Thank you to radio station WJAG and Susan Risinger for interviewing Jerome and Kristi (site host) and Joanna for the “Morning Show.” Susan asked the Leckband family about their upcoming trip to China to adopt their little girl. You can listen to the interview, which will air about 7:45am on Friday morning.
Click here for a direct link to the radio station. Then click on “Listen Live.”
After the interview airs, it will go into the Resources section of our website.
Seasons of waiting test the mettle of our faith. We, the baptized in Christ, want to believe that God is merciful and just, but doubt, that heaviest of enemies, threatens to bend and break any wimpy trust we may have in God’s tender care.
“He has forgotten you,” the devil whispers as you sit, childless.
“Yes,” Satan’s minions chide, “see how He does not answer your prayers?”
We look at the empty nursery. We check the mailbox for the adoption referral which has not come.
“He does not love you,” the demons sing in unison. “You are not worthy of His blessings.”
How heavy is the weight of Satan’s lies against our already creaking buttress of hope!
How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I take counsel in my soul
and have sorrow in my heart all the day?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?
Consider and answer me, O Lord my God;
light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,
lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed over him,”
lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken. *
Then, when our fortress of defense collapses and our confidence in God’s love is but a dusty pile of rubble and debris, the blessed blitz comes.
A move closer to family. A house within walking distance from church. A bag of grocery gift cards from a congregation. A retired couple who cleans and paints my house. A maple tree in my front yard that dyes its hair a fiery orange in late October. A jumping hug from an-almost-too-big-to-snuggle nephew. A trip with Mom. A latte with Dad. A holiday spent with beloved grandparents. An unexpected visit from a new friend. A phone call from an old one. A lunch date with sisters. A couch set gifted from strangers. A new book idea. A neighbor widow who needs my love and attention. Even a child in a manger. Granted, not the child for which I prayed, the one I think I want, but the very One I need.
Stand back with your lies, Satan! God has not forgotten me. He does answer my prayers. He does love me. I may not be worthy of His blessings, yet He gives them to me, anyway.
No, He blitzes me with them.
But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
because he has dealt bountifully with me. * Psalm 13 (ESV)
Last year, we HRTB ladies hosted a writing contest during the season of Advent. Many of you submitted posts on the topic “Advent and Barrenness,” and we shared seven of our favorites on this website.
Today, these posts still ring true. I find myself reading them over and over again, feasting on your words of encouragement and exhortation, thanking God for the gift of fellowship we all have in Him.
In case you missed these treasures the first time around, here they are again:
The following Advent posts from last year, penned by two of our own hosts, were not contest submissions but are just as worthy of revisiting:
Okay.
I know that many of you won’t come out for presentations on barrenness that are open to the public, because you don’t want other people to see you cry.
But what if those other people were just like you? What if you could get away for a few days and retreat to a safe place with other barren women* for a time of rest, refreshment, and fellowship in Christ?
We are thinking about hosting a retreat called “The Great Getaway” for you, but, before we do, we want to make sure you actually want to come. Are you interested? If so, send us a quick message through the Submit a Question page and let us know your name, email address, location, and whether or not you would be able to travel somewhere in the Midwest.
It’s time to come out of hiding, don’t you think?
* Maybe you suffer from barrenness or secondary infertility. Maybe you are struggling through the grief of a recent miscarriage. Maybe you are wrestling with the legal paperwork of an adoption or silently waiting for your foster child to bond with your family. Maybe you have lost your husband and wonder if you will ever have the chance to be a mother. If any of these situations apply to you (and you are a woman), then you are invited.
I am waiting for Advent to begin, that blessed season of repentance when we in the Church reflect upon our need for a Savior.
I am waiting with Mary for the Child that has been promised to me, the Perfect One who exchanged my sin for His blessed righteousness.
I am waiting for the arrival of my dear friend’s adopted little girl, the little elephant whom we have been praying for and anticipating for seven, long years.
I am waiting for my godchildren to grow up in Christ, praying that God would preserve and sustain them in the one, true Faith unto life everlasting.
I am waiting for deliverance from my affliction, thanking God that I am medication and injection-free at the moment.
I am waiting for a child of my own, knowing full well that I may never have one.
Come quickly, Lord Jesus, for I am waiting.
