I made the decision or rather prayed about it and came to what I felt was the plan for me. I watched a lot of Judah Smith sermons. I figured if he could straighten out Justin Bieber he could lead this lost sheep back into the flock. Though I think that my coworker is the one God sent to bring me back but I’m getting off topic. The first ever sermon I watched talked about God’s promise seeming unfulfilled when his Dad was taken away…yeah. I know. He told of the story of Elijah and the woman who made a room for him. How he promised a son when she’d given up hope but then she had him and he died. Elijah tried 5 attempts to bring him to life and when he went back to the 3rd method on the 5th try, it worked. There are seven sons in the bible born of infertility. Ok, I think, message received. Infertility, 3rd protocol, 5th cycle. Got it. But maybe not right now. Then I learn in a subsequent randomly selected sermon that God is right now. So. Ok. 5th cycle. Right now. Got it. I learn of Joshua leading the people to the Jordan when it’s overflowing. 40 years they were lost with plenty of opportunity to cross when you could literally step over it, but no, it’s overflowing now. At His direction they wade in and wait. It’s not a Red Sea and Moses miracle. The river dries over the course of 2 hours. Just standing there trying to trust that some small progress is being made to cross into the promised land. Is that us?
You would think that all of this would make me feel more optimistic than ever but yet I have never felt so much the opposite since this whole thing started. Maybe it’s a lack of faith. Maybe it’s some subconscious reverse psychology that if I feel like I don’t want to bother that it’s going to work. Or maybe somewhere deep inside there is a part of me that has resigned all hope of ever having a child. That I’m mishearing the message or hearing what I want to. So much of the progress I made with relaxation has left me. I found out that someone I know in a past life is expecting her eighth biological child. All I could muster up was bitterness. I could only mentally offer judgment of her for her socioeconomic status, use of assistance, and willingness to have eight children. But all of this self-righteous judgment was painted green with envy. Maybe this was a test and I failed. That I couldn’t hold on to God’s message when it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. That I was selectively listening.
I think I may be getting the idea after all. I need to pray on it some more. But I still don’t exactly know what to do when I can’t hear the answer.