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 Importance of Listening

Maybe you can relate. When I am grieving over my childlessness, I don’t want someone to explain away my grief. I also don’t want someone to offer practical solutions to my pain. I usually just want someone to listen.

When discussing this fact with my husband this afternoon, he drew my attention to the following excerpt on the importance of listening for the consolation of the brethren from Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Life Together:

“The first service that one owes to others in the fellowship consists in listening to them. Just as love to God begins with listening to His Word, so the beginning of love for the brethren is learning to listen to them. It is God’s love for us that He not only gives us His Word but also lends us His ear. So it is His work that we do for our brother when we learn to listen to him. Christians…so often think they must always contribute something when they are in the company of others, that this is the one service they have to render. They forget that listening can be a greater service than speaking.

Many people are looking for an ear that will listen. They do not find it among Christians, because these Christians are talking where they should be listening. But he who can no longer listen to his brother will soon be no longer listening to God either; he will be doing nothing but prattle in the presence of God too. This is the beginning of the death of the spiritual life, and in the end there is nothing left but spiritual chatter and clerical condescension arrayed in pious words. One who cannot listen long and patiently will presently be talking beside the point and be never really speaking to others, albeit he be not conscious of it. Anyone who thinks that his time is too valuable to spend keeping quiet will eventually have no time for God and his brother, but only for himself and for his own follies.

…There is a kind of listening with half an ear that presumes already to know what the other person has to say. It is an impatient, inattentive listening, that despises the brother and is only waiting for a chance to speak and thus get rid of the other person. This is no fulfillment of our obligation, and it is certain that here too our attitude toward our brother only reflects our relationship to God…But Christians have forgotten that the ministry of listening has been committed to them by Him who is Himself the great listener and whose work they should share. We should listen with the ears of God that we may speak the Word of God.” *

Amen.

* (Bonhoeffer, Dietrich, Life Together. New York: Harper & Row Publishers, Inc., 1954. pgs, 97-9.)

Am I Normal?

Question Submitted: My husband thinks I should not be so upset about our infertility. He would not mind if we never had a child, so he thinks my grief is not normal. I can’t help but be upset. I am not sure what to do.

You are grieving a death of sorts – the death of a lifelong dream, the death of your family line, and the death of children you have never had. That kind of loss does not come easily to anyone. It is no wonder you feel upset.

That being said, please be careful not to hold it against your husband that he does not share your grief. He is not the same person as you, and it is okay for him to have his own, honest response to all of this, even when that response is different from your own. Your husband’s absence of grief does not automatically mean he is cold-hearted; it just means that he, for whatever reason, is not grieved at this time.

Keep telling your husband how you feel. Don’t force it on him, but don’t hide it from him. Be honest. Help him to see that though you two may not react the same way to your infertility, your feelings of grief are just as valid and real as his absence of them. In the end, the important thing is not that you both feel the same way about your infertility but that you both love and support each other regardless of your respective feelings. You both are on the same side, after all, and you get to share in each others’ joys and sorrows. And, when you both inevitably fail in that sharing, you can speak the words of forgiveness to each other because Christ has completely forgiven you.

I know you may feel alone in all of this. Please, go talk with your pastor. He is Christ’s man there for you, and he can remind you of the promises God has made to you in His Word to work everything in this life for your eternal good. You need to be hearing those promises, especially in your grief.

Also, remember that your Lord Jesus has promised to always hear your prayers (Psalm 6:9; Proverbs 15:29; 1 Peter 3:12). You can trust Him to support you in your grief and sorrow, even at those times when your husband may not.

A Father’s Grief for His Barren Daughter

Barrenness affects everyone in our families, possibly no one more than our parents. In our barrenness, they, too, are barren. My father lovingly penned this, and he gave me permission to post it for all the other dads out there who may be grieving for their barren daughters. He wants you to know that you are not alone.

“Father of the Tried” by Bob Roley

I have just been sitting here looking at the picture on the cover of the book He Remembers the Barren. Such a haunting picture that seems to cut clean to your soul. How much pain must be associated with barrenness and the loneliness that follows? How can you console someone with such grief as depicted in that picture?