For those of you out there who are still trying to figure out what God’s will is for you as a barren woman/couple so that you can carry it out, here is yet another reminder of what that phrase really means:
“Now that is the will of God which Christ both did and taught. Humility in conversation; steadfastness in faith; modesty in words; justice in deeds; mercifulness in works; discipline in morals; to be unable to do a wrong, and to be able to bear a wrong when done; to keep peace with the brethren; to love God with all one’s heart; to love Him in that He is a Father; to fear Him in that He is God; to prefer nothing whatever to Christ, because He did not prefer anything to us; to adhere inseparably to His love; to stand by His cross bravely and faithfully; when there is any contest on behalf of His name and honor, to exhibit in discourse that constancy wherewith we make confession; in torture, that confidence wherewith we do battle; in death, that patience whereby we are crowned; — this is to desire to be fellow-heirs with Christ; this is to do the commandment of God; this is to fulfill the will of the father.” Cyprian (ANF 5:451).
You see, it’s not about whether to adopt or try and fix the reproductive system. It’s not about whether to do foster care. It’s not about domestic versus international. This is all adiophora (things neither forbidden nor commanded). Do what makes sense to you, what you’re financially and physically capable of and what is ethical. God’s will has to do with what Jesus did, perfectly, in our place, because we are incapable of fulfilling it.
Rest assured that it was. It still is. And it will continue to be.
So stop fretting and just make that decision.
Good conversation is always refreshing. Last night I was at the farm for a get-together. I was sitting outdoors at a table with my friend, enjoying a great meal, along with a healthy dose of flies. [Who doesn’t love a picnic?] Everybody else at our table had left, but my friend and I continued to visit. We talked about her new home and all that goes along with moving into it. We mused over the antics of the little children playing outside on the driveway. We talked about the school year for my daughter. We laughed about a video on the internet.
Not once did our conversation revolve around my barrenness or my family’s seemingly eternal wait to adopt a child. Rather, we talked about so many other things. I appreciated that. My friend knows that we have been waiting a long time to increase our family size, and I know that she cares deeply for me. We didn’t have to constantly reiterate those points to each other. We could simply chat. Now that’s a good friend.
Some people say the wrong thing. Some people ask nosy questions. Some people say the wrong thing, ask nosy questions and make unhelpful predictions about the future. These are people you should avoid at all costs. This week I had no choice but to confront someone who has a reputation for not knowing the meaning of tact. Our regular medical practitioner was unavailable for our checkup, so we had the misfortune of seeing that guy. Here’s how the conversation played out. Keep in mind, the checkup was for the child, not me:
Dr. Tactless: Now, this one’s adopted?
Me: Yes.
Dr. Tactless: And you have another one who’s adopted, too, right?
Me: Yes, he’s eight now.
Dr. Tactless: So…is that something you planned to do, or was there something wrong?
Me: Well…I’ve only been pregnant once, and then I had a miscarriage.
Dr. Tactless: I see. So something is wrong with your system.
Me: We…uh…don’t know for sure. I’ve had some issues with endometriosis in the past but feel pretty healthy now.
Dr. Tactless: And your husband’s sperm count is normal?
Me: Ummm…he, uh,…he seems to be healthy, too.
Dr. Tactless: Hmmm…now how old are you again?
Me: Thirty-six.
Dr. Tactless: Oh, well, you know you could get a surprise later on.
Me: We would be open to surprises.
Dr. Tactless: You know, there’s nothing like the ink drying on adoption paperwork to make for a good fertility treatment (sly, know-it-all half-smile creeping up his face as he nods slowly). Well, the baby looks good. Come back in a month.
Sheesh. I couldn’t get out of that office fast enough.
Don’t you ever wish you could turn the tables, just for once, to show the other person what it feels like? If I could do this conversation all over again, this is how it would be:
Me: So, I don’t see a ring on your finger. Not married?
Dr. Tactless: No, I’m single.
Me: So…was that by choice, or is there something wrong with you?
Dr. Tactless: Uh…no, I was dating a women recently but she left the relationship. I would still like to get married someday.
Me: Hmmm…so something is wrong with you.
Dr. Tactless: I, uh, don’t know about that, exactly.
