpent? He will crawl on his belly in the dirt. Oh, and one more thing: God “will place enmity between you [the serpent] and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; He will crush your head and you will strike his heel.”
Most people understand this verse not just as a general statement about the relationship between people and snakes. It is called the protoevangelium, or “first gospel,” and refers to God’s plan of redemption for man. And satan fails to realize that he has just set himself up for ultimate destruction.
From the beginning, satan has worked to try to separate people from God. And from the beginning, God has had a plan to redeem us from our sins. The ultimate offspring from the woman is Jesus. While the serpent will attempt to strike a blow at him, the injuries satan can cause are minor compared to the final destruction God has promised the devil.
I find I’m moved by the idea that God would allow satan even a minor jab at Jesus. And I think the injury satan ultimately inflicts is in Jesus’ death on the cross. But this is not really the fatal blow it appears to be, for Jesus rises again, triumphant in the defeat of all sin (of death). But satan? His doom is coming. He has already lost, though maybe he doesn’t see it yet.
And when I think about how this applies to my life, I wonder if things like infertility, uncertainty, difficult circumstances and challenges, and all of the things that seem like the worst.thing.ever are the equivalent of satan striking at our heels. He hasn’t given up, though his mission has proven futile.
What has happened in my life when satan gets his jabs in? Infertility has undeniably strengthened my relationship with God. Uncertain circumstances have provided me the opportunity to see how God is working in my life. Challenges with doctors, insurance plans, and unexpected bills have given me chances to turn to God, laying my burdens in his hands and learning to trust that he will take care of these things.
Does it sting? Sometimes it hurts more than I can believe or express.
Is the pain lasting? Will it defeat me? I know that it isn’t. I know that it can’t.
Could these jabs from satan draw me away from my Father? Nope.
For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38-39)
Satan loses, my friends. In fact, he’s lost already. Nothing can separate me–not infertility, not heartache, not loss–from the love of God. Praise the Lord!
Months ago I introduced what I planned to make my first blog series. And then I never even wrote the first article in the series. Oops. So for that, “This is my first blog series. We’ll see how it goes” comment in the intro article, we can go ahead and conclude that it didn’t go well. It didn’t go at all.
But I didn’t forget it. And this time I’m doing it right. I hope.
The crux of that introductory post was that being called to do something doesn’t mean it will be easy. I find this idea comforting as we deal with infertility. When we first received our diagnosis, I questioned my calling. Am I not supposed to be a mother?
Today, I will say I don’t know what I am called to be. But I do know I desire to be a mother. And I do know that simply facing hardship along the way does not indicate that I am not supposed to have children of my own. I know that’s true, because there are plenty of people in the Bible who are clearly called to do specific things but face great difficulty getting to their objectives. For the next several Mondays, I’ll be writing about some of these biblical people and the challenges they faced on the way to becoming who God called them to be.
I’m starting this series with David. I chose to begin with David for a few reasons:
His calling is indisputable. As the anointed (read: chosen) king of Israel, there can be no doubt that God fully intended for David to be king.
His hardship is indisputable. David spent years of his life hiding from King Saul (who wanted to kill him). He was apart from his family. He had to spend time living among his enemies. And he documented his hardship in the Psalms, so we can be sure that David wasn’t hanging out in those caves thinking, “Yeah—this is the life.
It’s difficult to find meaning in his hardship. Sometimes we face difficulties in life that the perspective of time helps us see were for our good. We can look back at what we’ve been through and see that it was good that things didn’t go the way we wanted when we wanted. We can see that we’ve grown from certain hardships. Or we can see that the path we ended up taking because of a challenge was a better path, the path we were supposed to take. But sometimes we can’t see why things happened the way they did. We may not know the value or reason for such hardships until we get a chance to ask God himself. When we look at the hardships David endured, it’s not like we can say, “Good thing he spent all those years of his life suffering and on the run from King Saul. Because of that hardship he was a better king.” Maybe he was better for it. The fact is, we don’t know. It is nice to have the Psalms, to see how we can cry out to God when we are in agony—so that’s a benefit to us of David’s hardship. But who knows how David saw his hardship or what he learned from it. Did he ever look back and take delight in his most dire circumstances and how they shaped him? Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t.
