Suffering

The Lord Is at Hand

At last weekend’s retreat, the following was said to Pastor Cholak: “I understand that my victory is in Christ. I know that He has promised to make me new on the Last Day, but that doesn’t help me today.”

I don’t think I will ever forget what Pastor Cholak said in response.

He talked of Peter on the boat in the raging storm. The wind. The chaos. The noise. The fear.

And, amidst his terror, Peter saw Jesus out on the water – His Lord, walking towards him upon that churning, spitting sea.

“Come,” Jesus said. At his Savior’s bidding, Peter got out of the boat and walked into the storm. He crossed those tossing waves and salty white caps to Jesus’ side.

But Peter “saw the wind” and was afraid. He began to sink – down, down, down into the dark, cold, suffocating water. He would die from this.

Except, the Lord was at hand. Literally.

Jesus reached out with His hand and pulled Peter out of the sea – out of death – and took Peter safely through the raging madness to the safety of the boat.

So, what of our own fear when we see the wind, when we sink, when we feel the coldness of our cross’s suffocation creep up our throat?

“The Lord is at hand,” says Pastor Cholak.

Amen. Thank you, Pastor.

Bowling

I am reading your blog. (Yes, I mean you.)

And I understand the temptation to rant. People really do say awful things to you. They publicly drill you for details about your sex life (which is no one else’s business but your husband’s), suggest home remedies for amping up fertility (which you tried five years ago when the ideas first came out in Redbook), and generally pry and poke and dig at you because you dared cry at sewing circle when Mrs. Jones announced her daughter’s pregnancy.

I understand. It stinks to be on the receiving end of such tactless attentions, but there is something else that needs understanding in these situations.

There will always be bowling balls in your life.

There will always be people who take aim at your barrenness and flatten your feelings like a bunch of pins down a waxy lane. These people spare no verbal expense but always go for the strike, recklessly voicing their expectations for your womb, opining on projected reasons for your childlessness, and offering up armchair diagnoses of your health for the benefit of, well, I guess, themselves. It doesn’t matter where you are or what you think, say, or do. These hooks, crankers, and tweeners are going to seek you out and hit you full-on like a 16-pounder.

But, for the most part, everyone else in this world takes their conversation cues from you. They won’t talk about your barrenness unless you bring it up; they won’t make suggestions about your diet unless you openly discuss your metabolic problems; they won’t offer up ideas for how to get pregnant unless you share with them your desire for a child and subsequent frustration in your childlessness; they won’t try to help you feel better unless you look miserable; in other words, they won’t dwell on that which you don’t dwell.

So, let’s give the world a break and take some responsibility for the conversations we keep. Let’s not blog-blame others for finishing the conversations we start ourselves and, instead, kindly explain to our friends and acquaintances face-to-face what we need most from them.

And as for the bowling balls who barrel towards us unprompted, well, “we rejoice in our sufferings, 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” (Romans 5:3-5 ESV).

That’s good news, I think.

Lord Jesus Christ, in Your deep compassion You rescue us from whatever may hurt us. Teach us to love You above all things and to love our neighbors as ourselves; for You live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. (Collect for July, 14, 2013, Eighth Sunday after Pentecost)

Retreat Reflections

What happens when a bunch of barren (infertile? fruitless? we tried brainstorming a less archaic term for childlessness, but nothing fit so well as the Biblical word in the end) women get together for a weekend getaway in St. Louis?

Well, of course, some things will forever be top secret, but here’s what I can tell you:

Much Rolland hospitality was enjoyed.

Many gluten-and-dairy-free desserts prepared by Gina and her beautiful family were consumed.

Unseasonable spring weather was soaked up.

Colorful skeins of yarn were knitted.

Multiple medical questions were answered by Dr. Gosser.

Several hymns and spiritual songs were sung with Pastor Cholak.

Thoughtful gifts were exchanged. Frequent, girly laughter was heard. Honest tears were shed. Memories were made, and hours of sleep were lost.

And, last but not least, our designated night out on the town happened to be the same evening as the naked-bike-ride-thingy to raise awareness for something bearing worldly importance. So, yep, some free range breasts were witnessed by the churchy eyes of our dear retreaters.

In all seriousness, Rebecca and I have never witnessed such a group of patient, loving women who listened to each other with all forbearance and bore with each other so selflessly. It was a beautiful thing to behold.

After sharing so much with each other, it was difficult walking away after church on Sunday. We all lingered and then lingered some more. The goodbyes were not the hyperemotional departures of youthful summer campers, but the looks, hugs, and quiet words exchanged were meaningful. How do you say goodbye to ones who have gone to the trenches with you?

All I could think to say was, “Thank you.”

Happy trails to you, dear sisters, and Christ keep you.

The Corner Room

He sat in his corner room, smiling at the collage of family pictures hanging above his dresser. Children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren were pieced together like a picture quilt. A legacy in a frame.

“That’s a nice picture,” he said from his armchair.

I sat on his bed and looked at the collage. A torrent of tears made a river of my mascara. My voice twisted in my throat like a wet dishrag.

“I’m so sorry, Grandpa. I would have liked to have given you something for that picture.”

