my adventures in northern indiana
I wonder, is it as hard for you to share your heart, to be vulnerable as it is for me? Vulnerable sharing does not come easy for me. I’m either too worried about what people think or I’m trying to protect myself from pain. I’ve written this post three times and then deleted it. I’ve added and taken away. I’ve thought long and hard over whether I really wanted to share it or not. But, the fact is, this is one of (if not THE) biggest things in my life and if you are going to know and understand me, then I need to share this. So…If I had the time to sit down with each one of you and share my story…share my heart. This is kind of how it would go:
I would invite you over to my house for tea and/or coffee. We would sit sipping our steaming drinks in the living room, with our feet propped up, the sunshine streaming through the windows and birds chirping. We would start the conversation with pleasantries…how are the kids? Did you do anything this summer? Hasn’t the weather been lovely? …etcetera.
Then I would say something like: so, because we are friends, I want you to know this about me. Not to make you feel sorry for me or anything like that, but because this is such a huge part of my life and God has…no, IS using it to shape me into the woman He wants me to be.
I would then state (probably with tears in my eyes) that Dennis and I are unable to have children. I would explain all the particulars, including the facts behind the five miscarriages that I have had.
But then I would go on to explain that all of those particulars are really not what’s important in this story God is writing for me. See, at one point, I really fought Him on this. I kicked and screamed and cried. Then I tried to manipulate Him into giving me what I wanted (you know, the whole “if I’m good enough He’ll give it to me” thing). Then I decided that I would just ignore him. I was childish and hurtful to the God who only cared for me. For the God who cried with me when I cried and held me and whispered over and over “just give it up.”
Finally, after years (literally) of struggling. I did give up. I fell at His feet begging for forgiveness and declared that I only wanted His will for my life, even if His will was not my will. And what did He give me in return? Not children…but a peace so great words cannot explain it!
My story is a story of pain, but also of joy. Of grace and redemption. My story is proof that God’s story for us is always better then the one that we think He should write for us. My story is proof that God is always there, we just need to reach out and touch Him.
Sadly, I am still very, very human and I will still struggle with hurt and anger. I will still cry on Mother’s Day and still cringe when I hear other babies being named the names I had chosen. But God supplies grace for every moment and He’s not even close to finishing the story He’s writing.
So, I wait patiently to see what He has in store and today…this moment…I choose joy. I choose happiness. I choose God’s will for my life and I lay my will down at His feet again. And I hold tight to the hope that God is not finished with me yet. And I keep doing that every moment of every day.
Like I said, I don’t share this with you to get pity or to build myself up. I share it because this part of my life is so huge. Every day I respond to things in certain ways because I am going through this, and maybe knowing this about me will help you understand why that look passes over my face when I hear a mother complain about her child. Or, better yet, maybe knowing this about me will help you realize there are women out there who struggle with infertility who haven’t been able to share their story yet…women right around you.
I’m not entirely sure how to end this post because my story isn’t over yet. God’s still got something up His sleeve when it comes to Dennis and I, so stick around. Maybe this blog will get interesting yet! 🙂