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.

The Right Perspective

In the most recent issue of The Lutheran Witness, Janet Frese reminds us to view our present suffering through the lens of vocation. She is writing specifically as the wife of a deployed chaplain, but, as is true with most Christian suffering, her words of wisdom apply to any cross we may bear, even the cross of barrenness.

Being separated during deployment is an enormous sacrifice. You become a situational single parent, bravely juggling a myriad of new roles while praying fervently for your spouse’s safe return…Putting deployment in the framework of vocation gives perspective to some of its challenges. Vocation is found in your present circumstances, in the here and now – not where you wish you could be. Parenting alone is difficult and certainly not ideal, but for the moment this is what God has given you to do. Serving the United States in the midst of war is both exhilarating and frightening, but this is the work that God has given your spouse to do at this time…[W]hile you wait for your loved one to return, remember that God does not leave you to fend for yourself. He has given you a community of believers, and He gives you a unique vocation through which to serve others.

You, in your barrenness, have a unique vocation through which to serve others. Yes, you do. It may not be the vocation of mother that you want, but your vocations of wife, daughter, sister, friend, babysitter, knitter, lawyer, or whatever are still distinct, special, singular, and specific to you.

If you are not sure what your present vocations are, simply look around and ask, “Where am I, and who is my neighbor?” Your answers to those two questions will make everything clear.

(To read Janet’s full article, snag a copy of the August 2012 issue of The Lutheran Witness.)

True Compassion

My husband drew my attention to an article in the most recent issue of Gottesdienst. Think on Rev. David Petersen’s words:

Compassion leads to action, but is not action. It is identification and suffering with the afflicted. The old saw “misery loves company” usually means we like to bring others down with us, but we might turn it around a bit. We might see the example of our Lord and recognize that compassion loves by joining misery. “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin” (Heb. 4:15 ESV).

Compassion moves the compassionate to action eventually. That action is often material aid, practical assistance, or comfort to relieve the afflicted, or the proclamation of Law and then forgiveness and hope in Christ. But even before the action there is the sympathy and identification. Sometimes, maybe most times, those who are hurting need to hear and know that their hurt is valid and is also unjust. Strangely, it is comforting to know that our mental anguish, our sense of frustration, and our anger are legitimate reactions to a sinful and unjust world…

The first response to suffering isn’t a solution or a fix, but pain. This pain carries with it the realization that nothing afflicts any of us that is not common to man or that our Lord Himself did not endure in the greatest and most terrible measure. This is different from gratitude. It recognizes that it could have been us, such as we hear in the oft-used John Bradford line: “There but for the grace of God go I.” That is part of it, to be sure. But compassion is suffering that is felt in the heart and mind because someone else is suffering and shouldn’t be. They are like sheep without a shepherd. That sad plight moves the heart of the observer first to pity; then comes gratitude and action.*

* Petersen, David H.  (Trinity 2012, Vol. 20, No. 1). “Praying for Pity’s Sake.” Gottesdienst: The Journal of the Lutheran Liturgy, 9-10.

The Truth

My husband reminded me the other day that we, in our fallen state, may be barren of children in this world, but we are not barren of God’s good gifts.

Shame on me for ever thinking that God’s tender love, merciful goodness, and blessed favor could only come to me in the form of a child of my own! God has already loved me, been good to me, and perfectly shown me His favor in the gift of Jesus.

And, while we’re on the subject, there are so many other good gifts which God daily gives me like the Church, my husband, family, friends, godchildren, a home, a Honda Fit named “Sylvia,” bountiful food and plentiful water, peaceful times in which I can freely receive Christ’s gifts of Word and Sacrament in public, joy, music, kind editors, a working washer and dryer, forgiveness of my sins, health insurance, watermelon, an attached garage in urban Dallas, salvation, portable box fans, muscle cardio classes at the YMCA, and peace which surpasses all understanding, even in my childlessness.

I may be barren, but I am not barren.

 

Sweet Breezes

We love getting questions and comments from all of you! Sometimes you empathize with us, sometimes you encourage us, sometimes you challenge us, and sometimes you write things we wish we had written ourselves:

Thank you for your website. By your own experience and Lutheran theology, you know the law and Gospel I need. I read the blog about defending multiple children as all gifts from God. I needed to hear that as law. I have been dealing with my barrenness by thinking about how much easier life is without children. That was wrong. Children are always a blessing from God. Thank you also for pointing your readers to the unwavering truths in Scripture: I am God’s child; Jesus loves me and is always with me; I am forgiven because Jesus died for me; Because He rose, I have the hope of eternal life. Thank you. 

No, thank you! Your clear proclamation of faith in the goodness of God’s promises and gifts is a sweet, fragrant breeze in a bitter, stale world. I feel refreshed, already.

Baby or No Baby

You’re okay. Really, you are. Baby or no baby.

(Yes, I’m talking to you.)

In fact, in Christ you are more than okay. You are victorious. You are made new. You are eternal. You are beloved. In Christ, you are fruitful with or without a genetic reproduction of yourself.

