I bought these ornaments a few months ago, hoping that this was the year.
That I could wrap them up and give them to my husband and mom, and when they would unwrap them, they would be unwrapping a miracle. The one we’ve been praying now for eight years. I know healing is my inheritance because of Jesus. He paid such a high price for me to be healed. I know more than ever that truth, and that we will see that healing manifest.
I was just really wanting it to be this year.
I glanced down at my shoes when the conversation changed to pregnancy.
I reached over and wrapped my arm around Selah, hugging the very manifestation to a promise. Reminding myself of His faithfulness once before through her story, choosing hope. Again. Knowing that He is man true to His word, what He has promised He will do. That one day, it will be me sharing about a miracle pregnancy.
Baby showers still sting. Really bad. And that annoys me.
Because so much healing has happened in my heart. All of these years have passed, us still waiting on this miracle, and my heart looks very different from when we began this journey. I know Him more than I ever have before. He is more to me the Gift, the promise, the blessing, than ever. It’s Him I want.
I walked home from dropping our new little family member off at the bus stop this morning with my jacket wrapped tight around me. The days are getting shorter and the sun tags the moon much quicker than what we’d like. The flowers that were vibrant and full of life only a few months ago are losing their color and becoming tired. The leaves on the trees are holding onto the very last bit of green before they surrender to the colors of Fall.
Summer is slowly slipping away and Fall is riding in on the breeze.
I found myself whispering, “Thank you, Father,” for the very simplicity of the seasons changing this morning. His faithfulness is as steady and sure as the rising of the dawn. I am confident of His coming to me just as the sure signs of the Fall. There is great comfort in knowing that seasons end and a new one begins.
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.
I am incredibly honored to share with you one of my dearest friends, Hayley. She’s a powerhouse packed into a tiny frame, yet has one of the most tender hearts for the Lord that I’ve ever seen. I get the incredible privilege of having her speak into my life almost daily. She’s part of “my tribe” and our families do life together in community. She has walked beside me so gracefully in my waiting, and has encouraged me to go deeper into the heart of the Father. I know her words will speak to deep places in your heart, as they have to mine.