Collect: March 13, 2012

It is our privilege to pray with and for you.  If you would like to submit a personal petition to be included in our prayers, please send your request via the “Submit a Question” page on this site. 

Collect of the Week:

Let us pray…

O dearest Jesus, You have given us Your living and active word, which pierces to the division of soul and spirit and discerns the thoughts and intentions of my heart. I thank You for this gift, even though often when I hear Your word I can think of nothing except how sinful and unworthy I am. Please do not remove Your word from me, for even though it may cause me great pain and distress, I believe that I cannot know and be assured of Your love and grace without it. You bring me low, so that You can bring me up from the pit. Lord, remember me in my need, and bring me at last into Your kingdom of grace which has no end. Amen.

(composed by Rev. Michael P. Schuermann)

Did Someone Call a Plumber?

I have always been fascinated with plumbing. Fascinated and intimidated. So when we bought a new water filtration system for under our sink I got an estimate from a plumber to see how much it would be to get it installed, even though the online reviews said that most anyone could put it in. The estimate was more than we wanted to spend, but my husband had other, more pressing home maintenance tasks to tackle. I had been dreaming of fresh, chemical-free, yummy-tasting, good-for-you filtered water for months. I couldn’t wait any longer.

So I installed it myself.

It took all afternoon, but I did it. I followed the directions, connected the yellow, clear, black, and red tubes to their corresponding fittings. I used plumber’s tape to reconnect the cold water line. I even drilled a hole in the PVC drain pipe, just like the instructions said to. When the last piece was hooked up and I turned the water back on I held my breath. I didn’t really expect it to work. I didn’t really think that I, a non-plumber, could have mastered this feat.

And why was I such a pessimist? Why didn’t I have more confidence in my own work? Well, the truth be told, my own pipes don’t work–the internal ones. Everything is hooked up right, and the tubes are clear, according to the dye test taken years ago. It appears that some things have leaked over time, though that was supposed to have been taken care of, too. But the expected outcome just isn’t there. These pipes aren’t delivering anything.

I still marvel every time someone shares with me that their own plumbing system is about to produce a tall, cool, refreshing, glass. Really?? I want to reply. Everything works for you? This is a miracle! How can this be? Who did the installation? I’m sure the same person did mine. But my system got messed up somehow. I still forget that most people’s systems work perfectly.

As I kneeled under my kitchen sink I watched the water move through the tubes, then travel from the copper pipe to the filter and then to the storage tank. I checked for leaks. I double-checked. And then I almost cried. It worked. I had taken control of something, pieced it together with my own hands, and then watched it work just like it was meant to. There was something indescribably satisfying about this act.

In fact, I’d love to do it again. Does anyone want their own system installed? I don’t charge for labor.

Nikusubila

Nikusubila is an African name. It means “hopeful.”

A year-and-a-half ago, I was walking through Hobby Lobby – piddling, really (a.k.a. wandering aimlessly about with no life goal other than to admire hoards of other peoples’ things I cannot and should not own) – and I came across a figurine of a young boy wearing a safari hat. His expression was sweet, like he was watching something of interest across a field, happily forgetting his present task at hand. Just like a boy!

I picked up the figurine and fingered the boy’s round cheeks. I liked the color of his skin, the shape of his scrawny arms and chicken legs. Everything looked and felt just right. He reminded me of…

No! I quickly set the figurine back down. Silly. Ridiculous, even. I did not need a figurine of a boy in my home. I loathe dusting, and this would be just another item to collect dust.

I escaped around the nearest aisle to look at picture frames and candles. Yes, that was safe. But, even as I checked prices on frames and sniffed waxy confections my mind was on that boy. His posture was just so charming and familiar. He had rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbow, and he was resting his right hand on a hip as if he was waiting for someone to catch up with him.

That settled it.

I walked back to the figurine, picked him up, and paid for him at the cash register before I could chicken out. This was more than an impulse buy. This was hope in action.

For, you see, this boy looks like my son. I have never actually met him. I have only seen him in my head and in my heart, but that afternoon in Hobby Lobby I saw him with my eyes.

Nikusubila now stands in his bare feet on my fireplace mantel where I can look at him and keep hoping that, God willing, I may someday catch up with my son.

Getting Outside of Ourselves

We all know the danger of dwelling on our own suffering. All any of us needs to do is take a short jaunt down “Me Lane” to find ourselves right in the middle of dreaded Despairville.

What if we avoided “Me Lane” altogether? What if, instead, we made a hard right turn onto “Neighbor Avenue” and took a trip to Mercyburg to visit our sisters in Christ? Think of what we would find there.

