Almost exactly two years ago to the day, I remember singing through tears. It was a Sunday, and I had chosen to sing “Blessed Be Your Name” at church that day. In two weeks, I would be having a complete hysterectomy. Chris and I had tried everything we could to have children, but my body was poisoning itself and we couldn’t put the surgery off any longer. I was only twenty-six. Having to come to terms with the fact that I would never feel a life growing inside of me, that I would never see how my features and Chris’s would mingle in the face of our child, was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
The bridge of the song I sang that morning said: “You give and take away. My heart will choose to say, ‘Lord, blessed be Your name.’” And even though it was intensely painful, I meant those words with all of my heart. God had seen us through hard times before: when Chris was diagnosed with cancer for the second time, when we quit our jobs to do music ministry only to come back home to a frozen job market and no idea how to pay our bills, and through countless other smaller hardships, God was right there with us. Now, we’re not perfect; Chris and I both got pretty mad at Him when Chris had to go through the cancer nightmare a second time. But we learned from that. We knew that God hadn’t struck him down with cancer, but that it was just a part of living in a fallen world. We realized that we missed out on deepening our relationship with God during that time in our lives, because our anger built a wall between us and Him. Because of this, we vowed to try our hardest never to shut Him out again just because we were suffering. And so far, we haven’t.
Back to the song. When I was singing this song, I knew I was entering into a “take away” period of my life. But I knew that God was right there with me, and that He mourned with me, so my heart truly did choose to say, “Lord, blessed be Your name.” Ecclesiastes says that He makes beauty from ashes, and I decided to believe that He would somehow do that for us. He’s a big God, far bigger than infertility. And if having kids wasn’t in the cards for us, I was sure that God still had big plans for our lives.
Fast-forward to this past Sunday. Once again, I was singing “Blessed Be Your Name” at church, and once again I was struggling to sing through tears. I still meant every word of the song, and sang it with every fiber of my being. But this time, instead of mourning, I was praising. I feel like we’re leaving the “take away” period and entering into a period of blessing. We never thought we would be able to afford adoption, so we had decided to just be the best aunt and uncle we could be. But God started speaking into our hearts, leading us to become certified foster/adoptive parents through the state, even though we feel no call to become foster parents. And if you’re not going to foster or adopt a teenager, the certification seems almost worthless. However, a family member has decided that he wants to cover the cost of private adoption for us, and because of the certification we received we already have a home study ready and waiting. We never dared hope we’d be able to adopt a baby, but it’s seeming more likely and more real everyday. The possibility of getting to experience first steps and first words is exciting beyond words. No, nothing is final or set in stone, but I feel more hopeful than I have since my surgery. I trust that God is working on a miracle for us.
Lord, blessed be Your name!