“I know the plans I have for you, “declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you, not to harm you, to give you hope and a future.” jeremiah 29:11
my little chair sits at the edge of the waves. little pen in hand, i write feverously in my little notebook.
i can’t let this moment get away without putting words to it.
all across the beach this morning, and i mean everywhere, little children are laughing, running, playing, exploring, and experiencing the ocean in their little hats and teeny swimsuits. it’s the sweetest thing to watch.
yet, i’m just a little bit sad, a little bit grieving.
how desperately i wanted that.
wanted to feel a little one grow and kick inside my belly. wanted to be someone’s mommy, the one reached for, cried after, the one to nourish, soothe, cradle and nurture.
“I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord.
“in his heart, a man plans his course, but the Lord orders his steps.”
i must never forget what He said. it’s all i have to hold onto. all i have that explains why.
why I never got it.
we all have dreams and expectations. some we realize, and some we have to lay down and let go.
i remember a doctor’s appointment near the end of our 10-year infertility journey. i was alone in the exam room following a procedure, our last try. i lay there praying for God to move His hand inside my abdomen, to use His power to make it all work.
tears streaming out the sides of my eyes, i heard myself offer up the most bizarre prayer. “oh God,” i sobbed, “you know how my heart longs for a child. but Lord, i belong to You. i’m Yours. and You alone know the plans You have for me. if this is Your plan, let it come forth. but God, You see ahead. You see the big picture. if for some reason only You can see, this isn’t Your plan for me, if there isn’t purpose in it, then God, please. don’t do it.”
where did that come from? i was relieved no one could hear me. after all i’d been through, why on earth would i pray this way?
the procedure failed. after that we stopped trying.
it was a long, painful rebellious process for me, making peace with God’s answer. even though i had prayed and believed, it still hurt. we are human, after all.
BUT GOD… is patient, His mercies new every morning.
in the years to come, since then, i’ve realized “the plans I have for YOU.” “mother” plans…
*twenty-eight classrooms full of little children whose hearts needed a teacher in love with Jesus;
*five adorable nieces who fell in love with their aunt mary when they were little;
*countless babies in the nursery who needed to be comforted;
*orphans in foreign lands needing food and education;
*a handful of jerusalem school kids who needed a teacher to offer unconditional love and speak healing over their land. who still have a special place in their hearts for one miss mary;
*a 12-year old named jared who deserved a caring step-mom;
*two sweet, tiny grandbabies who need a mimi to go with their g-daddy;
*sunday school children who needed to hear that they could have great adventures with the Lord, just like those people in the bible;
*and yes, a bunch of wild marching band kids who need a safe place to wrestle with issues of faith.
a different kind of motherhood, but motherhood nonetheless.
Isaiah 54 says, “sing, o barren woman, you who have never born a child. burst into song and shout for joy, you who were never in labor, because more are the children of the desolate woman than that of her who has a husband.”
and so, through tears of sadness mingled with the joy of the presence of the God in my life, i sit in my chair at the water’s edge, still watching and listening to all these little ones thrill at the creation of God as they try to catch sea gulls, fill their buckets with sand and water, and pull off their swimsuits to run naked into the waves.
and i marvel at the plans i know He has for each of them.
the plans He’s had for me. the plans He still does.
Inside Out 