little black journal

We’ve been working our way through Ecclesiastes in our c-group, and last week Jason asked each of us to talk about verses in the passage we were reading that felt especially meaningful – I was quick to pick out 11:5:

“As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother’s womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things.”

There have been several times over the past year when I’ve asked God “why”. Actually, it was more like, “WHYYYYYYYYY???!!!” Why did I have a miscarriage when I was so ready to be a mom? Why has the road to pregnancy been so difficult when I’m so healthy and young? Why is it so damn easy for so many other women? But when I read that Bible verse on that particular night, I felt all those questions melt away and breathed a sigh of relief as my heart filled with comfort and trust. I cannot understand the work of God, so I may as well stop trying. Just let Him do his thing – he’s got it covered and completely under control. He’s steering the ship, and that ship may or may not be bound for my particular dream destination, but the fact of the matter is, I don’t know the first thing about driving a boat, so I’m much better off in his hands. I was proud of myself for my faith-filled revelation. I was growing as a person, finally finding the beauty in “Let Go and Let God” (Geez, how I had hated when people said that). Looking back, I realize I was also in that window of my cycle when hope is most vividly present, when there’s the possibility that things actually “took” that time around. It’s the time of month when I see pregnant ladies on the street and photos of babies on Facebook and I feel joy and quiet anticipation. But that window closed this week as Day 30 became Day 1 again, and the cycles (biological and emotional) began again. My trust-filled heart sank. I reread Ecclesiastes 11:5, but rather than finding comfort in God’s plan, I was frustrated by my limited, short-sighted understanding. That nagging three-letter word crept back into my thoughts: Why? I said hello to my all-too-familiar amigos, disappointment and doubt, and then asked guilt to join the party, because shoot, if I was this bummed out, I hadn’t given up control after all… Thankfully, I do some of my best praying and soul-searching as I’m tumbling down my mountain of hope, and I found a foothold in the realization that sadness and trust can exist side-by-side. It’s ok to be disappointed – it doesn’t make me faithless, or selfish, or overly dramatic. And if I want to whine to God that I just don’t get it, I think he’s willing to hear me out. He may not answer me in the way that I want him to, with a perfect pink plus sign on a little plastic stick, but I know he’s still with me on this emotional roller-coaster, loving me, holding me close in a hug from a friend, or a day full of sunshine, or an especially grand weekend with Shane. That much I understand.