So, cast all of that stress and anxiety about having a baby on Him who gives you life, saves your life, and sustains your life. Put a towel over your mirror and give your reflection a break. (No peeking!) Let’s not gaze at our navels today. Instead, let’s rest beside still waters in those luscious, green pastures to which the Good Shepherd has led us.

He who restores your soul will tend to all of your needs and disappointments and sorrows and joys, right now and forevermore, baby or no baby.

I promise.

Is IVF Healing Medicine?

I am an advocate of healing medicine, both traditional and nontraditional.

I daily take prescription medication to keep my already overactive pancreas from kicking out more insulin into my bloodstream. I then supplement my medication with lots of exercise and a low-glucose diet.

My most recent venture into healing medicine involved a short round of hormone therapy to help my doctor properly diagnose several masses that were growing in my abdomen. I then underwent surgery to remove a batch of endometriomas and accompanying scar tissue from around my colon, bladder, and ovaries. Next, came a six-month regimen of Lupron shots to kill off the residual scar tissue my doctor had to leave behind, and, on top of that, I now eat a mostly pescetarian (vegan with fish) diet on top of my low-glucose fare to avoid environmental hormones, additives, preservatives, gluten, and nutrients which may cause inflammation in my body.

In other words, I prefer my medical cocktail as follows: one part traditional, two parts nontraditional, shaken with ice, and then straight down the hatch.

Why am I over-sharing all of this with you? I want to make it clear that I am a champion of healing medicine. I believe it is part of the daily bread God provides for us and that it is good and right to try to make the body whole. I believe that we are free in Christ to take medicine and to undergo diagnostic tests and to have surgeries and to train for triathlons and to sit for acupuncture treatments and to avoid dairy (Oh, wretched cross that I bear!) and to drink liquified kale for the healing purposes of our flesh.

However.

Like the Apostle Paul, I believe that my freedom in Christ, whether applied to medicine or to circumcision or to meat-eating or to whatever, is intended by God to serve my neighbor, not myself.

“For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another.” Galatians 5:13 (ESV)

We are totally free in Christ to seek healing medicine in our barrenness, but that freedom is still intended to serve our neighbor, even the little neighbor we hope to conceive in our womb. For this reason, I do not consider in vitro fertilization (IVF) to be healing medicine, nor do I consider it to rest safely within the realm of Christian freedom.

IVF does not simply seek to make the body whole, but it seeks to create children for our own purpose and use, whether that be cherishing, rejecting, discarding, freezing, or even killing. This is not using our Christian freedom to serve our neighbor. It is using our freedom to serve ourselves at the expense of our neighbor.

Let me draw a clear picture for you. When children are created in a petri dish during IVF, those children have no rights of their own. They, at the whim of the parent*, can be:

  • graded by appearance for their viability,
  • genetically tested for their sex, chromosomal abnormalities, and diseases,
  • discarded (in some cases, literally flushed down the drain) for their potential flaws,
  • put on ice to be stored, used, adopted, donated, tested, or killed at the parent’s leisure,
  • inserted into potentially inhospitable conditions in utero,
  • and, if part of a multiple pregnancy, selectively terminated and sacrificed for the vitality of a perceived stronger brother or sister in the womb.

IVF does not serve these children (our neighbors!) through love, but, at best, disrespects the personhood of the children created, and, at worst, serves as the concentration camp of the fertility industry.

Please be certain, it is the procedures surrounding IVF, not the children that result, that I am calling into question. As I wrote in my book, “Whatever sin and controversies may surround IVF, the children that are conceived and born to us through such procedures are still a heritage from the Lord. These children do not cease to be blessings and gifts from God simply because of the method by which they were conceived. We are not to think of these children as anything less than human beings who are wanted and cherished by our Lord. God’s love is what makes any and every child valuable in this life, not the means of parentage. Whatever decisions and actions parents may regret, the children that result from such decisions and actions are to be celebrated as the precious treasures that they are.” (He Remembers the Barren, 44-5)

Dear sisters, you may have already made use of IVF thinking that it was healing medicine. You may feel confused, angry, even guilty, right now. Do not despair! Your help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth. (Psalm 124:8) Christ, the Lamb of God, takes away the sin of the world. “Repent therefore, and turn again, that your sins may be blotted out, that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord.” (Acts 3:19-20a ESV) Confess your regrets to your pastor to receive the peace of absolution, and let it be done to you as you believe.

* A frozen child’s right to life can also be at the whim of a government or a divorce court judge.

70% Cocoa

Karl Marx had it wrong. The opiate of the masses is not religion. It is chocolate.

I can usually tell when a grief cycle is ramping up, because I seem unable to deny myself the simple, happy pleasure of chocolate products. And cheeseburgers. And Chinese food. And, come to think of it, bing cherries, too. There must be something to things that start with “ch” that sing “Self-medicate!” to my grieving subconscious.

