Have you ever received advice that you chose to ignore, but then as time went on you realized that this advice was actually very true and right? I hate that. Years ago when I was in the midst of the mess that is the fertility doctor, a dear friend of mine implored me to be happy with where I was in that exact moment. She told me that I should try to curb the incessant need to have a baby and to just be happy with what I had been given. I passively listened to her, all the while wildly berating her in my head: “You don’t know what this struggle is like!” “You don’t want kids, you don’t know!” “You are just callous!” “Shut up!” You know, very wise, kind thoughts directed toward a friend who was only trying to encourage me in my faith. Arg. Well, as I continued to struggle through infertility I discovered that her advice had decided to take up permanent residence within my conscience, periodically chirping at me to pay heed to its truthfulness. Begrudgingly, I began to see her wisdom. I hate being wrong. But wrong I was. While I pined for a different life, I was missing the one I was living. I was missing the joy and small blessings of the life God had given me here and now. Please know that I am not chiding any of you for desiring a child but, if we are honest, we know we can go too far. We can idolize this thing called motherhood. We forget about those sleepless nights we hear about, we forget that many of our friends with children seem to disappear from all adult activities, and we forget the freedom we have in being childless. I know every mother would never give up their child, but I also know that many of my friends crave the life I have without a child. And so I have sought to love what I have been given now. To simply stop and notice how God has blessed me: with a loving husband, with an apartment I adore, with a ministry that fulfills me, and with daily intellectual challenges in my graduate school. I must choose to live out my faith by believing that God has placed me right where I am supposed to be, in this exact moment. And that moment consists of barrenness. But it also consists of joy and freedom and mornings to sleep in. The pain of my struggle continues, but it does not necessarily need to negate all my joy. The two can co-exist simultaneously, and truthfully, it may be crucial that they do. Indulging in our grief over infertility can eventually lead to self-focus and self-pity, while on the other hand, seeking for happiness and joy above all else can overpower our unhappiness and lead us to ignore reality. Both grief and joy are needed to give us a right perspective on what is true and what the experience of barrenness actually looks and feels like. Keeping both our sorrow and joyfulness coupled together, gives a healthy balance of authenticity in our particular struggle, as these two perspectives keep us in check. I know if I ever become a mother, I will never look back, but in my present state of anguish in barrenness, I will endeavor to enjoy what the Lord has blessed me with now. What joys do you have in your life right now?
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Wedding weekend! While this weekend was filled with the joy of a family member joining another in marriage union, it was also a weekend where I could not escape the reminder of how many people have children while I do not. During the bachelorette party I was unfortunately sandwiched in the corner between a pregnant bridesmaid and two mothers who spent the entire time giving each other parenting advice. I couldn’t seem to escape the topic of children! Thankfully, the four-month-pregnant bridesmaid was a beautiful woman with a beautiful spirit. As we began to talk, I realized that through a mutual friend she knew my own infertility journey. As I asked her about names for her future child she began to tell me the incredible story of her child’s conception. She and her husband had struggled for a year, but each month she found herself collapsing in tears in the bathroom. How well I know this scenario. One day she received a phone call from an unknown number. On the other line was a strange, decrepit sounding old woman speaking in a thick accent. The mystery caller turned out to be a Lebanese nun who helped couples become pregnant by blessing them. At this point in the conversation, my jaw was beginning to drop. A nun is calling you and she has the ability to bless people into fertility. This sounded like a Disney fairytale, complete with a fairy godmother, yet somehow this was real life. My friend said she only continued the conversation because she realized that this was the same nun who had blessed her brother and sister-in-law; which had resulted in a pregnancy one month later. What?? My new acquaintance then narrated for me her own experience of inviting the nun to her home, and how she had blessed the nursery and her body. But all fairy godmothers have words of wisdom as well; this one told her to stop believing that all she needed in life was a child. To stop defining happiness solely in the prospect of becoming a mother. This resonated with me. This struggle is alive and well within me. After the interview with the nun, my friend had no idea what to expect, but becoming pregnant a month later was a shock even to her. While I listened to this miraculous story, I found myself smiling. I have heard so many stories from people about how to become pregnant. You know: ‘Go relax!’, ‘Go on vacation’, ‘Stop eating wheat!’, ‘IVF!, ‘Once you adopt you will get pregnant.’ On and on the supposedly helpful advice goes. I never know what to do with it all. But this was not advice, but a reminder of God. During a wedding weekend where I was surrounded by the topic of children, here was a story reminding me that God is the giver of life. That it is God and God alone who can open my womb. The Lord may work through many different modes to bring about a pregnancy (a fairy godmother nun being one of them), but the truth still stands that nothing in this world happens without His handiwork. This of course is not a promise that I will become pregnant. And I am blessed to have my eyes turned back to the Lord and away from the belief that a child will in some way complete me. I am protected from the allure of some ‘new method’ that will be the answer to all my problems. I continually find that in the midst of this struggle it is incredibly easy for me to lose sight of God. To believe that pregnancy is the only antidote for my infertility heartache. And God graciously meets me exactly where I am and gently turns my eyes back toward the truth and toward Him. While I stewed and spiraled into envious thoughts, listening to the mothers at the bachelorette party, God saw me and my heart. He sent this pregnant women, (of all people!), to turn my gaze back upon Him. This will happen again, I know. This struggle necessitates a continual returning of my gaze to God and away from what I believe will make me happy. Without question, I am thankful for a God who continues to pursue me, despite my wandering eyes. Ask Him to protect you as well. “Israel’s identity as sons of Abraham cannot be simply claimed; it must be lived out in the Covenant.” I was so struck today as I read this line. I know this writer is talking specifically about the Jewish community, but it is so true for Christians as well. As Christians, our identity is no longer about what job we have, or what type of family we come from, nor whether we have been blessed with motherhood. This is such joy!!! My identity is found in Christ alone; that is the core of who I am. I am a child of God. But the statement goes on: It must be lived out. This is what struck a chord with me. I can easily claim I am a Christian, but would anyone else even know I was a Christian unless I proclaimed it aloud? Do I truly live out my faith? And what does that mean as I struggle through infertility? It cannot mean putting on a happy face and telling people God knows best. No. My pain is real and Scripture allows us to be real. Just look at Psalm 88. (The only Psalm that does not end on a faithful happy note). Yet, too often I find myself controlling my pain in front of others and rarely do I seek out help in the midst of it. Even if I do, it is in a managed, detached sort of way. I find that offering a few facts concerning my struggle distances others from my real emotions. What does it mean then to live out my faith as I remain infertile? What exactly does that look like? I want to be real with people, but still proclaim my faith in the Lord. Psalm 88 comes to mind again. Psalm 88 I Cry Out Day and Night Before You A Song. A Psalm of the Sons of Korah. To the choirmaster: according to Mahalath Leannoth. A Maskil of Heman the Ezrahite. O Lord, God of my salvation, I cry out day and night before you. 2 Let my prayer come before you; incline your ear to my cry! 3 For my soul is full of troubles, and my life draws near to Sheol. 4 I am counted among those who go down to the pit; I am a man who has no strength, 5 like one set loose among the dead, like the slain that lie in the grave, like those whom you remember no more, for they are cut off from your hand. 6 You have put me in the depths of the pit, in the regions dark and deep. 7 Your wrath lies heavy upon me, and you overwhelm me with all your waves. Selah 8 You have caused my companions to shun me; you have made me a horror to them. I am shut in so that I cannot escape; 9 my eye grows dim through sorrow. Every day I call upon you, O Lord; I spread out my hands to you. 10 Do you work wonders for the dead? Do the departed rise up to praise you? Selah 11 Is your steadfast love declared in the grave, or your faithfulness in Abaddon? 12 Are your wonders known in the darkness, or your righteousness in the land of forgetfulness? 