No doubt, we would run into other barren women in need of a comforting shoulder, but I think we would also discover women who suffer in the vocation of motherhood; women who pine for the independence and quietude of our own childless lives; women who suffer physical pain from birthing and caring for their precious gifts; women who fear the very gifting from God which we so desperately crave.

What if we set aside our own suffering for today and spent some time listening to those mothers, shouldering their grief and pain, praying for their strength, and tending to their physical needs? I think we would find great joy in the act of caring for our neighbor. Maybe we would even gain some insight into God’s wisdom of giving and withholding certain gifts from our own lives. At the very least, I think we would find comfort in knowing that we do not suffer alone in the body of Christ.

So, will you take a walk down “Neighbor Avenue” with me and meet my friend Rebekah? She wrote a book on the struggles of breastfeeding, and I cannot recommend it enough. I have never given birth to a child, never breastfed a baby, yet I resonated with the language of suffering in this real-life saga. I think you will, too.

And, c’mon. Just look at that title. You know there will be laughs on this trip.

The Way of Women and Laughter

In my morning devotions, I am reading about Abraham and Sarah.  Genesis 18:11 (ESV) says: “Now Abraham and Sarah were old, advanced in years.  The way of women had ceased to be with Sarah.”  I chuckled when I read the phrase, “the way of women.”  I have longed to be in “the way of women” for several years. Upon reading further in Scripture, I learned that Sarah did not give birth to her son Isaac for another 25 years!  I guess my elephant wait isn’t so long after all.

25 years! A quarter of a century.  No wonder his parents named him Isaac, whose name means “he laughs.”  I’m sure that Abraham and Sarah shared a good many laughs before and after Isaac’s birth.  God really does have a sense of humor.  I’m going to do more laughing.

Collect: March 5, 2012

It is our privilege to pray with and for you.  If you would like to submit a personal petition to be included in our prayers, please send your request via the “Submit a Question” page on this site. 

Collect of the Week:

Let us pray…

O God, You see that of ourselves we have no strength. By Your mighty power defend us from all adversities that may happen to the body and from all evil thoughts that may assault and hurt the soul; through Jesus Christ, Your Son, our Lord, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

(Lutheran Service Book, Series B, Lent 2)

More Glimpses into a Mom’s Heart

Katie’s blog has helped us all open up the lines of communication about barrenness with our spouses, friends, churches and family members. Following suit, I also sent my mom some questions about her experience having two daughters who struggle with infertility and what it was like to welcome an adopted child into the family. Her words are a glimpse into her heart, which she doesn’t often expose in an effort to be strong for her children. I believe she gives a voice to the thoughts and fears that many mothers have but are afraid to share. Thanks mom, for your honesty, compassion, and encouragement over the years. You’ve had to hold up under the strain of this as well–times two.

Watching both of my daughters suffer in their barrenness has been heart wrenching.  There is an actual physical pain in my heart when I think about it.  There is no greater joy than to carry a child inside of you and I so want that for my daughters.  I want to fix this, I want to make it go away and be better.  I’m supposed to be able to do this as a mother and I can’t.  I have two daughters that can’t conceive now and I wonder what I did during my pregnancy that caused this.  Anti-nausea drugs maybe?  There is tremendous guilt at times and yet I know that it wasn’t intentional.  I know that God is here with all of us and has wonderful plans for my girls, we just don’t know what they all are yet.

One of the blessings that has come from this experience is that I have become an adoptive grandparent. We got to meet our grandson several weeks before he was placed in our daughter’s home.  He was sweet but it felt like we were babysitting for a wonderful little boy.  During the two weeks that followed I remember feeling like I did when I was pregnant for my second child.  I thought at the time, “Will I be able to love another child as much as I do my firstborn?”  I wondered if I would be able to love an adopted child as much as my other grandchildren who were born from my son.  The second my daughter stepped into her home with my new grandson it was instant love.  I felt this tremendous overwhelming feeling of joy and thankfulness that we had this new precious baby!  It didn’t matter where this baby came from, he was ours.  I continue to feel this way every time I see him and I am in awe that I can be a part of his life.  Thank you God.

I still wish that God would give my daughters a child to carry, but most of all I wish a peace and a contentment in their lives.  If they are never able to carry another child I pray that God will give both of my girls a peace about it.  They are both trying to adopt (one for the first time, the other for a second) and it has been a long, long process.  Why God?  Because our babies  haven’t been born yet. I am impatient but, “My soul waits on the Lord.”

A Proper Perspective

It’s happened twice now in the past two months. I’m on the phone with a family member, talking about our upcoming international adoption. As we talk, I lament the fact that referrals were not given as far into the month as I’d hoped. The reaction on the other end of the phone line: Oh, I was thinking it’s good that referrals were given at least that far.

