Author: Katie Schuermann

I believe the Holy Scriptures to be the inerrant Word of God, inspired by the Holy Spirit and fulfilled in Christ Jesus, our risen Lord and Savior. Therefore, I have faith that children are exactly what God tells us they are in His Word: a heritage to receive from Him. Children are not a prize for me to earn, a commodity for me to demand, nor an idol for me to worship. They are a gift which my Heavenly Father only has the privilege to bestow and to withhold. If God makes me a mother, then I can receive His good gift of a child with all joy and confidence in His love for me. If God does not make me a mother, then I can still know with all joy and confidence that God loves me completely in His perfect gift of the Child Jesus whose sacrifice on the cross atoned for my sin and reconciled me to my Heavenly Father. I am God’s own child, purchased and won by the blood of Jesus, and God promises in His Word that He will work all things - even my barrenness - for my eternal good. For this reason, I can in faith confess that my barrenness is a blessing.

Bowling

MP900405096I am reading your blog. (Yes, I mean you.)

And I understand the temptation to rant. People really do say awful things to you. They publicly drill you for details about your sex life (which is no one else’s business but your husband’s), suggest home remedies for amping up fertility (which you tried five years ago when the ideas first came out in Redbook), and generally pry and poke and dig at you because you dared cry at sewing circle when Mrs. Jones announced her daughter’s pregnancy.

I understand. It stinks to be on the receiving end of such tactless attentions, but there is something else that needs understanding in these situations.

There will always be bowling balls in your life.

There will always be people who take aim at your barrenness and flatten your feelings like a bunch of pins down a waxy lane. These people spare no verbal expense but always go for the strike, recklessly voicing their expectations for your womb, opining on projected reasons for your childlessness, and offering up armchair diagnoses of your health for the benefit of, well, I guess, themselves. It doesn’t matter where you are or what you think, say, or do. These hooks, crankers, and tweeners are going to seek you out and hit you full-on like a 16-pounder.

But, for the most part, everyone else in this world takes their conversation cues from you. They won’t talk about your barrenness unless you bring it up; they won’t make suggestions about your diet unless you openly discuss your metabolic problems; they won’t offer up ideas for how to get pregnant unless you share with them your desire for a child and subsequent frustration in your childlessness; they won’t try to help you feel better unless you look miserable; in other words, they won’t dwell on that which you don’t dwell.

So, let’s give the world a break and take some responsibility for the conversations we keep. Let’s not blog-blame others for finishing the conversations we start ourselves and, instead, kindly explain to our friends and acquaintances face-to-face what we need most from them.

And as for the bowling balls who barrel towards us unprompted, well, “we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us” (Romans 5:3-5 ESV).

That’s good news, I think.

Lord Jesus Christ, in Your deep compassion You rescue us from whatever may hurt us. Teach us to love You above all things and to love our neighbors as ourselves; for You live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. (Collect for July, 14, 2013, Eighth Sunday after Pentecost)

Retreat Reflections

What happens when a bunch of barren (infertile? fruitless? we tried brainstorming a less archaic term for childlessness, but nothing fit so well as the Biblical word in the end) women get together for a weekend getaway in St. Louis?

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Well, of course, some things will forever be top secret, but here’s what I can tell you:

Much Rolland hospitality was enjoyed.

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Many gluten-and-dairy-free desserts prepared by Gina and her beautiful family were consumed.

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Unseasonable spring weather was soaked up.

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Colorful skeins of yarn were knitted.

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Multiple medical questions were answered by Dr. Gosser.

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Several hymns and spiritual songs were sung with Pastor Cholak.

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Thoughtful gifts were exchanged. Frequent, girly laughter was heard. Honest tears were shed. Memories were made, and hours of sleep were lost.

And, last but not least, our designated night out on the town happened to be the same evening as the naked-bike-ride-thingy to raise awareness for something bearing worldly importance. So, yep, some free range breasts were witnessed by the churchy eyes of our dear retreaters.

In all seriousness, Rebecca and I have never witnessed such a group of patient, loving women who listened to each other with all forbearance and bore with each other so selflessly. It was a beautiful thing to behold.

After sharing so much with each other, it was difficult walking away after church on Sunday. We all lingered and then lingered some more. The goodbyes were not the hyperemotional departures of youthful summer campers, but the looks, hugs, and quiet words exchanged were meaningful. How do you say goodbye to ones who have gone to the trenches with you?

All I could think to say was, “Thank you.”

Happy trails to you, dear sisters, and Christ keep you.

