When You Feel Disappointed By God

When You Feel Disappointed By God

We binge watch Netflix after our kids go to bed like every other good parent does. Our favorite fictional character, Harold (from Persons of Interest), put so perfectly into words the state of my heart at the end of every month,

"Hope is painful."

It's been almost a year now, since I've felt the nudging from Jesus to stretch out my withered hand (or barren womb) and let Him heal me. Stretching out my withered hand means admitting that I really want healing. That I'm not okay with spending the rest of my life with a body that doesn't work the way God intended. Stretching out my withered hand means that I am vulnerable at the end of every month and most of the days between.

Again.

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Surviving Sarah Podcast: Episode 14

My last post, I told the story of how God asked me to "close the door, take time to heal, and fall in love." Over the past few months, I haven't been writing as frequently, but have been invited to do some pretty cool things. Last week I was asked to speak at a large ladies event in my hometown. It was an honor to be asked, but even more an honor to be able to talk about my Dad all night. I was able to meet some of you who follow along with me through the valleys and mountain tops of our story.

I often sit behind this computer and type my heart out to you. It's honestly scary some days, and it's not often that I am able to see where my words land. But that night, to be able to wrap my arms around some of your necks, see your sweet faces, and the eyes that read these words, was such a blessing. I can't thank you enough for following along. And it brings such joy to my heart when I am able to hear what Father is doing in your hearts and in your sweet families.

I was also able to be on a friend's podcast recently. I met Sarah Bragg at

Allume

last October. I saw her walking up to my table and thought, "Gosh, she's so cute!" She just sat right down, introduced herself to me, and it felt as if we had been friends for years. She is an amazing mom, beautiful writer, and home girl knows how to dress! She has written a book for middle school girls, and has spoken all over the country. After talking with her, I knew her heart beats for the Kingdom. And that is exactly the kind of friends I want to have!

God called her that weekend to start a podcast. And she's one of those people that decides to do something, and just does it! Her podcast is amazing! I get so excited every Tuesday, because I know her next episode will be sitting in my inbox. You need to go to ITunes, search for her podcast, Surviving Sarah, and then subscribe! Follow along on her blog too! I promise you won't regret it!

I was so honored when she asked me to join her for Episode 14. We talked about everything from our love of coffee, to books I'm reading, and the hard that has filled my last few months with our sweet boy. I shared our whole journey through infertility and the sweet moment I held Selah for the first time. So if you're new around here, it will be a great way for you to get caught up with our little story. But also, how awesome is it to hear someone's voice?! Even though when people call me on the phone, they ask to speak to my mom. Wow. Anyways...

You can listen in to our conversation here:

http://www.survivingsarah.com/blog/episode-14-jessica-satter

I'm breathing in His beauty today.The sun is shining over here, friends! And if it isn't where you are, He is still working in your waiting, and making beauty from all of those ashes! So lift your face, sweet girl!

All my love,

Jessica

One Day

"O Lord, my God, I cried to you for help, and you have healed me."

Psalm 30:2

I was sitting criss-crossed on top of the doctor table. It's not a beach trip unless you make a trip to Urgent Care. Can I get an, "Amen?"

Honestly, I was admiring my tan. I'm fair skinned, so it takes a lot of work to get a tan. At first, you need one good tan-burn, as I like to call it, then you're golden. I was proud of the Essie nail color I picked. The coral against my tan toes just looked like summer. Then, I started feeling so proud that I found time to paint them. The white paper was crinkling under me every time I moved. It's so annoying. And I was sweating, so it was sticking to my legs. Ugh...

They couldn't have chosen worse music to play in the room while I was waiting. If I didn't feel so bad, I would've climbed on top of the counter and changed the station. Brandon gets so embarrassed of me sometimes, when thoughts like that pass through my head. Luckily, he wasn't there.

I've never had a UTI before, but I knew that's what it was. Apparently if you don't get those things treated pretty fast, they ruin your beach trip. I debated for two days whether I should go. Good thing I did.

*******

So God has been teaching me much about healing lately. And I'm not quite sure why, because none of my prayers for healing have been answered.

But I'm learning with Him, it's about the process. Not the end. I think the healing happens some time along the way.

Micah is still only

eating

two ounces. And that's a good feeding. He's not tongue tied. Believe me, I've had three different doctors check. He's on a different reflux medicine now. A different formula. Different bottles. We literally have tried it all after the hospital visit. We're getting all the therapy a kid can get. It seems to make him much happier after feedings and in between. But every three hours, I fight that kid to eat.

