A couple of weeks ago, a dear friend of mine invited me to a “women’s small group” bible study. Anyone who knows me knows I love Jesus but I’m a skeptic anytime a group of women gets together—not because there’s anything wrong with them, but because I have my own personal trust issues. Not to mention, sometimes I’m a cynical, sarcastic asshole (who believes in Jesus) and I really don’t like to have to put on a special face just to be accepted. That, and the self-imposed guilt of knowing from jump that I won’t be able to make it every week; No way am I giving up time with Little Mister during the half of the life he lives with my husband and me unless I have to. Nonetheless, I attended this week.
The group is doing a book which has a video companion. Honestly, I feel like the author and I have very little in common, save the fact that we’ve got the same reproductive organs (even more limited though because hers work at least 6x better than my own). Its hard not to listen to someone speak so poetically and beautifully and feel like my own words will be nonsensical, dumbed down, and ugly. Her whole point to the readers and listeners is advising us to slow down and take time to find joy in the gifts and blessings that we’re given on a daily basis. She very strongly recommends having a “gifts journal” in which to write at least 1,000 things (over time) that you’re thankful for, to then become in the habit of slowing down and thanking God for the beauty, simplicity, or simple existence of things.
Despite the fact that our author is drop-dead gorgeous, blessed with six kids, a great husband, and a beautiful farm, and the jealous person inside of me wanted to just tell her to shut up already because near every one of her blessings had to do with her children, I know, generally, she’s right. The bitter (but trying to get better) infertile version of myself has a hard time seeing past the twelve little hands that used to cling to her, when I long for even two that have come from my own flesh, that don’t technically belong to someone else. But I wanted to try, and why not at least try on here.
You see, I just took a class for college that focused on Positive Psychology, and they mentioned that there is scientific proof that taking the time to acknowledge (preferably in writing) three things each day that are positive, you will see an improvement in your outlook and quality of life. I left the study skeptical yet willing to give it a go.
Before sitting down and starting my “One Thousand Things” journal last night, I perused Facebook for a few moments. And in only a few moments, my heart shattered. A dear friend of mine from college, whom I haven’t really seen much of in the last few years (don’t you hate how life makes it so easy for that to happen), posted about how last week, she and her husband said goodbye to their daughter before she was even born. I don’t know all the details, I just know that she wasn’t yet to 28 weeks gestation and she was lifeless in the womb. Not only did this friend post about her lost daughter, she shared photos of herself and her husband holding that sweet little girls tiny body. And a portrait of tiny, not-ready to be born fingers wrapped around her finger. The kicker, whilst admitting the greatest of sadness, my friend expressed JOY knowing that their little girl was safe in the arms of God. And posted scripture. Talk about a little sobfest.
So I sat there, and instead of being thankful for anything, I asked God WHY? How unfair. How painful. I vented to a friend and just wanted to throw rocks and scream. I did neither. But at that very moment, my list of gifts just lay blank. I needed a minute to process. This loss of a friend of mine that hit so close to home for me…it had left me with nothing to say and the need to be quiet, in the dark next to my sleeping husband.
This morning, after a night’s rest and a silent prayer, I think I’m ready. I recognize a couple of my gifts.
1. Having a warm, snoring husband to sleep beside me during my moments of grief last night. You see, while he is affected by our fertility struggles, he doesn’t get into his feelings about them like I do. He wouldn’t have recognized that a friend’s loss would not only sadden me for them, but that it would be a painful reminder of the losses I’ve endured, grieving children that were lost and others that may never get the chance to be. But having him there, his steady breathing and gentle hand on my side, is a gift that I don’t want to take for granted.
2. Having a friend who laughs with me, is straight with me, and lets me be angry. Brooke just lets me be me, yet she still pursues the best in me. She has a way of allowing the less appealing parts of me to work through whatever they need to work through, but she sticks with me until the laughter comes, until the silence comes, whatever is needed. She’s there, and to me, that’s the very kind of friend God knows I need.
3. Rejoicing with my friends and for my friends, even from afar, knowing that their baby girl is up there with Jesus, and with my baby girl. With others I’ve lost. And they are whole, they are free, and they are beautiful. They know nothing about the pain of this world; they only know true life in fellowship with Jesus. Wow.
Me, Rediscovered. 