Since I am a man of 60+ years with married children and grandchildren, you would think that I would not find this such a haunting subject. I come from a large family with many brothers and sisters, and my mom comes from a large family. As a result, I have several aunts, uncles, and cousins. I remember growing up and realizing that several of my cousins were adopted, but, being young and living in an era when no one really talked about that kind of stuff, I had no idea why. I am now much more knowledgeable about problems of infertility and what kind of an impact they have had on my aunts, sisters, nieces, and, yes, my daughters. I am also very aware that those medical issues may have been passed down through my mother’s side of the family.

So, why am I haunted by my daughter’s book and the picture on the front of it? My daughters, who have been the pride of my life and for whom I would gladly die, are now faced with this pain. Even those with children suffer along with the ones who can’t have children. We have had so many years of fun times, family outings, adventures, and just the joy of being together, and we still do. So, why must such near-perfect times be strained by such pain? Is this all my fault?

I am no theologian, no great Lutheran thinker, not even a good Christian, but I do know this: Sin is the problem, and God has taken care of that for me. I keep remembering the part in C.S. Lewis’s book, Till We Have Faces, where the main character wants to ask God all these questions, and, when she finally gets to stand before God, all she can do is look at His face and realize that before Him there are no questions.

I look forward to the day I get to stand before God as one of His children and realize there are no more questions.

Mother of Eight

I prayed to God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit to make me a mother, and, in His mercy, He has granted my request.

Just last week, in preparation for parenthood, my husband and I turned in our zippy Honda Fit for a twelve-passenger van. We stocked up on Juicy Juice boxes, cereal bars, and Cheese-Its. We gathered blue, pink, and polka-dotted fleece blankets to keep our kids warm at night and tended to all of the health insurance forms and waivers required of every family.

Then, on the morning of July 9th (before the sun had even cleared the Eastern horizon) we became the happy parents of eight sleepy, groggy youth from our congregation. We loaded them into the van, waved at all of the people gathered in the church parking lot to celebrate the occasion, and turned north towards the Coram Deo Higher Things Youth Conference in Bloomington, IL.

Throughout the next seven days, my husband and I experienced parenting adventures to our hearts’ content: managing frequent potty breaks, setting curfews, making sure everyone ate enough fruits and veggies, teaching how to respect each others’ personal boundaries, encouraging the shy and taming the bold, removing splinters, running last-minute errands, talking about God’s faithfulness to all of us in Jesus, taking the Body and Blood of the Lord together, sharing in each others’ dreams and desires, and seeing the world. We were a proper “Pastor and Kate Plus Eight” (or, “Pastor and Katie Plus Eightie,” as the youth preferred to call us).

The best part? Our nightly devotions. As we prayed the Lord’s Prayer together and recited the Apostles’ Creed as one, I marveled at the faith of my children. What a delight to confess the same faith in the Triune God! What a comfort to be one in the body of Christ!

On the night of the last devotion of our trip, I found myself looking around through tears of joy at each precious soul. I am a mother in the Church. I get to participate in the upbringing of the young people in my congregation. I get to pray for them, encourage them, admonish them, teach them, commune with them, sing with them, and remind them of the grace they have been given in their baptism. I even get to take them on youth trips and be their “mom” for a week.

Thank you, God, for answering my prayer.

A Baby in My Tummy

“Do you have a baby in your tummy?”

Almost every child in my life has asked me this question at some time or another. Most recently, my four-year-old niece turned around on my lap one afternoon, wrinkled her nose up at me, and asked, “Where are your children?”

It never offends me when children ask me this. Honestly, it kind of comforts me. They get it. They understand that something is askew. They can sense that I, a grown-up, married woman, should have kids. It is almost as if their inquisitive eyes (or, my niece’s nose for that matter) are saying, “What’s up with that?”

I believe an honest question deserves an honest answer.

I shrugged at my niece. “God has not given me any children. I pray that He will, but He knows what is best for me and Uncle Michael.”

