I started this blog to make a confession. I am infertile. I am a genetic mutant with twisted genes; and as of Friday, February 1, my dream of having my own child was abandoned at Skyridge Hospital in Highlands Ranch, Colorado. Physcially, I have healed nicely. But, emotionally I still feel unsure. Somedays it feels “fine”. And others days, it is if I can feel the separation from children that I will never have. And when I think of my life, it somehow feels very long without them, like something is missing on the horizon. There is a loneliness there with which I am unable to grapple.
I recognize this space because it is grief and for me, in my life, grief is longing and soul-aching separation, always the separation. And separation and waiting, well, those are things I have never done very well with.
I make this confession to you because Lent started on Ash Wednesday, and I was unprepared. I hadn’t prayed through what God was asking of me especially since last year was so transformative to one aspect of my life. Then I realized I had given up something at Skyridge Hospital that has led me to the desert to await deliverance and healing. A place to come face to face with my God in a deeper way and to drink from His deep reserves. Perhaps I just need longer than 40 days.