Suffering

No More Hush-Hush

For years now, our talks at home about children have been somewhat restrained. We have endured years of waiting and hoping. It was painful to talk about growing our family. There were no guarantees that the Lord would answer our prayer. Yes, we talked about our hopes for a larger family, but those conversations were short and cautious. It was hard to imagine a larger family when nothing seemed to make that a reality. Meals were eerily quiet. Talking aloud about having children made the pain of not having them all the more real.

As we draw closer to receiving our little girl, our dinner conversations have become more lively. We talk about the personality our little girl might have. Family vacations and birthday parties are being planned as we sit around our table. More smiles are shared together.

This does not mean to say that the Lord has abandoned us during our wait. On the contrary, He has carried us through the sorrowful days and meals. He has continued to provide food for our table and an environment in which we can continue to receive His good gifts.

Dear friend, I encourage you to speak aloud your pain. It’s okay to talk about wanting children, even if they haven’t been given to you. I wish I had shared those sorrows with my loved ones. I cheated them out of the opportunity to love me and help carry my grief. They had often told me that they loved me, but I was still too scared to actually talk about my barrenness with them. Share your sorrow with your spouse. Tell your pastor; then hear him read the psalms to you. God’s Word brings true comfort to a hurting soul. God says that He loves you. Now that’s something to share.

An Agonizing Absence

A barren friend recently confided to me, “I broke down crying the other day. I don’t really know why. I mean, I thought I would be over this by now.”

I don’t think we ever get over this barrenness thing, because no matter how comfortable we become, no matter how content we grow in our childlessness, it is still not the way things are supposed to be. God commanded us via Adam and Eve in the garden to be fruitful and multiply, and we know that it is God’s good will for us to have the blessing of children in marriage.

Yet, we don’t.

Our barren wombs are a reminder, a manifestation even, of the brokenness of this Sin-sick world, and, even though we are blessed and fruitful beyond measure today in Christ, the wrongness of our childless marriage still stings. And so we grieve.

Rev. Gregory Schulz describes it this way in The Problem of Suffering: A Father’s Hope:

[G]rief is love. This means that grief is a kind of care…Grief as care is an obsession, an attention – not to “mortality” or to “the human condition” – but to a person who is at the same time dearly loved and agonizingly absent. (Schulz, 102-3)

We cry, because our dearly loved children are agonizingly absent.

Endangered Species

What happens when a girl takes the same drug that men with prostrate cancer take?

Well, she sweats through her clothes. She wakes up in the middle of the night. She cries uncontrollably. She twitches with edginess. She gains fifteen pounds in two-and-a-half weeks. She gets dizzy when she works out. She alarms her doctors with the changes in her cholesterol levels. She feels a strange pressure in between her ears. She loses her right eyebrow- .

Wait, what?!

(Yes, you read that correctly.)

She loses her right eyebrow.

Well, almost all of it. I have fifteen hairs left, and you better believe I am building a game preserve on my face to protect all endangered species. I knew hair loss was a side effect of chemotherapy, but I had no idea eyebrows were fair game. After six months of Lupron injections, the glass is no longer half full; my face is half empty. Thank God for friends who come to the rescue!

Suffering for My Own Good

This week marked seven full years since we signed the papers to begin an international adoption. How long, O Lord? How long until you grant my heart’s request? How can seven years of waiting for another child be a good thing? I have mourned because more children have not been given me. I have been jealous for the children that were given to others. My anger towards God has been lashed out on those I love. Left to my own devices, all my sinful desires would be fulfilled. I would be surrounded by false idols and eventually loathe all things.

However, the Lord has blessed me numerous times. In the past seven years, I have been part of a trio that brings joy to residents in nursing homes. My husband and I have been able to coach our daughter’s softball team together. The Lord has allowed me to sing the faithful hymns with 300 other Lutheran women at a district gathering. During the long wait, I have traveled with Katie and shared the joys and burdens of barrenness with others. If we had been traveling to China right now, I would have missed the funeral of a beloved friend. If December had taken us to our newest daughter, I would not have been able to sing the Christmas hymns with our Sunday School children.

Suffering never feels good. How could it? God never deigned for man to suffer. Our sinful nature grabs hold of us and strives to push us away from our loving Lord. The devil tempts me to think that I have endured more than my share of suffering. Satan would lead me to turn my back on God. The truth is that I should endure the torture of eternal hell. In my sin I have turned my back on God.

Jesus, though, has come to my rescue. He has endured suffering and death in my place. I don’t have to suffer eternal punishment for my sin. As a baptized child of God, I can face suffering and know that Jesus has endured far worse. The Lord has used (and is still using) my suffering to remind me that He knows what is best for me. I know with certainty that the Lord loves me and is using my suffering for good. The Lord has used the past seven years to remind me that He works all things for my eternal good.