It is so much easier to eat than to cry.

The next time you see me sitting at a table with only “ch” foods in front of me, gently pull the fork out of my hand and replace it with a box of Kleenexes. I and my waistline will thank you.

Murder, She Wrote

I grew up about five miles from my Grandpa and Grandma Bridges. My parents sometimes let me spend the night at their house, even an occasional Sunday night. It didn’t matter that it was a school night, for my usual, country school bus route passed right by their farm. I could just as easily be picked up there the next morning.

I have fond memories of Sunday nights at my grandparents’ house, sitting on their orange, floral couch in my mother-made flannel nightgown with rags tied in my straight hair to make it look curly the next morning like my sisters’. I happily ate popcorn from a green tupperware bowl while my grandparents and I watched television. I couldn’t wait for the second hand on 60 Minutes‘s endlessly ticking stopwatch to reach the number 12 so that I could finally live another vicarious hour of adventure through Jessica Fletcher in Murder, She Wrote.

Oh, how I loved to watch Mrs. Fletcher solve mysteries! Imagine being a professional writer, taking train rides to New York to meet with a publisher, drinking coffee and tea in fancy hotels, and interacting with such glamorous, interesting people, all the while figuring out it was the son of the Broadway star “who done it.”

Thanks to Netflix, I’ve reunited with Mrs. Fletcher once again. As we’ve been visiting, I’ve discovered that my youthful vision missed a few key facts about my favorite, classy sleuth. For one, in the memorable opening credits sequence in which she is typing away at another mystery, Mrs. Fletcher is wearing a wedding ring. I hadn’t remembered that she was a widow.

The biggest surprise for me, though, came in Episode 4 of Season 1. One afternoon, a mysterious stranger sits at Mrs. Fletcher’s table in Cabot Cove, Maine and asks her a simple question: “You have children?”

Mrs. Fletcher answers, “Oh, no, no. Frank and I were never blessed that way.”

I definitely hadn’t remembered that Jessica Fletcher was barren and a gift-language-wielding barren woman at that!

Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher. You get even better with age.

Her Hands Are Full

Snake’s alive! This world sure is a Debbie Downer when it comes to kids.

I have a friend who is expecting Baby # __ (insert any numeric value over the culturally acceptable number of two), and almost anyone and everyone I tell about Baby’s pending birth says of my friend: “Wow. She has her hands full!”

Not, “Congratulations!” or “Wonderful!” or “How exciting!” or “Praise God for His good gift!” but a pair of raised eyebrows and strained words of judgment.

Is it really such a strange thing to us in the Church that a married couple should welcome more than two children into their family as gifts from God? For, you see, that is what children are to us. They are gifts. We know this to be true, because that is what God tells us in His Word. Children are a heritage from Him, and the couple who has them is blessed. (Psalm 127)

Sure, children may be work. They may require us to give up our annual trek to Sonoma or to forgo buying a new dress every Easter or to miss sleeping for an entire year, but that does not change the truth in God’s Word that children are a sign of His favor. And God’s Word doesn’t differentiate. Baby #8 is just as much of a blessing and a gift as Baby #1. We are so selfish when we think that it is our love and desire that make a child valuable, as if our own wanting or not wanting should determine the goodness of God’s gifts. It is God’s love that gives any of us value, including the children He wants to give to us.

So, whenever someone gives me a “Wow, she has her hands full!” in response to my friend’s blessed state, I usually have to manhandle my eyeballs to keep them from rolling and squeeze my lips shut to keep a sigh of exasperation from escaping. Once my body parts are properly submissive, I try to smile brightly and confess boldly, “Yes, her hands are full of blessings from God!”

Either children are a blessing, or they aren’t. Either God’s Word is true, or it isn’t. Which one is it?

If you don’t know, ask a barren woman.

Celebration

I have this friend. She is crazy talented and super smart. She teaches world music, composes trombone octets, circular breathes into her flute, and, when she’s not busy traipsing around the globe to play international recitals, she hangs out with lowly, Lupron-riddled me.

She asked me about a month ago, “Hey, aren’t you nearing the end of your shots? When’s your last one?”

I blubbered something about it being the last Friday morning in June.

She looked my needle-weary self in the eye and said, “I’m coming with you.”

And, she did. This morning, my busy friend braved the Dallas traffic to meet me at the hospital at 8:00 o’clock sharp. She walked me into the exam room, cheered me through an inconvenient hot flash, winced in sympathy at the giant needle, hugged me through an emotional wave of relief in the parking lot, and, when it was all over, sat on a balcony with me at my favorite restaurant to share a cup of coffee and a chocolate muffin.

Do you want to know the best part? On our way out the door, I got a quick peek at my friend’s day schedule. The whole morning had been blocked out with the words, “Celebration with Katie.”

I don’t know if I could have felt more loved or better understood than I did in that moment.

So, if you are wondering what to do to help a barren friend through a difficult time, take a cue from Lisa: add a little more celebration to her life.