I wrote this well over a year ago and tucked it away. It was raw and it was personal. I needed to write for therapeutic reasons, but I couldn’t share in the midst of the valley. For a time, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever share it, but after seeing a few dear friends walk through their own valleys with their children, it seemed appropriate, even if only for the purpose of sending all my love and encouragement to them. You aren’t alone. ❤
Having children has been my hardest trust journey of all. Every step of it, if you don’t want to live in fear, has to be placed into God’s hands. From the waiting and the trying to get pregnant. To the hopeful anticipation that it will be an uncomplicated pregnancy. To the checking for 10 fingers and 10 toes. To the sweet hugs as you send them off to kindergarten. To the moment they’re suddenly suiting up in cap and gown.
I’m quite certain it doesn’t end there.
But actually trusting God through a difficult situation is a lot harder than just reading about it or saying the words or believing in the philosophy.
When suddenly a season hits where you aren’t sure as to your child’s health and something feels amiss. People give awkward comments, unwanted advice, and readily slap on labels. You begin to obsessively check your phone, waiting for reports from “the experts”. When it feels like you are staring evil in the eye and have no choice but to prepare for battle. It’s as if the situations around you are spiraling and you’re lost in this sea of questions and doubts and doctors and experts and the like. You start to question everything you’ve ever done as a mother and the ways it could have caused permanent damage- from the non-organic food you consumed while pregnant, to the not-so-perfect parenting moments. And you nonchalantly try to sneak out of church before anyone notices the tears beginning to well up because you can’t hold the fake smile any longer.
That’s when things get real.
We all know we’re supposed to trust God with our kids, with our precious little babies. But what does that look like when things hit home? What does that mean when living in this fallen world seems to invade the very fabric of our lives?
I wish I could say I understood the space I find myself in right now. I wish I could say it all makes sense and I can see how it fits into God’s larger plan. But right now it just feels heavy. It feels dark. And there are moments when it feels as though Satan himself is warring against my family and my child.
The Bible is very clear that we serve the God who provides. Jehovah Jireh in Hebrew means, “The Lord Will Provide.” We first see this name given to the Lord in Genesis 22:14. God tells Abraham not to lay a hand on Isaac and instead provides the sacrifice through a ram caught in the thicket, so Abraham names the place “The Lord Will Provide.” This is in direct contrast to the name Abraham gives God in the previous chapter, El Olam, the “Eternal God,” where He is the enduring God, the God of the long term and big picture. Here, Abraham recognizes that God is also the God of the short term, caring for our needs of today. The two attributes beautifully compliment one another to convey that Yaweh is not a God of either/or, but a God of both/and. Hebrews 11 tells us that Abraham carried on in obedience because he believed God would provide. His ability to trust was because of who he knew God to be.
Right now my soul so badly needs to remember that. I need to know that I serve a God who provides for today, like rain drops bringing sustenance to the sun-scorched crops. But I also need to know that my God takes care of the big picture; that he is holding my family 10 years from now; that this all somehow matters.
The truth is, we don’t always get to know all the answers. Sometimes we can see the bits and pieces of the greater picture later on, sometimes we can see the good that comes out of the bad, but other times we walk through difficult seasons with no sense of purpose and no justification for the pain being felt. Those are the seasons we grab on tight to the hand of God and ask Him to steady us. Those are the moments when the need for a Savior and the longing for eventual restoration of all things is felt more than ever.
Sweet Jesus, erase our tears and bring about healing.
In the meantime, I hope and I trust. Not because life is rosy or because I’m guaranteed a happy ending, but because I can be confident in my Savior God. He is faithful, He is merciful, He is good, and He is both my El Olam and my Jehovah Jireh. Like Abraham with Isaac, I’ll continue to step forward in obedience, trusting God to provide, remembering that he loves my sweet child even more than I do.
For any of you out there going through a difficult road with a child, my heart and prayers are with you friends.