"Jesus Calling"

My friend Julie gave me a daily devotional book called "Jesus Calling" by Sarah Young. She told me she thought it would be good for me. The last thing I felt like doing was another devotional book, especially one that would try to tell me to simply trust in God's plan. Begrudgingly I opened the book yesterday (after it had been sitting on my coffee table for nearly a week). As usual, Julie was right. It was good for me. This morning's devotional reads:

"Give up the illusion that you deserve a problem-free life. Part of you is still hungering for the resolution of all difficulties. This is a false hope! As I told My disciples, in the world you will have trouble. Link your hope not to problem solving in this life but to the promise of an eternity of a problem-free life in heaven. Instead of seeking perfection in this fallen world, pour your energy into seeking Me; the Perfect One.

It is possible to enjoy Me and glorify Me in the midst of adverse circumstances. In fact, My Light shines most brightly through believers who trust Me in the dark. That kind of trust is supernatural: a production of My indwelling Spirit. When things seem all wrong, trust Me anyway. I am much less interested in right circumstances than in right responses to whatever comes your way."

Woah.

Praying for His desire, not ours, and how much that sucks

Last night our life group had a big discussion, touching on several different things. One friend brought up her fears and how they keep her from trusting God at times. I understood this completely. Over the last two months since we lost Caleb, my heart has been nearly consumed in fear. Rather than cling to the hope that God will give us another baby, I've been fearful that losing Caleb is just the tip of iceberg. Now that something so dear to me has been taken away, what's to say God won't allow me to lose Zach, our house, our jobs, our family members? If Zach is late coming home from work I wonder if something terrible has happened to him, and if that's why we couldn't have Caleb (because God knew I couldn't raise a child on my own). I know it's awful to live in that sort of constant skepticism, and I know it's simply Satan preying on my discouragement.

Our life group also talked about cultivating our heart for God- how the process can be a long one, much like farmers and their crops. Sometimes they experience droughts or heavy flooding, all of which they cannot control. They simply have to remain patient and wait for the good crop to come. We related this to Zechariah & Elizabeth, Abraham & Sarah, and so many others in the Bible who waited and waited and waited for the desire of their hearts to be fulfilled. Some find these to be stories of hope, while I feel completely and totally discouraged. Who can honestly say they're content to wait on the Lord for as long as it takes? I know I can't. I wait because I have no other choice. I trust Him because turning my back on Him is not an option (not for me anyway). But I'm not happy about it.

When all our friends had left I sat on the couch with Zach and confessed my doubts, fears, and my dozens of unanswered questions. Through my tears I told him how tired I was of feeling so sad all the time. I can't seem to shake the dark clouds around my heart. I realized that I've pretty much stopped talking to God about my desire for a baby. I still pray for others, but when it comes to my own needs, I feel like it's a waste of time to keep reminding God how much I want a child. He knows. He sees the sadness my heart has sunk into, and I think if I keep asking Him every day without an answer, my disappointment will grow.

My good friend Julie suggested I start praying for God to change the desire of my heart to match His desire for me. If God and I want the same things for me, then my anger and cynicism toward Him would be no longer. It makes sense, but it would also require me letting go of my desire to be a mother. Releasing that to a God who I struggle with trusting is more than I can do right now, but I know it's the only way out of the clouds.

Zach told me after all my venting, that he sees my relationship with God becoming more and more real. No longer am I praying and reading my Bible to check them off the list, or to even win Him over so that I'll get what I want. Instead, I'm giving it to Him straight, unedited, whether He likes it or not. I'm David when he wrote the Psalms, and that's a good place to be.

Last night as we were getting ready for bed I noticed Zach had ventured down the hall and into the baby's room. I found him sitting in the rocking chair, just staring. He asked, "How do you feel when you come in this room?" I simply said, "I don't want to feel anything when I come in this room," but as I began surveying the empty crib, the folded up stroller, the dresser stuffed full with new clothes, and the high chair still in its box an enormous amount of fear crept into my heart. I began thinking, 'What if these things never get used? What if all this stuff we bought in preparation just sits here continuing to collect dust? What if this room will sit here in wait for a baby that never comes?' I started to cry, and cry, and cry until I was sobbing in the same way I had the day we found out we lost the baby. All the pain and sadness swept over me as if for the first time.
Finally I said to Zach, "What if we're one of those couples that never has children? What if God's plan is that this never happens for us?" The possibility of that was almost too much to bear. But then it occurred to me, when has anything in my life gone exactly according to my plan? Hasn't God tried to teach me this lesson of letting go so many times before? Why on earth did I think everything was going to run so smoothly and fall right into place with Kat?
Zach tried to be reassuring, talking about looking forward to the future, and all I could think was, 'We had a future. Caleb was our future. And now it's gone.' I don't know where to look from here. So many people have tried to reassure us that the right baby will come along and all will be well, but how can they know? No one knows God's plan for us but God, and it's the most helpless feeling in the world.

The problem with "still"

"People imagine that missing a loved one works kind of like missing cigarettes. The first day is really hard but the next day is less hard and so forth, easier and easier the longer you go on. But instead it's like missing water. Every day, you notice the person's absence more."

-Poppy, Back When We Were Grownups by Anne Tyler

To those of you who have understood not to ask us if we are "still" having a hard time... we thank you.