The Hardest "Yes"

I know two women who have walked this road. Never suspecting the journey on which they would embark, they dreamed and planned. They met their loves, looking forward together to their families, their homes. 

But for these women the years passed by. Neighbors and friends excitedly announced their news, brought home bundles of joy, settled into dreams and plans and cozy homes. They endured the shame of desolation, the despair of lifeless cycles spinning and phasing as if abandoned in "autopilot." They hoped, only to lose. They lost and wept and grieved. 

All around them children multiplied. Lives changed, names were claimed, apathy grew. They were expected at showers, homecomings. People watched, knowing, but not speaking. Everyone dreams of what their children might look like; an agency told one of the women to erase her mental picture, throw it away forever. 

For these women the years passed by. One woman adopted children, the other remained childless. 

Her face creased with years and eyes exhausted by hope, one said to me, "I always wanted to have children; I thought maybe one day I would. But if God says, 'No,' what are you going to do?"

Tears from a deep-rooted well flooded her voice. In the hollows of my own heart her words echoed, "if God says, 'No,' what are you going to do?" 

If I believe that God is in control of all things, and if I believe that His ways are best, I respond "yes" {and "amen"}. I agree with what He brings about, based on my convictions about His sovereignty and His goodness. I agree with what He brings about, believing that He has a plan orchestrated with loving mercy. When I get my big break, a new car, a new friend, food to eat and He asks, "Do you agree with what I've done? Do you agree this is good?"it's easy to say "yes!" {and "amen"}. But when I lose my job, get sick, watch loved ones die, when every living thing gets pregnant except for me and He asks, "Do you agree with what I've done? Do you agree this is good?"... ... ...it's hard to say "yes" {or "amen"}. 

The hardest "yes" is the one uttered by these two women. It is the "yes" birthed from self-denial, Christ-like humility. It agrees and submits, lays down its own dreams, accepts the unknown path. The hardest "yes" can't be concerned with the painful events that are yet to come, it is concerned only with obedience and confidence that somehow this is best. "Will you give me your dreams of childbearing? Will you agree that this is good?" 

Neither adoption nor "elective" childlessness ended their journey. Their hearts still ask, "why?" Their bodies cycle and spin until the clock battery dies. Neighbors and friends still excitedly announce their news and bring home bundles of joy. They are still expected at showers and homecomings. Never will they have a birth story to share. Never will they forget the ache of isolation, the throbbing eyes after falling asleep in tears. 

Whether or not these women feel it, we can be sure God heard their "yes"--the hardest one-- with special clarity. These women, like Jesus, nearly "died of sorrow" petitioning the Father to remove the cup. These women, like Jesus, wept with faces in the ground and said, "nevertheless, not what I will [what I desire], but as You will and desire." 

To these women, the Lord says:

1Sing, O barren one, you who did not bear; break forth into singing and cry aloud, you who did not travail with child! For the [spiritual] children of the desolate one will be more than the children of the married wife, says the Lord.

 ⁴Fear not, for you shall not be ashamed; neither be confounded and depressed, for you shall not be put to shame. For you shall forget the shame of your youth, and you shall not [seriously] remember the reproach of your widowhood any more.

6For the Lord has called you like a woman forsaken, grieved in spirit, and heartsore—even a wife [wooed and won] in youth, when she is [later] refused and scorned, says your God.

10For though the mountains should depart and the hills be shaken or removed, yet My love and kindness shall not depart from you, nor shall My covenant of peace and completeness be removed, says the Lord, Who has compassion on you.

Isaiah 54 (AMP)

Parenthood will not end this journey, but our loving Father gives us rest. The transition from "infertile" to "parent" is not the easy joy of one whose path was different, smooth. Neither the body nor the mind forgets wounds so deep. The heart is forever bent low singing, "not what I will but as You will;" and yet the melody is foreign to most. The barren womb longs for redemption, for a perfect eternity where disfunction ceases to divide and fruit of the Spirit unifies. The broken heart hungers for new dreams and protection. A mothering instinct presses, even in the childless. And yet, He asks us to sing. He invites us to see the fruit and taste the promises. 

The Lord is supreme in wisdom and unfailing in love. He goes before us and prepares what we cannot fathom. His ways are not our ways, but they are good and perfect. His knowledge is too great to comprehend, but He works for the good of those who love Him.