Not my testimony

Let me start by admitting that I’ve never given a testimony.  In fact, it’s almost humorous how in each of the small groups I’ve been in, there was always some scheduling issue that prevented me from getting to my story during testimony times…so why start now?  I dislike labels anyway…all this is is a little picture of how God has and continues to work in my life.  I hope you hear my heart beyond just whatever details I share, and that you can see God’s hand throughout. 

We started going to church when I was in elementary school, and I was baptized when I was 13.  However, I had no idea of what I was really committing my life to and I pretty much turned my back on God over the next several years. 

It wasn’t until I was married that I began to understand the magnitude of grace I’d been afforded and I began to embrace a real relationship with God. 

It wasn’t until I had Makayla 5.5 years ago that I began to grasp the unconditional love He offers. 

It wasn’t until I had Annabelle 3.5 years ago, and experienced the torment of her illness and death that I could glimpse the magnitude of His sacrifice. 

It wasn’t until we closed the door on the risk of passing on our genetics again and embraced the idea of adoption that I recognized just how little control I actually had.

And it wasn’t until walking through embryo adoption and welcoming Corinth into our family 1.5 years ago that I began to see just how little I actually trusted God.

But God is far more than a crisis manager.  I could go on about how He held us through the darkness- and continues to – because I can’t explain why else I’m here.  I certainly can’t skip over how death and adoption have changed my life and perspective of God forever, but I’m not going to stay there either, because then it might come across as a just a story about a time…something unrelatable.  Instead, I want to focus on what He’s doing right now. 

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A couple weeks ago, I saw a cheesy meme that said “Until God opens the next door, praise Him in the hallway.”  I usually don’t pay any attention to memes unless they’re funny, but those words stuck in my head and echoed over the next several days.  I hate to admit that God spoke to me through a meme, but I was convicted. 

So often, I find myself striving for the next thing, forgetting that so much of life is really just a hallway.   In this realization, God filled me with such a sense of grace that my life – however mundane the details, is valuable.  Today, in spite of what I may be longing for, is worth as much as tomorrow.

So let me back up and tell you a bit about how I got here.

After Makayla was born, I felt a tangible understanding of God’s love that I’d never experienced before.  Soon, we were eager to have the next baby – it was a natural progression for us.  We knew what to expect and we were so eager to bring home a sister for Makayla.  We had a moment of perfection.  But when we got Annabelle’s diagnosis of Spinal Muscular Atrophy just 6 days after she was born, we were shattered.  We brought her home and made the best life we could for her.  But so many moments, I felt I was already grieving her, already mourning all the life she wouldn’t live.  Death had taken the joy from the expectation of what would come next.  We got 2 months and 8 days with her.

We were driven to make our next decisions, not because we were excited to open the next door, but because it was dark and scary in the hallway.  That is by no means to diminish how God showed us mercy in the miracle of embryo adoption.  There was so much beauty in it.  But, looking back, I have to acknowledge how much more we had to learn.

He did bless us abundantly.  And He did cover us with His grace.  And He continues to hold me as I work through my grief.  But eventually, Corinth was in my arms, and the anticipation of another child was gone. And there I was in the hallway again.

 

It is sad for me to admit that there was another period of darkness.  I wish I could say that Corinth’s birth made everything right again.  But not only is that untrue, it would diminish Annabelle’s value and take away from the huge work God was doing in me.  But I had to do some work too, and I was blessed with a great therapist, and eventually my heart began to soften again and I could see that the hallway, however long and dark, wasn’t empty or purposeless.

I’m still in it; but the difference this time is I’m not desperately grasping for control or a sign that He’s with me.  I can feel Him here in moments were I’m at peace even when I shouldn’t be (what can I say, I’m a fear-driven, anxiety-ridden worrier when I’m the one in control, so if you see something different, that’s His Spirit at work in me). 

Let me be clear.  I didn’t have an epiphany.  I didn’t get on my knees and beg God for His peace like I should have a million times.  It took quite a long time, but I finally reached a place where I was able to notice Him standing with me.  What a precious gift is His quiet presence.  He gave me words when I didn’t have them, He prompted me to encourage others where I felt weakest, He gave me pause when I wanted to strive for the next thing.  In His unfailing mercy, He reached out because I was too busy spinning my own wheels to notice Him on my own. 

I know the analogy of the hallway breaks down pretty quickly, because who really wants to hang out in there – but life isn’t just a series of “what’s nexts.”  Rushing from one place to the next, I’m likely to miss the quiet moments that are meant to help me focus, to slow down, and to hear where God actually wants me to go.  It stops me from taking a moment to feel God’s presence, remember that He’s the one in control, and experience His joy in making a step forward.

Hallways come in all shapes and sizes…and I wanted to share some other hallways I have found myself in.

-        There’s the “in-between” jeans – or maybe even still maternity jeans because...whatever.  But in moments of trust, I can trade my mom-bod shame sometimes for acceptance and sometimes for motivation.  Even if they don’t change my actual size.

-       There’s the 6pm crazies where frustration can actually give way to excitement as we anticipate Daddy’s arrival home…
There’s the 17^th time Corey’s gotten out of bed in the last 30 minutes where exacerbation threatens my sanity because I just want to sit down…but, when I take a moment, God is there to give me patience when my reserves are empty.  To see that sweet face peaking around the corner because he just wants another hug.  To sing him another song.  To watch him run back to his bed, doggie in tow, because he really doesn’t want a spank…

-        There’s the waiting for the next baby.  Where only God can take your despair as you weep into His arms.  
The doors don’t always open.  Sometimes you stay in the hallway.  But He is always in it with you and He is always good.

It’s probably no coincidence that we have family photos in our hallway.  They do tell some of the story of our family, but we can’t ever have a photo with our whole family together.  Still, I can pause there and praise God for taking the time to make His presence known and remind me that when I stop focusing on the dissatisfaction of where I am now, I can bring Him glory, even in the hallway.