The following captures what I have been wanting to express and unable to verbalize. Amy has placed her heart out there and shared the tremendous pain in our hearts at this time. I am reminded of a saying from one of my favorite professors Dr. Steve Seamands, "We praise God not to show God how big our problem is. We praise God to show our problem how big our God is." ~ Hallelujah!
In the past week, many aspects of my life have radically and suddenly changed. Some of you who know me well, will know that I have long hoped of conceiving a child. Many of you will know of my struggles with episodes of undiagnosed pain the last 3 1/2 years. I was finally convinced by my doctor to undergo a diagnostic laparoscopy. She suspected my suffering (and infertility) may be caused by endometriosis. She had every hope and intention of finding the endometriosis and eradicating with a laser, thus ending my excruciating bouts of pain and possibly allowing me to conceive. This was not to be. Instead she came out of my surgery and informed Mark that the extent of my endometriosis, as well as scar tissue, would not only mean no chance of conception but would require a complete hysterectomy. There were many tears in the recovery room last Friday, and many more since.
I have grieved over this issue. While I can see God's hand in preparing me for letting go of this particular dream, it still has felt devastating to me. And that devastation has led to guilt on many levels. I feel guilty for mourning at all when I have been blessed with two beautiful boys. I feel like my grief betrays the love I have for them, as well as my trust in God's plans for me. I can't seem to reconcile the two. I wrestle with this inconsistency. One moment I will feel great grief and despair, while other moments bring peace and assurance. It's a bit of a roller coaster. At times it feels like one OR the other. They can't seem to coexist within me and I think it is during the times of grieving that fear rears it's ugly head bringing a sense of incertitude.
Then God, in his mercy, sent friends, recollections from books, and songs to comfort me. If you keep up with my FB page, you might have noticed my affinity for music. Today, one phrase from a secular song has been racing through my mind over and over - " . . . our love is not a victory march; it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah" - from Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah". I mediated on this all morning and I began to see some significant truth to those particular words. While our salvation through Jesus Christ gives us victory, our lives here on earth are not always filled with victorious moments. Many of us will leave this world battered, bruised, bloody and limping. Brennan Manning in The Ragamuffin Gospel, refers to it as not the victorious life, but the victorious limp.
"The biblical image of the victorious life reads more like the victorious limp. Jesus was victorious not because He never flinched, talked back, or questioned; but having flinched, talked back, and questioned, He remained faithful. What makes authentic disciples is not visions, ecstasies, biblical mastery of chapter and verse, or spectacular successes in the ministry, but a capacity for faithfulness. Buffeted by the fickle winds of failure, battered by their own unruly emotions, and bruised by rejection and ridicule, authentic disciples may have stumbled and frequently fallen, endured lapses and relapses, gotten handcuffed to fleshpots, and wandered into a far country. Yet they kept coming back to Jesus."
Sometimes, the only hallelujah we can manage is a cold and broken one. It's not the state of our hallelujah that matters, but the condition of our heart and our faithfulness to continue trusting in the God of all things seen and unseen. Here is another song that God has recently sent my way that beautifully illustrates my point: Youtube ~ Amy D. Polson
1 comment:
I know how painful the loss of dreams or plans for your life are to abandon.
You and Mark were just dating when I was involved in a lawsuit that would remove any chance for a return to a career of banking that I had worked towards for nearly 20 years. While successful in the lawsuit I had to abandon a path that I'd traveled for a long time. From my point of view I’d done nothing to deserve this penalty yet I had to deal with it.
As a result there was a time of mourning that required some counseling to help me deal with the loss of self-image. There is a different perception of self when someone asks you what you do and you say I’m president of Northway National Bank in North Dallas or when they ask and your answer is I teach American History at a public school. You feel different with each answer and those hearing also have a different opinion of your relative success in life.
I understand that what you’ve experienced is different because you are dealing with a change that happened through NO fault or action of your own. That puts an even more grave tone to the loss because it seems so unfair. You’ve said that you understand that you are a Mother, but you really need to understand that you are a great Mother and have a great family that you can rejoice in and with.
The good news is that from my loss there was great gain. I’m working in a new career that provides so much more personal satisfaction and joy than would ever have been possible in banking. Granted I make MUCH less money but when I get to work each day I look forward to what it is that I do and that is great.
You are on the right path, putting your trust in the Lord and follow . . . he’ll take you where you need to go, just don’t rush him. :-) The blessings will come when you least expect them.
Know that you are loved and friends and family are here to support you through these difficult days.
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