Month: October 2011

Being Infertile

I get frustrated with the word infertile.

What do you think of when you hear that word? I think of faulty reproductive organs, doctors, syringes, ovulation, hospital gowns, sperm counts, hormones, petri dishes, and all kinds of medicine. Do you know what I rarely think of when I hear the word infertile? I rarely think of God.

That is why I prefer to call myself barren. I know that it sounds harsh, maybe even old to our twenty-first century ears, but barren conjures up Biblical images in my mind. It acknowledges that I have a Creator who opens and closes wombs. It affirms that my childlessness is a divinely-allowed state of being rather than a man-made diagnosis of a medical mystery.

I also think the word barren better represents the medical reality of childlessness. Not every woman who is without child is necessarily infertile. Barren means “not productive; desolate; fruitless; lacking.” There are many women in the body of Christ who are barren simply because they have not been given the gift of a husband – the unmarried and the widowed – and their childlessness has nothing to do with infertility. There are also married women who, much to the bewilderment of their doctors, simply never conceive.

If someone calls me infertile, I remember that I am the patient of a limited, human doctor who can only give me a child 33% of the time. If someone calls me barren, however, I remember that I am the child of a merciful, loving God who gives many good gifts, not just the gift of children.

Language is important, don’t you think?

Reconciling with Death

Many of you know the pain of losing a child. I hope you find Christ’s comfort in Pastor Bo Giertz’s devotional writing for the Sixteenth Sunday after Trinity (taken from  To Live with Christ: Daily Devotions by Bo Giertz):

I say to you, arise. Luke 7:14

Death is our enemy and keeps us in bondage. That’s the realistic, Christian view of death. Death is not natural or something we can befriend. Deep in our nature there’s a very real feeling that death for us is something frightening, something that shouldn’t be allowed to happen. We weren’t meant to die. Death is a sign that a catastrophe has happened, that life has become something it never should have become. It’s both sound and correct to be afraid of death and experience it as an adversary, the destroyer, the foe.

The funeral procession that is coming through the city gates in Nain shows us how agonized we are by death, our foe. The sorrow here is as desperate as it can be. There’s a young man dead. Behind the bier is a widow who’s lost everything, even her livelihood and security in the community. Since the funeral must take place the same day, she’s had only a few hours before they shovel the dirt into the grave to ponder the most precious thing she had.

Then Jesus comes. What He does is what He always does when performing a miracle – preaches and gives us a lecture, a promise to all of us. He shows us that our enemy, death, has met his match. He shows us that there’s a possibility, just one possibility, to escape the power of death. He says the same thing in deeds that He later says in words: He is the resurrection and the life, and that he who believes in Him will never see death. Exactly what He said here in Nain – “I say to you, arise” – He has the power to say to all of us at our graves. And He will.

Being a friend of death can mean resigning and surrendering, trying to accept the inevitable – we all have to die. Then we’ve renounced something that’s the hallmark of mankind. You have to try to convince yourself that you’re a fragment of matter that, in accordance with the laws of nature, will disintegrate and fall into pieces again. God, however, has put eternity into man’s mind (Ecclesiastes 3:11), and therefore it’s not so easy to wipe out the feeling that death is the destroyer. That’s not the point either. We can’t come to grips with death on our own. It becomes more and more important to become a friend of Jesus than a friend of death.

(Prayer) Without You, my Lord Jesus, death is just tremendous darkness and a huge mystery. No one can say what I’ll meet on the other side. Some people say it’s all over, but no one knows for sure, and no one can say when darkness overcomes me. I can try not to think about it, but it overwhelms me again. I see people who are younger than I go there. When is it my turn? You know when, Lord. Therefore I leave it all to You and only pray that You are also with me then. For the sake of Your faithfulness.

A Time to Laugh?

I’ve always admired people who can look at a horrible experience and see the humor in it. Take Barbara Johnson for instance, who endured not one but four tragedies in her life and yet shared her experiences in a way that left her readers with tears of laughter streaming down their faces instead of tears of sorrow.

So I’ve been thinking—is there any humor at all in barrenness? Well, no, not really. But there are certain things that often go along with this state of being which, if you look at them in the right way (and a week/month/year or two later) can bring on a smile. Take “Beth” for instance, who like many of you battles with those unpredictable hormones (which may or may not be contributing to the infertility) that can often leave her wondering who she really is and if she’s possibly losing her mind. Perhaps the pregnant and the menopausal ladies thought they had all the fun, but Beth can attest to the fact that the members of the Unexplained Fluctuation Organization (UFOs) have certainly had their fair share. Let’s take a peak into the life of Beth, shall we?

