(Note: This post wasn’t written today…but it seemed time to share it.)
I thought I was pregnant.
I started playing out scenarios in my mind—how I would tell my parents, when the baby would come, what it would be like to hear the laughter of a child in our house.
I knew better but I hoped anyway.
Most of the time I’m at peace and content with where I am in my journey so I just don’t think about how things could be different…but once in awhile I do.
Do you know what that’s like? Maybe not with having a child but with that dream you carry around in a little box in your heart—lid tightly on, rarely spoken of, the one that breaks your heart and keeps it going all at the same time?
This morning I knew for sure that dream wasn’t coming true this month.
I called a friend and told her the news. She made that sound that women do when they’re comforting each other. She said that she was sorry and that she would take a walk with me.
I hung up the phone and wandered around the house, fighting the feelings.
I tend to hold sadness at arm’s length.
But today I pictured myself as a little girl running toward God, arms outstretched, tears streaming, calling, “Abba, Daddy, it hurts.”
And I imagined Him scooping me up, letting me rest my head on his shoulder as I cried, saying again and again, “It’s okay. Daddy’s here and He loves you.”
So I let myself boo-hoo. Or, as we say in the South, the head hangin’ tears drippin’ snot streamin’ kind of cryin’ that makes the dog worry a little.
And I was okay again.
It seems we try to protect God from our grief, as if it means He’s not taking care of us—otherwise wouldn’t we be like happy little children all the time?
But I’m slowly learning that the child who can run to a parent in a moment of pain, even if the parent has somehow allowed it (like shots at the doctor), that is a different sort of trust and love. We’re expressing, “You are my safe place no matter what.”
“Though he slay me yet will I trust him,” said Job.
So I come again to the One who came for me—who knows what it’s like for hope to cost.
Yet a heart that never hurts is one that never hopes…and that is the highest price of all.
One I’m not willing to pay.
I went on the walk with my friend and her two little ones. We looked for turtles in a pond, skipped rocks, and laughed at the ducks–gifts from Heavenly Father. I found joy. And gradually I knew again that just as my friend takes care of her children, He takes care of us…always.
Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere. Psalm 84:10
Lord, our hope is in you alone.
What is your heart hoping for today?
p.s. Remember you have until midnight CST on Tuesday the 10th to enter the Danielson Sign giveaway!