Today I felt so much better. Ben and Jesse took such good care of me all day, such that I didn’t do anything but rest while they cleaned and took care of every little thing around the house that needed to be done. I sat in the sunshine on the front porch and watched the cars go by. I dozed a little, relishing a few hours of a Saturday in which I had, blissfully, nothing to do.
And while I rested, I had a lot of time to think about things. And Ben and I had an amazing conversation in the truck on the way home from visiting my mama and mammaw. So what they think about my condition is that I might possibly have endometriosis. My doctor said she has no reason to believe we can’t have kids someday when we’re ready. I have an appointment Monday with the very best surgeon in Jackson who specializes in this sort of thing. And so, I’m in very good and competent hands. I’m hearing story after story of women who had this, who had the surgery, who never struggled with it again, who had children and carried on their merry way. I’ve heard a few stories of women who didn’t have those same results, whose cases were very serious. My heart broke for them.
But there is no point in hanging my hopes on any of this. None of these other stories are my story. God is writing my story and I can hear Him so loudly right now. It’s like everything I’ve struggled with in life up to this point is leading me right here, to
a time such as this. Here’s what I’ve been feeling God cheering inside of my heart and my mind constantly since we got the news on Wednesday:
1. I’m so over messing around with this stomach pain. We’ve found it! It’s on its way out of here.
2. I will probably be able to have children, still. Really. And this surgery will prepare me for that. After I’ve been through this, I can do anything. I can face that fear, because my God knows me very very well. He knows I’m better at things when I can know everything possible about what I’m getting into first. He’s giving me a preview of the pain, showing me how I’ll feel Him as close as my own skin, and that’s why I can totally do this.
3. I might not be able to have kids. Shoot, you might not be able to. Millions of women aren’t able to. It’s just one of those things about life,
and I’m so tired of people considering it a death sentence. Suppose we find out after this is all said and done that I’m not able to? Well, I’ve got some really positive things in my life that have specially equipped me. Being told I cannot might be what finally makes me decide
“it’s time!” Wouldn’t that be typical? And if that’s the case, my big brother and his darling wife who’ve been through the ups and downs of adoption will be the light in my path. And as you might recall, they brought home a
newborn in November. And he’s the most awesome little boy ever. What’s the difference between a biological baby and an adopted one? Nothing as far as I can tell. He is ours, a Rasberry to his core, claimed and loved and adored forevermore. With a blocky head like his grandfather and blue eyes like his daddy.
4. And if for some reason we couldn’t adopt (can’t imagine why that would happen, but for argument’s sake), the relationship I have with Ben is so pure and solid and loving and built on faith, that we would be enough for each other. Always and forever, if I could have nothing but Ben, I would have a full and happy life. We didn’t get married so we can “just have children,” or because it was time, or because he was the only one who asked and I settled. We just couldn’t think about going through life without one another. And that’s it. And Lucy and Walker will take care of me when I’m old and feeble. So, there’s that.
And so. This is what I’ve read today from Jesus Calling that I am tattooing on my heart until I can see the other side of all this:
Come to Me with all your weaknesses: physical emotional, and spiritual. Rest in the comfort of My Presence, remembering that nothing is impossible with Me.
Pry your mind away from your problems so you can focus your attention on Me. Recall that I am able to do immeasurably more than all you ask or imagine. Instead of trying to direct Me to do this and that, seek to attune yourself to what I am already doing.
When anxiety attempts to wedge its way into your thoughts, remind yourself that I am your Shepherd. The bottom line is that I am taking care of you; therefore, you needn’t be afraid of anything. Rather than trying to maintain control over your life, abandon yourself to My will. Though this may feel frightening-even dangerous, the safest place to be is in My will.