My niece thought about it for a moment, nodded her head, and turned back to her previous activity. Of course. No drama. No pity. It is what it is.

I think we can learn a lot from children.

Adoption Guilt

Question Submitted: I had been feeling alone in my guilt over my lack of drive to get into the adoption process now that it has been 6 years since my husband and I started trying to have children, with no success. I realize now that I am not alone in my guilt over what I feel is selfishness. The other day a woman who, along with her husband, are in the same boat as us, said the exact thing to me that I have been thinking, “I feel selfish for not adopting.” I told her that we would need forgiveness no matter what decision we make for our situations. Maybe we are not meant to adopt, and THAT would be the wrong decision. Either way, we pray for forgiveness and know that we have that forgiveness in Christ. I say this, and I know this, but I don’t always REMEMBER this. Have you heard from others talk of guilt over not diving head first into the adoption process? Are others paralyzed with fear over it as I am, or not motivated to adopt, as I may also be?

You and me both, sister.

I feel all kinds of guilt: guilt for having a womb that bears no fruit, guilt for not making my husband a father, guilt for not making my parents grandparents, guilt for not having a family that looks like that of my friends, guilt for not being worthy to receive a red carnation on Mother’s Day, and the list goes on and on.

I have earned the rank of Eagle Scout in guilt.

So, let me take a shot at defining the guilt and tension you might be feeling surrounding the question of whether or not to adopt: You know from God’s Word that He wills for us in marriage to be fruitful and to multiply (Genesis 1:27-8). You know that children are the blessed fruit of the one-flesh union between a husband and wife (Psalm 127:3). And, you also know that, for whatever reason, you and your husband have been unable to procreate. So, what now? Is having children a law from God you must obey?* Are you obligated to find an alternative method of having and raising children? Do you need to adopt a child to please God?

No.

Adoption is not intrinsic in God’s design of procreation. Adoption is a matter of free will. When a husband and wife are unable to conceive in the one-flesh union, God does not require them by law to adopt children into their family. If a husband and wife decide they would like to adopt, that is great. If a husband and wife decide they would not like to adopt, then that is great, too.

I think a big source of our guilt surrounding the question of adoption stems from the conviction that, in Christ, we are to serve our neighbor. God’s Word even compels us to care specifically for the needs of widows and orphans. However, adoption is not the only way to care for those needs. In other words, we do not need to adopt our neighbor in order to serve him. There are many ways to serve, even mother, our neighbor without signing legal paperwork in front of a judge. We can faithfully pray for the children in our church. We can help a single mother (or pastor’s wife!) wrangle her children in the pew week after week. We can serve as godmothers to precious saints. We can bake cookies for Vacation Bible School and make baptismal banners for our brothers and sisters in Christ. We can teach Sunday school and lead the children’s choir. We can attend the local ballgames and cheer on our favorite little people. We can babysit the children of our friends for free on a Friday night so that they can have a much-needed date night. We can buy Christmas presents for underprivileged children. We can write a check to financially support a seminarian’s family. (You and I could spend all day brainstorming ideas.) Think about your specific talents and gifts. How can you use those gifts to serve your neighbor?

Another source of guilt surrounding the question of adoption can come from wanting to please others. How many times have you confided in a friend, family member, or acquaintance that you are barren only to be immediately told, “You should adopt”? Suddenly, you feel like you are supposed to adopt simply because the world thinks you should. Yet, the fullness of our quivers has never been determined by the expectations of others. Children are a heritage from the Lord, gifts to be given and determined by Him, not by your circle of friends. In fact, children are still a heritage from the Lord, whether those children are birthed or adopted. Even if you choose to adopt a child, even if you begin the paperwork and make it through the home study, you will still only be given (or not given) a child according to our Lord’s perfect will and in His perfect time. [Kristi and Rebecca have both written eloquently about this in their respective posts, More Paperwork and Thy Will Be Done…(but what is it?).]

It helps me in those moments of societal pressure to remember that most of those well-meaning people simply want to see me happy, and adoption – to them – seems like the easiest and simplest way of making me a mother in my barrenness.

