Infertility

Free to Serve

Are there any blessings that come from a life of barrenness? Most certainly. Last week I had the priviledge of experiencing one of them. I was able, by the grace of God, to look at my station in life, to consider my empty womb and my only child and say with St. Paul, “Rejoice in the Lord always! And again I say, Rejoice!” How is this possible? Last week someone needed me.

My flexible schedule, my helpful and increasingly independent 7-year-old and my saintly husband all contributed to me being able to be a blessing to a church family who needed help. Very few people are able to do what I can do because they have full-time jobs, school commitments, little children, or other responsibilities. Currently in my life I am somewhat free, and this freedom has allowed me the opportunity to provide for a family whose father has experienced emergency surgery and whose mother is about to bring another new life into this world. There are no grandmothers to come take over the household, only friends and neighbors who are trying to take the place of that precious role. Yes, it is stressful at times to try and get everything scheduled so that all the needs are met. But oh, what a joy to know that we can be the hands and feet of Christ, caring for His people and loving His little children until both mom and dad are healthy and fully capable of returning to their duties.

Each day that we wake up in the morning, we women who are waiting on the Lord decide how to view this life that has been given to us. Despair, heartache, frustration, longing—these are all emotions that cannot be avoided. They should not, however, be allowed to take over our lives. While we wait for whatever it is that our hearts desire—be it physical healing, pregnancy, adoption, or peace to accept a childless life—we have a calling to be active in our current station, to be content, and, yes, even to rejoice.

Helen Keller once echoed some of St. Paul’s words from Philipians 4:11-12 when she wrote, “Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence, and I learn, whatever state I may be in, therein to be content.” Darkness and silence have wonders? How strange for us to comprehend. But when you lack the ability to do what others can it makes you acutely aware of those things that others take for granted, and the gifts you still posses become stronger than they normally would be. The gifts that many of us possess right now are time and flexibility. Combined with our now-accute awareness of those who are suffering in some way, these gifts can overflow into huge blessings for those around us.

Dear sisters, forget yourselves for a time in acts of love and service to your neighbors. Look upon their pain and help them carry their burdens. And as you do so, praise God that He can use you for His purpose to serve in roles that few women these days can do. What some see as a curse you can view as a unique opportunity and blessing while you wait. So give thanks, be content, and you’ll find that even through your tears and longing the Lord will help you to “Rejoice!”

Take my life and let it be

Consecrated, Lord, to Thee;

Take my moments and my days,

Let them flow in ceaseless praise.

Take my hands and let them move

At the impulse of Thy love;

Take my feet and let them be

Swift and beautiful for Thee.

Lutheran Service Book, #783, vss. 1-2

Is It Just Me?

That’s what I wondered when my tears kept flowing. I was ready for another child, and nothing was happening. I had checkups with my doctor, did the tests, ate the right foods, marked the calendar faithfully – and still nothing. I was angry, sorrowful, and confused. I felt alone in my grief. My husband and I wanted another child, but there was none. I felt like crying all the time.

Why isn’t my husband crying, too? Is it just me? Doesn’t he care? The obvious answer was yes, but I was so overwhelmed with my own emotions that i didn’t see it. He was grieving as well. Yet I was angry that he wasn’t displaying more emotion over the situation.

Finally, my tears dried enough to tell him that I was sad, angry, confused, bitter. Praise God for a husband who cares! As I shared my myriad of emotions, he listened patiently and held me. It was then that I remembered that I do not walk this road alone. He shared his concerns and fears and sorrows, too. We cried together.

And then – we prayed. We took our concerns to the Lord. He already knew our needs and sorrows, and yet we told Him anyway. We prayed for peace, that God would grant us another baby while we waited. We prayed for other couples who were struggling with infertility. We thanked the Lord for the child we already had. We prayed that the Lord’s will would be done, and that we might know and do His will.

Is it just me? No, never. Jesus Christ knows my sorrows, and He will always be there right beside me.

Thank You, Church

I received all kinds of gifts yesterday:

a card from my mother,
multiple texts and emails from my sisters and friends to remind me that I am important in the lives of their children,
precious concern from a goddaughter that I might not have enough love and attention left for her if I ever have any children of my own,
hugs and kisses from church members,
and tulips, a bike ride around White Rock Lake, a trip to Central Market, a game of Trivial Pursuit, and sushi from my husband.

One gift in particular, though – a Facebook message from a brother in Christ living in Virginia – brought me a comfort and peace that surpassed all understanding: “In our prayer of the church today, we included those women who are barren and cannot have children. I whispered your name during that petition.”

Those words still move me this morning. On Mother’s Day of all days, that secular holiday which perpetually tempts me to live the life of a hermit, someone remembered and prayed for me, Katie Schuermann, mother of none. More than that, the whole, entire Church remembered and prayed for me. I am not forgotten. The Church knows my cross and bears it with me before the altar of our Lord Jesus. What a gift!

Thank you, Ed. Thank you, Church.