I haven't written much over the last ten months and I'm not quite sure why. This has easily been some of the sweetest time we've had in our marriage as we've watched my body grow and change under the weight of this new life. We've marveled at the kicks and rolls and punches that we've both been able to feel. This journey has been, thus far, incredibly humbling, absolutely amazing, and undoubtedly surreal.
After all these years of heartache and tears and pleading and wondering why God was withholding this good gift from us, we've been given the very thing for which we desperately prayed. And, all of a sudden, I am not quite sure how to process it all.
You see, I'd developed a sufferer's identity. Eventually, I grew into a place where I could speak freely and easily of the ways in which God is good in our suffering, even in those times that I doubted it myself. I memorized the party line and recited it at every given opportunity. I knew God was, at all times and in all ways, working for our good and for His glory. That became my refrain: sometimes to share with others in encouragement, but most often preached to my own heart in hopes of convincing myself of its truth.
The night we found out we were pregnant, we had already made plans with some friends. We debated cancelling these plans only because we weren't sure that we'd be able to hide the excitement and joy of the news we'd just learned. We kept our plans with them and made it through the evening without revealing our newest secret. In the car on the way home, I mentioned to Cole that it had been surprisingly easy not to spill the beans. He agreed.
The suffering of infertility had become a glove that we easily slipped on and it fit perfectly. It had so become a part of our story that, even though our story had irreversibly changed, it was so normal to fall back on our old storyline.
And now, everything has changed. This little girl is due to make her appearance any day now. And, as we've walked the beautiful journey of this pregnancy, I have been shocked to discover how hard it has been to assume this new identity: the one of answered prayers and joyous news and getting what we wanted. It is almost as if I had wrestled with God and had come to terms with our relationship being one where I suffered, but He was still good. And now, our story has changed. That particular suffering has ended. We got what we wanted. And He is good.
But suddenly it all begins to feel so very prosperity gospel. Like, we put in our time, cried our tears, said all the prayers, and suddenly God relented. While I should be rejoicing with great abandon, I am tempered in my rejoicing as I try to reconcile why God has chosen to give us the desire of our hearts all while withholding it from others we know. Or why God chose to withhold this gift for over three years, only to lavish us with the richness now. What was the purpose of that season of suffering? And how do I live now in the reality of that answered prayer?
I never anticipated joy being a reason for a crisis of faith - yet here I stand, arms absolutely overflowing with earthly blessing, not to mention the riches that are mine in Christ. I certainly don't deserve this. I'm not even quite sure how to receive it all - thanksgiving feels inadequate in the face of all that I've been given. And yet, isn't that just like me and isn't that just like God and how can I pridefully think that I'd ever be able to respond in adequate thanks or praise for all that God has lavished upon me?
May I receive with joy and thanksgiving all that flows from the throne of grace - both joy and sorrow, ease and suffering - knowing that the King that sits upon it is good and just and kind and wise and his ways are so, so much higher than mine. Praise be to God.
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