I swaddle him, put him on his belly over my arm and sway him side to side. The OT said this stimulates his nervous system and allows him to calm down. Oh, and I have to pat his back when I do that. Once we sway for fifteen minutes, then I take the "therapy paci" and orally stimulate his gums. This is supposed to prepare him for the bottle. Once he is orally stimulated, I turn on the sound machine, because any noise distracts him, and makes him loose his suck. You can imagine how challenging this is with an 18 month old sister. I sit with my knees up, turn him on his side, support both his cheek and chin with one hand while the other hand holds the back of his head and pray. PRAY. The entire feeding. Not out loud of course. Too distracting.

This happens EVERY three hours.

Every three hours, I pray for God to heal him. And you'd think I won the lottery when we finish with an empty bottle. Everyone in our house screams and claps and talks in a happy baby voice to him!

It's not really, but kinda really funny. Can you believe I was actually worried that God wouldn't teach me as much with Micah as He did with Selah? When we found out about Micah, I thought back to all God taught me through

Selah's adoption

. He moved mountains to get this girl into our family. Then we got a phone call in September about Micah. Just one phone call. He literally fell into our laps.

His name

means, "Gift from God." Because that is exactly what he is.

Boy, did He show me. I needed Him throughout Selah's adoption because it was new and scary and hopeless at times. I literally need Him every three hours with Micah. Sometimes, before a feeding, I text my family and friends and ask them to pray for us. Yall. It's hard.

But, I am trusting and resting in God's healing for Micah. One day, he'll suck bottles down better than the best eatin' baby in the world. One day, instead of little bird legs, we're going to be squishing his little rolls. And I told God last night, those rolls will be visible evidence of His faithfulness.

One day.

*******

I just knew when the doctor walked in she would have a surprised smile on her face. I knew she'd probably tell me that I had a UTI, but I also knew she'd tell me the impossible.

That I was pregnant.

I prepped my heart for it. The silent conversation I had with God on that crinkly paper with the terrible music was confident and full of worship. I was expecting Him to heal me. I knew He would. I wasn't overly excited because you don't get super excited about things you already know.

The door opened, and the doctor sat on her swivel stool. Told me I had a UTI, gave me prescriptions for some medicine, wrote the discharge papers, and left.

And I said, "Not this time, Lord, but one day."

It is impossible, this healing. My physical healing is absolutely impossible. It will literally be a miracle. There is no way I could get pregnant, or keep a pregnancy.

Throughout this process of heart healing that has happened along the way, I'm not

barren

anymore. He has taken all of those empty parts of my heart and filled them with Him. It has been beautiful.

There were days I couldn't make it to baby showers, and if I had to go because it was a close friend, I'd always slip out early and cry in my car. One time my mom wouldn't let me drive home until I calmed down. I would literally ache when I went to Chic-Fil-A. All the moms and their babies enjoying that fried goodness. It hurt.

That's not me anymore.

Because God is faithful, and I am now that mom. One baby on my hip, the other one on my chest. I've had two baby showers. People came to MY baby showers. I get the incredible honor of buckling babies in car seats, carrying diaper bags, wearing spit-up, and looking a little

frazzled

sometimes.

Somewhere along the way, He healed my heart. And it was long before I was every called, "mommy."

But this physical healing. As much as I want to forget about it, adopt all the orphan babies in the world, and as many times as I've tried desperately to put the flame out, hope still flickers.

That thing will not die. And I believe it's because God is trying to teach me something.

He's teaching me something about healing even though He hasn't answered my prayer.

I'm going out on a limb here, because "what if He doesn't?" I don't know. I just know that He's asked me to pray for healing. I don't know why. For the life of me, I can't figure it out. But I am. I am praying for God to do the impossible. Literally, impossible.

And I believe Him.

It's funny God has been doing all of this in my heart now for almost a year. Just this week, I read this

blog post

, and Preston Yancey killed it, "This is how we pray now. Wild. Untethered. Rushing into hope and trust that God is who God says God is."

It's scary to pray this way. Real scary. Because what if I'm wrong? What if I'm hearing Him wrong? What if He doesn't heal me? I don't know. I tell myself again, I just know that I am supposed to pray for healing.

Pray for my son's healing. Pray for my healing.

He'll do it.

We'll just wait.  

One day...

*Photo by

Rachel Ackerman Photography

*