David is rewarded for his faithfulness. Despite facing such challenging circumstances, David continues to trust God and to serve God throughout his life. He doesn’t turn against God when his circumstances are difficult or unbearable. And he speaks honestly to God about what he is feeling. He sets an example for us. He is a sinner, and he suffers for it. But he also finds forgiveness in God’s mercy. He has a heart after God’s own heart. And it is through David’s line that God chooses to bring the Messiah. Jesus is the ultimate king from the line of David. And David is honored by having a place in Christ’s lineage.
This is an aside, but I think it applies as we try to discern God’s calling in our lives: When David volunteered to fight Goliath, he was a young boy. King Saul initially tells him he is too young to fight. After Saul finally consents in I Samuel 17:37, “Then Saul gave David his own armor–a bronze helmet and a coat of mail. David put it on, strapped the sword over it, and took a step or two to see what it was like, for he had never worn such things before. ‘I can’t go in these,’ he protested to Saul. ‘I’m not used to them.’ So David took them off again.” (I Samuel 17:38-39) You see, we can’t wear someone else’s armor. We can’t try to be like someone else. We are who God created and called us to be. Trying to be someone else will only wear us down or wear us out, as David would have been as a boy in a man’s armor. To triumph in the battles we face, we have to be true to who we are.
I could go into great detail about how—and how long—David suffered, but I don’t think that’s necessary (for more on David’s life, see I and II Samuel and many of the Psalms). But David’s Psalms of suffering serve as examples to us to help us voice our pain and desperation to God when we face hardships of many kinds. I leave you with Psalm 13:
How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I take counsel in my soul
and have sorrow in my heart all the day?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?
Consider and answer me, O Lord my God;
light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,
lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed over him,”
lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken.
But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
because he has dealt bountifully with me.
~~~
For the second episode in this series, on Moses, click here.
Yesterday, as my period came (figures it would come the day before my scheduled annual “women’s visit,” but whatever) I just felt done. I’m tired of this. Tired of the monthly reminder that we’re still not pregnant. Tired of still not being pregnant.
I’d been doing so well. And I can’t really put my finger on what’s changed. Maybe it’s been a slow descent into that nagging unsettledness, that feeling of discontent.
The peace I’ve talked about isn’t gone. But maybe it’s on vacation. Or getting ready to head out if I don’t stop it.
And it’s probably hormones talking. But the last few months I’d really been okay. My period came and went and I was largely unfazed. Yesterday was ennui. Today it’s cramps and no real respite from the general blues I’m feeling.
So that’s where I am everybody. Trying to remember that God is good. That he loves me. That he does have a plan and that he gave me the desire for children for a reason.
In the Old Testament part of my Bible reading today I’m in Job. Maybe it’s Job’s fault. It probably doesn’t help that my mornings have started out with a depressing story for the last several days. But I digress…
This verse stood out to me this morning (Job is speaking):
“[God] decided how hard the winds should blow and how much rain should fall.” (Job 28:25)
I’ve been feeling like I’m done with infertility. I’ve learned a lot. I’ve grown a lot. Aren’t I finished learning and growing through this trial yet?
But that’s for God. God decides how hard the winds should blow.
And he will decide when the winds will cease.
“Then [Jesus] got into the boat and his disciples followed him. Suddenly a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat. But Jesus was sleeping. The disciples went and woke him, saying, ‘Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!’
He replied, ‘You of little faith, why are you so afraid?‘ Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm.
The men were amazed and asked, ‘What kind of man is this? Even the winds and waves obey him!'” (Matthew 8:23-27)
Surely the boat would have survived the storm if Jesus had done nothing. He had nothing to fear and was happy to sleep through the turmoil. But in his mercy, he calmed the storm so the disciples would be at peace.
God will not harm me. I can weather the storm because he won’t let the waves and the winds overpower me. But I can turn to him and lean on him and trust in him. And soon the storm of discontent will pass. And maybe one day, the storm of infertility will also be behind me.