Then it dawns on me. I’ve been looking at this from the wrong perspective. Again. I’ve been grieving over the child that is not yet in my arms. I’ve been coveting what has not been given to me. I’ve been accusing God of not getting His timeline to match up correctly with mine. I’ve started another pity-party.

Thanks be to God that He forgives my pessimism, my self-idolatry, my lack of perspective.

Barrenness through Mom’s Eyes

My mom Laurie Schepmann is a caring soul, and it is my fervent prayer that my life might emulate her grace and love.  She has never wavered in her love for me as I have journeyed from a little girl into a grown woman and am now dealing with the cross of barrenness.  Below is a letter that Mom wrote.  I share it with you as a reminder that you are loved as a daughter, whether or not you are a parent.

Dear Kristi,

I do want to say once again that your value or worth or whatever you want to call it has never diminished in our eyes because of your barrenness.  The same goes for our love for you.  Such a thing would never enter our minds.  You are our daughter, and nothing can change our love for you or the bonds that tie us to each other.

I do appreciate how difficult a thing it must be to share something like barrenness when one views it as a humiliation or degradation of oneself.  I, however, have never felt that it lessened a person, or more specifically YOU…but, then again, I have not “walked in your shoes.”  I understand that there are people who can make you feel that way, though, and the only thing I know is to forgive them for their lack of understanding, pray for them, and move on.

Those who are barren are not lessened in my mind one iota.  It is just another one of those things over which one has no control.  As always, we support each other whenever we can and whenever we finally REALIZE that there is a need.  So often, we are not there for others because we have no idea what goes on in their hearts and minds.  Thanks be to God that there is forgiveness for us and that He promises to be with us and help us in all of our needs, though!

It has always been my belief that you handled it very well.  Little did I know, though, of the turmoil and pain you endured in private.  Because of our desire not to snoop, but rather to wait for you to share any news, if and when you chose to, we said very little.  If you interpreted that as not caring, I apologize and feel sorry about it.

We are looking forward to the time when you can bring your adopted child home!  Whoever he, or she, may be, we know this child will find welcoming hearts and laps and hugs in our family.  My prayers for that child, as you know, have continued from the first time you told us that you were applying for a child!  (In anticipation of his/her joining us soon, we’ve already bought him/her a Christmas stocking.)  May our loving Heavenly Father, Who knows all of our needs, bring that child to us soon and in accord with His divine wisdom and will; for, He surely knows and loves us more than anyone else.  We know that special love through His Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ!

Thank you for opening up and sharing with us and with others, who are traveling that same, painful road.  May God bless you for your courage and help many others through you.  God works all things for good to those who love Him.

Love,
Mom


Ursula’s Curse

I am having trouble singing in church.

It happens sometimes. I take a deep breath, and my expanding diaphragm rubs up against the forgotten ball of grief buried deep inside my gut. My coward of a diaphragm recoils from the touch, shuddering all music-making air out of my lungs.

I open my mouth to sing anyway – I will not give up this hymn so easily! – but my traitorous throat holds my larynx in a vice grip.

Even my eyes betray me. I can no longer see the words on the page for the two waterfalls spilling onto my cheeks.

But, no matter. I may be mute and blind in my grief, but I am not forsaken in the pew. The Word still prevails through the mouths of my song-preaching neighbors. Freida and Margaret sit behind me, Teresa sits before, and Blake and Jenny sit at my side. Their voices sing loud and clear for my benefit:

A Mighty fortress is our God,
A trusty shield and weapon;
He helps us free from every need
That hath us now o’ertaken.
The old evil foe
Now means deadly woe;
Deep guile and great might
Are his dread arms in fight;
On earth is not his equal.

With might of ours can naught be done,
Soon were our loss effected;
But for us fights the valiant One,
Whom God Himself elected.
Ask ye, Who is this?
Jesus Christ it is,
Of Sabaoth Lord,
And there’s none other God;
He holds the field forever. 

Though devils all the world should fill,
All eager to devour us,
We tremble not, we fear no ill;
They shall not overpower us.
This world’s prince may still
Scowl fierce as he will,
He can harm us none.
He’s judged; the deed is done;
One little word can fell him. 

The Word they still shall let remain
nor any thanks have for it;
He’s by our side upon the plain
With His good gifts and Spirit.
And take they our life,
Goods, fame, child, and wife,
Though these all be gone,
Our victory has been won;
The Kingdom ours remaineth. *

Thank you, Church, for faithfully singing the Word to me when I am struck silent by my grief. “The Word they still shall let remain,” indeed, “the Kingdom ours remaineth.” Even my double-crossing flesh cannot hold back a hearty, “Amen!”

* “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” by Martin Luther (Lutheran Service Book 656)