What God ordains is always good: He is my friend and Father;

He suffers naught to do me harm Though many storms may gather.

Now I may know Both joy and woe;

Someday I shall see clearly

That He has loved me dearly.

Lutheran Service Book 760:4

Blessed to Suffer

Jane Jensen reminds us in her reflection on “My Suffering Is a Blessing” that God blesses us with His good gifts even while we suffer.

Three years ago I heard the dreaded words, “the biopsy came back cancerous.” I remember counting the tears that fell, only three before hanging up the phone. Crying is not going to do you any good, I told myself, start your stunned brain, instead. What should I do first? Pray? I’d already been doing that since the mammogram found the tiny spot. I decided it was time to put my head down and walk this path the Lord was showing me.

My friend, Cheryl, had taken me up to the hospital for the needle biopsy. She never hesitated when I asked if she could take a day off and go with me. A needle passing through your breast is terrifying. However, the technology, the doctor, and the nurses were all blessings from God. There was no pain, none. Those were the first of many blessings to come.

The Lord had the scheduling all planned out, another blessing. Everything fell into place. My daughter and son-in-law were with me when I had the lumpectomy surgery. Best friend, Bill, went with me to find out my treatment options. Friends called every day to check on me. When the chemotherapy began, the support increased. Four times I sat in a chair to receive the drugs by IV that was mixed before my eyes. People almost fought over who would take me to the cancer center and wait with me.

The cancer center was only 30 miles away. I did not have to travel to Omaha which would have been 3 hours away. Here again the Lord had the best place all provided.

I received the blessing of new friends through chemo and then radiation. One is especially dear to me, keeping in touch by phone, letters, and lunches. Cards and letters of encouragement came four and five at a time. I started to scrapbook them, but they were so great in number I gave up and bought a beautiful rose covered box. I had to weight them down for the lid to stay on. People prayed for me. My church family and I grew especially close all because of their concern and love for me. It was humbling.

I lost my hair, and my complexion turned a strange color. Still, my friends comforted me and asked about me. Could they bring anything to me? That was when the tears came, not when I went under the knife, not during the torments of chemo or the exhaustion of radiation. The LORD God of heaven had provided sinful, sick me with a family that spoiled me and friends who did everything they could to cheer me. It was humbling and overwhelming. God had sent them all to me at just the right time. My cancer journey was a blessing. I can explain it no better than that.

Jane Jensen

A Season to Share

Rachel Pollock reminds us in her reflection on “My Suffering Is a Blessing” that we all endure suffering and enjoy blessings throughout the year, and we in the body of Christ can be there to share in all of them.

I had to update addresses before I could send Christmas cards this year. There were joyous updates. I added names of friends that got married, had babies, or finalized adoptions. It seemed there were more sad updates. Some of the names I had to remove because:

they had divorced or died. The worst was when an entire entry had to be removed because both spouses had died.
a father had committed suicide, and this affects his wife/children/grandchildren daily.
a child had lost the battle with leukemia.
A spouse had died when he seemed way too young to die.
they have dementia, and a letter would confuse them.

When I wrote the addresses on the envelopes I reflected on some of the suffering:

those who are single and would like to be married.
many couples that are barren or have not been blessed with a sibling for their only child.
many families that have experienced a miscarriage.
those who the doctor recommends no more pregnancies for the mother’s health.
those families that have so many children that being pregnant one more time feels like a burden for them.
those with cancer or Parkinson’s or depression.
those that are unemployed or not in a job they really want.
families that live very far from extended family.
a family with a seriously ill child.

It is even more difficult to write a Christmas letter with updates about our family. What a downer it would be to put in the letter that we have had six miscarriages. I would love to add in our letter that our youngest is actually younger than our four-year-old.

There are some obvious blessings to reflect on as I update the addresses:

a mother that is counting the days that she is still pregnant after many miscarriages, and it seems that she will get to rock and hold a little girl in a few months.
families that are healing after the death of a loved one or a divorce.
families that were able to adopt a child.
a family that rejoices because their child is healthy after major surgery.

Our family has many blessings, too. We have many friends and family all over the world to whom we send Christmas cards. My husband is healthy after a major surgery two years ago. We have three healthy sons. Both sets of our parents are alive and still married to each other. We added a brother-in-law to our family last year. We were able to move closer to one side of the family and able to buy a house beyond what we expected. My husband has a good job. We are part of a wonderful church family.

Yet, there are more blessings, still. Each day I thank and praise God that He safely brought me to another day to live out my baptismal life in Christ. We should not despair even when thinking of all the suffering of our family and friends. Whatever happens in our lives, we are God’s children and God will work it for our eternal good. God will provide and care for our every need. My address list will always have suffering on it because we live in a sinful world. Jesus has conquered sin, death, and the devil. We press on towards the goal of eternal life in heaven. Because of all the suffering on earth, we long for heaven even more.