Me: Now, do you use deodorant and mouthwash regularly? That’s important, you know.
Dr. Tactless: Well, I think I smell OK.
Me: So now, how old are you again?
Dr. Tactless: I’m forty-nine.
Me: I see…You know, there’s this bar at the corner of ___ and____ where a lot of older, desperate women hang out on Friday nights. There’s nothing like a little desperation to get a relationship going (wink, wink). You should try that place. You just might get lucky.
On May 23 I sat in a rocking chair at a friend’s house and held a precious little girl in my arms and sang to her of Jesus’ love, Jesus’ lambs, the Lamb’s High Feast, and Simeon’s song, which boldly asks the Lord for a peaceful departure from this life. The very next day, on her first birthday, she died. It wasn’t a surprise–everyone knew that this was the likely outcome of her disease–yet it was tragic nonetheless. What once was here is no longer and there is heartache.
On May 28 I sat in a rocking chair in my own house and held a precious little boy in my arms and sang to him as well. In great irony and yet in God’s perfect timing, He chose to send our family new life in the midst of mourning another’s death. Although the wait seemed so long, when we received the phone call two weeks ago that there was finally a baby for us, we were in shock. What once was just a prayer had become a reality and is finally here and there is much joy.
You can imagine the rejoicing, no doubt. I won’t deny that we’ve had our blissful days. Yet behind it all is the knowledge, the grave reality, that it is not complete. I don’t mean that our family isn’t complete. Only God knows when that will be. I mean the joy is incomplete. Why? Doesn’t a baby make everything perfect? Isn’t it everything that I’ve always wanted? No, it isn’t.
I say it isn’t because I live in the Body of Christ, and when one suffers, all suffer. My friend just buried her daughter. I mourn with her and cry for her, even as I shed tears that come from watching my new son sleep. My arms, now sore from the new weight I’ve been carrying around, also ache for my family members and friends who continue to wait to hold their own gifts. As I pray prayers of thanksgiving for the blessed baptismal day that brought my son into God’s family, I simultaneously cry out for God’s mercy and intervention to stir the hearts of those I love who have rejected their own baptisms. Life and death, both physical and spiritual, continue to surround us all and permeate our daily experiences and relationships. The sun frequently peaks out from behind the clouds to give us a glimpe of the Light that will one day completely surround us, but the clouds never entirely float away.
Therefore, members of the Body of Christ do not move in and out of categories such as “the suffering,” “the blessed,” “the content,” “the afflicted.” We are one, and if we truly love one another we remain together, bearing one another’s burdens, joys, gifts and tragedies. The completeness comes at the end of the struggles, at the resurrection, and only then. This side of heaven there are times when we feel that our cup runneth over and there are times when our parched lips taste no relief. But the living waters flow freely between those mansions the Lord prepares for us, and I continue to long for the healing it will bring to the Body.
“You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.” Psalm 16:11
I’ve been thinking of the hymn that starts, “Jesus has come and brings pleasure eternal, Alpha, Omega, Beginning and End,” (LSB 533). The wait for this family to be reunited with their child is just beginning. The wait for my family to be united with a second child has come to an end. I pray that the Alpha and Omega, our Lord Jesus, would grant our two families and all the Body of Christ the opportunity to walk this path of life together, focusing on His eternal pleasures, the full and complete joy that will most certainly be ours one day when the clouds all fade away and the Son shines in all His brilliance.
There are two words a barren woman loathes to hear:
“At least you don’t have children and can do whatever you want.”
“At least you don’t have to pay for babysitting.”
“At least you’re young and have lots of time to have children.”
“At least you have one child. That’s better than nothing.”
“At least you won’t have to wait long to adopt. I mean, who wouldn’t want you to parent their child?”
“At least now you know you can get pregnant.” (after losing a child through miscarriage)
These two, little words do the opposite of what you expect. They sting rather than soothe. They set up a natural comparison between God’s divinely distributed gifts which more often than naught leads the listener to covet rather than to be content. Even when these two words are offered with the best of intentions, they still man-handle the listener into seeing the world from the speaker’s perspective, and no one feels comforted after being face locked, gorilla pressed, and clover leafed.
All in favor of scrapping this phrase from interpersonal communications, raise your hand?
He Remembers the Barren 