Now, about that guilt. What are you to do with it? Pastor Schuermann wants me to tell you this:

“There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” Romans 8:1

“Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” Romans 5:1

“He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us. As a father shows compassion to his children, so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear him.” Psalm 103: 10-14

“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” 1 John 1:9

Adoption is a good thing. The reality is that there are plenty of children who need parents to love them and bring them up in the Faith. Yet, not everyone is called to be parents through adoption, just as not everyone (because of barrenness) is called to be parents through conception. If you and your husband come to the conclusion that adoption is not the right path for your family, then let go of your guilt and pray that God would provide parents for all children in need. Then, go out and serve your neighbor in all peace, joy, and in the full knowledge that Christ has perfectly served you on the cross.

* This is not dismissing the reality of procreation as a part of marriage. Avoidance of procreation in marriage raises other issues that are outside of this discussion.

Letter from Judy

I recently received the following letter in response to the article “Why Am I Barren?” published in The Lutheran Witness. While the letter is addressed specifically to me, I believe this letter really applies to all of us who bear the cross of barrenness. For this reason (and with Judy’s permission), I reprint the letter here for all of you:

Dear Katie,

Oh, how I wept for you as I read your article in the Witness.  No, I can’t say I share your cross for the Lord truly blessed me with fertility. I am a mother, 72 years old, with six sons, ages 54, 51, 50, 47 and twins 44. All I ever wanted to be was a mother, but I also thought I could decide when it would happen.  

Marrying young, Mark was born one year after our wedding. Three years later I was happy to be pregnant and give birth to my second son, but thirteen months later, at God’s will, not mine, the next son was born. I was upset, always fearing what people would say. But this one was so easy and so good, how could I not be happy? Having wanted four children, I was determined not to again get pregnant, and, after Scott was born, I was confident I had my family. God does have a sense of humor, however, and much to my dismay, I discovered I was pregnant again. This was at the beginning of the ‘pill’ which I refused to use and long before ultrasounds, so, when I went full term and looked like an elephant, I suffered a good case of hysteria following the birth of the first baby and learning from the doctor that there was another one ‘in there.’  The doctor had convinced me that my size was due to the possibility of having a ten-pound girl. However, I wouldn’t trade any of my sons for a girl, and I have thanked God for the sons he gave me.    

You raise the question, “Is barrenness a cross or a blessing?” I might phrase the question, “Is having a large family a cross or a blessing?” As I see it, it is all in the eyes of the beholder and their faith in a loving Heavenly Father whose will is not always our will. Whether or not you will ever be a mother, I do not know, but I pray that you will fill this void in whatever way the Lord gives you. I was given this opportunity and thank God for it and even went so far as to have six foster children and three children with us who were in intensive therapy. I also gave child care to a handicapped boy and later his little sister and just recently spent two years as a volunteer to children in the 3rd, 4th and 5th grades at a Lutheran school. This was very rewarding to me, and I believe I was helpful to these children in supporting them in their education.

You probably wonder why a woman would respond to your question who cannot relate to your situation. I really don’t know why I am, except for the fact I truly sympathize with you. May our Lord and Savior strengthen you as you continue to struggle with this question.

Love in Christ,

Judy

Judy, you can and do relate to me. You know what it is like to have no control over the number of children God gives to you. The fruit of our wombs is markedly different, but our faith is the same. Thank you for sharing in my suffering, and thank you for responding in faith to God’s gift of children to you, trusting that His will is good even when it is different from your own.

Sisters, we are mistaken if we think we alone suffer just because we want what has not been given to us, for there are many women who struggle because they have been given what they do not want.

We know without a doubt from God’s Word that children are a gift from Him (Psalm 127:3-5), but that does not mean these gifts are easy or even always welcome. Women who are disappointed to find themselves pregnant year after year often experience the same temptation we do of wanting in some way to “control” the giving of God’s precious gifts. It is in faith that we trust, in spite of our own personal desires, that God will give (or not give) children to us according to His perfect will. It is in faith that we receive (or do not receive) what He has to give. It is in faith that we trust His giving and His not-giving to be for our eternal good (Romans 8:28). And, it is in faith that we pray with joy, even while we strain under the cross’s weight, “Thy will be done.”

