Counting the Stars: An Essay from a Barren Woman
Preface
While this is our story – the story of how God is teaching,
leading and sanctifying our family – I do realize that it is not everyone’s
story. God knows what each family needs
and He is perfect in His ways of maturing and building each one. For some that is a quiver full of “surprise”
babies or planned ones, adopted ones or fostered ones. Some are given many. Others a few.
And for some, He withholds that particular blessing. He works with each woman – each mother – not
only for her good but for His glory.
I also know that even others who have my physical issues
have chosen other options. But, again –
this is just where we are – what God has led my husband and I to prayerfully decide. And we trust that it is for our good and for
God’s glory.
How God has led you in these realms of “family” has been
your story of Him working all things together.
This is just ours.
And Now... The Story
A young me lined up her dolls alongside her stuffed
animals. These were her eight
children. They all had names that
started with the letter D. Damian,
Donovan, Dianna, etc… She had written
down descriptions of each child. What
they liked to do, their strengths and weaknesses, age… She kept that list in her head and would
compose it often. Watching them mature
from year to year.
Yes. Weird.
I know.
She had planned, too, of course before Damian was born, how
she would tell her husband she was expecting.
She would say, “I’d like you to meet someone.” Her nameless husband would answer, “Who?” And she would go on to share the good news…
She also dreamed about being with her husband at her OB/GYN
looking at that first sonogram.
Yes. I do realize that we just keep getting
weirder.
So, you see why, at the age of 38, with my husband with me
at the OB/GYN – his first peek at the sonogram was all wrong. All wrong.
There was no baby. We weren’t
even there for that. We were trying to
figure out where the pain was coming from.
And how to fix it.
And the answer would be: hysterectomy.
I knew for a couple of reasons I would not be able to have
children. But there was always a hope in
the back of my heart. There was always
the whispered idea that God could do a miracle.
And even though I know God created the heavens and earth, the chances of
a miracle are now going to be less. Way
less without a uterus.
I have always loved the stories of Elizabeth and Sarah in
the Bible. Women who against all odds
had babies. But, now I look at them with
one squinted eye. Surely they still had
their uteri.
In the last couple of years, waves of contentment have poured
over me in this area. Most of the time I’m
fine with my bareness. Most of the
time. And then I think about what an amazing dad my
husband would be – and how my parents would make the best grandparents… and
then I get sad.
I was sad coming home from the second doctor. A little bitter with God. A little angry at everybody and
everything. A lot hurt. So, I opened my Bible and asked God to meet
me somewhere. I sat in the steaming bath
and read aloud from Isaiah with a quivering voice. I started right in the middle. Chapter 40.
And God waved His graciousness and comfort around me and
wooed me with His stars.
Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens:
Who created all these?
He who brings out the starry host one by one
and calls forth each of them by name.
Because of his great power and mighty strength,
not one of them is missing.
And no one is missing.
No little child is missing from our family. If God wanted to call forth a baby, He
would. If He wanted to drop one on our
doorstep, He would. If He wanted our
family to be made up of 3 instead of 2, or 10 instead of 2, He would.
But He has chosen for us to be 2. At least for now.
On the opposite page of my Bible, I find this verse.
Surely it was for my benefit
that I suffered such anguish.
And although, my anguish doesn't cling to my soul – I have
to trust that my barrenness is for my benefit.
Today I believe this. Otherwise,
I wouldn't be able to write this. But, I
know that there will be moments when I won’t.
And for those times I ask, “Oh, Lord – help me overcome my unbelief.”
And I know He will be faithful.
Even now. My husband (who even though I had told him all this, didn't know I was writing about the stars right at this minute) just came over to show me a new app on his phone – one that identifies the
stars as you point to the night sky. See,
God’s already growing me to trust His goodness, His tenderness. Confirming His love.
Not one star is missing.
Before I was married at the age of 36, I hung on to Isaiah 54:5. “For your Maker is your husband-the LORD
Almighty is His name.
That chapter begins as a song to barren women. Stretch
out your tents, it tells me. Spread out to the right and to the left.
Three hundred and twelve children I have in Haiti. Who are now growing up to change their homes
and change the world for the glory of God.
One hundred and six will I have with me this week – one hundred and six
who have been left behind by society and need hugs and wisdom and the patience
of a mama that is not based on what they
can do or how they perform. I have eighteen at church who love Jesus and
the good news He has for us. I have four
nephews and a niece whose hearts are nestled so deeply in mine. And I have four littles who come every
Thursday night to build a nest in my home.
I love them . I know
each to varying degrees… and have varying opportunities to speak the gospel
into their hearts. And so I ask that God
will stretch out my tent… that my heart, my home, my life, will be a refuge where
they feel safe. Where they know God’s
faithfulness and holiness is real.
When I gaze into the heavens… Psalm 8 asks… and see the
stars… how is it that God cares for me?
How is it that He sees my empty arms and fills it with so many people to
love? How is it that He who calls the
stars by name even knows mine?
When the wave of sadness - the grief of my barrenness - comes over me,
you will find me outside, counting the stars.
And I promise you this: not one of those stars will be missing.
Comments
Hugs!
Summie