In our eighth year of marriage, my husband and I faced one of our greatest decisions yet. I’d be lying if I said strong emotions weren’t central.
After several months of consideration and prayer, our future seemed to be falling into place. Except for this one ever-present question: Is this best for our children?
I remember a conversation I had on the phone with my mother, shortly before my husband sealed our fate.
“The problem is, Mom, we’re not baby Christians anymore. We can’t look for signs. We have this annoying faith to know that God will take care of us no matter what we choose.”
I’ll admit my lack of gratitude, but, truly, how much easier is life and our walk with Christ when we hunt for a magical road illuminated for us – when, at least mentally, we escape the burden of our own responsibility?
I grew up in the Church, and I can tell you that faith has a way of beating you out of desperation. After His hand has “saved” you for the millionth time, you begin to understand that maybe His promises actually do protect you when your own judgment falls short.
A few months ago, I sat down to grade papers at the local box bookstore. If there is one thing I would change about my little Southern town, it would be the sustainability of a Mom and Pop bookstore. But I digress…
Just to the left of me that afternoon sat two young women – organizing their freshly packaged Bibles with brightly colored books of the Bible tabs. They were loud. They were new Christians. But, man, were they excited to prepare their hearts for study. In many ways, I envied their crisp pages and unjaded perspectives. Oh, the ease of belief before marriage and children!
It’s funny. In the midst of intense decision-making, I often forget all about the believer within – the little girl who emerged from cool waters nearly two decades ago. I have no doubt that – deep inside – she’s still furiously flipping through her illustrated children’s Bible.
So what, then, did weeks of sleepless nights yield? A more prayerful wife and mother.
For the first time in our marriage, my husband and I had to weigh all options – including the life we hope to provide for our little people. We had to sacrifice dreams for our family that may never be. We had to embrace uncertainty.
And we chose to believe that God never fails.
But, you know, I think back to those young ladies in Books-A-Million often, especially the one who pronounced Job as “job”. And I’m thankful that – in His perfect love – God stands ready to redeem.
You. Me. And every strung out parent in between.
One Year Ago: The “Oh, Crap” Moment