Advent: An arrival or coming, especially one which is awaited. (definition from dictionary.com)
You are probably familiar with the concept of advent at Christmastime; a season of preparing your heart for the coming of Christ. Growing up, it was nightly devotions when we lit the candles and moved the nativity characters closer and closer to the stable. On Christmas Day, before gifts were torn into, it was the reading of the birth of Christ from the book of Luke and the placing of the baby Jesus in the stable. At that point it was head-knowledge and maybe a bit ritualistic or rote; going through the motions to get to the fun part. Oh, I believed it, but the excitement of Christmas was just too much for me and I had a hard time focusing on the true meaning. But I'm thankful for those roots. Thankful for parents who took the time to highlight the importance of preparing my heart, to honor Christ first, before everything began. I think it's those roots and the Spirit of God that continues make me more reflective than maybe I would otherwise be this time of year.
Recently, a dear friend surprised me by sending a book at the beginning of December: The Greatest Gift: Unwrapping the Full Love Story of Christmas by Ann Voskamp. As I dove into it, I found a wonderful, daily reminder of God's provision for me, for His people, and His plan for creation, all building to the arrival of a Savior. Each day as I read, I am reminded of a personal season of advent; a journey that my Father has had me on for many years, and while I will not say that my story is on the same scale or even holds the same meaning as Christ's coming (because it doesn't!); I can't help but be struck with the truths that Ann writes, and draw some parallels and vague similarities to my own experiences and feelings.
You see, my story begins around 3.5 years ago when my husband and I decided we wanted to start trying to have a baby. Without becoming too personal, we decided to just stop all forms of birth control and see what happened, and did that for about a year. Being the naive gal I am, I figured it would just happen since we weren't preventing anything; though I always had a few nagging doubts in my heart. My cycles were always hard, harder that most women I knew. I knew endometriosis ran in my family and that I could have complications with getting pregnant but didn't want to jump to conclusions. I went to the doctor, but the only answer I got was to put me on the pill or I needed to really try to get pregnant to "fix" the problem because we hadn't technically been trying long enough.
Well, one year stretched into two, and then three. I was still having hard cycles and every time I would start, a little piece of my heart would cry out "it's not fair!" Seeds of bitterness began to take root. Doubt began to fill my heart. Was something wrong with me? Why couldn't my body do what every other woman's seemed to be able to do? Still, I tried not to dwell on it. Obviously, "it wasn't God's timing" for us to have a baby. True though that statement was, it still hurt. It still felt like a knife in my heart when a well-meaning friend or acquaintance would say it, or ask "you've been married a while now, when are you going to start a family?" It still felt like I was less of a woman when friend after friend would tell me gently but excitedly that they were pregnant. I was nearing 30, and I felt my biological clock ticking like a time bomb. I remember crying in Bryan's arms month after month. "Is God ever going to give us a baby? Why can women who don't want their babies get pregnant and I can't? Does God think that we won't be good parents?" All these were questions I would cry, and he would patiently and lovingly remind me that God's plan was best--even though that wasn't what I wanted to hear. He would tell me he knew God would give us a baby, that I needed to just let it go, it would happen. He was right, of course, but it didn't make it easier to swallow.
I drifted into a season of about a little over a year of darkness, bitterness, hurt, depression, and dare I say it, doubt. Maybe to the average observer, nothing seemed amiss, but my soul was withering. Nothing seemed to be going right. My professional life was suffering, I felt in a rut and totally alone, though I was trying desperately everything in my own power to dig out of the pit.
Ann Voskamp writes in The Greatest Gift:
"Wait through the long, black night. Wait through the black that gets in your marrow. Wait through the dying, the cries you can't hear, the lurching gasp of the last death heaves. Sit through the night and the losses that scrape the sides of a soul, the burning tears that run, run through the night even now. Taste their saltiness and the darkness that seeps in cold at the corners and stains a thousand souls all alone." (pg 136)
As life moved on, God placed people in my life who had struggled with infertility, who knew the pain and who were able to come along side me to pray, encourage and lift me up and love me in spite of all my unloveliness. I began to allow the Lord to pull me out of a miry pit of self-centered darkness, and opened my eyes to begin to see His goodness. It was a slow process. Shedding the skin of bitterness and hurt usually is. It takes a complete mind and soul 180 degree turn around. It takes learning to again believe that God is good, that He has our best interest in mind, no matter the trial or season. Light was beginning to dawn, and though I still didn't have a baby, I was coming to terms with it.