While cooking a meal for an upcoming church potluck, Beth received a call from a dear friend. Although Beth’s rational side told her that it was dangerous to cook and chat at the same time, as had been proven by several previous botched recipes, her impulsive side told her, “You can do it this time!” The chicken had been cooked and chopped, the pasta was draining, and the dressing was tasting just fine as she completed the long and delightful conversation. Beth hung up the phone and went to complete the final step of the recipe when, to her bewilderment, she could not find the chicken.

Frantic searches of the refrigerator and all the cupboards were fruitless. Remembering that she had wandered to other parts of the house during her call, she searched every other room, including both bathrooms. On the verge of tears of frustration and self-chastisement, Beth uttered her first attempt ever at a poultry prayer: “Dear Lord, please help me find this chicken!” Almost instantly, the front door opened and in walked a six-foot-four angel, home early from work. Hearing of her predicament and making a quick glance around the kitchen, the aforesaid angel spotted the above-range microwave, which was at his eye level and happened to contain the missing fowl.

It isn’t just Beth’s mind that is affected by the endocrine enemies, though. Several years back she began noticing some rather coarse facial hairs under her chin. Just a couple you know, which could easily be plucked out and explained away. Over the years however, the pair got together and decided to be fruitful and multiply so that now the otherwise very feminine lady must constantly hide the fact that, left to its own design, her chin would sprout a rather full and scandalous goatee. While many people express fears of being stranded in places without their medication, sleep apnea machines, or clean drinking water, Beth has nightmares that she is stuck on a cruise ship for weeks and there are no razors on board.

And thanks to that much-needed yet painfully evident hormone progesterone, Beth’s bosom also likes to play tricks on her, depending on what part of the month it is. Due to its naturally small size, fluctuations are probably only noticeable to herself…and the angel, of course. She hopes. Beth has a hard time justifying the purchase of two different sizes of bras, but realizes that were she to remain in 36B during days 25-3 she would not be able to breathe. And likewise, remaining in 36C beyond day 3 would not only be wishful thinking, but would give the huggers in the household the unpleasant sensation of embracing a couple of deflating balloons. Two sizes seem to be the best way to go—except on those in-between days. She has not yet figured out where to get a bra with a C cup for the left bosom and a B cup for the right which, frankly, is becoming a freakish and lingering problem. So if you ever see someone like Beth and she seems to be a bit off-balance with her gait, rest assured that her barrenness has not driven her to drink. It’s probably just day 28.

On Being Weary

It’s been five, long years since our adoption paperwork landed itself on a desk in China.  Five years – that’s a milestone.  In those five years, we have seen our doctors on a yearly basis for an updated medical history and had our blood drawn several times for a variety of tests.  We know the state patrol officer on a first-name basis since we’ve been fingerprinted so many times.  We’ve met with our case worker several times to verify that our home is safe for children.  We’ve taken the necessary parenting classes.

Five years have passed.  We actually started the paperwork process eight months prior to that.  And I’m weary.  This isn’t what my husband and I signed up to endure.  At the time, nobody anticipated the long wait.  And yet it’s happened.

So what do I do?  I could get angry.  I could demand answers for the slow-down in placements.  I could expect more pity from my neighbors and friends.  I could take out my anger on my family.  I could shut the rest of the world out and wallow in my misery.  I could turn my back on God because He hasn’t given me what I want – when I want it.

But that’s no good either.  For you see, God IS still taking care of me.  He has given me a loving husband, who has taken every single step of this lengthy journey with me.  My spouse of 13 years has signed every piece of paperwork and seen the slow pace of referrals.  God has given me friends and neighbors, who have shared hugs with me.  God has given me loving family members, who continue to pray that the Lord would bring the right child into our family in His good time.  God has given me all of these people in my life to uplift and pray for me in my weariness.

But I’m weak from putting up a strong front in public.  I’m tired of signing papers.  I’m weary of the long wait.  There are days when I’m ready to throw up my hands and give up the whole adoption process.

Holy Scripture says in Isaiah 40:28-31 –  Have you not known?  Have you not heard?  The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.  He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable.  He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength.  Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.

Did you hear that?  God is not weak, nor tired, not weary.  He is strong!  He beckons us to come to Him with our griefs and sorrows.  He has granted us Himself in Holy Baptism.  He renews us with the gift of the Holy Spirit and comforts us.  Christ has overcome every evil of mind, body, and soul and keeps us to Himself!  No matter how tired and weary we may be, God carries us.  He knows our hurts and that we are tired, and He renews us with Himself.  I come to God with an empty sack, and He fills it up.  It’s all His work; I am the blessed recipient of His grace, mercy, and comfort.

I get tired and weary, but I know that my hope is in the LORD.  He knows me and grants me what I need: Himself.  He also gives me a loving spouse, who walks faithfully beside me.  He provides loving family and friends, who share hugs when I need them.  I am not alone; I don’t have to carry this burden myself.  My hope comes from the LORD, for He will provide what is best for me.  I can rest in Him.