A New Season

I wrote this about a week ago, not knowing who I was writing to or why.  But it came out of my brain neatly packaged and ready to go, so I figured the Lord was teaching me and I had better write it down.

I wasn't going to post it because this stuff isn't what the blog is about.  But then Jeff woke up one morning and told me that I should post this.  He said that the blog isn't only about our travels.  It's about our life, as a whole, during this time.  And that if I want to maintain fellowship with the people who read this blog (and I do), then I should be transparent in showing all the parts of my life right now.  So I hope this is encouraging to you, and that you'll know my heart a little better.

Even in laughter the heart may ache...  Proverbs 14:13

About six years ago, Jeff and I traveled to Oklahoma, hoping to reverse a mistake we had made.

The mistake was made because of fear and lack of knowledge.  Within six months of making the permanent choice to stop having children, we both knew that it had been a wrong decision.  What followed were years of grieving, tearful prayers, and hearts ever-aching for more children.  Then we were made aware of an opportunity to correct the error, so we eagerly flew the however-many miles to have a reversal.  Our hope was bolstered by our doctor, a Christian man, who believed that it would be successful and that our family would grow in the near future.  My heart was full and rejoicing at that encouragement. Though we prayed for God's will, I know that in my heart, I put the cart before the horse.  That next baby was as good as in my arms already.

So I was devastated again and again over the next three years, as the Lord said, "No," again and again.

These are strange situations for a person who trusts God.  You are hurting and grieved, but not because it's the wrong thing.  Only because it's a sad thing.  It can be a tough pill to swallow.

During that time I took to sobbing in the shower, hiding my tears from my family. Countless times, when my heart became too full of crushed hopes and I couldn't hold it inside any longer, I'd retreat to the bathroom and just let God have it all.  No anger, no judgment or accusation.  Just tearful acceptance.  He understood, I knew.  But He didn't change his mind.

Jeff would say, "It's not a no.  It's a 'Not yet.'"  Over time, that intended encouragement became a knife in my chest.  It was a tease.  Something that kept me looking to the carrot dangling in front of me.  And it hurt too much to continue on that way.  So I set about praying for God to change my will to His.  I asked that He would take away the desire for more children. That I would see the good in not having babies.  That He would change my focus to equipping my three children for adulthood, and that it would be enough to look ahead at having grandchildren in the future.  I prayed fervently, almost frantically, wanting the pain to leave as quickly as possible.  God was the only one who could remove it.

And He did.

Over time and unbeknownst to me, my perspective shifted.  I grieved less; cried less.  I let myself enjoy being able to sit and fellowship with my sisters, not needing to stop every two minutes to discipline or chase after a toddler.  Jeff and I began talking about how much fun we would have when we had an empty nest, doing things we always wanted to but never had time for.  In every way, I started seeing the situation with new eyes.  I looked forward to enjoying the great things that this new season held.

I'm about three years down the road from my last tearful plea with the Lord concerning this issue. Once I began praying according to His will, He began healing my heart and answering prayers.  And I know that our own heartache has been used for good many times, as we have shared our story and encouraged other couples to seriously consider this choice and the consequences of a forever-decision.

So.  What I want to say here is that the act of remembering what God did then, is working to heal my heart over what He is doing now.

Everyone knows that Julie had cancer, and that she passed away in January.  I can't seem to really talk about that yet.  I don't have words for it.  The two months that led up to her passing, while relevant to what I'm trying to say here, are not able to be expressed.  So I'll just say that, in the end, I was again brought to a place where I stopped praying for what I hoped, and instead frantically prayed for God's will to be done.  Just as it had been, coming to the end of myself with wanting more children, I couldn't even think to beg any other plea than that.  God's will was done, and it was right.

The thing is, nobody knew that Julie's passing was just one part of the change of seasons that God was orchestrating in our fellowship family.   None of us could see the shifting, the scattering, the uprooting, that was going to take place.  It has stretched us and tested our resolve to trust Him in every single thing.  Even when He is silent (terrifying), or when He says no (heartbreaking).  When everything is pain upon pain and there are no good solutions, we trust Him still.

This year has surely been my hardest, with so much heartbreak and change.  I haven't questioned God's decisions at all, and am certain that He is guiding our family to where we need to be.  But just as I grieved over God's "No" to more children, and His "No" to healing Julie, the recent disassembling of the life that I loved has been hard to move past. This "No" to keeping things the way they were.  Once again, there is tearful acceptance and sadness.  Once again, I am grieved.

I've been walking this particular stretch of road for about nine months now, taking long drives to cry it out when I needed to. Up until about a month ago, God was unusually quiet.  Now, I think I can see why.

I recently sat down to pray and read, but before I could put a thought together, one popped loudly into my head:  There is a season for everything. 

We know this.  In our family, we talk about this a lot, especially since we left Brookings. But on this morning I thought, "Okay, I'll just read through that passage in Ecclesiastes and refresh my memory."  And what a help it was to me!

Friends, just think of this.  Our pains are not mistakes, not happenstance.  He is orchestrating these seasons so intentionally and carefully, for His purpose and for our good.  Sometimes it hurts to let go of one season and walk into the next, but that doesn't mean it's wrong.

I encourage you to read through the passage and pause at each phrase to think over your life.  Remember when God did that particular thing.  I wrote out the ways that He has planted and uprooted us, when He tore down wrong thinking and built us up with instruction and understanding. Times that he had us searching and times when He told us to give up.  Down the list I went, taking note of how God has perfectly guided us. When I did that, I was overwhelmed!  Overwhelmed with God's care for me, with the seasons He has allowed me to live, and realizing that He has wiped away every tear.

Remembering what God has done makes me confident that He will continue to do it now.  In my grief and tears, and in my sadness over His "No."  He will continue to guide us along, teaching and healing our hearts.  And I'll look back on this time and remember all the good that was here.  (And there is so much good here!)

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

a time to search and a time to give up,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,

a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,

a time for war and a time for peace.

I'm changing my prayers concerning this new season.  My heart wants to miss people and wallow in self-pity over how great the loss feels today, but I won't do it any more.  Instead, I'm putting my focus on praying for God to change my heart; to make me see things with new eyes.  Indeed, with His eyes. And I'm asking Him to help me let go of the last season and become excited about the fruit of this new season that He has orchestrated.

I hope this encourages someone else. This year has shown me more pain than I have ever seen.  At times I was so overwhelmed that I sat numb and silent.  And I know at least a few of my close friends and family are living hard things right now.  I want to remind you again that He is working it all for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose!  He will dry our tears and heal our hearts and bring us to new joys!  This is a new season that He is leading us through, and today is a new day that He has made!  So let us rejoice and be glad in Him!

Can you rejoice with me that we, as His people, get to walk through the seasons with Him by our side?  We don't have to despair, question, or worry as those who have no hope.  Nothing can cross our path unless it is sent by God or allowed by Him.  Because of these things, I am safe and at peace, walking with my Father.  What a great way to live!  Praise Him!