So I am a Christian. You may have picked that up from some of my previous posts, but I love Jesus. I’m not revealing my denomination, or making a stand that my beliefs are the best, but I cannot seem to separate my faith from this journey. There is something so inherently spiritual about this adoption process for both me and my husband.

But infertility wasn’t always like that.

I was mad for quite some time: Mad at myself (maybe I had somehow caused my infertility – maybe it was punishment for something I did when I was younger)…Mad at God (really – God loves me? Then why can’t I get pregnant?)…Mad at pregnant teenagers in the mall (I still get mad at them, but then remind myself I might get to become a mommy precisely BECAUSE of a pregnant teenager, so that’s getting better)…Mad at the women at church who told me I didn’t have enough faith (really – you wanna go there with me?)…Mad at the women who told me I didn’t pray the right way (yes, because if you pray the right way you can be healthy AND wealthy). And anger isn’t a sin…but it certainly isn’t a healthy emotion.

Then I moved into grief – every little thing about mommies and babies was like a dagger in my heart that made me shed copious amounts of tears. I cried at movies…commercials…tv shows…when friends and co-workers announced pregnancies…when I saw pregnant teenagers at the mall…on mother’s day at church…

Then there was my “ignore Jesus” phase – I’ll just ignore God/Jesus/Bible study/my accountability partner’s piercing questions. I’ll fake it. No one will know, right?

Then we actually began the adoption process. There was still some anger (I hate the way I have to “get permission” from everyone to be mom)…still some grief (I’ll never feel a baby move in my womb or tell my husband “I’m pregnant” in the way I imagined five years ago)…and still some ignoring Jesus.

Sure, I’d pray. I’d read my Bible (I actually teach Bible, so I kind of HAD to read it!). I’d journal…I’d go through the motions, basically.

If there’s ever been a test of my faith, or a valley period, or whatever you want to call it, infertility was it. I thought the adoption journey would help me overcome that. To some degree it has…I get to be a mom, we get to have a baby. But some of that grief and anger is still there.

And today I had to say I was sorry to Jesus. (shout out there, to my friend – you know who you are if you are reading this!!!)

We sang the song “Blessed Be Your Name.” Now, I have been singing that song for like two years. I mean like almost EVERY day for two years. Maybe I was singing it because I meant it – maybe I was singing it because it was catchy – but maybe I was singing it as a desperate prayer to Jesus.

Here are the main lyrics:

Blessed Be Your Name
In the land that is plentiful
Where Your streams of abundance flow
Blessed be Your name

Blessed Be Your name
When I’m found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed Be Your name

Every blessing You pour out
I’ll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name

You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name

This is Scripture, from the book of Job. I love the book of Job because it’s basically: life sucks and there’s not always an explanation or an easy answer. But Job says how can we bless God and then curse Him from the same mouth? Even though Job lost everything, he chose to bless God.

Can I honestly say the same thing? When God “gave” me my husband – blessings & praise. Whe God “gave” me a job – “gave” us money – “gave” us protection – every time something good has happened, we are quick to praise God.

But through this infertility journey…did I still praise God, even though he “took” away? And what, exactly, did he take away?? I can’t even define it, but in my darkness, did I praise God? I think if I looked through my journals, the answer would be mostly yes. Mostly I still trusted God, praised Him, loved Him. I may have yelled at Him (He’s big, He can take it), I may have ignored Him…but I never quit loving Him.

But what really got to me at church today was this: What would other people say? What would my students say of me over the past two years…what would my co-workers say…have I been a good example of a Christian when my private life was falling apart? Have I praised God when He took away?

I honestly don’t know.

So I said “I’m sorry” to Jesus.

Is it fixed? No. I’m still who I was this morning, still struggling with anger & grief…
Will I be able to better recognize when I’m not blessing Him? Maybe…I hope so.
Does He love me anyway? Yes.

Forever, Yes.

And that makes all the difference, doesn’t it?