“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Romans 8: 28 (NIV)
I was twenty-six years old when I got married. My plan for kids was to work full-time for exactly two years then start a family.
Having trouble conceiving was nowhere in my frame of reference, so I was emotionally blind-sided when it happened. Add to that being far from friends and family when we began going to specialists and taking tests.
The result of all the anxious medical effort was “undefined infertility” and no guarantee if or when we could have a baby.
My yearning for a child burned like fire. How could I feel that horrible? No one ever told me about this! For months, I followed my inner city pastor’s wife down the aisle of the church to the prayer altar after services. She always passed my pew with streaks of tears down her face. If she – a church leader- wore her heart on her sleeve, so could I.
My inner world was one quivering cry of doubt and despair. I had no trust in the outcome. I held onto one tiny scrap of faith that God was good and wasn’t punishing me.
There is no way around any mountain of suffering. Honestly, even now, my trust in God is mostly based on what He has already done, not what He will do, but He still acts on my behalf even with that “little faith”.
Now that is a good God – one who doesn’t hold back mercy or help until we are wise, strong or filled with faith.
Years later, I did become pregnant and we had a beautiful baby boy. Two lovely girls followed. “He settles the barren woman in her home as a happy mother of children” Psalm 113:9.
I am blessed with the gifts of my children. They certainly didn’t come as a result of my faith-filled prayers, spiritual surrender, or organized plans. God gave them to me, pure and simple, and I am profoundly grateful.