Sunday, May 8, 2011

[if I had known] A Mother's Day Post


Several days ago I went with my husband to pick up a tractor. On the way home, as has been our habit since our honeymoon, we stopped at a few antique shops.

The first one gifted us with a conversation. The owner had been in the antique business for over fifty years! In her delightful shop I spotted a beautiful set of chairs (that I hope to go back and buy when I have the cash) and a gorgeous aquamarine ring (that I will probably never buy but will always remember and be constantly looking for another like it).


But it was the next shop that started my mind spinning. For on the second floor, in the furthest corner of the furthest room, I saw a lovely wooden highchair (that matches my kitchen table), a darling doll pram (just as I dreamed of having as a little girl) and the sweetest tiny cast iron frying pans, exactly like the ones I use to cook our meals each day. I pointed them out to my husband and said, "If we had a little girl..." and my voice trailed off.

Later, as we drove on toward home, I finally found words. "It's just that I didn't know."

My husband looked at me. He reached over, picked up my hand and began twisting my wedding ring around, which is his sign that he's listening.

I was quiet for a minute, trying to figure out my thoughts. Then the words started tumbling out. "I didn't know. I thought that when I gave up that relationship to focus more on God- I was just giving up marriage for a time. I didn't know that in three years my system was going to collapse. I didn't know that I was giving up my chance to have kids...I'm not saying I would do it different, I just..."

Again I lost words.

He started rubbing circles on my wrist with his thumb. "It feels strange, doesn't it," he said, "almost like you were cheated because you didn't get the rules explained to you before you started playing."

I nodded. I stared out the window for a while. My heart was hurting pretty bad. But then when I turned back and found my husband smiling at me, something quieted inside. He said, "I hate that you hurt, Tash, but I love who you are because of the hurt."

I think I fell in love with him all over again. Again. For the hundredth, possibly thousandth time since we were married 3 1/2 years ago.

It was then that I knew.

I would have done things differently. I would have married someone else if I thought that by not doing so, I was giving up having children. I would have walked away from God's dreams to hang onto my own. My dreams and desires are too strong in me. I wouldn't have been able to leave them for God.
I'm so glad I didn't know. I'm so glad.

I'm glad that I hurt. I'm glad that I can't have children. I'm glad for every moment of pain and every second of loneliness and every day that passes by without finding my dreams.

And I'll tell you why.

Because I get to see Jesus. All the time. Every day.


He's with me. Crying. Laughing. In my husband's eyes when they meet mine from across a room. In the voices of my nieces and nephews when they stop to see me and I take them on walks through the fields to pick wildflowers or through the barn to pet the cattle. In the wind that blows across my yard. In the sunrises that I see every morning as I stumble out to do chores.

Obviously, God could have met me wherever I ended up, with whatever choices I made. Obviously, God could give me children now, despite my physical problems. Obviously.

But... well, I wouldn't have some of these precious pieces. Precious because they were bought with tears and fire and pain. I wouldn't have the knowledge that I could be so desperate and so lost and so alone that all I could do was cry and scream... and He would be there.

And I wouldn't have my husband. This amazing, incredible man of God who leads me and guides me and shows me Jesus every single day.

It's true. I didn't know. But I am so glad that I didn't know.

...what if your healing comes through tears?

what if a thousand sleepless nights

are what it takes to know You're near?

what if my greatest disappointments

or the aching of this life

is the revealing of a greater thirst
this world can't satisfy?

and what if the trials of this life

the rain, the storms, the hardest nights

are your mercies in disguise?

-Laura Story "Blessings"

1 comment:

Nicole said...

this made me cry, Tasha. Thank you for always being vulnerable and sharing. I'm challenged to think about what it's good that I didn't know.