“Be near me, Lord Jesus: I ask Thee to stay

Close by me forever and love me, I pray.

Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care,

And take us to heaven to live with Thee there.”

LSB 364:3

Rachel Pollock

The Cross We Bare

Laura Koch reminds us in her reflection on “My Suffering Is a Blessing” that the crosses we bear can be very hard to bare. Thank you, Laura, for baring your cross to us.

Blessed by God – I suppose that would be the “category” that might describe me since I have four children that were created by God in my womb. But I also know the pain and sorrow of a body filled with stage 4 endometriosis. I know, too, the guilt and suffering that goes with losing an ovary by disease and then deciding to “tie the tube” on the other side because childbirth was becoming too hard.

Our first daughter came to be very early in our marriage. My husband was at the seminary, I was a Lutheran school teacher…we had barely enough money to live on, and yet she came. I was so afraid. How would we take care of her? God provided beautifully for all our needs….and even granted us a son while we were still at the seminary. Another daughter came during my husband’s early years in ministry. Our last daughter came three years later but two months premature, as I was severely bleeding due to placenta previa. After receiving 5 pints of blood, I was just fine. And after 4 weeks in the hospital she came home.

So, why then am I writing here? Because I find so much comfort in the words written on this blog. I believe God has created a natural desire in women to have children. We, on most days, comfortably nurture the people in our home. When this blessing of children is not granted or ceases to be, the pain that a women suffers can become unbearable at times. And when one chooses not to have children because of fear or because of a risk to her body, her grief can be insurmountable, too. I know.

The years following my tubal were filled with so much grief and tears. I wish I had not made that decision in haste – lying on a hospital bed in pain due to an enormous cyst on the other ovary. I don’t know if God would have granted us any more children. I don’t know if my body would have been able to handle it anymore. Eventually, endometriosis would claim my very womb, too.

The guilt over that decision, though, grieved my heart for many years.

A barren womb is not always easy to see.

We all know that we live in a sin-cursed world. We are children of God, saved by grace in the death of His Son, Jesus Christ, and we live in the freedom of our sins being forgiven. We know that God does indeed love each of us. We need to hear that spoken in our ears every Sunday, if not more! I know that God has forgiven me for that decision and He has calmed my spirit as years have gone by. I look at my children as the true gifts that they are, created in a body that was broken by sin. And I weep with the barren woman because I have shared in her grief, too.

Laura Koch

Open Hands

Come with me to the other side of the fence for a moment and sit with a sister in Christ whose daily life looks markedly different from your own.

Aubri reminds us in her reflection on “My Suffering Is a Blessing” that children are a blessing because God says they are, period. For, more often than we’d like to admit, the suffering that comes with mothering makes us feel anything but blessed.

Being the mother of five children, ages four and under can make it easy to feel more burdened than blessed and call my struggles, suffering. The endless work with little to show for it, the emotional strain of teething infants, defiant toddlers and helpless preschoolers wears on me; enduring fussy, fighting children and wondering if they’ll ever become kind, rational people; being needed by everyone, all the time and the worrying that I’m doing everything wrong.

Somedays I’m embarrassed by all the mess, noise and chaos that comes with a lot of children. The wreck of a porch strewn with tricycles, containers of dirt, old strollers and half-naked children screaming at each other; or opening the door to our van, loose diapers, sippy cups and crayons falling out onto the street and a load of fussy children tumbling out behind all that. My pride is damaged and humbled, knowing many people look at us and think, “I’m glad that’s not me” or “Don’t they know better?” I become so afraid of being “those people with all the wild, dirty kids.” It’s hard to fight the shame for what is all over my family; weakness, sin, failure all on display everywhere we go.

I fear being judged for living the only way I feel is right and godly. For embracing children and God’s authority over all of life and being thought a fool. I reluctantly confess that my own flesh feels like a fool! How many times have I pitied myself and been frustrated by those who look at us with a freak-show curiosity, resenting that we can’t even share the joy of an expected child without discouragement and comments of “concern” from loved ones who don’t understand our beliefs.

But my public cross is light compared to what I bear in private, in my heart where the sin of fear sits firm for days. I’ve had five babies in five years. I could have five more in the next five years. Pregnancy after pregnancy. I’m weary and worn down. Lord, how much more will you give me? How can you ask me to mother these babes well when I’m so tired, so scared and so angry over the sacrifices I have to make all day long?

In the trenches of motherhood it’s hard to feel blessed but that is true regardless of how I feel. I am blessed because God says I am. By His grace I can confidently confess that and give thanks.