13 But I, O Lord, cry to you; in the morning my prayer comes before you. 14 O Lord, why do you cast my soul away? Why do you hide your face from me? 15 Afflicted and close to death from my youth up, I suffer your terrors; I am helpless. 16 Your wrath has swept over me; your dreadful assaults destroy me. 17 They surround me like a flood all day long; they close in on me together. 18 You have caused my beloved and my friend to shun me; my companions have become darkness. Here is a Psalm of such darkness, of such desperate hopelessness found within the Bible. Most Psalms end on a positive note as the writer remembers God and turns to Him in joy, but Psalm 88 ends only in despair. The Psalm is written in the midst of heartache that seems to have no end. Can you relate to this??? But notice the description of this Psalm at the beginning: ‘A song. A Psalm of the sons of Korah. To the Choirmaster…’ This was a Psalm sung in worship!! Worship?? Not many of us have the courage to tell God our despair and anger, but this Psalmist does and the Jewish community as a whole would sing this song in worship to God. This changes everything for me. As I pray through the words of Psalm 88, I am directing my pain to the Lord. My struggle becomes an act of faith as I give all my hurt not to myself but solely to Him. Voicing my pain can become faithful worship. And maybe, as I find my ultimate safety in a God who can handle my angst, I can find the courage to truthfully and vulnerably share with others my hurt, anger, and sadness. I can continue to struggle with infertility, while still proclaiming that He is a good God. What do you think? How do you live out your faith in the midst of struggle? I’ve been studying Matthew during my sporadic morning quiet times. The story of Joseph has been so encouraging to me. His life was chalk-full of sheer obedience. We know little of Joseph from Scripture, but what it says depicts a man who trusted the Lord in the most extreme circumstances. Matthew 2:13-18, recounts the story of an angel warning Joseph to flee from Bethlehem to Egypt because Herod was planning to find Jesus and murder him. This is what caught my attention, vs. 15: “[Egypt was] where he stayed until the death of Herod. And so was fulfilled what the Lord had said through the prophet: ‘Out of Egypt I called my son.’” My bible has a little note that directs me to Hosea 11:1 which says, “When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son.” Oh! Do you hear God’s plan??!! I love it! Let me back up a bit to explain. Throughout the Old Testament there are whisperings and hints pointing to Jesus. There were patterns set up that would help identify the coming Christ. The nation of Israel itself was to be a signpost pointing to our Savior. The Jews were set apart by God, and He had given them the job of proclaiming Him to the nations by the way that they lived. They were to bring salvation to all who came near. But they failed. The Israelites, like all of us, were filled with sin and instead lived a life of grumbling and rebellion against the Lord. But their call to proclaim the Lord was not lost; it was picked up by Jesus. Jesus came to do what Israel could not. He would be the one to bring salvation to the nations. So Jesus’ life followed the pattern of Israel. He was sent to Egypt, in a time of oppression and hiding, and was then called out by the Lord. Both Israel and Jesus were called “My son” and both of them were called out of Egypt. Now, why is this exciting to me?? I love that Joseph had no idea what this meant. He was simply following where the Lord called. He did not know the overarching story that the Lord was narrating. He did not know that going to Egypt had any more purpose than saving his son’s life. But he was obedient. He knew that God was trustworthy. And so he followed. I have no idea why I am barren. I don’t know its purpose. But God does. And so I choose to trust Him. This does not mean that I do not ache and that I do not do everything within my power to become pregnant. Yet, at the end of the day I remind myself of Joseph and remember that, God has a good plan for my life. So, I can choose to rest, knowing that God is narrating my story for the good of Him and for the good of me. My barrenness has purpose. |
AuthorHi! I'm Brooke. Welcome to Sing O Barren One! I began this blog after years of unexplained infertility that resulted in five years of trying, four miscarriages, one daughter, and continued secondary infertility. While in seminary, I dove into scripture to help me make sense of my pain and struggle. What type of God would allow this? What I found there changed who I was, how I perceived my struggle, and most importantly my view of God. I wrote this blog as an outpouring of my grief and to joyfully share all that God has taught me. Archives
October 2020
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