A Story Of A Mama Who Dreamed

It had been two weeks since my husband left for what was slated to be more than a year-long deployment to Iraq.  His departure had been delayed, something that I believed must have been divine intervention – after all, I just knew deep down that this was our chance to finally get pregnant.  Everything had lined up perfectly!  And now I was two weeks late for my cycle…that never happened.  That familiar pit started stirring in my stomach as I held in my hand an item that had become the bearer of bad news, over and over, for 5 years and counting – a pregnancy test.  I was working up the courage to use it, hoping and expecting that this time would be different. Different than the other countless sticks that broke my heart all over again, month after month, year after year. In dramatic fashion, I held my breath just a little as I hovered over the stick the way we all do…

When one single drop of blood turned all my hope into utter devastation. With it, came a year -long battle over my heart towards the Lord. 

I can still see the light streaming in the bathroom window of that tiny little house in upstate NY where my heart finally gave way to hope deferred. I sobbed, I screamed, I yelled at God louder and more intentionally than I’d ever yelled before.  I was heartbroken, furious, sad beyond words, and utterly confused. How could this God who loves me, who I thought had promised us breakthrough, who I swore I heard tell me that “this would be the month,” be so cruel to let me get my hopes up with my husband’s late departure and my own late period?  In that moment, I swore I hated Him, and I announced I would no longer be speaking to Him.  I barely made my way out to the living room before I crumpled on the floor, drenched in tears and sweat from my outburst… feeling totally alone and hopeless.

Days and weeks went by in that tiny little house where I was waiting out my husband’s deployment, giving the Lord the silent treatment because I was now convinced that not only had He taken away my chance at motherhood, He would most certainly take my husband too.  I could not even pray for his safe return. For it required words I didn’t have and a hope I couldn’t muster.   I was completely shutting down, except one small act of sheer determination.

Rooted deep in my Spirit was the knowledge that I needed to stay anchored to something, anything, as I was being tossed and turned by the storm inside my soul.  I decided that although I was no longer speaking to the Lord, or journaling, or worshipping, or hoping in any way shape or form, that I needed to get His word, His truth into my heart and mind in some way.  I grabbed a brand new “90-day” Bible someone had given me recently, so as not to stumble on any of my hand written notes inside my personal Bible along the way  – those might trigger my heartbreak all over again. Consistently, I would sit down in my defiance, grief, fear, and pain and I would just read. Sometimes out loud – just to let it wash over me, in hopes it might penetrate the “protective” wall I had built up around myself.  I had become so isolated in my own “strong tower” that I needed the Lord Himself to come rescue me! But, I wasn’t speaking to Him. So this small, rote act of reading His word was my desperate S.O.S. 

One day, after peeling myself off the couch, where I had wasted many long hours in the fetal position, I sat at the table with that same Bible reading through something  just as dreary as my mood when the Lord broke through… “Jen, Do you believe that I am good?”  I perked up a little at the familiar sound of His voice, but I also froze – the way someone does when their caught sneaking out of the house, or sneaking a midnight snack, when all around is quiet. I knew it was Him, but it had been so quiet for so long, I wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Do you believe that I am good?  If your circumstances never change… If you never get pregnant, and if your husband does not return from war – will you still believe that I am good?”

Woah. I hesitated for a brief moment and then uttered one very raw, honest response – “No.”

In that moment – in the culmination of years of infertility, hope deferred, and now another year-long pause on my dream with no guarantee that my husband, the future father of the child I could only dream of, would even return – I did not believe that God was good. And I answered honestly.

However, my Spirit spoke up right after that and I thought to myself, “The Word in front of me says He is good. Always good. I don’t believe it because my experience has felt otherwise.  But I believe what the Bible says about Him, so I must be wrong.”  

And then I said out loud, “Lord, help me to wrestle with this until I can say confidently that you are good.  I don’t believe it now because I haven’t experienced you to be good. But I know it’s true because your Word says you are. Please help my thoughts come into alignment with your Word – please change my perspective so that I can answer your question with an honest, Yes!”

And there began one of the most important journeys I’ve ever taken. It took months for me to surrender the pain and the disappointment for the peace that truly transcended any circumstances that stared me in the face.  Nothing about my life had changed – I still wasn’t pregnant, and my husband was still deployed… but I was determined, like Jacob on that ladder, to fight like hell for a different way of seeing things. My view of the Lord’s goodness could absolutely NOT depend on my circumstances.  My feelings and experiences could no longer dictate what I believed to be true about God. He either is good, or He is not. 

There really is something to be gained from fighting for our perspectives to be anchored in the truth of His word.  It has become part of my life’s message to share with others the importance of allowing the Holy Spirit to guide us into all truth, until our entire being- mind, body, and spirit – can answer a resounding YES! 

So, I say to you today, dear Mama who is dreaming, ask yourself if you truly believe that God is good.  If your circumstances never change, and your dream may not ever be realized, can you know and trust and declare that He is good, regardless of the answers to your prayers?  This is a question you MUST know the answer to, and if it is doesn’t align with the truth of His word and His character, you’ve got some wrestling to do! Don’t worry – He will be so faithful to meet you in your wrestling. I promise. Just like Mr. Beaver said to Lucy in Narnia…”safe?…who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.” 

He is good, indeed.

And if you’re wondering how my story continues to unfold – let me leave you with this summary filled with hope.  Thank God, my husband did make it safely home from war (not all husbands do), and eventually, in year 7 of our waiting, I gave birth to our miracle babies – twin girls! (That is a story for another day) The most beautiful part of it all though, is not only was I already settled on His goodness before those prayers were ever answered…I carry with me today the confidence of the lessons I learned in that season of wrestling.  

I can tell you with absolute certainty, that had I not done the hard work of answering the Lord’s question of me during that year of deployment, I would not have been able to walk through what was yet to come.  I desperately needed to know, deep down in my bones, that God is good so I would never doubt it again –  and I can truly say, I have never doubted again. Even when my husband came back from his second deployment with a debilitating illness we are still fighting 8 years later.  Knowing the answer to that simple, yet profound question the Lord so gently asked me in that tiny little house in upstate NY, not only carried me through what we have called our family’s “darkest hour,” it paved the way for breakthrough into the life-changing revelation of His joy. And His Joy has indeed become my strength!  I can’t always say this life with the Lord has been easy – but it has most certainly been worth it, especially in the waiting! 

Love,

Jen