One day. But maybe not today. Maybe today is a day for moping, a day for ibuprofen, a day for heating pads. Sigh.
It’s a rainy day here in Houston. I’m something of a critic of Texas, especially the Houston area. It’s not where I would have chosen to live. In fact, it’s a city I would have put pretty high on a short list of places I specifically would not want to live. But this is where we are. And I’m learning to like it. The people are great, but it has taken a while for us to really find a community here. And Houston is a sprawling city. It’s not pretty. It’s flat. It’s almost always hot. And oh, how I miss the seasons and the accompanying change of scenery.
On a rainy day, though, I can appreciate Texas. Instead of moping and complaining when it’s dreary outside, people are raising their hands in praise to God for the rain, grateful for the water that gives life to dry and barren lands.
Texans know what it means to suffer from periods of drought. We moved to Texas in the middle of a long heat wave two years ago. I think something like 29 of 30 days had seen temperatures over 100 degrees. It hadn’t rained in a long time, and no small amount of rain would be able to refill the dried up lakes and ponds or nourish the soil.
Toward the end of summer, wildfires ripped through the areas north and west of Houston. We were in College Station then, and women in my Bible study talked about how it looked like it was snowing on their land because the ash was falling so thick. Cows were being sent to slaughter early because there was no hay for them to eat. The grass was all but gone from the landscape and they were starving. I took a drive with DH’s grandparents to visit their first great-grandchild and we drove through burned out forests, blackened, looking like a set for a horror movie. I wish I had a picture.
And when it rained? People were praising and whooping and hollering in joy. It was a sight to see.
Gradually the lakes refilled, though most have not yet returned to their predrought levels. And on a rainy day people appreciate that sometimes it takes a good hard rain to make things right.
And it’s a good reminder. When it rains, I appreciate Texas a little bit more. And I remember that we need rain to get us out of a drought.
The rain makes mud and slows traffic and leaves streaks on freshly washed cars. It sometimes knocks out power or breaks off tree branches. It makes a mess.
But it’s a good mess. A mess that leads to growing. A mess that brings new life. A mess that helps us appreciate the sunshine.
Can I praise God for the storm I’m in now because I know that it will lead to something better? Can I thank him for the absolute mess because I trust that it will bring something new and right and wonderful?
Somehow it’s easier on a rainy day to lift my hands in praise.
Every Friday, Lisa-Jo Baker provides a prompt for “Five-Minute Friday“: Write for five minutes only–no editing, no rewriting. This week’s prompt is “Lonely.” Here goes . . .
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I’ve become all-too familiar with loneliness. It comes with the territory of infertility. And frankly, I’m over it.
Infertility struck at a time when I was destined to feel lonely anyway. New city, new state, new church, new house. Everything that’s new feels so cold and empty before you get to know it. Well, except in Houston, where it’s always humid instead.
When we found out we were infertile, there wasn’t anyone local to turn to–not that we would have turned to anyone anyway. We were shocked. And scared. Lonely anyway, embarrassed by a diagnosis we never expected.
We slowly told a few people. DH’s parents. My parents. Some of our closest friends from DC–which wasn’t our “back home” but somehow felt like it. But at some level, they can’t relate. And it’s harsh to say that, but it feels true. Even now, when I know that I’m not the only one who suffers, that we all carry our own little secrets and challenges and battle scars. But I suffer in this way, a way that seems unfamiliar and unrelatable to my mommy-friends who have more toddler than they can handle right now and like to offer, “take mine.”
But Lonely and I have been fighting and Lonely is losing. I’m kicking it out. I’m meeting people. Getting deep–though maybe not as deep as I could. We still play infertility tight to the chest until we’re sure and it’s necessary, and the knowing might somehow help the other person.
Feeling less lonely nonetheless. And thankful. For the things we have learned. For the little battles over loneliness that we have won. For a God who lets me know every time I need to know it, that he is here and he knows and he understands.