I have to hold my hands open to God’s blessing of children because it’s right, not because I always want to. It’s foolishness to think I control life. God says that children are His gifts. He gives and He withholds as He wills. I can only live by faith and rest in what God has ordained. That is not easy—but what we are all called to do.

By God’s grace, despite my worries, I rejoice when I’m found to be with child again. I’m amazed that He would open my womb and our family to another life. I am blessed five times now with a front row seat of watching God’s greatest creations as they grow. I thank God for the moments I can relish my blessings, letting the mess of the day wash off of me; for the moments like none other when one of my precious children grins at me, puts their head on my shoulder or says something remarkable. I know that these moments are just for me. God is good. And He always provides grace and strength to make it through today.

Aubri H.

“My Suffering Is a Blessing” Contest Winner

Blessed Epiphany!

Thank you for taking the time to reflect on “My Suffering Is a Blessing” with us this holy season. It is a privilege to be on the receiving end of your thoughtful words (so much so that we are tempted to host more writing contests throughout the year), and we greatly appreciate your participation in such ventures. It truly is an honor to read your submissions.

We’d like to share five posts with you this week, starting today with a post written by our contest winner, Heidi Dawn Sias. Congratulations, Heidi, on winning a free copy of He Remembers the Barren, and thank you for allowing us to share your words of wisdom and encouragement below.

Grateful,

Your HRTB Hosts

It’s that time of year again: a time for gifts, a time for family gatherings, a time for Christmas cookies, a time for singing carols, a time for New Year’s parties, and a time for children, as they have “visions of sugar-plums” dancing in their heads…whatever that means. It’s the most wonderful time of the year, right? It’s so much fun to watch children’s eyes light up when they see the lighted Christmas tree with gifts strewn beneath it, and welcome another New Year with hearts full of hopes and dreams. But what about families struggling to make ends meet; what about families who can’t be together; what about families who have lost someone this past year; what about the twenty families in Connecticut who will look at the gifts they bought for their children this year with tears streaming down their face; what about the family in our community here who eagerly awaited their newborn daughter to arrive around Christmas but attended her funeral instead; what about our friend’s extended family member with six-month-old twins, who lost one twin to SIDS just four days before Christmas; what about my sister-in-law whose one-year-old son died one month after Christmas last year after spending his entire life in the hospital; what about me….entering my final child-bearing years and still without a child of my own to hold? These things hurt deeply and we ask, “why?” We might begin to look at the New Year with anxiety wondering what will happen next. Sometimes this time of year reminds us even more of the suffering we’ve endured instead of being the most wonderful time of the year.

But Christmas is about Jesus. It’s not about sugar-plums. Jesus became flesh and dwelt among us. That’s Christmas. That’s what we celebrate. That little baby came to take on my burdens and to die on a cross. That little baby is my comfort in suffering. My suffering draws me back again and again to the foot of the cross, weary and weeping. Jesus lifts up my head and points me back to His manger, back to His cross, and says, “I did that for you.” He calls me to himself and says, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matt. 11:28) I can rejoice in my suffering “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.” (Rom. 5:3–5) It’s a perplexing phrase: “rejoice in my sufferings.” But I can, because in the end suffering gives me hope. Hope in Christ, the only Hope. Of course, I cry in my sufferings too, but I can still rejoice in knowing God’s love has been poured into my heart. He has made promises that I can count on. He weeps with me, wipes away my tears, and says, “come to me so I can comfort you.” I receive Him in faith, I rest in Him, and I cling to the promises He gives me in His Word; promises of forgiveness, life, and salvation. Hope for a future with Him. Jesus came for me. Jesus came for you. That’s worth celebrating no matter what sufferings we endure. It’s worth celebrating at Christmas, and it’s worth celebrating all year round. My suffering is a blessing because it points me to Christ, and He is all I really need.

Heidi Dawn Sias

It Might Be Catching

In this world, we treat suffering as a disease, as something that can and should be cured. And, as with other diseases, we tend to avoid those who are suffering as we do those who are sick. After all, it might be catching. We don’t want to get what they’ve got.

Phooey!

Take off your masks and get in there, neighbors. Suffering isn’t catching. You can take the hand of the afflicted without fear of transmission, though you might start to feel a little different. Compassion might stir within your gut, and you might cry a little. You might even find that you can no longer ignore all that’s happening around you. You might be moved to action, to cook a meal or mow a lawn. You might find yourself skipping your favorite show on NBC that night to sit with those in distress and read some Psalms.

Whatever happens, expect one thing: You will be moved to pray to God for mercy, because that is what has been given for us to do. We turn in faith to Him who has been merciful to us in Christ Jesus, and we trust in His good will for all of the saints, even the suffering ones.