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The Corner Room

He sat in his corner room, smiling at the collage of family pictures hanging above his dresser. Children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren were pieced together like a picture quilt. A legacy in a frame.

“That’s a nice picture,” he said from his armchair.

I sat on his bed and looked at the collage. A torrent of tears made a river of my mascara. My voice twisted in my throat like a wet dishrag.

“I’m so sorry, Grandpa. I would have liked to have given you something for that picture.”

My grandfather’s shaking hand reached out to grasp my own. Dementia did not impede the Spirit of compassion. “I would have liked that, too.”

He wasn’t chiding. He was understanding. My loss was his own. We both cried.

“It hurts so much sometimes,” I admitted.

“It sure does.” His hand shook harder the harder he squeezed. “It’s just the way it is.”

We shared some private words meant only for grandfathers and granddaughters, and then we read a Psalm and a portion of the Gospel of Mark together.

I was still crying when I left his corner room, but I could clearly see my blessings.

I don’t have any children, but I have a grandpa. And he loves me.

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VBS

It’s easy to forget about barrenness during VBS week. Maybe it’s because there’s no time to think about it. Maybe it’s because there is such joy in helping parents in their own vocation of raising children in the Faith.

Or, maybe it’s because the kids can’t help but pour out their love, attention, and special brand of affection on whomever is taking care of them at the moment.

Here is a splash of some of that special brand I received this year:

“I want a kiss. No, on the lips.” Mr. Dumpling

“God has three persons!” Adorable Blonde Boy

“Hey, those are the same clothes you wore yesterday!” Miss Precocious repeatedly yelled out to me during the opening song. (Hey, I was only given one decal.)

“God is one!” Same Adorable Blonde Boy

(singing) “‘Only thou art holy; there is none beside me.'” Mr. Summer Tan

“What’s on your forehead?” Miss Wrinkles-Her-Nose (It was sweat.)

(silent, stoic high-five every time a song ends) Miss Teeny-Tiny

“She’s going swimming!” Mr. Not-Correct’s response to the question of why the missionary we were supporting was going to Cameroon.

“Are you going to get punched in the face?” Miss Teeny-Tiny finally spoke aloud to me in the middle of a song the final day of VBS. (She was mistaking me for the lady who was going to get a pie in the face if the kids raised enough money for the missionary through their daily offerings.)

“He’s a big, blue, powerful God.” Mr. Not-Quite-Right

“I can spell VBS.” Cutie Patutie with Curls (And she could.)

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A Tiny Suggestion

This post is not for the barren but for those who love the barren.

Dear, dear friends:

Thank you.

Thank you for reading this blog.

Thank you for loving your barren friend, for praying for her, for listening to her, for taking care of her physical needs, for encouraging her to go to church, and for reminding her of God’s promises made to her in Holy Writ and kept for her by Christ on the cross. Outside of these tried-and-true methods of help, it can be hard to know exactly what else you can do to support your barren friend as she bears the cross of childlessness. You may be tempted on occasion (in love and with the best of intentions) to forward on one of our posts directly to your barren friend’s personal email account. You may think that what we have said on here is something she needs to hear.

But, consider this bit of correspondence I recently received from a barren woman.

“Today I was ambushed by several well-intentioned friends with ‘helpful’ articles meant to encourage me, but they did just the opposite. They reminded me of my hurt.”

Personally forwarded posts have an air of projected expectation about them. They often read like law, as if you are suggesting to your barren friend through the post exactly how she should be feeling, what she should be doing, and how she should be enduring her grief and pain. If your barren friend is currently in the denial, anger, or depression stages of her grief cycle, then she does not need instruction on how to handle her grief. She needs simply to endure it.

What your barren friend really wants during these stages of grief is for you to listen to her, to sit with her in the stinking pit of pain, and to tell her that you love her.

I am not saying that it is never appropriate to share HRTB posts with her directly. I am simply saying that patient endurance of your friend’s long-suffering is a way of supporting her that will feel less like you are instructing her in her grief and more like you are loving her.

Which, we know, you always are.

So, thank you for patiently bearing with us, with our heightened emotions, with our perpetual bouncing back and forth between the stages of grief, and with all that comes with crosses.

We need you.

XOXO

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A stellar spot for listening

Is procreation an intrinsic quality of marriage?

