"Is adoption the answer for infertility, or is infertility the answer for orphans?"
I read this question over and over again. It struck me and convicted me and inspired me. I've had similar thoughts over the past few years as my passion for orphan care has grown. I've often wondered, would I care this much about orphans if infertility was NOT a part of my story?
About eight years ago, I was sitting around a living room playing a board game with friends. It was one of those games where a hypothetical question was asked and you had to guess who answered the question in what way. One question posed was, "what is the worst thing you could ever tell your husband?" One of the girls answered, "That I can't have children".
In that moment, it felt as if my heart stopped. The past few weeks prior to this game had been spent in fertility clinics and the reality of my infertility was slowly beginning to set in. The girl who made this statement had no idea what was going on in my life and the truth was, her answer was also my answer...except for the fact that in my life this wasn't a game.
Up until now, I have never experienced more pain than going through the grief process of infertility. It shook me to my core. It has forced me to question true womanhood, God's goodness, obedience, blessing, and why God doesn't always answer prayers the way we want Him to. The loss of my dream of what I imagined life would be was a long and painful death.
I really don't like the phrase, "everything happens for a reason." It slaps a quick fix, cop-out answer to the hard things of life. Instead, what I have come to believe about the way God works is that He takes ashes and turns them into beauty...if we let Him. So, please don't hear me wrongly. I absolutely do not believe that God GAVE me infertility. He is the giver of life, He is the giver of good things. Every good and perfect gift comes from his hand. Infertility does not fit in that category.
But, I do absolutely believe that God takes the pain, brokenness, and barenness of this world and brings healing, restoration, and life. Had it not been for infertility, I can honestly (and shamefully) say, I don't know if I would care for orphans like I do today.
I would read verses like James 1:27, "Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God means caring for orphans and widows in their distress..." and say, "wow, that seems hard. If I knew an orphan, I would surely help them." But to seek out orphans to bring into my home, I just don't think I would. I wish that sentence were different.
But as God tended to my heart during those excrutiating months and years of fertility treatments and the heart wrenching pain of seeing multiple negative pregnancy tests, He began to birth in my heart a passion. A passion for the fatherless, a heart for children who, without adoption, would grow up living in cold institutions void of the security, love and strength of a family.
God has transformed my pain into a passion. He did not heal me of infertility or take away any of the pain. Instead, He gave me something fruitful to do with it. The birth of a CHILD was replaced with the birth of a CALLING.
Parenthood became no longer about me "getting to be a mom", but about a passion God had firmly rooted in my heart to give a name, a future, and a hope to an orphan. In my life, infertility was the answer for orphans.
And these "orphans" are now my children. They bring me life. They give me hope and inspire me in their strength of heart. Something I thought I was doing for someone, in turn, has given me more joy than I could have ever have imagined. Isn't that how God works? He always out-gives. When we think we are doing something for Him, He always gives us back more than we could imagine.
I read this question over and over again. It struck me and convicted me and inspired me. I've had similar thoughts over the past few years as my passion for orphan care has grown. I've often wondered, would I care this much about orphans if infertility was NOT a part of my story?
About eight years ago, I was sitting around a living room playing a board game with friends. It was one of those games where a hypothetical question was asked and you had to guess who answered the question in what way. One question posed was, "what is the worst thing you could ever tell your husband?" One of the girls answered, "That I can't have children".
In that moment, it felt as if my heart stopped. The past few weeks prior to this game had been spent in fertility clinics and the reality of my infertility was slowly beginning to set in. The girl who made this statement had no idea what was going on in my life and the truth was, her answer was also my answer...except for the fact that in my life this wasn't a game.
Up until now, I have never experienced more pain than going through the grief process of infertility. It shook me to my core. It has forced me to question true womanhood, God's goodness, obedience, blessing, and why God doesn't always answer prayers the way we want Him to. The loss of my dream of what I imagined life would be was a long and painful death.
I really don't like the phrase, "everything happens for a reason." It slaps a quick fix, cop-out answer to the hard things of life. Instead, what I have come to believe about the way God works is that He takes ashes and turns them into beauty...if we let Him. So, please don't hear me wrongly. I absolutely do not believe that God GAVE me infertility. He is the giver of life, He is the giver of good things. Every good and perfect gift comes from his hand. Infertility does not fit in that category.
But, I do absolutely believe that God takes the pain, brokenness, and barenness of this world and brings healing, restoration, and life. Had it not been for infertility, I can honestly (and shamefully) say, I don't know if I would care for orphans like I do today.
I would read verses like James 1:27, "Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God means caring for orphans and widows in their distress..." and say, "wow, that seems hard. If I knew an orphan, I would surely help them." But to seek out orphans to bring into my home, I just don't think I would. I wish that sentence were different.
But as God tended to my heart during those excrutiating months and years of fertility treatments and the heart wrenching pain of seeing multiple negative pregnancy tests, He began to birth in my heart a passion. A passion for the fatherless, a heart for children who, without adoption, would grow up living in cold institutions void of the security, love and strength of a family.
God has transformed my pain into a passion. He did not heal me of infertility or take away any of the pain. Instead, He gave me something fruitful to do with it. The birth of a CHILD was replaced with the birth of a CALLING.
Parenthood became no longer about me "getting to be a mom", but about a passion God had firmly rooted in my heart to give a name, a future, and a hope to an orphan. In my life, infertility was the answer for orphans.
And these "orphans" are now my children. They bring me life. They give me hope and inspire me in their strength of heart. Something I thought I was doing for someone, in turn, has given me more joy than I could have ever have imagined. Isn't that how God works? He always out-gives. When we think we are doing something for Him, He always gives us back more than we could imagine.
UPDATES:
- Unfortunately, our fingerprinting appointment had to get postponed (after traveling to Cleveland), when my injured thumb did not cooperate. We have to return when it is fully healed. Though I know it is just a minor set back, it is still frustrating!
- our HUGE FUNDRAISER is happening THIS SATURDAY from 12pm-3pm at First Glance in Akron. Please tell your friends and PLEASE RSVP on the facebook event page. It will really help as we plan for food! Click HERE to RSVP.
PRAYER REQUESTS:
- Please pray for our fundraiser on Saturday - that God would blow us away with His provision and that it would be fun and a great time to raise awareness for adoption.
- Please pray for our little girl. That she would be love and cared for, held during these cold months and treated uniquely.
Until next Monday, love Kate, Steve, & Dima.
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