I recently was digging through some “posts” that I wrote (but never published) during a blogging sabbatical. I found one that dredges up fresh emotions as I read it again. I can remember that day 4 years ago, like it was yesterday. It was right when my youngest sister was getting married:
Have you ever been late in a good way? I haven’t and my wife almost never is. So it seemed that this was an exception.
It’s been 6 years since ~K~ was born and all hope of ever having another child has been dead and buried. We’ve wanted more kids, we’ve tried for more kids, but after 5 years, all hope is gone of this ever being so (although it is technically feasible). And when I think about it, I also think, "Are you crazy? Life is so easy now, when it won’t be if we have another."
So when my wife mentioned this being late, I blew it off. A couple days later, she mentioned it again and I blew it off again, but with less assurance. This was unusual, but not unheard of.
But then there are the whispers of dreams, long gone and the resurfacing of dead hopes. The insanity of it all starts to become something that you want to happen, but not really, but almost.
What would it be like? Our lives would be changed forever. But that has happened twice before and it has been all good. Hard, but good. My parents did it. My youngest sister was born 10 years after me and is getting married this weekend. Our family wouldn’t have been the same without her, although in a lot of ways she was an only child. Hard, but good.
Then we took a pregnancy test. I say we because I encouraged it. Hadn’t really been involved with finding out about the other kids, but this one, I said, "Go for it!" We waited together, our collective hope bobbing on the surface and tasting the dream-filled breezes that had just started to blow.
It was negative.
How do you stuff down those dreams, only recently awakened? How do you let them die again and let the sterile, relief-filled stillness of practicality tell you that it is better this way? Hope, not yet fatally deflated, whispers that the test could be wrong. Probably not, but it could be wrong.
And yet I can still hope in a God Who can be Trusted, even with this dying hope and fallen dreams.
Hope is not dead.
Heb 11:19. Abraham reasoned that God could raise the dead, and figuratively speaking, he did receive Isaac back from death.
This month ~K~ will be turning 10.