Dear Child of Mine,
Today we usher in another year, 2014. I think it’s going to be a good year, if for no other reason than it’s an even number. (Your mother likes even numbers. I liked being 10 years old. Eleven? Not so much.) Last January 2013 was the first time I publicly shared our secret struggle with infertility. It was painful. It was freeing. I am continually affirmed that sharing my story with others has brought healing and wholeness. There’s a time and place for the discipline of secrecy, but Child, please know there are great gifts awaiting in community. When you think you’re all alone, or feel that no one could possibly understand what you’re going through, or if you’re convinced your struggle has tainted you, please don’t believe those lies from Satan. He wants you to feel alone, isolated, dark. But Jesus says,
I am the Light of the World. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life. (John 8:12)
The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. But I have come that they may have life and have it to the full. (John 10:10)
Believe Jesus. And share your story with trusted people in your life. Surround yourself with those who will embrace you in the midst of your failures and hold you up. May your friends and family be as dear as mine, people who love you just as you are and yet are willing to help (or even push) you to become what they know God wants you to be.
Beyond all that, though, I wanted to confess the cries of my heart from that first New Year’s Day of coming to face to face with infertility. January 1, 2011 was just 6 months into our journey where I shouldn’t have been worrying, but the fears were very real.
Jesus, I don’t know what you have in store for me–you definitely have my attention that’s for sure. I have no choice but to run to you and cry in your arms. Father. Oh Father! I do want to start this year with a teachable spirit, eager to be changed. I am afraid, God, to submit my hopes and dreams—for fear I might not see them come true. But you say I should let go. I can’t make any changes or see anything good come from my own plans. Jesus, I am discontent with where I am. You know my deepest longings, but you seek for me to be where you are. Give my heart an openness to be changed. Please, God, change my heart. Make me who you want me to be.
Child, I’m still waiting. Sometimes I feel content. Other days I fight with God. There are tears to be shed. That’s the truth. I am praying you’ll join us in 2014, yet not my will, but Yours be done, O God.