When she called today, I thought about a book I read not long ago, in which the author, a well-known theologian, wrote about the nine-year struggle he and his wife had to bring children into the world. After adopting two boys, he thought back on those years. "Since [infertility] gave me what I now can't imagine living without, poison was transmuted into a gift, God's strange gift. The pain of it remains, of course. But the poison is gone."
I am nowhere near saying the pain of our infertility is gone. It's not. Not even close. But today, when this friend called with her own story of reproductive grief, I caught a glimpse of how pain can sometimes open a space for connecting deeply with someone else. I am not glad for our struggle, but I am glad I shared it with her, because she had someone to call in her own pain.
Maybe someday the poison will be gone too. For both of us. For all of us.
Amen.
ReplyDeleteHaving recently been diagnosed with an ectopic, I am definitely praying for her. I hope she can find some peace with such an unjust situation.
ReplyDeletei will certainly pray.
ReplyDeletei'm glad you still find grace in the words of that theologian. they meant so much to me in the midst of my struggle.
lifting A and her beloved (and you and beloved) to light.
A will be in my prayers!
ReplyDeleteI'm relatively new on this journey, but I have been constantly amazed at the support I've received from others on the web going through similar experiences. It's amazing how the right people come into your life at the perfect time, sometimes without us even realizing it until later. Thanks for reminding me!
Thank you. I pray we all overcome this challenge in our lives, and I will pray for your friend as well.
ReplyDeletePraying for the best for BOTH of you - and me, too.
ReplyDelete