My circumstances have not changed. What’s changed is my emphasis. From the day of our diagnosis to a few months ago, my life revolved around and centered on infertility. If you asked me how I was doing, my first thought was about infertility and how it was ruining my life. My smiles were fake and plastered on when that was an appropriate response, but on the inside I couldn’t overcome my pain. I stopped wearing mascara to church because the praise and worship songs we sang would bring tears to my eyes–often out of despair and a feeling that God wasn’t extending his might and power and wonder to my situation.
More than anything, I wanted God to take this burden of infertility. I meant, of course, that I wanted him to reach down into our lives, heal us, make me pregnant. I wanted it to all go away. I still want our infertility to end, but God did take the burden. He took the burden of infertility and gave me peace in my circumstances. He let me know, in my gut, that he is in control and that his plan is better. He answered that prayer.
And that peace has been life-changing and life-giving. I wasn’t really living when I kept myself trapped in this negative, despairing world of infertility. Infertile isn’t exactly an inaccurate word to describe me, but it’s also not the word to describe me. And knowing that? It has made a huge difference in my feeling of self-worth, in my experience of true joy, and in my ability to give of myself to others. Praise God for this new freedom from the negative words I was using to keep myself down.
And I’m able to see that there have been ways infertility has blessed my life. Infertility has challenged me to deepen my trust in God and to give up on fear and worry. Because of infertility, my relationship with my husband has grown deeper. He has become a stronger spiritual leader, and I have learned to lean on him more. We have made (and are making) lifestyle changes that will make our home a better, healthier environment for us and any future children. We’ve learned a lot about how we handle extreme stress. And we’ve put our priorities in order. We have become more empathetic and compassionate for others. We still have a long way to go, and I still hope we will have biological children–even without needing ART–but there is no question we have grown from infertility.
When you ask me now how I am, infertility might not be the first thing that comes to mind. When you tell me that you’re pregnant, I can smile and feel genuinely happy about the new life growing inside you. (Okay, full disclosure: when you complain about your pregnancy–well, I’m still working on an appropriate response to that.) And when I’m singing worship songs I may still tear up–but it’s more likely out of joy and awe of my great God than despair.
So who am I? I’m a Christ-follower. I’m a woman. I’m a wife. I’m {hopefully} a future mom. I’m a blogger and a copyeditor. I’m a small group leader. I’m a child of the one true King.
And I love this song by Matthew West that reminds me of what’s true.
There are things that are naturally hard for us. And we can go with the flow and get pushed backwards sometimes, or we can fight against those challenges to get where we need to go.
I took this video of salmon in a fish ladder last summer when we were vacationing in Oregon and Washington State. On our way from Oregon to Washington, we stopped at Bonneville Dam on the Columbia River and got to see the fish swimming upstream. In the video, you can see that sometimes they seem to be making great progress, when all of a sudden the current overwhelms them and they are pushed backward, only to have to do it all again (see especially the little fish starting at about 00:12).
I think–and this may be wildly inaccurate–that we face certain tests in this life over and again until we can pass them.
For me, one of those tests I keep failing and retaking has to do with changing plans.
For some reason, I am terrible at this. If I make a plan–even if it’s just in my mind–I intend to follow through on it. Now, I’m quite forgiving of myself. See, today I was planning on doing some little chores around the house–vacuuming and dusting and so forth–but I’m not doing them today because I had a headache earlier and I’m on my period and I can do them tomorrow. I’m so very flexible with myself.
But when my plans have to change because of other people, I am less forgiving. And if I know you well enough, like my poor DH, I may get angry or at least frustrated about the change in plan. I’m really terrible.
And the truth is, sometimes plans change. Definitely more often than I’d like.
Once, a few years ago, DH was really sick. Now, he is a boy, so “really sick” for him is maybe or maybe not the same as “really sick” for me. But anyway, he stayed home from work and was certainly not feeling well. We were living in Arlington, VA, and were supposed to go that evening to an event to see Elinor Ostrom speak. She won the Nobel prize in economics in 2009, so I suppose this was in the fall of 2010. I went to work and DH stayed in bed. And then, after work, I went to see Ms. Ostrom speak, as I’d planned.
DH didn’t appreciate my going. He thought I should have come home and taken care of him instead. And maybe I should have.
