Zach expressed his concern that I might be slipping into a depression (something I struggled with several years ago and had hoped I would never struggle with again). I agreed with him. I know myself well enough to recognize when I'm becoming detached and stoic. I also know the spiritual battle I'm fighting is one I can't fight alone. I made an appointment with the same therapist I sought help from in years past. This week will be my second session with her. She gave me a small book called "Experiencing Grief" by H. Norman Wright. Already I have found so much comfort and reassurance in its pages. The author describes grief like this: "The harder I fought it, the more exhausted I became. So it is with grief. If I tried to fight it, it would vanquish me. If I pushed it down it would stick in my soul and emerge as something else: depression, bitterness, exhaustion. If I yielded to the waves and let it carry me, however, it would take me to a new place." I feel I am nearly to the point where I can resign to my grief and allow it to carry me, hopefully and prayerfully to a new and better place.
My therapist observed in our first meeting that perhaps I had become so consumed with my desire for a child that in fact I had made it my idol. My relationship with God had become more about what He had given and taken away, rather than simply about Him. Every single day I prayerfully surrender my hopes and dreams for a child, laying them at His feet. I've found that I can't just do it once and forever trust that He'll take care of them. Instead I need to give it up all over again at the beginning of each day. For me, trusting God seems more possible this way. I don't yet know how to trust Him with my entire future, but I can trust Him for today.
I've questioned the power (and even the point) of prayer a lot over the last few months. Do my prayers really change anything? I know God hears me, but does He change His plan in accordance with what I ask for? God will do what He wants to do, so why bother praying? I realize now my questions have been misguided. Prayer should never be about what God can do for me, whether He answers me with a "yes" or "no." Instead my prayers should simply be an act of surrender, a way of giving up whatever it is I want and trusting it to His care. Prayer is an act of worship and gratitude, a show of faith. "I've learned that any genuine communication to God may or may not change what God does, but your prayer will often change your heart or perspective. Prayer reminds you that you're not in control and keeps you close to the one who is." -Craig Groeschel, "The Christian Atheist"
