Showing posts with label waiting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label waiting. Show all posts

Saturday, April 30, 2016

the one she needed to write

she's here

she's a woman caught between stages. she's fixed somewhere between just married and happily ever after. she's not sure who she is. she's not sure who she's becoming. she's unrecognizable. she's ever-changing. she's ever the same. she's defined by this. she's undefined. she's all the things. she's none of them. there's a chance she's crazy.

she hurts

she feels dramatic. she hates that. she wants to pray. she cries instead. when she cries, it's not soft and sweet. it's snotty, red-faced, and audible. she feels embarrassed. but she feels a little better when she stops.

she aches

she goes on living. breathing in, breathing out. she listens to friends. she congratulates good news. she smiles. she laughs. she aches and she aches. she answers 'fine.' she means it sometimes. other times, fine is a fine-line. but overall, she's fine.

she longs

she doesn't want the moon. she doesn't crave the stars. she daydreams of normal. she dreams of no-meds, no-shots, no incessant blood tests. she dreams of pink lines and plus signs, nausea and swollen ankles, booties and sleep-deprivation. she vows to savor. she vows to never complain. she makes promises she knows she can’t keep. she does it anyway.

she waits

nothing is bad. it's more the absence of good. she has seen what could-be. she has felt what might-be. she wishes it came easy. she wonders if it's her fault. she wonders if God knows, if God cares. she wonders what he's doing up there. she keeps going. she keeps praying. she keeps going.

she wonders

she meditates on His promises. she wonders what it all means. she holds on for dear life. she rides the waves of uncertainty. she fixes her eyes on the Father. she paints his or her face in her mind. wondering what kind of special human is being prepared in the heavens. she thinks it must be someone special. someone she can't wait to meet. but someone she's always known.

this is me






Thursday, October 8, 2015

the one with the waiting


I hate waiting.

I mean, I HATE it. 

I hate waiting the two minutes for my coffee to brew and get into my cup. 
I hate waiting in lines at the grocery store. 
I hate waiting in traffic. 
I hate waiting for things I want.

I hate waiting for a baby.

Most people who read my blog probably know my big (ahem, skinny) sister. She's the real writer in the family - she effortlessly combines depth, story-telling, advice, and humor in the best kind of way. You also may know that she has four {beautiful, amazing, perfect} children -- and that before there were four, there was infertility. I watched my sister pray, fast, weep, persevere and everything in between during those trying years. 

I always feared that her struggle would become mine when I was ready to try for children. And here I am, relating in my own younger-sister kind of way. I haven't been trying for a really long time but I haven't been trying for a short time either. I'm not going to say exactly how long it's been because I'm sure there are people that have waited for less time / more time than I have who can relate to what I'm experiencing.

I'm consumed with waiting.

It's all I can think about right now. I want to say otherwise. I want to say that I'm fine, that I'm faithful, that I'm at peace, that I'm full of trust, joy, and all those qualities our Lord so perfectly embodies. But I don't feel that way right now. I feel far from that. I know that anxiety makes getting pregnant harder. But how on earth am I supposed to not be anxious right now? I know that this isn't a form of punishment and that I'm young and that Sarah had a baby when she was verging on...dead...but I was kind of hoping for something less difficult, less wrinkly.

I want to just bask in all that I do have - and I have SO much. I feel humbled by all that God's given me and I feel angry at myself for being consumed with waiting when God has done nothing but bestow mercy, blessing, grace, and love in my life. Who am I to question God's timing or God's plan? He's perfect and prayerfully, one day, with a baby in my arms, I'll look back and sigh all motherly and wise and say, "Wow, God's timing was perfect and so much better than mine."

But that's not what I feel right now.

When I was 14, I proclaimed Jesus as my Lord and was baptized into his name. As a young teenager, I remember making him Lord of my doubts, my selfishness, my young-teen emotions. And I meant it. I surrendered and I gave him control of my hormone-ridden life. But really, at 14, I was making a decision to keep making Jesus Lord. At every age, at every stage. I re-made that decision at 15 when my parents moved me to a different state, a different high school, a different culture, a different church; again at 16 when a teenage boy broke my heart and I felt ugly and unlikeable; again in my early twenties when I was in college, dealing with a painful breakup, single and vowing to stay faithful even if marriage wasn't in the cards for me; again in Georgia, again in New York, and here I am again, vowing once more to make Jesus Lord of this circumstance. I'm reminded that I made Jesus Lord of my life at 14 - but really, I'm called to re-make that decision daily. Sometimes it's easy. Sometimes it's difficult. But I find that the real test for me is fairly consistent - will Jesus be Lord of the waiting? Will Jesus remain my Lord, the director of my life, the controller of my decisions while I wait between the mountain-tops, the victories, the blessings?

I answered yes at 14, I'm answering yes at 27, and I promise to keep answering yes.

At every age, at every stage:
Jesus is Lord.