In the month of January Northern Ohio is a dreary, barren place, a fact well captured in this bleak picture taken on a chilly walk along the lake. As I observed this vacant scene on the shores of Lake Erie, I marveled at the wonder of God’s creation and how, every year, He allows nearly every sign of life to be obscured by ice, freezing temperatures and snow. Mysteriously, He sends animals into hiding and readies the earth by orchestrating the shedding of leaves. It’s all marvelously designed and perfectly coordinated.
But what struck me most on that wintry walk is what comes next – namely, spring. In a matter of weeks, the ice and snow will melt, the temperatures will rise, and life will return to this barren land. Color will come bursting forth on bushes, flowers, grass, and trees. Animals will reemerge to resume their activity and, before long, even a harvest will begin to grow.
And that’s when it hit me: hope lies beneath the surface.
The physical manifestation of this truth came to mind first. As I observed the wintry earth while perceiving the promise of spring buried deep beneath the snow, my spirit lifted at the very thought of new life and new hope. But deeper still, I saw how this truth applies to my own life and the promise of beauty being brought forth from my body’s own season of barrenness.
You see, much like winter in Northern Ohio, I’m in the deep freeze of infertility. There’s no sign of life in my womb, no activity upon the landscape. Yet, as the scene captured in my phone’s lens reminds me, the bleakness of my barrenness won’t last forever. Although in this season all I can see are negative test results and fruitlessness, God’s faithfulness reminds me that this isn’t the end of my story. God still has a future for me. God still has hope for me. And it lies just beneath the surface.
To be clear, my hope isn’t based on having my prayers answered or dreams come true. Such faulty hope is a recipe for disappointment. Rather, my hope is in the goodness of God and His promise to bring beauty out of the ashes. I know that this hope – hope in God’s character and perfect providence – cannot and will not disappoint. “For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have?” (Romans 8:24)
Although I do not know what beauty out of barrenness will look like in my personal story, of this I am sure: One way or another God will thaw this ground and bless the landscape with new life. He will work this all together for good – in fact, He already is! Even now I can see His hand at work in my heart, shaping and molding me into a woman of deeper faith and firmer trust. Even here I can see my Father God tilling the soil of my soul, cultivating the seeds of enduring, eternal hope that lies just beneath the surface.
Stephanie is a follower of Jesus and writer who became infertile at the age of 20 due to chronic illness. She enjoys sharing her story and encouraging others to see the beauty in their own. Stephanie currently resides in Ohio with her husband and their two dogs, Faith and Lucy.
