I was in such a state Friday that I locked myself in my room and plopped down on the ground with my Bible. I dropped it open not knowing what I was looking for and landed in Isaiah 28.
28 Bread flour must be ground;
Or crush it with his horsemen.
Verse 28 stuck out to me, but I thought maybe I was grasping at straws in how I was interpreting it. Are we the bread flour? Is this saying the grinding will end eventually? Please! My Bible has an awesome commentary, but on these verses...nada. I looked up commentaries online and found this one by Mathew Henry.
28:23-29 The husbandman applies to his calling with pains and prudence, in all the works of it according to their nature. Thus the Lord, who has given men this wisdom, is wonderful in counsel, and excellent in his working. As the occasion requires, he threatens, corrects, spares, shows mercy, or executes vengeance. Afflictions are God's threshing instruments, to loosen us from the world, to part between us and our chaff, and to prepare us for use. God will proportion them to our strength; they shall be no heavier than there is need. When his end is answered, the trials and sufferings of his people shall cease; his wheat shall be gathered into the garner, but the chaff shall be burned with unquenchable fire.
Added to the turmoil of this never ending story that I can't help, I thought I was pregnant. Since the baby died, Sean and I have tossed the idea of "trying again" back and forth like a tennis ball. I hate tennis. I suck at tennis. Sometimes the idea would hit the racket like a great one and sometimes the idea would do what tennis balls in my court typically do; bounce off the rim, over the fence, to be chased down. "Should we do this again?" Bop. "Should we stop while we're ahead with four healthy kids?" Bop. "Do I want to chance another round of heartache?" Bop. "Let's do this." Bop. "No! Let's not!" Bop. And then the ball hits the net and we arrive at a stalemate with no answers.
I'd come to the end decision that we should stop with four healthy kids. And then I was a week late. That's a cruel, cruel joke. I spent $40 last week on pregnancy tests. I couldn't figure out why they kept coming back negative. I had to get a positive one.
At some point, Sean figured out what I was doing. The man knows the sound of pregnancy test being opened behind bathroom doors. He grabbed me up in a hug and asked why I wasn't telling him what I was doing. "There's nothing to tell," I said with a sob.
He took me out to dinner that night and we talked long and hard about it, still not coming to a solid decision. "I don't want to have to decide if we should have another one; I want the one that I did have not to have died."
I wrote the above a while back. Sean and I aren't at odds this week, but that's about all that has changed. The never-ending story is still in full swing. The sadness is still tangible. I'm still not pregnant, nor have we come to any conclusion about should we or shouldn't we.
We were talking about it again last night; a baby. In a perfect world, a pregnancy would happen with ease and a perfect baby would be born in nine easy months. The reality is that I don't think that way anymore. I know that babies die and pregnancies end and life isn't what we imagine it to be.
I was talking about it with a friend and she said I worry too much. I don't know if it's worry or just recognizing reality.
Reality says that life is short and nothing is guaranteed and marriages end and babies die and young people wind up in the hospital with no warning. Reality says there is sadness and pain all around us. But God says He is just. God says He will redeem terrible situations and use them for good. Sometimes His justice doesn't happen when we want it to. Sometimes His blessings aren't what we consider blessings. Sometimes a blessing comes in what He doesn't give vs. what He does give. God says this isn't it. God says to trust Him. Either way. Good or bad.
That's the hard part.
And yet, I see answered prayers this week. I see a relationship restored. I answered the phone last night and it was Sean's father. Home. After over 40 days in the hospital. The reconciliation between a man and his father is only through God's grace. The physical healing that took place in Gerry's body can only be an act of God.
I just reminded myself to go henpeck my beloved to write down the story!! It's such an awesome story. I can't wait to share it.
While there seems to be pain all around, there is also joy. I just filled out the referral paperwork for a friend in the adoption process. Such amazing, indescribable joy as I think about what lies ahead for my sweet friends. I have faith that their pain and sadness will be redeemed through this process. I have hope that they will get the children God intended from the very beginning. It's been a long journey and I'm thankful to be witness to such redemption.
My pastor/brother said in his sermon this week, "God is faithful in his preparation and provision." Yes. True. Amen. I woke up with Joshua 1:9 on my mind. "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous; do not be afraid, nor be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go."
I think it's interesting that it doesn't say, "Have I not told you," or "Have I not asked you." He commands us to have courage. I think I need to have that tattooed on the inside of my eyelids...