My grandfather’s shaking hand reached out to grasp my own. Dementia did not impede the Spirit of compassion. “I would have liked that, too.”

He wasn’t chiding. He was understanding. My loss was his own. We both cried.

“It hurts so much sometimes,” I admitted.

“It sure does.” His hand shook harder the harder he squeezed. “It’s just the way it is.”

We shared some private words meant only for grandfathers and granddaughters, and then we read a Psalm and a portion of the Gospel of Mark together.

I was still crying when I left his corner room, but I could clearly see my blessings.

I don’t have any children, but I have a grandpa. And he loves me.

DSC_0151 copy

Is procreation an intrinsic quality of marriage?

Question Submitted: At a recent theological symposium, I posited that we in the Church need “to return to teaching properly about the positive locus of marriage – teaching about its procreative purpose and nature.” Another attendee replied in part that “procreation is NOT an intrinsic quality of marriage, as we do not say the infertile are not married.” If I had had a chance for rebuttal, I would have pointed out the error of his logic. Bipedalism is an intrinsic quality of humans, despite the sad reality of paraplegia. It would be very helpful to hear how you would counter the idea that infertility invalidates the argument that procreation is an intrinsic quality of marriage. I have my own answers to this false argument, but I would like to make sure I have an answer that is sensitive to the minds of those who suffer from infertility.

My pastors taught me that God institutes and defines marriage in Genesis Chapters 1 and 2. We learn in verses 1:27-28 that God created man in His own image; male and female He created them, and He blessed them. He told them to be fruitful and multiply, and God saw that “it was very good” (Gen 1:31).

The gift of procreation is not only a blessing God speaks over marriage, but God sees the blessing of children as good.

Barrenness is not good. Barrenness is a brokenness of God’s good creation. Endometriosis, PCOS, fibroids, hashimoto’s thyroiditis, low sperm motility, ovarian and cervical cancers, miscarriages, childlessness, and the groaning of all creation came about as a result of man’s fall into Sin; and we don’t use the effects of Sin to redefine that which God institutes and calls “good” in His Word, nor do we use the effects of Sin to defend the notion that procreation is somehow not a part of God’s intrinsic design of marriage. That is my biggest qualm with the other attendee’s rhetoric. His thesis does not fully confess barrenness as a post-Fall reality. Barrenness proves nothing about God’s procreative intent for marriage other than that God, post-Fall, allows the cross of barrenness to burden the shoulders of some married couples.

In regards to being sensitive to the barren, we should be careful not to turn God’s good, fruitful blessing for marriage into man’s good work. Scripture tells us that having children is not a law of God for us to keep but a heritage from Him for us to receive (Psalm 127:3). None of us would have children apart from God’s merciful blessing and giving. Only God in His wisdom knows why He does not open the wombs of the barren, and we should not burden the consciences of those who are unable to have children by suggesting they should be able to outwit the very Author of Life.

And as for using the existence of barrenness as an excuse to avoid the gift of children in marriage, I can think of no place in Scripture where God calls that good.

How Hannah Prayed

The opening chapter of 1 Samuel begins with the birth of Samuel. His mother Hannah had been married to Elkanah, a Levite priest, for a number of years. It was hoped that Elkanah’s son would someday perform the sacrificial rites that were associated with the priests. Hannah went to the temple and prayed that the Lord might open her womb and give to her a child. She prayed so emphatically that Eli the priest thought her to be drunk. Hannah answered confidently that she was not drunk, but rather troubled in spirit. She had been pouring out her soul before the Lord.

Scripture does not tell us the specific words of Hannah’s prayer, but we do know that she was praying fervently. 1 Samuel 1:15 quotes Hannah as saying, “I am a woman troubled in spirit… I have been pouring out my soul before the Lord.” She had endured mockery by another woman for her barrenness. She was in danger of being unable to continue her husband’s priestly line. She knew that the Lord was capable of giving her a son. She didn’t know if that would happen, but she took her prayer to the Lord anyway. She did not tell herself, “I’m gonna get myself a baby.” She didn’t have to consider “which doctor can ‘make’ a baby for me.” Rather, she prayed the prayer of a believer in Christ, “Thy will be done, Lord.” She trusted that the Lord would grant to her those things that were best for her, and in His timing.

May each of us pray similarly, “Thy will be done, Lord.”

Should My Friend Get Help?

Question Submitted: I am a struggling supporter of my best friend who faces various levels of depression because of her barrenness. Do you think there is a time to suggest that my friend get medical advice about the depression?

We asked Pastor Todd Peperkorn, author of the book I Trust When Dark My Road: A Lutheran View of Depression and pastor of Holy Cross Lutheran Church in Rocklin, California, to help us with this question. Here is what he had to say:

The short answer to this question is that if you are concerned about her, talk to her about it. There is no magic “if this, this and this happens, then you talk to them about it.” My rule of thumb is that if someone’s low mood persists for weeks or months, then I would certainly encourage them to seek medical advice.

As her friend, what I would encourage you to do is 1) pray for her and perhaps even with her if you are close to one another, 2) encourage her to get a medical opinion on the matter which may involve either medication or counseling or both, and 3) ask her what you can actually, concretely do to help her. All too often as Christians we take prayer as a last step rather than a first step toward helping those in need.

