Advent Admonition

My barren sisters:

Tonight is the night you watch other people’s children participate in Christmas pageants. It’s time for you to build relationships with those children. You said “amen” at their baptisms, so they are yours to support and guard and protect in the Faith. Start talking to them. Teach their Sunday school class. Lead them in music. Have them over to your house for dinner. Show them videos of your pet bunny. Go to their ballgames and concerts. Share whatever specific gifts you have been given, for, in sharing yourself with them, you will begin to love them and they most likely will begin to love you. That’s how you can get through tonight’s Christmas pageant. Love the children that are there even as your heart pines for the ones that aren’t.

Tonight is the night you sing of another woman’s pregnancy and another woman’s infant. Sing out loud and strong with confidence, for these songs are your own. The Child born of Mary is your child, the very One for whom you yearn. You may never have been pregnant – or the children of your pregnancies may be no more in your womb and no more in your arms – but Jesus is born for you. He is your Child, come to save you from your sin that you and your children might live forever in Him. His is the birth by which you will be “saved through childbearing” (1 Timothy 2:15).

Tonight is the night you go home to a childless house, and here, my sisters – in the silent, holy night – is your cross. Here is where the birth of Jesus matters most, in the horrible war against principalities and powers. Here is where you weep and gnash your teeth for the death that curses this blasted world. Here is where you repent and turn to Him who died for sinners.

So, cry out to the Child Jesus who died but lives again and remember in faith: in Him, you will live again, too.

17 And when I saw him, I fell at his feet as dead. And he laid his right hand upon me, saying unto me, Fear not; I am the first and the last:
18 I am he that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell and of death (Revelation 1).

Christmas is merry in Jesus.

Love,

Katie

White Knights

knight There are some men, particularly protective brothers in Christ, who look at me with understanding in their eyes but say nothing. They simply act.

They put their baby in my arms before I can say no.

They walk into the kitchen at their child’s birthday party to silently check on me.

They hug me hard after church on Christmas Eve before I drive home to my own, childless house.

They hand me a gift bag of homemade candy on Mother’s Day.

They drive me to far-away presentations.

They stand at my side and put a comforting hand on my shoulder when IVF death statistics are read aloud at conferences.

They travel across state borders to attend a roundtable discussion on IVF and embryo adoption.

They buy a copy of He Remembers the Barren and read it.

They pray for me.

Truth be told, these men are princely, white knights to this barren damsel in distress, and I am so grateful. Thank you, silent men, for everything you do.

PCOS P.S.

Gina is someone I look up to in so many ways, not only because she is an extraordinary woman who bakes decadent, gluten-free desserts, but because she doesn’t hide from the crosses God has given her – and she encourages me to do the same:

PCOS is so hard to live with and deal with, not only because of the infertility but because all of it is the pits. At this point in my life, I can look back and see that my PCOS was/is a cross to bear that at times I threw on the ground and despised, but, as with all crosses, it continues to be bearable only through Christ and the love of Christian friends, my spouse, and family. From this perspective, I can tell you that I am in part shaped by the suffering of PCOS and, as with all suffering, God can use it for the good of both the sufferer and those around her; but I can only see that now that I am 47 and reconciled to my barrenness, and I still only glimpse this here and there.

A friend of mine and I were talking about the wounds and scars of life and we finally decided that we can’t hide them and we can’t repair them. We can only let them leak God’s mercy to others, that same mercy He showed us.

From This Date Henceforth

It’s very rare to find me in a courtroom. And yet, I was there yesterday for 2 special reasons. Our daughter Maria was being readopted in the USA. At the same time, the finalization of adoption for our son Josiah was also being completed. My husband and I watched the legal system work. Both of our lawyers presented evidence that supported our request to adopt. The judge reviewed the piles of paperwork and listened to our testimony. He even asked Joanna a few questions about being a big sister. After twenty minutes, we heard the judge decree that… “from this day henceforth Maria shall be the adopted child of Jerome and Kristin Leckband.” He also decreed that… “from this day henceforth Josiah shall be the adopted child of Jerome and Kristin Leckband.” And there was much clapping from the gallery of friends who had come to share our joy.

And just like that it was done. We officially have 2 more children in our family. The range of emotions that I have experienced in the past 24 hours is wide. Incredible joy at these blessings God gives. Extreme humbleness for being given the responsibility to parent. Guilt over the gift of three children. Pain for birth families. Relief that the adoption process for both children is finally over.

Each adoption story is unique and special. God knows each of His children and provides for them when and where He wills. Jerome and I conversed about the Galatians passage regarding adoption.

Galatians 4:4-5
English Standard Version (ESV)

⁴But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, ⁵to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons.

We did not choose these children. The Chinese adoption agency matched us with Maria. Josiah’s birthmother chose us to care for her son. There was nothing in us that deserved either of these children; God brought these children to us. The same can be said for our biological daughter Joanna. God gave her to us. Also, God chose me to be adopted into His family. He made me His child in Holy Baptism. On my baptism date of August 27, 1972, it was decreed that… from this day henceforth Kristin Kay shall be a child of God. It’s all God’s work in us and through us.

