Of Symphonies {and being saved}
I couldn’t sleep last night. Again.
The rain was falling on our tin roof so I sat on the couch and listened to the symphony. When five o’clock snuck up, I sat down at the computer to catch up reading a few blogs. And in the reading the question was asked, “What is saving your life right now?”
Tears started burning. Because right now I don’t feel saved. I feel like I’m drowning. It’s the feeling that sneaks up in the middle of the night when I can’t get my exhausted body to sleep. It’s the part about infertility that I don’t know how to talk about.
The part where I feel physical pain and I avoid mirrors and I can list off every single thing I’ve done that has caused this. Every time I haven’t taken my supplements. Every time I’ve lost track of my temperature changes. Every time that I ate a slice of pizza because to be honest I just plain didn’t feel like making a stupid salad because mostly I didn’t want to feel like I was alone.
I want sympathy. I want someone to tell me its not my fault. And while facing infertility is not my doing {hello, lots of people have children even though they don’t take supplements and don’t track their temperature and they eat pizza every day} my selfish, greedy, lost heart that comes to the surface is my own doing and I end up staring at night skies and begging for a miracle.
The question about what is saving your life right now? I want to strip it down to the bones. It’s Jesus, of course, I want to say. Without Him I would have crumbled and disappeared. Without Him, I wouldn’t be here.
And that is true. But it’s not really the question.
What the writer was trying to ask is: what is happening right now that makes you feel alive? How is life coming out in your living?
And I don’t know. Right now, in this moment, I really don’t know. I just spent a day where I disappointed my husband, hurt a friend and was sharp with those I love the very most. There is no life in that.
Dawn is breaking through, even though it’s raining.
The air is gray now but it will change. It will splinter and wild pink and orange will dance over the edge of the treeline behind our house. And the rain is beautiful. The most wonderful thing when the land is parched and brown.
Right now I’m being saved by rain.
Is that silly?
And there is no metaphor in it. No secret meaning. Our land has been on the edge of drought. Land around us succumbed to it weeks ago. Our corn is still green and growing but it wouldn’t be much longer except the rain.
The rain that is playing a symphony on my roof.
And everything else doesn’t have to be fixed in life. My soul-stench can be cast at the foot of the cross {again} and I can listen to beautiful music and pray for better days.
And I’m alive.
Linking up with Sarah Bessey
Dear Natasha, I’ve come to your blog just two times with this one, I don’t know which blog brought me to yours, but I’m moved by your story and very inspired by your faith and dependance on God, I praise Him that is able to appease your heart in the midst of storms.
I haven’t read all of what you have shared here so I apologize if I’m ignoring some things that you probably already wrote about the condition of your infertility, I just wanted to tell you about TCOYF it is a Fertility awareness program. TCOYF stands for Taking Care Of Your Fertility and its also the name of a book that explains richly the natural method of charting your cycles and knowing when your body is fertile or infertile depending on the point that you are in your cycle. This is the method that my husband and I use for family planning, it is all natural and is based on knowing the signals that your body gives you about your fertility. Again, I don’t know, you may be already familiar with all this information and I might just be telling you an old story. If not, you might want to check the website and get the book that its very enlightening about women’s cycles and fertility: http://www.tcoyf.com/
Much love In Christ,
Karen
Thank you, dear, for this information! I am always on the look out for more ideas and resources about infertility. Even if they don’t pertain to me personally, I often receive questions from others.
It’s not silly. Seeing the beauty in the simple things of life, that are life, that bring life…that’s not silly at all. I don’t know the heartache of infertility but I sure do know what heartache looks like. Hopes and dreams that seem out of reach, if not shattered, and I hurt for you. Please hold on to those little things and see Him there.
Let the rain fall and bring life!
Aww, hon, I can’t even imagine… I really can’t. I can pray though. And better yet, I can ask Millen to pray! I’ll show her your picture and tell her what’s going on in your life and believe you me, that girl will pray for you every single night♥ Sometimes just knowing someone is really praying for you is enough to get you through the night.:)
Wish I could send hugs and kisses through the internet. 🙂
Beautifully written.
My whole community has been praying for rain for a week. We want that sound so bad. The few green flowers in my flowerbed give me hope that we’re going to make it.
Beautiful Natasha! What a refining process you’re going through. Sisterly love from Maine, Amy
I love the rain. Its drops have saved me many a time. HUGS
Beautiful, sad, and true. And I understand about the rain – we get a lot of rain here, and when it’s sunny for a long time, and then the rain comes back, I feel a bit saved by it, too.
I think honesty is saving me, and maybe you too? This post is so beautifully transparent. Such a difficult journey to walk.
Thank you. <3
This was beautiful. The rain is an amazing thing. One of my favorite cd’s is one called Jazz for a Rainy Day, and I love playing it on days like that, with the house quiet, and drink a cup of tea with a book….that all happens very infrequently! But it’s so nice when it does.
Ooh, tea and a book. That sounds deliciously peaceful.
I have found that talking about infertility is difficult because it is hard to put into words the gravity of the loss. With physical death, we are able to identify the person’s strengths, quirks, and all other things we love about him or her. Infertility, in my opinion, seems to be the death of what could have been…as if we are saying goodbye to a child who may never be born. I know the struggle is so far-reaching and it impacts us in physical, emotional, and spiritual ways. Thank you for this honest and raw account of what you are going through, and for your resilience in the Lord. Bless you-
Thank you for this. I have to remember to give myself time to grieve (over and over) because in a way, it is a small death every few months that must be faced…
I’m sorry you’re going through this, it must be hard. May God bless you even through all of this.
You might want to check out: http://www.foodrenegade.com/babies/
Thanks for the link!