Sometimes, like tonight, I am overwhelmed by my desire to be a mom. Sometimes, like on Sunday during baby dedication, that overwhelming feeling leads me to feel hope that springs eternal, to great happiness and excitement when I think of the future. Other times, like now, the sentiment leads to tears that burn my eyes like hot embers, ones that burn not only my eyes but also my heart. It’s amazing to me how this amount of emotion can be conjured up in so little time and show itself in such varying ways.
I returned home tonight from teaching a Bible study on Galatians focusing on what the true Gospel is of all things knowing I need to apologize to my husband for some things that I said earlier today, in particular the way I said them. The conversation was good – challenging and sobering but not filled with hot anger or sarcasm, like the ones we had previously in the day (the first one being at 4:00am; waking me up at that hour just sets me up for failure, but I digress). By the end of the conversation tonight, though, I was just filled with an incredible sadness, a far cry from the defensiveness-turned-disdain I felt just hours before.
Sometimes life is much harder than I’d like it to be, much too grey instead of black and white.
I don’t understand why I have had to fight for everything I’ve wanted in my life, including even the ability to literally just breathe. The fact is I desperately want to be a mom and becoming one is proving much more challenging than I could have ever imagined. Even when one is aware they’re going to be starting their family through adoption, as we most likely will, (which is a story in and of itself), that is a decision hardly devoid of emotional, financial or spiritual trial. It’s a decision that comes with more baggage (at least in our case) than with which I’d like to deal. In my flesh, I want to say “Lord, isn’t enough, enough? Can you please just leave me alone, pick on someone else for once? Can you please just let me be?”
But I know that’s not what I really want, even in my flesh. What my humanity wants is not for the Lord to withdraw His presence from me but instead to show me His presence through more pleasant experiences, through what’s “normal” for everyone else (or so it seems), through less suffering and more joy. Like I taught tonight, though, when I walk in the power of the Spirit (as I should), I remember that at the heart of the true Gospel, no matter our circumstances, is the heart cry, “Abba Father! You alone are enough!”
He is enough…even if I never become a mom, even if ______. You fill in the blank. It has never – and will never be – Jesus + anything.
That doesn’t mean we should lie to ourselves and others and claim to be fine when our humanity finds life challenges difficult, even overwhelming. Hardly so. There is a heavenly beauty and restoration in humility of spirit, in being transparent before not only the Father but community, as well. That’s why I write. That’s why I bear my soul, not because it’s fun to “throw it all out there” but because it’s healing – for me and for others longing for the permission to speak freely, too. It’s a taste of Heaven, if you will.
And tonight Heaven is where I’d like to be, at least part of me. The first part of the verse (1 Cor. 13:12) that talks about us now seeing through a mirror dimly rings true in my heart and life tonight. It seems like just keeps getting more and more opaque these days, but I know that the second part of the verse still rings true, too. I’m so glad there’s a “but” in the verse. It says, ” but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known.”
Lord, help me remember the ‘then’ that comes after the ‘now.’