The Boat

About a year ago, we were preparing to move, and in the midst of this decided to visit a new church plant that many of the students in our ministry were part of. We had not been to this church previously, because my husband was on staff at our church and I was very involved with the worship team, which obviously prevented us from visiting elsewhere. We were so excited to visit this church, which was full of young people, both college-age and young married couples, and we knew the preacher to be a dynamic speaker and the worship music, top-notch. At the time that we visited, the weight of infertility was weighing heavily upon me. I was hoping to get some much-needed refreshment at this service, where neither my husband or I had any responsibilities. Of course, the message that night was on children. My heart broke when I looked at the sermon notes; I felt like God was putting salt in my wound. After the message, they played a powerpoint slide show of pictures of all the beautiful children in the church. My heart broke a little more and tears streamed down my face. Why was God asking this of me? After the service, I was talking to the pastor's wife, a lovely woman whose path I wish mine had crossed more frequently. She has three great kids of her own and is a fantastic parent. I'm not sure how our conversation even started now. I do know that I was not sharing opening about infertility the way I do now, but I did express to her that the service had been very difficult because of that. As we talked, I felt like for the first time I was speaking to someone who understood my situation (quite strange in light of the fact that she herself has not suffered from infertility). She has walked very closely with a woman who (at least at the time) had been facing this issue for many years. She shared an illustration that her friend had shared with her that was so helpful to me:
She said that infertility is kind of like being on a boat. People will get on the boat with you as they enter this struggle and will get off when the get pregnant. They often quickly forget what it is like to be on the boat. It is a rare friend who can continue on the journey. It feels good when people get on the boat...not because you wish this struggle on them. It's just good to not feel so alone. And, it is so hard when people get off the boat.
This captured my feeling of being alone in the struggle, feeling adrift in so many ways, like children would provide an anchor for my life which was missing. I know this isn't true, but I was searching for it at the time.
This past year, God has provided someone to ride in this boat with me. I welcomed having someone to identify with. What I didn't know was that having someone ride with you often means feeling their pain too. God has been gracious to allow me the strength to grieve with her. I didn't have that a year ago. Praise God that He continues to be at work through all the darkness.