I don’t like it when plans change.
I didn’t like it when our plans to get pregnant two years ago did not come to fruition. I was concerned something must be wrong within the first few months because things weren’t proceeding according to plan.
But I’ve noticed this problem I have. I’ve made enormous strides with all the plan-changng and rearranging we’ve dealt with in our IF treatments. And I’m trying to get over it. I handled our move to College Station and, shortly thereafter, to Katy quite well considering that both moves were not according to our plan. I’m evolving and maturing and getting good at this whole plan-changing thing!
And isn’t it funny that when you think you’ve mastered a new skill a little, tiny, insignificant test comes along and you fall flat on your face?
This morning, I was running a little behind what I had planned. I did my grocery shopping, albeit about 2 hours later than I’d wanted to leave the house. I’d created a to-do list that would have been completely doable if I’d not been behind but which would be tight now that I was late. I was sitting on the back patio reading my Bible study workbook for my small group tomorrow night, nodding right along as I read, “Complete obedience to God requires a commitment to modify and change our plans at a moment’s notice,”* when my phone rang.
Now, DH never calls me from work. But here it was, 12:07 p.m., and our conversation went like this:
ME: Is something wrong?
DH: No. I was wondering, could you take my car for an oil change this afternoon?
[He had switched cars with me this morning to avoid driving many more miles before getting the oil changed.]
ME: Oh. Really? I thought you were going to do it. I don’t know…
DH: I found a place. I can make an appointment. It’s right by the house and it’s much less expensive than anything I can find near the office. You can do it tomorrow. Or, well, any day this week. Does any time work for you?
ME: I wish you’d told me earlier. I mean, if I’d known, I would have taken it before I went to the store. Now I have other things I’ve planned to do . . . whine . . . whine . . . [You get the idea.]
DH: Never mind. I’ll do it myself tomorrow. Thanks anyway.
I turned back to my Bible study and reread the paragraph I’d been reading when he called me, “. . . a commitment to modify and change our plans at a moment’s notice,” and I knew I had failed this test . . . again.
I did end up getting the oil changed. But I was so whiny about it, and I made it such a chore. I suppose I should be glad I was able to redeem my failure and that this test was just a little thing.
I’m still learning.
And that evil, current still gets me backsliding when I least expect it.
—
*Quotation from Priscilla Shirer, Discerning the Voice of God: How to Recognize When God Speaks, member book (Nashvile, TN: LifeWay Press, 2006), 112.
God is really doing a work in me. While I have been neglecting my relationship with God, he is slowly, sweetly wooing me to an intimacy with him beyond my imagination.
When God wants to get a message across, I love how he does it over and over and over. Apparently he knows subtlety doesn’t work with me–or that this message is too important for subtlety.
And I can’t help but feel that I should be the one striving to have a relationship with God–not the other way around. He does not need my friendship, there is nothing I can offer him, yet I am convinced there is nothing the Father would not do to woo me to himself.
From today’s reading in my One Year Bible (NLT), God repeated this relationship theme three times. These verses reinforce both how I need that relationship with God and why I am so very blessed to have the opportunity to be in a right and restored relationship with him!
As David is passing the kingdom to Solomon he gives this advice I needed to hear:
“And Solomon, my son, learn to know the God of your ancestors intimately. Worship and serve him with your whole heart and a willing mind. For the LORD sees every heart and knows every plan and thought. If you seek him, you will find him. But if you forsake him, he will reject you forever” (I Chronicles 28:9).
And we have the privilege of having this relationship, as Paul writes:
“So now we can rejoice in our wonderful new relationship with God because our Lord Jesus Christ has made us friends of God” (Romans 5:11).
And finally:
“Yes, Adam’s one sin brings condemnation for everyone, but Christ’s one act of righteousness brings a right relationship with God and new life for everyone” (Romans 5:18)
What a beautiful reminder of the lengths God has gone to get to us. As blessed as I am by my friendships on this earth, how much more of a blessing it is to have the God of the Universe as a dear and intimate friend.
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.
Dwell in Me 