Ann writes in the same chapter as I quoted above:
"There is a dawn in the dark, there is unstoppable light, there is God-glory blazing. Our God who breathes stars in the dark--He breathes Bethlehem's Star, then takes on lungs and breathes in stable air. We are saved from hopelessness because God came with infant fists and opened wide His hand to take the iron-sharp edge of our sins. Our God who forms and delivers the black of the heavens--He waits patient like an embryo in a womb and delivers Himself to free you. We are saved from forever pain, because God pierced the dark and came to the pin-point of us in the universe and took the nails." (pg 138)
Here is the hope I needed. The infant Savior, the goodness in the midst of the dark. The faithfulness and promises of a Savior to walk with me through any trial. Oh, was I humbled. Did it still hurt? Of course. Were there still tears? Absolutely. Did I still wonder if God would ever allow me to be a mom, the desire of my heart since I was a child? Yep. But I could combat those fears with truth. With faith, and with friends and family who would faithfully lift me up.
Bryan and I had long discussions about what to do. Do we keep trying? At this point I was doing ovulation tests and trying some naturalistic things. Do we begin fertility testing? Where would we get the money for that? Should we pursue adoption? I had been looking into those possibilities as well, but also feared the monetary aspect. We had come to the conclusion that we would give ourselves to the end of last summer. I had been having more endometriosis pain and the plan was to to have surgery at the end of the summer before school started to take care of the probable culprit and move forward from there. I felt better about things, and having a plan bolstered my spirits a little bit. I was scared and nervous about the treatment options but at this point, was ready to try anything.
It was then that our miracle happened. The day I had planned on calling the doctor to begin the steps for surgery, I found out I was pregnant. I took three tests just to see if the results were real. God be praised! We were going to be parents! I cried, I laughed, I freaked out. I drove to Newberg where Bryan was coaching at basketball camp to tell him.
"The Light never comes how you expect it. It comes as the unlikely and unexpected--straight into Bethlehem unlikely and the feed trough hopeless, and Christmas whispers there is always hope. It doesn't matter how dark the dark is; a light can still dawn. It doesn't matter if the world whispers, "There's not a hint of help that will come from elsewhere," telling us nothing will ever improved, get better, change. God favors the darkest places so you can see His light the brightest." Ann Voskamp (pg 139)
OH BLESSED HOPE! Hope that I could see, feel, and in nine months, hope I would touch! I will never forget seeing the first ultra sound and knowing that was my child, my miracle, God's promise being kept for me. It makes me cry even in this moment of writing. God is so gracious.
My friends, this is the promise of Christmas, hope in the midst of despair; love when it is least deserved; grace that is unmerited; faith that is restored. I'm not carrying in my womb the Savior of the world, but I certainly carry Him and the work He has done in my heart, and He is faithful to the end.
My prayer in the last seven months has been that I would not forget the wait. That I wouldn't forget the pain, the heartache and the darkness that my Savior brought me through. That somehow, my story would encourage another and that God's name would boldly be proclaimed in a way that would bring the glory only to Him.
I still have just over two months before I get to hold my son in my arms and not just my womb. I won't lie to you and tell you that there are not still doubts and fears that accompany my pregnancy. Anxious thoughts that tend to fill up empty spaces. But I can tell you with absolute certainty that my God will provide all my needs, He will be faithful, and He loves my son even more that I do.
May you be blessed this Christmas season, and may you come to know Jesus in a more personal and soul-changing way.
"When you light a dark world and the unexpected places with a brave flame of joy; when you warm the cold, hopeless places with the daring joy that God is with us, God is for us, God is in us; when you are a wick to light hope in the dark--then you believe in Christmas. When you really believe in Christmas, you believe there is really hope for everyone. When you get Christmas, people get hope from you--they don't lose it." Ann Voskamp pg 140
Merry Christmas from the Steed's (all three of us!)
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