the way the story went

Once upon a time . . .

. . . we got married. That was in January 2010, and I gaily expected to be pregnant with our first child before the year was up. Or, to be honest, sooner.

Well, guess what? We just celebrated our second anniversary, and still no bun in this oven.

Over the past two years, my babyless state of affairs has produced a lot of ugly things. Fear, disappointment, jealousy, hysterical crying, kicking things, anger with myself, anger with God, anger with anyone else who gets pregnant, bitterness, depression, maniacal research, and questioning my worth as a woman. (You try life as an illogical melange of hormonal angst, and see how you like it!)

I want to see my husband be a daddy. I want to tell my baby-loving parents that they're going to have grandchildren. I want to hold a soft, big-eyed little person in my arms and not have to give him back at the end of the visit. I want to nourish and teach and grow alongside the young souls entrusted to us. That's what I want.

But you know what else I want? To trust God.

Oh, that's hard. Harder than I ever knew, even when I was wondering where I'd go to college and searching for solutions to my health issues, or later when wishing for a boyfriend or wrestling with theological conundrums, or still later when freaking out about my non-emotions. This has been painful. I have been asked to let go of my carefully cherished plans and my yearning for control. Then I was asked to rest in a God who I wasn't always sure loved me.

He does, though. I've learned that at least. "I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me." And through the pain and the fury of trial, I have also learned to say: This is the way the story goes. My small phrase of truth . . . it's not a hopeless expression of cynicism, but a sweet reminder that the Lord I follow holds all history, which certainly includes our family's future.

Here is what I mean. When reading a well-crafted book, an Allende or a Hemingway, I don't try to direct the story. I let the author take care of that, and just experience the unfolding of each event in its own timing. Everything works out beautifully. I may not love the road the tale takes, but it is perfectly done. Resting in the writer's plan, I can enjoy it page by page, without worrying about what may or may not happen next.

God is my Author. The "author of life," says Peter . . . yes, in more ways than one. He writes the story, one more finely crafted than the best volume on earthly shelves. I stand on his storyline and walk through the plot. Two years after this particular chapter began, I'm finally walking quietly.

To be honest, He's worn me out. I dragged my feet. I screamed and fought as hard as I could. This isn't the right story, I said. It was supposed to follow my preferred pattern: courtship, wedding, babies. Look, that's how it worked out for them! And them! Why not us?

Because that was their story, not ours. Now, more by exhausted default than by any great act of faith, I can do nothing but lean on God. There's nothing left but Him. Too proud to submit any other way, I've had to take the rough road to peace. "I have calmed and quieted my soul . . . O Israel, hope in the Lord now and forevermore." I have had to release my desire for that other story, and trust that this one is equally good.

There is a deep joy in this helpless rest. Our God loves and carries us. His comfort, as genuine and complete as I've known, feels unlike anything experienced while in a state of self-sufficiency. Who knows the next chapter? Ah, the Lord does. That is enough. It finally is enough. What a fool I'd be to demand He give me the pen.

Not that I'll never question Him again (I know my sin too well), or that even now, the pain has completely vanished. Something-- a pregnancy announcement, a question from a well-meaning acquaintance-- will often shake up my contentment and threaten to set my bitterness flowing. When this happens, again I ask: Can I trust God? Can I follow this path with peace in my heart?

Only if I believe that He truly knows what is best for me, and that He is not only perfectly capable of executing those plans, but is also in the process of doing just that.

I believe that now.

This is the way the story goes.

{image credit: Video Eleven}