I get it!

Nobody wants to read about me being all woe-is-me everyday. And you know what? Neither would I want to open a site everyday that is going to make me feel like Auschwitz would be a good holiday destination. And sooooo.... I've been seriously considering changing the name of my blog, and the whole look of it... I'm sure the black screen and the blue text etc. conveys a very booo-hoooooo impression of me, which would have been rather appropriate when I was "infertile Char".
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But see, I'm trying to shake that whole image. Here I'm trying to redefine myself as someone other than "infertile Char" and then I put a huge label at the top of the blog, declaring my baby-making-inability and then hope people will start to think of me as something other than that? Duh!!! Hahaha. I acknowledge my stupidity.
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And now the big question is... SHOULD I change the face of my blog?
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That would mean that I am ready to relinquish that part of my life. But, so much of who I am now was molded by this infertility thing. My concept of who God is, the way I understand life, what I want from the future and so much more... it's all been influenced by that thingy-me-bob.
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Besides... there are many people I know of, who are struggling with the same thing. And they read my blog. Maybe something I have experienced will be helpful to them? Boy oh boy did I lurk around a bunch of other infertile's blogs - and what a relief to know that I wasn't alone! Suddenly I felt less isolated and like a dud. It was comforting to read that my thoughts and feelings weren't warped or crazy. What a relief! haha.
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It also makes me wonder... Do I really want to move on? I've become so accustomed to being "Infertile Char", I almost wonder, if I'm not "Infertile Char" anymore, who am I? I've made quite a comfortable home for myself in my cocoon. Am I ready to set this pain down and walk away from it? Do I trust God enough to carry me through it? Ideally, I should have such a clear grasp of God's nature that I shouldn't have trouble trusting God or yielding to His will for me.
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But you see, my desire to conceive has been so much more enormous than my desire to follow God's will for me.
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It's really really hard for me to lay down that frantic longing that I've nurtured for so long... How do you respond to the God who answers other people's prayers with an instantaneous YES and yours with silence?
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Do you know what David did? Go and read the story in 2 Samuel 12. David knew who to turn to when trouble came a-knocking at his door. When his son fell ill, David dropped to the ground, stretched out facedown and begged God to spare the life of his child. And he stayed facedown, not eating, not sleeping, just praying, for seven days. When he overheard his servants whispering, he realized that his son had died. His pleas and pleadings, his fasting and prostrating himself on the cold hard floor, it had all changed nothing. God's will hadn't changed.
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So, what do you do when you find yourself in trouble? Do you prostrate yourself at God's feet and beg and plead and refuse to take no for an answer? That's me. I've been there, done that, for the last five years. I just point blank refused to hear Him say "no".

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What do you do when the answer is no? When will you be ready to lift yourself up off of the floor, get to your knees and look at the world again? David did something so astounding, I had to read it twice before it sank in. 2 Samuel 12 v 20 says that when David realized his son was dead, he got up from the ground. After he'd bathed and put on lotion and a fresh change of clothes, he went to church and worshiped.

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When David had done everything in his power, and there was nothing left to try and every door of opportunity had closed, he laid aside his grief, put on some fresh clothes and worshiped. Because, you see, no matter if God never answers another one of our prayers, ever, He is still worthy of worship. He is God, after all.

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Am I ready to lay aside my grief? Do I want to be healed? I have finally stopped asking for my faulty plumbing to be repaired. My prayer now is for spiritual and emotional healing. I had become so accustomed to my pain and I identified so closely with the term infertile that when I asked myself the question if I really wanted to be healed, it was like I was contemplating amputating a well-loved limb. This is the me I know. "Infertile Char". I know that person. Call me biased, but I quite like her. (snigger snigger!)

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They tell me that mourning has a purpose. It is healing. It cleanses us from the inside and tenderizes the heart. When our dreams dissipate into thin air, mourning helps us to release pent-up anguish. Without grieving, some losses would destroy us. God designed mourning for our own good.

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But grief is only good to a certain point, then it goes miff. I had begun to nurture my grief so far past it's expiration date that my heart was beginning to reek of the vinegary residue of soured sorrow.

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What next? What does my future hold? Where to from here? Is this it? Letting go means surrendering. It means laying down your weapons, opening your hands, lifting them to Heaven and yielding yourself to The Other's will. Yielding can feel like the end of the world when you're contemplating it. But I've come to a crossroads. One path leads to peace, the other leads to bitterness.

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I hope the path I choose leads to the Saviour's feet. To a life of peace. I hope my future holds the same as what it did for David. Lots of time spent worshiping. And healing.

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*With thanks to Shannon Woodward, author of "Inconceivable" for the inspiration behind this post.