The waiting game is hard enough. But the latest insult came when recently rejected by our health care provider.
“Sorry, we can’t see you,” they said. “Call back when you’ve been trying for at least 13 months.” I was disgusted. “What? Are you kidding?” I asked. “I’m telling you we want to come in and pay you to look over this issue. And you’re rejecting us this freedom?”
Yep. They did. They rejected us.
At least let us get a leg up on the issue. Let us meet with someone and hear some options, for crying out loud (oh, and I will, let me tell you; I’ll wail loud and ugly-faced).
In truth, I’m trying to just push the whole thing out of my mind, to fake it ’til I make it. But it’s awfully difficult. Especially when you’re at the beach and you see the happiest little family photo session happening in front of you, followed by mom and dad grasping their toddler’s chubby little hands and running towards the splashing waves like a movie trailer scene set to a ballad by Bette Midler. I lost it with that one. Totally lost it like I didn’t even know what hit me. Open-mouthed crying, deep hurt and longing pouring from my heart like a wave of little sea shells washed to shore.
Before then, I thought I’d been free of it. I thought I had settled that score and left it up to God. I would trust Him and His plan, I told myself. I wouldn’t fret, wouldn’t worry, wouldn’t track my ovulation or even care, for that matter. But it was all in vain. I couldn’t fake it at all.
So now I’m in this place where I’m not sure what to do. I suppose I need to keep trying to surrender it to God. Daily! But I also need to allow the tears to flow. I don’t want to fake it. Because it’s a lie. The truth is: I’m struggling. It’s OK to admit it, even when I know what I should believe and who I should hope in. I wish I had it all together and practiced what I preached. But it’s hard to trust God on this one. Because what if He doesn’t grant me my wish? What then? Does that mean I will miss out on the adventure completely? Even if He has other plans for us, better plans, can I swallow the pill? Can I take the cup?
My Jesus did. He took the cup. He didn’t want to, but he did…out of obedience, surrender, submission to what God was asking of Him. Still, he prayed in the garden just prior to his arrest and persecution: “Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will” (Mark 14:36). He later tells his disciples, perhaps identifying his own struggles: “The spirit indeed is willing but the flesh is weak” (v 38).
So weak. Willing, yet so weak.
That is my prayer. I shall write it on my heart and whisper it in my bed. Abba, Daddy, please take this from me. Yet not my will, but yours. I am weak and selfish; help me to surrender even when I do not understand.