I knew I was going to take the test last night, I waited all week for it. It was stupid to get my hopes up. Our first went to live with Jesus last year. Now each failure stabs a little deeper. I hate being disappointed so I usually try not to hope too much. But this time, for whatever reason, I really thought I’d be pregnant.
I find out that someone, who struggled with the same affliction, is pregnant. My mild mannered demeanor is shattered at this news. Jealousy overcomes and I’m an ugly monstrous version of myself. The mention of her name is normally enough to set my jaw and fix my gaze. And now she has a baby. And I remain barren.
I know the grudge I hold against her cannot continue. I’ve known this for some time. “I’ll get to it Lord,” I falsely promise. “…but shouldn’t I get to a place of greater faith first?” I’m not ready to face my hatred for her and what she has done and what pain her presence in my life brings. He tells me it’s already happening, and that I have all I need in the way of weaponry.
But this, Lord? Her? This is too much.
My desire for children doesn’t come from a place of fear. Truth be told, I just want to nurture and teach, model godliness and grace, read mom blogs without feeling like a fraud. I want this more than anything. God knows. He also knows my heart isn’t ready.
Forgiveness is difficult enough even without jealousy to muddy the waters. I am Jonah pouting under a withered leaf and wiping the sweat from my furrowed brow. Arms crossed, I can see Ninevah’s salvation in the distance. While she praises you, my heart is stone.
What a strange thing it must seem to You, to see one of your creatures who at once understands and doesn’t understand. She gets my most cherished wish and I get a lesson. My head defiantly turns to the side. No. You are faithful, merciful, ever patient and too loving to comprehend. And you gave her a baby and not me. I want to scream at your throne. But I know You.
I do not require evidence. I do not struggle with the big questions of faith and doctrine. No, it takes something much simpler to trip me up: Your “no” to my deepest desire. It makes me wonder about all the other things that have come so easily. Others would call me blessed beyond measure, but my imperfect focus both sharpens and skews my will. And yet you say I already have the control.
How is it that I am overflowing with desire to show my child how to follow You when in the waiting place I won’t even try?
He’s showing me the lens dial. It moves from pointed focus to wide angle. If only I could see the rest of the picture I would know what he knows. For now, all he can do is discipline in love because I want but can’t have a child to discipline in love. Now it is your humor that is too much.
Dear Jesus, forgive my bitter and jealous heart. You have dominion over every storm and every blessing. Let me always cling to the promise that you have a hope and future for me, even when I can’t see it – I will believe that you are good.
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