Portrait of a young boy crossing guard standing on the road holding a stop signQuestion Submitted: At a recent theological symposium, I posited that we in the Church need “to return to teaching properly about the positive locus of marriage – teaching about its procreative purpose and nature.” Another attendee replied in part that “procreation is NOT an intrinsic quality of marriage, as we do not say the infertile are not married.” If I had had a chance for rebuttal, I would have pointed out the error of his logic. Bipedalism is an intrinsic quality of humans, despite the sad reality of paraplegia. It would be very helpful to hear how you would counter the idea that infertility invalidates the argument that procreation is an intrinsic quality of marriage. I have my own answers to this false argument, but I would like to make sure I have an answer that is sensitive to the minds of those who suffer from infertility.

My pastors taught me that God institutes and defines marriage in Genesis Chapters 1 and 2. We learn in verses 1:27-28 that God created man in His own image; male and female He created them, and He blessed them. He told them to be fruitful and multiply, and God saw that “it was very good” (Gen 1:31).

The gift of procreation is not only a blessing God speaks over marriage, but God sees the blessing of children as good.

Barrenness is not good. Barrenness is a brokenness of God’s good creation. Endometriosis, PCOS, fibroids, hashimoto’s thyroiditis, low sperm motility, ovarian and cervical cancers, miscarriages, childlessness, and the groaning of all creation came about as a result of man’s fall into Sin; and we don’t use the effects of Sin to redefine that which God institutes and calls “good” in His Word, nor do we use the effects of Sin to defend the notion that procreation is somehow not a part of God’s intrinsic design of marriage. That is my biggest qualm with the other attendee’s rhetoric. His thesis does not fully confess barrenness as a post-Fall reality. Barrenness proves nothing about God’s procreative intent for marriage other than that God, post-Fall, allows the cross of barrenness to burden the shoulders of some married couples.

In regards to being sensitive to the barren, we should be careful not to turn God’s good, fruitful blessing for marriage into man’s good work. Scripture tells us that having children is not a law of God for us to keep but a heritage from Him for us to receive (Psalm 127:3). None of us would have children apart from God’s merciful blessing and giving. Only God in His wisdom knows why He does not open the wombs of the barren, and we should not burden the consciences of those who are unable to have children by suggesting they should be able to outwit the very Author of Life.

And as for using the existence of barrenness as an excuse to avoid the gift of children in marriage, I can think of no place in Scripture where God calls that good.

“A Loving Place, Inside Me”

Dear Church:

Please, read this article by Matthew Hennessey in First Things. He holds the mirror before us all.

P.S. Whenever I highlight an article such as this one, I do not mean to add to the pain of my brothers and sisters in Christ who repent of their use of IVF or their act of abortion. Christ died for those regrets and reconciles us to the Father. I am trying to call out those who justify the creation and subsequent termination of “the least of these” as an act of compassion.

 

Elevensies

Playing Cards and Poker Chips“How long have you been married?”

In years past, it didn’t matter what number I answered. The interrogator always one-upped me.

“Three years? Oh, don’t worry! You’ve got plenty of time. My husband and I didn’t even start trying until year five.”

“Five years? No problem! My mother didn’t have me until she and my dad had been married for seven years.”

“Seven years? No sweat! Mrs. Smith finally got pregnant on her eighth anniversary, so you better hurry up and finish that book before you get pregnant.”

“Eight years? You haven’t even been married a decade. God is just making you wait, so you will appreciate children more.”

“Ten years? A couple in my church started the adoption process at ten years, and then they got pregnant.” 

But there is something different about the number eleven. This year, my interrogators are tripping over my answer. Their open mouths, ready to counteract the five or seven or nine they are anticipating, clam up in response.

Apparently, the eleven card is trump.

(Cue flood of emails from people whose family and friends got pregnant in year eleven.)

In all seriousness, I know that the comments listed above were meant to bring me comfort, but they actually made me feel sad, even angry. Not only had I failed up to that point to produce a child in my marriage, but now I had to bear other people’s hopes and expectations on top of my own. What if I didn’t get pregnant like Mrs. Smith? Double failure. Double disappointment. Double pain.

It is tricky business reassuring a barren woman of the inevitability of pregnancy during year X of marriage, because she knows better. She is no fool. God has not promised her in His Word that she will be given the gift of a child, and every year of her life thus far attests to that reality. She knows Who it is that gives the gift of children, and she can call to mind ten barren women who have not gotten pregnant in year X for every suggested one who has. Add to that fact the burning desire she has for a child of her own, and the calling to mind of others who have already been given that gift from God can lead her to covetousness.

What is a good, helpful response to the number she gives to the marriage question? How about the truth?

“God has richly blessed you with X years of marriage! I pray He will continue to bless you and your husband in the years ahead.”

See? No false promises + some celebration = a lovely, little bit of correspondence.