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).
Weary. A word so fitting for souls who know the daily struggle of infertility and loss. How do you articulate the encompassing ups and downs, trials and victories, grace and tears, good days and really bad days? It is an unhinged roller coaster. Unpredictable. Exhausting. Just so wearisome.
And maybe just when you thought you had grief in a manageable place...here come the holidays. And the wave crashes again. Especially Christmas. On paper, it’s the jolliest, merriest, and most festive holiday of the year. So what do you do?
Advent is about waiting. But really, just like our season of waiting, it’s also about the end, the prize, the Great Hope. Advent is about an arrival, the coming. What’s so incredibly hard about our waiting is that we have no such promise.
The most wonderful time of year? What happens when kids are jingle belling and everyone is telling you, “Be of good cheer,” and you just can’t do it? The lights are shining brightly everywhere except for your eyes and spirit, and every ounce of you wants to spend the season celebrating and rejoicing but deep down all you can focus on is the emptiness of your arms and the longing in your heart.
Life doesn't always turn out the way we planned, but God is near and He knows our hearts better than we do. A story of adoption and the God who DOES see it all.
Infertility isn’t like a fever or the flu, where your body heats unnaturally and your head pounds like it is being used as a kick drum in a rock band. It’s not a physical illness obvious to others like the red bumps of chickenpox or the dry, rashy skin of eczema.
