The Wilderness

I haven’t written about infertility in a long while. But I have things on my heart and time on my hands, so here we go. David and I struggled with infertility for 3 years – then I suffered a ruptured ectopic pregnancy which was taken from me before it took my life – then that has been followed by another almost 3 years of infertility. We do not feel called to adopt (yet), we do not feel called to foster (yet) and we do not feel called to (or safe) pursuing fertility treatments anymore. The only thing that feels right in our hearts is waiting upon the Lord and enjoying our life together as husband and wife. We’ve been waiting for quite a long time with no answer in sight other than to stay in the place where we are.

I frequently feel as if I’m walking on a path in the wilderness. A path that has not been walked on by someone in a very long time.

For the past year, I’ve held on to this picture of traveling in the wilderness. I love word pictures. I love when I can conjure up a scene, a mental allegory of sorts, because it helps me to keep pressing on when reality seems harsh. I really believe God gave me this image of the wilderness. I first encountered it one day as I was driving deep into the woods for a photoshoot. I had just hung up the phone with my last 2 friends who called to announce they were pregnant (yep, they told me at the same time. Band-Aid approach, I guess?). It was now official, all of my friends in their 20s and 30s were either pregnant, currently giving birth or had a complete family. I felt utterly alone. It was in this moment that I felt God whisper, “It’s just you and me now Beck. Get ready for a wilderness experience. You’re going to learn the meaning of ‘Jesus alone is enough’. It’s going to be hard, but it’s going to be good.”

Let me tell you about this wilderness path that I’m on. It’s overgrown, covered in mud and fallen tree branches. Completely unmaintained. It’s so faint at times that I frequently lose the path altogether and find myself just bushwhacking in hopes of eventually catching sight of it again. I trip over roots and stumble daily as I try to make my way along.

This path is lonely and isolating. I look around desperately hoping to catch sight of another fellow traveler. Occasionally I see someone off in the distance, but they’re on their own path and heading in the opposite direction. They might throw their hand up and wave as they continue on, as if to say “I see you there friend, but my eyes are fixed on the destination ahead of me and I don’t have time to stop and chat.” Yes, this wilderness can be lonely. It’s often just me and the trees. Just me and the stars at night. Just me and God traveling this broad piece of land.

This wilderness is also vast, lush, beautiful, holy, inspiring. There is majesty in this wilderness and intimacy with God like I’ve never known before. There is healing here. Deep healing. There is discovery and peace, a sense of calm and trust that I don’t think I’ve ever known before. God didn’t bring us out here to just dump us off and leave. He is with us every step of the way. And like all cross-country travelers, we have been outfitted with the best survival gear, a trusty compass and a healthy sense of adventure (oh how different things would look if I kicked my feet in rebellion every step of the way!). God has given us everything we need to get through this wild land.

The fact that we are in uncharted territory undoubtedly means that others will not understand the journey we are on. Some people may think things got too hard, that David and I just gave up. Some believe we’ve closed ourselves off to the idea of parenthood, that we’ve simply walked away. But that’s not true. We are simply being obedient to God’s calling on our life right now. We have diligently followed God’s voice every step of the way over the last 5+ years. And at this moment, He just happens to be calling us into a place that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense at first glance. A place that is unfamiliar, unknown and doesn’t look like what everyone else is doing.

It’s frustrating for sure. It’s hard to be misunderstood or judged. It’s hard to go against the current and do something that virtually no one else in your peer group is doing. It’s tempting to question God’s plan and wonder if He really knows what He is doing. It’s sad watching friends live the life you thought you were going to live. It’s painful and confusing, disruptive and often feels endless. It’s just plain hard sometimes.

But honestly, I must admit that I often find myself kind of loving it out here in the wilderness. I guess over time as I realized we may be here for a while, I decided to at least try and find the silver lining. Despite the isolation and lack of knowing where we are going or when this path will end, it sure is a beautiful place to roam. I love that God has created our story to be so unique that I am hard-pressed to find others like us on this path. I love that He drawn close to me, provided for me and picks me up when I fall (which is often). I love how much I’ve learned about His character and the Spirit inspired insight I’ve gained. I love the peace and healing I’ve found out here. I love walking hand in hand with David along the way. We try our best to enjoy our life to the fullest right now and that is beautiful. I love that our story isn’t over, we just have to keep walking a little ways further.
 

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2 thoughts on “The Wilderness

  1. You nailed it Becky. Thanks for putting that into words. That is so helpful & grounding to me.

    Yes Amanda, we need to seek healing before the miracle of a baby. Too often we forget that a baby isn't the only miracle in this life. The real miracle is maybe in finding healing without a baby. Or perchance the taking our eyes off the 'baby' & moving them onto God.

    Like

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