Peace to you. There are many burdens which we all bear, and by bearing them together, they make a lighter load for us all.

Pastor Todd Peperkorn

Brave Warriors

There is empathy from all different walks of life.

Last summer, my husband and I travelled with a communications team for The Lutheran Witness down to San Antonio, Texas, to learn more about the U.S. Army’s chaplaincy program. We visited Fort Sam Houston, Brooke Army Medical Center, Camp Bullis, and other significant military establishments to talk with chaplains, medics, apache pilots, wounded warriors, purple heart awardees, and hero after hero after hero.

I learned that there are brave men and women who risk their lives every day to protect me and the freedoms I enjoy in this country; I learned that there are faithful chaplains and their assistants who rush towards the boom of every battle to give the gifts of Word and Sacrament to the wounded and dying; I learned that there are many things I can do to support the families of military personnel; I learned that thousands of our nation’s warriors suffer from post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and struggle transitioning back into civilian life; and I learned that those who struggle with post traumatic stress speak my language.

For example, in High Ground (2012), a recent documentary on recovering warriors training and attempting a therapeutic climb of a peak in the Himalayas, a master at arms canine handler in the U.S. Navy admits, “Injuries are a very personal experience. I don’t like to talk about what happened. One of my main obstacles when I came back and was in a wheelchair for 3 1/2 years is [that] everybody looked at me as broken, and, um, they missed who I was. And so that became my identity…it was always about the injury, not about me.”

Yes. I resound with that. My identity to most of the world is not “Katie, that baptized Christian who loves people, music, words, herbs, mountains, and running pants” but “Katie, that barren woman.”

Another soldier in the documentary admits before the camera, “I have more in common, I feel sometimes, with an old man on his deathbed than I do with people my own age, emotionally, you know…I just feel like…I’ve lived out my life…like the tank is empty.”

Yes. I feel the life-sucking tentacles of grief wrapped around my bloodline, and I tend to gravitate towards friendships with people who are several generations older than me. We have a lot in common.

The same soldier elaborates, “You just see people enjoying life and being alive and you’re like, why don’t I feel that? I’ve had so many near-death experiences, shouldn’t I be happy to be alive?…It’s really hard to, like, reestablish yourself, I guess, in society because it’s just so different…Everybody looks at us weird. ‘Thanks for your service…Stay away. Keep your distance from me.’”

Yes. My suffering and grief and pain often ostracize me from the party of life.

Another soldier suffering from a traumatic brain injury (TBI) discloses, “People still don’t get it that not all pain is physical.”

Yes. Coping with life-altering circumstances and chronic health problems brings with it an invisible but all-consuming pain that really, really hurts.

So, because there are only so many of you courageous warriors in uniform and veterans’ caps that I meet gassing up at my local Casey’s or walking down the fruit aisle at my Wal-Mart on Dirksen, please allow me to thank you on this little blog. Thank you, not just for your brave service to our country on the battlefield but also for your brave face-off with the enemy of post traumatic stress off of the battlefield. I cannot fully understand the traumas you have experienced in trying to protect me, but I relate to the internal battle you so eloquently describe. I find comfort in your empathy.

God bless you.

Helpful

At our recent pastors’ roundtable in St. Louis, an attending pastor drew our attention to the following quote from Martin Luther’s lectures on Genesis Chapters 21-25:

And it seems that God wanted to teach and attest that the begetting of children is wonderfully pleasing to Him, in order that we might realize that He upholds and defends His Word when He says: “Be fruitful.” He is not hostile to children, as we are. Many of us do not seek to have offspring. But God emphasizes His Word to such an extent that He sometimes gives offspring even to those who do not desire it, yes, even hate it. Occasionally, of course, He does not give it to some who earnestly desire it. It is His purpose to test them. And, what is more, He seems to emphasize procreation to such an extent that children are born even to adulterers and fornicators contrary to their wish. How great, therefore, the wickedness of human nature is! How many girls there are who prevent conception and kill and expel tender fetuses, although procreation is the work of God! (Luther, 304)*

I don’t know why God tests us in our barrenness, but the mystery of God’s wisdom comforts me as much as it confounds me. We can rest in the knowledge that God loves the begetting of children enough to give the gift of them abundantly, even when He does not give them to us.

* Pelikan, Jaroslav, and Walter A. Hansen, eds. Luther’s Works. Vol. 4. St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1964.

Get Ready to GETAWAY!

The Great Getaway is approaching fast, and registration for on-sight attendees is now filled and closed. However, we do have room left for commuting attendees.

Do you crave fellowship with other women who understand what it’s like to be childless or to lose a child? Do you have ethical questions about infertility medicine you’d like to ask a pro-life doctor? Would you enjoy eating decadent desserts prepared by a loving pastor and his wife who just want to spoil you rotten? Do you need a retreat in a beautiful house near a scenic park in historic St. Louis?

Then, you might want to join us this summer for the The Great Getaway on Friday, July 26th through Sunday, July 28th. Retreat details and registration information can be found here.