And, so, to those of you who are working through the adoption process, know this. The Lord is with you every step of the way, no matter the outcome. Adoption is not an easy answer to the prayer for children. The adoption process can be loaded with bumps and bruises and disappointments and u-turns and marathon miles. There will likely be pain and hardship and trials. Still, God provides what is best for you. He always does. Thus, if the Lord blesses you with a child, it is purely by His grace and mercy. And when the judge makes the official decree regarding the adoption of YOUR child, then you can smile all day and all night and do a happy dance. I did, and I’m still smiling today.

When God Hides Himself from Us

Truly, you are a God who hides yourself, O God of Israel, the Savior. Isaiah 45:15

“We’re called to leave the hidden things hidden. We should not try to figure them out. There might not be a satisfying answer in God’s Word to every question that is raised by hardship and cross-bearing. Jesus directs us to turn our eyes away from what we cannot fathom to the blessings that are ours by faith in the Gospel, even in the midst of tantalizing why-questions. Our many unanswered questions concerning God in this world might go unanswered–but God in Jesus Christ is there in the Gospel.” (Holger Sonntag, “Our Cross with God” [CPH], 38)

Navel-Gazing

Grief is different than self-pity, I think, though the line between them can get a bit hazy.

Grief happens, while self-pity is manifested.

Grief comes to a person, while self-pity comes from a person.

Grief is born out of suffering, while self-pity is born of our own sin.

Grief is endured, while self-pity is relished.

Grief moves us to call upon the LORD, while self-pity looks to our own navel for comfort.

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus (Hebrews 12:2), dear sisters, not our navels.

Advice from a Criminal

Have you ever noticed that the criminal hanging on the cross next to Jesus doesn’t ask the Savior of the world to save him from the torture of the cross? He doesn’t ask Jesus to reduce his suffering. He doesn’t beg the Lord to relieve his own pain or to rescue him from the death that is before him.

He simply asks Jesus to remember him when He comes into His kingdom.

“We are receiving the due reward of our deeds,” the criminal says to the other crucified criminal who mocks Jesus, “but this man has done nothing wrong.” Then, he turns to Jesus in faith and says, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” (Luke 23:27-43)

Pastor Schuermann explains it this way in a recent sermon:

As the thief on the next cross – himself seemingly hopeless – turns to Christ, hope makes a request: “Remember me. Remember me when you come into your kingdom.” There is hope.

This is how hope speaks. He asks for nothing but to be remembered by Jesus. He doesn’t ask to be saved from the cross, to be spared his suffering, to be granted a last-minute pardon, as the other [criminal] did. When death is unavoidable, hope embraces death and prays, “Jesus, remember me.” He who dies with these words on his lips, dies well.

We, the barren, have the same hope. We can embrace the cross of suffering and pray along with the criminal, “Jesus, remember me.”

And the good news is that He does.

And Jesus said to him, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

Faith ‘n’ Family

Thank you to KFUO and Andy Bates for talking with me on the “Faith ‘n’ Family” program about barrenness as it relates to the Second Commandment.

You can listen to the program here.

Something That Is Better

Bo Giertz writes that when it comes to prayer, Jesus said “we should be persistent and not give up. We should compare ourselves with the man who, in the middle of the night needed to borrow some bread, and knocked on his neighbor’s door. God isn’t like the neighbor. He doesn’t mind being inconvenienced, but it’s a part of His fatherly way of rearing and teaching His children that He allows us to wait. Maybe He does it just so we learn to pray by being forced to think about what we pray for and being compelled to repeat what we have said in an effort to examine the contents. We have to be sure that what we pray for really comes from the heart. Then, we have God’s promise that He opens the door for us and that He hears us. We might not get just what we prayed for, but it will always be a good gift and just what we need most. Jesus doesn’t say that God gives us what we hoped for, but that He gives the Holy Spirit to those who pray to Him. He gives us the Holy Spirit when we pray persistently and faithfully and come to God with all our needs. The Spirit influences us and transforms us. Sometimes we stop praying about something because we understand that it wasn’t God’s will. Sometimes we discover that we’ve already received something that is better. Sometimes, as we pray, we see a completely different way of looking at what worried us. Or maybe God helps us in some other way–but He always helps us.” (To Live with Christ, 347-8)

More Advent Waiting

Advent is a season in the church year that is easily dismissed. It’s a time of waiting. We, in the church, also use these days before Christmas to prepare our hearts for the arrival of the Christ-child. Our sinful hearts, minds, and bodies need to be turned from our sinfulness and turned to God for His grace and mercy.

I don’t know why children haven’t been borne to me. After years of marriage, I’m ready to bear a child. I’ve prepared myself mentally and physically. Still no baby. In my self-pity I gripe to God for not giving me what I want, specifically the gift of a baby. After years of waiting and no specific diagnosis, that gift may never come come from my womb. What a hard, sad truth to accept.

And so I continue to wait. The Church reminds me to repent and turn from my sinfulness. My ways are not God’s ways. The Church reminds me that I wait for Jesus. So – does that mean that Christ’s arrival will make my body fruitful? No. The fruit of Mary’s womb is Jesus, and He makes me whole. I’ll not be whole in the physical sense here on earth. Rather, Jesus makes me whole through His death and resurrection. My body will always be sinful, thus, my body will not be perfect. However, God uses His means of grace to unite me with Jesus. He alone is perfect.

Being barren, I may never be finished waiting for a child. That longing may never go away. However, I no longer have to wait for Jesus to come. He came 2000 years ago and redeemed me. I wait, instead, for His triumphant return to take me to Himself in heaven.