And it seems that God wanted to teach and attest that the begetting of children is wonderfully pleasing to Him, in order that we might realize that He upholds and defends His Word when He says: “Be fruitful.” He is not hostile to children, as we are. Many of us do not seek to have offspring. But God emphasizes His Word to such an extent that He sometimes gives offspring even to those who do not desire it, yes, even hate it. Occasionally, of course, He does not give it to some who earnestly desire it. It is His purpose to test them. And, what is more, He seems to emphasize procreation to such an extent that children are born even to adulterers and fornicators contrary to their wish. How great, therefore, the wickedness of human nature is! How many girls there are who prevent conception and kill and expel tender fetuses, although procreation is the work of God! (Luther, 304)*

I don’t know why God tests us in our barrenness, but the mystery of God’s wisdom comforts me as much as it confounds me. We can rest in the knowledge that God loves the begetting of children enough to give the gift of them abundantly, even when He does not give them to us.

* Pelikan, Jaroslav, and Walter A. Hansen, eds. Luther’s Works. Vol. 4. St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1964.

“I am sorry I have not given you any children,” I whispered. My own tears dripped down my chin.

My husband cocked his head to the side, slightly surprised. He smiled sweetly, knowingly at me.

“It is the Lord who gives children,” he said.

Oh, yes. That’s right. The dawn of realization warmed me.

Even I need a good reminder now and then.

He sits at the bedside of his world-weary children and leads them beside still waters. He walks with them through the valley of the shadow of death and sings to them Simeon’s Song. He restores their souls in the reading of God’s Word.

My husband is a faithful father in the Church.

He baptizes and teaches his parishioner children. He catechizes, comforts, consoles, and counsels them with all fatherly affection. He speaks the unpopular Word to them for their eternal benefit, slaying straying hearts with the Law and resuscitating the repentant with the Gospel breath of God, Christ’s blessed work of atonement on the cross for them.

My husband is a warrior father in the marketplace.

He picks up the banner of life and waves it before his neighbor. He wears a precious feet pin on his lapel to remind himself and others of the children destroyed every minute of every day through abortion. He defends the rights of the least of these, entreating parents not to abandon their children to be frozen in fertility clinics. He gives his time, talents, and treasures to those who have none and opens his heart and home to the fatherless.

My husband is a devoted father to our nieces, nephews, and godchildren.

He patiently endures guerrilla attacks of tiny, would-be wrestlers. He reads pink-and-purple books about fairies and princesses to sleepy, little dreamers. He stands guard next to half-pints in hospital beds awaiting their turn in the operating room. He jumps off two-story pontoon boats into smelly, murky lake water for the entertainment of squealing, human fish, and he daily remembers those fish in prayer.

My husband is childless, but he is a remarkable father.

Happy Father’s Day, Michael! xo

Yep. That’s right. Our very own Rebecca.

Well done, Mrs. Mayes!

“Katie, I think your book applies to more than just barrenness.”

“Yes,” I said, “I think so, too. You can replace the word barren with almost any type of suffering, and the same message of Christ’s comfort applies.”

“I just had no idea about all of this. I’m letting a friend of mine borrow the book. She had two miscarriages when she was younger.”

This is not the first time my book has made the rounds in an assisted living facility, and I love it.

“Now,” my friend stumbled a bit on the next words, “I do not mean to get too personal, but…”

“Go ahead. You can say anything to me.”

“Yes, okay. Well, have you heard of a procedure called ‘blowing out your tubes’?”

Oh, how I covered my mouth!

“A friend of mine had that done,” she continued, “and it worked.”

I was still holding my mouth to keep rude noises from escaping. After a deep, calming breath, I risked exposure and lifted my hand. “Yes, I have heard of that. My doctor said my tubes are all clear. No blowing out is required.”

“Oh, well, good.” She hesitated. I pictured her practicing saying certain words out loud in her head before attempting a launch. “Now, there is also a cough syrup you can take that will lubricate your sexual organs. You know when you go to the bathroom and…”

And I will spare you the rest of the sordid details, but, let me tell you, I had to hold the riotous giggles in my mouth with my hand for the rest of the conversation.

I know these four stages of grief very well. They have been my acerbic companions these past eleven years. They lace my morning cup of tea with salt; they lengthen my showers and slow my stride; they chap my cheeks and etch my crows’ feet deeper into my skin; they gag and loose and befoul my tongue; they terrorize my affections, blitzkrieg my hopes, and make a ground zero of my expectations; they tax my strongest relationships and spoil my family reunions; they even follow me to church and laugh at my Faith.

