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.
When we first started trying for a baby two and a half years ago, the early months held tendrils of hope. My mind swam with thoughts of our future family, not thinking for a moment of the difficulty we might face along the way.
It was 6AM, and my eyes were heavy as I tried to make sense of the Scripture passage laid out in front of me.
Infertility is a physical problem, but it has ramifications that go far beyond the physical. God gave us not just a body, but a mind, heart, and soul (Matthew 22:37).
When she gets pregnant, and I am still trying. When she has the baby shower, and I have nothing to celebrate. When she delivers a beautiful child, and I experience a loss. This questions creeps up on me no matter how much I guard my heart. Why her and not me?
The tagline of the book Still Waiting by Ann Swindell caught my attention as soon as I saw it. “Hope for when God doesn’t give you want you want” felt like just the perspective I needed in my long wait to have babies.
A story of loss and seeing God’s redemption and overwhelming pursuit in the midst of grief.
Grief is messy. Processing the grief was messy. When is it ever not messy?
My husband had reached the point of being “okay” about a week later. And that’s okay. I never felt like he expected me to bounce back like he did. He knew I was sad and he stayed right with me. He gave me this picture: It felt like we both fell into a deep pit and just laid there, hurting, and needed time to recover. He was able to sit up and find the ladder to start climbing out. He climbed out but stayed at the top, patiently waiting for me…
