It never leaves, this ache.
I can press it down, punch at it like bread dough, pat it into a nice ball, and cover it up.
But still, sometimes it spills.
I think of Elizabeth, barren in her old age. Heart and arms heavy with the ache of it. As time passed, maybe she stopped praying. Accepted the thought that, though she was known righteous, some silent sin sealed her womb. Accepted that childless was her lot.
I remember that pain. The wondering at what choices I had made that kept my arms empty.
Yet God had heard Elizabeth’s prayer. And He answered it in His time. She would give birth to a boy who would bring her joy.
And loss.
Would she have asked God to change His mind if she could see into the future? That her only child would be imprisoned and beheaded? Or did she find much delight in knowing that he was part of a larger plan? In somehow knowing that true joy is not temporal.
God didn’t answer my prayer in my way or in my time either. And once I accepted that childless was my lot, He filled my arms–though not my womb.
Never my womb.
But my heart ached with the love of it. With the love of them.
I wonder if I would have asked Him to change His mind if I could see into the future? If I could see the damaged dreams, the anxiety, the fear, and the tears–mingled with the joy. If I could see how my heart would ache with the pain of it.
Or is there still some hidden delight? A larger plan that’s not yet come together?
Because true joy is not temporal.
And my heart aches with love for the truth of that.
Joining Lisa Jo and community as we write for five minutes on the word prompt–ache.
This gives me goosebumps, Sandy. Loving you.
Loving you back, Laura.
I so resonate with the ache of never being able to carry a child – or, at this point, have one of my own.
Praying for God to comfort you.
It’s a hard journey, isn’t it? Hugs to you, Stacey.
I can’t really share why I relate so well to this, especially the ending, but I do.
One day all the aches will be gone!
Like Melinda, I do not know why this resonates, but it does. Perhaps, it is the beauty of the images your words give birth to.
We all carry some kind of pain. And perhaps because we’re in Him, we feel what each other feels.
This makes me, well, ache. I can’t go too far in the what-if direction. I just couldn’t bear that.
Thank God, all He gives me is one day at a time.
Beautiful words here.
We need to remember that we are right where He wants us to be at this moment and that He allows all our aches for a reason. They’ll all fit into His overall plan. Thanks for coming by, Monica.
Reading these words, in your inimitable voice, well-it makes me ache. That’s just how good you are. Thanks for this.
I had to look up inimitable. 😉 Thanks, friend.
Me too, and wow, what an encouraging word!
I did not realize this was part of your story, Sandy. Interesting how this loss dovetails with your more recent one. Sending love to you today.
Yep. There’s a long backstory, Megan.
Nor did I. So now I’m confused. 🙂
I, too, was Hannah, longing for a child, praying. God surprised us with our own Hannah, and two years later, our own Samuel. But before then, there was the daily pain for five long years.
Stunning. This is beautiful and insightful. And I reminds me to thank God for giving what is best, including an unknown future. None of us could handle it. I’m sure of that.
Love to you.
Because He lives, I can face tomorrow. Right? One day at a time. Love it when you slip in, Jeanne.
“My times are in His hands.” This was what struck me as I read your entry. We don’t know what is ahead and our loving Father cannot reveal what will bring us joy or heartache. I only know that He holds the future and I am content in His presence, enjoying Christ as my all in all.
Exactly, Kathleen. Thank you.