In December of 2012 I blogged about the following passage of scripture:
My beloved spoke and said to me,
“Arise, my darling,
my beautiful one, come with me.
11 See! The winter is past;
the rains are over and gone.
12 Flowers appear on the earth;
the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves
is heard in our land.
13 The fig tree forms its early fruit;
the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come, my darling;
my beautiful one, come with me.”
Song of Solomon 2:10-13
I can't seem to get away from this promise. A year has passed since I read this passage aloud to my husband and recognized it as a promise from God to us, and then blogged about it. A whole year in which life has been lived, worked, and experienced. I'd like to say it has all been positive, but that wouldn't be true. But it has all been unto something good...., because my God is good. I can't see the fruition of this promise yet. Not yet. And I have to admit that I have held my breath when maybe I should have remembered to breathe in and out, one day at a time..., sometimes minute by minute, and sometimes second by second. I don't mean to be cryptic, but sometimes metaphors paint a better picture than blunt fact for me. I tend to see life this way.
In the past year I have felt a thousand small deaths as each month passed and I watched as other women got to have babies, little genetic miracles to carry around and wonder at. I watched the proverbial pieces of my heart falling off bit by bit until I felt that there was nothing left of what I knew to be me. My confidence had been shaken and is still shaking in her boots, because my confidence knows that her boots have failed me and that she isn't up to the challenge anymore.
Sometimes I have felt cursed.
Sometimes I have felt pummeled.
Sometimes I have lost hope.
Without realising it, I have tried to run away from this promise because hoping in this promise requires a faith that I don't always feel I have. It means risk. And risk always looks like that idiot who decided to tight rope across the grand canyon.
Who actually did tight rope across the grand canyon.
Well, how about that.
So, a year later, I'm still not holding my baby, and I'm still not pregnant and if this isn't my answer, then what is? What's the universal truth that I can walk away from this year with? What can I positively say that I know to be true about the year 2013? What is the sum of 365 days past that I can use as a flashlight for lighting up the dark hole of unknown that is year 2014?
God doesn't change.
I should know this right?
His ways, His thoughts, His heart....., aren't moved and changed by circumstance, by season, by loss or tragedy the way mine is. His heart for me is always love.
Even when I can't see it.
Even when I can't feel it.
Even when circumstances tell me otherwise.
I know this to be true. Hebrews 13:8 tells me that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever. He doesn't change. But I do. I fall apart. I panic. I lose hope when I can't see land on the other side of this body of water. I feel like I understand better now, where I have forgotten who He is and in that forgetful state, feeling as if I have utterly lost Mariam in the dark forest of my own emotions and feelings. The truly amazing thing is...., my God never forgot me and He never forgets who He is. I am so thankful that His word is always faithful, always true. I don't regret going through these painful, sometimes (ok, often) self-inflicted states of mind, because grief and growth should always go hand in hand. Grief doesn't mean stuck or lost. It means loss (I swear that doesn't mean the same thing as lost!). Grief is a time for self reflection, a time to see God propel us forward despite how we feel. Grief, in the hands of our loving Father means hope. Everlasting, eternal, awe-inspiring, risk-taking, jumping off the ledge kind of hope. Strength building, life changing, depth inducing, inspiring, God revealing, love binding hope.
Today I feel like crap, but my prayer is a prayer of thankfulness, for the children God has given me that are with Him now, and the children He has promised me and that I am daring to hope for. In the waiting, I only ask for more of Him. The spring is in my heart, the song is on my lips, and that deep inhalation of breath is filled with the sweet oxygen of hope.
I am alive.
And so are you.
Come, thou Fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing thy grace; streams of mercy, never ceasing, call for songs of loudest praise. Teach me some melodious sonnet, sung by flaming tongues above. Praise the mount! I'm fixed upon it, mount of thy redeeming love.
I love you Father.