I believe that my season will come.

Music has always been my outlet, my escape, and through lyrics, I hear God’s voice whispering to calm my storm. It’s hard to believe that a year ago we were facing our first miscarriage. A year. Some days it feels like I’ve been in this season of waiting for decades, and then I’m reminded that although I have suffered, it has only just been a year. This has been the longest year of my life, filled with so much pain and grief. Though this season has been trying, I believe that my season of harvest will come because I know that the God I love and serve is always good.  

 

“Like the frost on a rose

Winter comes for us all

Oh how nature acquaints us

With the nature of patience

Like a seed in the snow

I've been buried to grow

For Your promise is loyal

From seed to sequoia

 

 I know….

 

Though the winter is long even richer

The harvest it brings

Though my waiting prolongs even greater

Your promise for me like a seed

I believe that my season will come”

(Seasons by Hillsong Worship) 

 

This past year has changed my identity. I gained the title of mother, but never got to hear my babies say “mama.” Ben and I made space for three babies in our hearts and in our homes, and awaiting them consumed our every thought with excitement and hope. We had carved this gigantic space in our lives for them, and when they never came, it left an enormous hole to be filled. Acceptance was the most difficult stage of grief for me to overcome. Accepting that I was in fact a mother, acknowledging the emptiness I felt, and not rushing myself to move forward just to numb the pain.  The greatest trial this year wasn’t finding something to fill the hole that miscarriage left, but embracing it and recognizing God’s goodness even when His answer was no.

Waiting is hard, and the space between the prayers we’re praying and the answers God is delivering can be long. It’s the moment in between the prayer and the delivery that I find myself wrapped so closely in my Father’s arms, yearning to hear His voice. The wait can be treacherous, but goodness, it be so powerful!  In the midst of the wait, in the middle of the grief, at the height of the fear, God is working. A year ago as I sang the lyrics “I know you’re able, and I know you can, save through the fire with your mighty hand” I could never finish them without melting into a puddle of tears. My voice no longer cracks and the tears don’t flow as freely when I now can sing “But even if you don’t, my hope is You alone.” God’s word is full of purpose, promise, trust, and steadfastness. He is able, but we must fix our eyes and our hearts on who God is even when He doesn’t use His abilities to fix our current situation. God is everything He says He is, and despite our circumstances, despite the outcome here on Earth, despite whether I get to love a child Earthside or not, He is still good. 

It may be the case that through our suffering is the only way that some people will hear and receive the gospel. I would rather share my testimony through tears than evangelism with a smile. Christ’s suffering was meant to accomplish salvation, and ours is meant to spread salvation. There is a hope that cannot be threatened by anything, because of Christ. So now as I find myself in yet another season of waiting, hopeful to adopt, I remind myself. 

If the answer is yes. God is good.

If the answer is wait a little longer, not just yet, or maybe not right now. God is good. 

If the answer is no. God is good. 

There is hope that can withstand any storm, and that hope is found in Jesus. I am confident in Him and Him alone that however our story turns out, it will be a glorious unfolding of God’s goodness and faithfulness to us. 

Xo,

Mary Alexia