May God grant us faith, like Judy’s, which trusts in His Word, regardless of the cross we bear!

Hymns to Chase Away the Harmful Spirit

One night was worse than all of the others. I honestly can’t even remember very much of it anymore. It is as if the pain and darkness of my own grief was so pungent that my brain has blocked all sensory memory of the experience.

I do remember that my cries felt different. No, they were moans, not cries.  I had lost control of them. They rose unbidden from the center of my gut, and they came without ceasing, one perfect messa di voce after another.

I was staring my barrenness in the face, and my stomach vomited moans.

I thought to myself, “This is despair.”

I remember that my husband looked at me differently that night. He recognized the harmful spirit. No tender touches would chase it away. No platitudes of earthly comfort would suffice. He simply reached for the hymnal and began to sing:

“Why should cross and trial grieve me?
Christ is near
With His cheer;
Never will He leave me.
Who can rob me of the heaven
That God’s Son
For me won
When His life was given?

When life’s troubles rise to meet me,
Though their weight
May be great,
They will not defeat me.
God, my loving Savior, sends them;
He who knows
All my woes
Knows how best to end them.

God gives me my days of gladness,
And I will
Trust Him still
When He sends me sadness.
God is good; His love attends me
Day by day,
Come what may,
Guides me and defends me.” *

My husband had no lyre that night, but his singing was a David to my Saul. Hymn after hymn he sang, boldly proclaiming the Word of God in our home and swinging that powerful sword of Spirit to chase the Devil from our door.

And, as my husband – my warrior! – sang those Gospel Words of light and life into my own ears, my shield of faith was strengthened. The flaming darts of the devil were extinguished. My moans ceased.

* Lutheran Service Book 756 “Why Should Cross and Trial Grieve Me?” (Text: Paul Gerhardt, 1607-76; tr. Christian Worship, 1993, sts. 1-3)

Words of Comfort?

Question Submitted: I don’t know what to say to my friend who recently miscarried.  It seems like what one person finds comforting, another person finds offensive.

I do not have the perfect answer to this question, nor do I know what words will fully comfort every woman who has ever endured such a crisis, but I can offer you a few practical suggestions:

1. Make sure her pastor knows what is going on, so that he can go to her and minister to her.

2. Pray for her.

3. Be there. Share in her loss as faithfully as you would in her joy. If she wants to be alone, respect her privacy and seek her out the next day. And the next. And the next.

4. Listen to her. Acknowledge her miscarriage (barrenness) for exactly what it is – a heinous, horrible reality – and be careful not to try to “explain it away.” Her grief and pain are too present to be put in a box. Let her freely lament, for lamentation has always been a part of the Christian life.

5.  Tend to the immediate, physical needs of her family. Do they have food to eat? Do they need daycare? Does anyone need a ride to doctors’ appointments? Etc.

6. If given the opportunity to speak words of comfort to her, remember this: “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.” (Colossians 3:16) Speak the Word of God to her, remind her of God’s promises to her in Jesus, and sing words of hope and comfort. I personally find Psalms 6, 30, 40, 123, 130, and 138 comforting, and my husband often sings the following hymns to me in my grief: LSB 760 “What God Ordains Is Always Good,” LSB 754 “Entrust Your Days and Burdens,” and LSB 756 “Why Should Cross and Trial Grieve Me.”

(A note of warning: Whenever we are given the opportunity to say something to someone else who is suffering, most of us tend to say the thing that would most comfort ourselves. It is almost as if we can’t help but project our own sense of order onto another person’s chaos – and barrenness and miscarriage are definitely situations of chaos and crisis. I strongly advise you to carefully guard your friend from your own sense of order and let her faith, instead, respond to the Word of God. In other words, carefully guard your friend from yourself.)

7. And, finally, should you say something that angers her in her grief, apologize to her and let it go. Forgive yourself and forgive her, and keep coming back to her, seventy times seven times.