Things haven't been going according to plan A. Or plan B. So I've been a little....grumpy. My cheerful disposition has been replaced by a girl that just wants to lay on the couch and watch mindless television. I've been watching a lot of ABC Family. I don't even know why.
I'm reading a wonderful book during this funk. The Power of a Praying Parent by Stormie Omartian is explaining so much to me. Basically, I shouldn't stop praying just because I don't feel God moving. I think he's not listening, but he IS. He's just not working on my time schedule. I forget this time and time again. I let my worry and fear convince me that maybe he just can't be bothered with me. Maybe it's better not to expect good things lest my heart be broken again. Maybe I should just stop praying.
This is wrong of me. God's not a genie. I forget that he knows best. I prayed to have my first child for YEARS before I got that positive pregnancy test. Was God not listening to me all those years? Or was he waiting on the perfect time, all the while preparing my heart to be a mother? I prayed throughout my entire pregnancy with my son. I was so afraid I would mess up the pregnancy somehow. Afraid that I'd catch a cold and ruin everything. I gave birth to a beautiful, 8 pound, perfectly healthy son.
God listened to my prayers (and probably had a good laugh at my neurotic germaphobia).
And the other pregnancies...well I prayed for them too. All of them. And each time I miscarried, I believed the lie that God didn't really love me. If he loved me, why would he allow such loss, such disappointment? The bible says he collects our tears in a bottle, but what exactly was he planning on doing with my tears? Was he laughing at me?
My current funk is much like all of the other ones. I pray. Every day. And I feel like I am in a land of waiting. Waiting to see what God's plans for my family are. Waiting to see if I will have the honor of having more children. Waiting to see if the path to growing this family is non-traditional. Waiting.
I have a garden. About four months ago I planted tomatoes, bell peppers, blueberries, strawberries, and a kiwi plant. At first I was diligent with keeping weeds out of the garden and watering all the time. Then...life went on. We had stuff to do. I spent less time in my garden. I kind of thought maybe I just didn't have a green thumb. Maybe I should give up hoping for fruit to come forth. And then, yesterday, I saw something amazing when I looked in my backyard. Beautiful little tomatoes and a little pepper. They were growing this whole time. The storms we've been having served as wonderful food for my little plants. Though I had given up on thinking anything would ever grow out of that garden, growth was happening all along.
I am a lot like my little garden. I've grown tired of the constant tending to my spiritual growth. Praying seems painful. Fruitless. Maybe this is as good as it gets, I think. But I know that life's storms are God's way of preparing me for something amazing. Lots and lots of fruit. Maybe not today. Maybe not a year from now. But it's enough to fill my heart with hope.
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