Finding God in Broken Dreams

“God is in this story/ God is in the details

Even in the broken parts/ He holds my heart

He never fails…”

-Katy Nichole

All I ever wanted, growing up, was to be a mother. That was my big dream. My ideal occupation.

But my dreams came crashing down when James and I struggled to get pregnant, and then when our first two pregnancies ended in miscarriage.

After our second miscarriage, I really struggled. I couldn’t understand why this was happening. I didn’t know why God would allow it. I was devastated that what I wanted more than anything else – to be a mother – was slipping away from me and might never become reality at all. I went to church, but felt guilty because I was harboring doubts and questions. I had grown up in the church and accepted Christ at an early age, but I had never really struggled with my faith like this before. I felt very lost.

Shortly after our second miscarriage, our best friends, (who lived in an apartment the level above us), got pregnant. I’m not going to deny that I felt all the feelings – I was happy for them, but I was also sad, hurt, and jealous, as I saw them preparing to welcome their baby, and as I saw their lives unfolding in the way I thought James’ and mine would; while for us, month after month still left us with empty arms.

There was a day when I found myself praying in desperation, “God, will we get pregnant before (our friends) have their baby?”
If I heard any answer at all, I expected a simple “yes” or “no”. But instead I heard, soft, but unmistakable in the stillness, “Will you trust me if you don’t?”

I have never forgotten that. Because in that moment, I knew I wasn’t trusting him. I didn’t know where he was, or how to trust again, and I sat down on the bathroom floor and cried.

Our journey to parenthood began with tears, and shattered dreams. For me, it was a journey of trust. It was a journey where I had to learn to give up the plans I was holding onto so tightly. Too tightly. I had to give them up, and say, “What do you have for me, Lord?”

When you go through an experience like that, it never leaves you. To this day I think about those two babies. Who they would have been. Following their growth and development day-by-day, year-by-year. They made me a mother. They left footprints on my heart which will be there forever.

But in the midst of my brokenness, healing did come.

It did not come through getting pregnant again. It came through a chance word I overheard at a restaurant one day – one day when I was praying, “God, where are you in all of this?”

James and I had stopped in at Village Inn for free pie one Wednesday night, and the people in the booth nearby were having a Bible study. I heard someone say, “Because of what Jesus has done, death no longer has any victory.” And I realized, that’s where God was in all this. Because of Jesus, I had hope. Death was not a black void – there is life and light on the other side, and I know I will see my two babies again.

Healing came through a weekend away in the Jemez Mountains, pouring my heart out to God and allowing Him to pour back into me. Healing came through participating in National Novel-Writing Month, and processing my emotions on paper, though I had not planned to do that when I began. Healing came through talking with our pastor and his wife. Through music. Through time.

Healing came. And joy came again, too. Joy as I was able to fully surrender to God. To give up my hopes and plans and say, “I know you are enough – and whatever you have for me is good, even if it’s not what I expected.” To look eagerly for the work he had for me. Joy came through learning to trust again – deeper and more intimately than I ever had before.

“So if the storm you’re walking through/ Feels like too much for you

Wonder if he even cares at all/ Well, hold on tight to what you know

He promised he won’t let you go…”

Your song of healing’s written in his scars.