Yet, every few months, my grief cools its stinging heels in the fifth, epsom-salt of stages: acceptance.

Acceptance, that clairvoyant mirror which reflects my reality in 3-D.

I look in that mirror and see an empty quiver. A fruitless tree. A childless crib. An heirless family.

I see a barren woman.

I see the truth, and I don’t like it. I really don’t like it.

But, I don’t ignore it. I don’t fight it. I don’t haggle over it. I don’t wear it as a millstone around my neck.

I simply live with it.

That is, until a grief alumnus comes knocking on my door to pour me another one of those briny cups of tea.

O Lord, Father of all mercy and God of all comfort, You always go before and follow after us. Grant that we may rejoice in Your gracious presence and continually be given to all good works; through Jesus Christ, Your Son, our Lord, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

(Collect of the Day for Proper 6C from Lutheran Service Book, copyright Concordia Publishing House)

Thank you to Rev. Randy Asburry and the His Time Morning Show of KFUO for highlighting this topic!

But, here’s what I do know. Our desire to be mothers is good and right and God-given, so we don’t need to be afraid to be mothers today even without children of our own.

Be a mother of mothers and pray for your friends and family with children. Invite them all over for dinner, make that decadent trifle for dessert, and set a bucket of water balloons out in your front yard for a little impromptu playtime. Give those hard-working moms a break and watch their children while you send them off to the spa for an afternoon. Stick some grocery cards in their purses, accompany them on school field trips, and listen to what they have to say about life and mothering and everything in between.

Be a mother to the fatherless. Donate your time and talents to your local crisis pregnancy center, advocate for the rights of frozen embryos, speak honestly and openly about the effects of abortion on children, women, men, and our communities, raise money for adoption grants and orphanages, and hold the hands of teen mothers during ultrasounds.

Be a mother to the children in your church. Teach Sunday school, lead the children’s choir, make punch for VBS, sew quiet books and baptismal banners for the youngest saints, serve as godparents, chaperone a youth trip, and sit with frazzled parents who would like help wrangling their children during the sermon.

Be a mother to the elderly. Pick up sticks in their yards after a storm, give them rides to Walgreens, check out books for them from the library, weed their flower beds, sit with them and listen to their stories about the past, play the piano for them at your local nursing facility, and help alert your pastor as to when they require pastoral care.

Be a mother to a soldier. Write letters to him, send him Twizzlers, crochet him scarves, and pray for him every day. Make sure his family has plenty of money to pay their bills. Take his children to Chuck E. Cheese’s. Offer childcare once a week so his wife can run necessary errands. Attend his children’s sporting events and school concerts.

Be a mother to your pastor. Pray for him, speak well of him, defend him, and encourage him at every opportunity. Bring him produce from your garden, fill his freezer with beef from your pasture, and bake him an apple pie. Volunteer in whatever way you can at church and make sure his shoes never have holes in them. Serve on the altar guild and set the table for the Lord’s Supper every Sunday. Water the flowers on the altar and care for the vestments and paraments in the sacristy. Go to church and receive from him the gifts of Christ.

Be a mother to the dying and sit at their bedsides. Read to them the Psalms, confess to them the Apostles Creed, and sing into their ears those precious words of light and life which can be found in your hymnal.

I know you want to be a mother. Go ahead. Be a mother wherever you are, just as you are, to the children and people God has put in your life today.

Do you crave fellowship with other women who understand what it’s like to be childless or to lose a child? Do you have ethical questions about infertility medicine you’d like to ask a pro-life doctor? Would you enjoy eating decadent desserts prepared by a loving pastor and his wife who just want to spoil you rotten? Do you need a retreat in a beautiful house near a scenic park in historic St. Louis?

Then, you might want to join us this summer for the The Great Getaway on Friday, July 26th through Sunday, July 28th. Retreat details and registration information can be found here.

10. Exercise is a heartening (pun intended) alternative to grieving.

9. Endurance sports are good training for enduring chronic physical pain.

8. Running helps you go all jedi on the havoc wreaked by Darth Lupron.

7. Swimming laps is a great time for running hymn lyrics.

6. Riding a bike through the country affords you views such as this one.

5. Endorphins and dopamine, the natural kind.

4. You won’t be the only one wearing a wetsuit to the party.

3. You can train with your siblings and cousins and make race day a family reunion.

2. You get a really cool swim cap (and a really ugly T-shirt).

1. There is bacon at the finish line.