The Author of Life
One of the first negative emotions I ran into once we decided it was time to get pregnant was anxiousness. Not anxiety, per se. It was the sense that we should have already started this journey by now, and it was officially “go time.” Time had gotten away from us, and we were behind schedule.
Since college, I had always thought I’d be a young mother. I cultivated career skills that would be flexible enough for a stay-at-home mom life. I wanted to give them my time and my prime-of-life energy.
When I got married at 24, it seemed wise to take a couple of years to ourselves before intentionally starting a family. I thought using birth control was just what people did. I reasoned—and even expected—that if God wanted us to have kids at that point, He would have blown right past our defenses. He certainly could have, but my part mattered, too. I hadn’t given him full control. While I was waiting for God to override my choice, or to tell me when it was time to start, while I was waiting for my husband to get the itch to be a father, time got away from me. Suddenly, I was 29 and it hit me, what on earth were we waiting for?
There’s supposedly a 20% chance that a fertile couple trying to get pregnant will conceive in any given month. Once five months had gone by, I was getting antsy, so I brought those feelings to the Lord. It didn’t look like I was going to be a particularly young parent after all. My life wasn’t looking like the life of someone who valued family. I felt behind, and I confessed those feelings to God.
As I surrendered my sense of being in a hurry, the truth was plain. Although I felt like I was falling behind, I was created with a particular purpose, to live out a particular story that is only my own. From the beginning of time, God knew I would make all the choices I have made, and that our bodies would be what they are. I remain quite secure in the story he’s writing for me, perfectly on track. Perhaps, that story involves having children naturally, in due time. Perhaps, it involves something crazy like a baby left on our doorstep. Perhaps it involves becoming foster parents to many children over many years. Perhaps I will be very old when I conceive for the first time, like in the scriptures. Perhaps I will wait all my life, simply seeking the face of God, I will testify to his goodness in it, and the spiritual fruit will be worth the cost. (So far, it already is.)
The Author of Life is the author of my life. He has the power to create a new life, and He has the power to delay that request and just keep working on me. He will redeem every moment, nothing is wasted. The longer I wait, the more of Himself He offers, and the more genuine treasure I find.
The Author of Life also knows that a child isn’t just a child. Each of us exists because it was the right moment—the right sperm and the right egg arrived on the scene for just such a time. There are real future people He’s provided to live at precise moments in history. I’m one of them. Trusting the Master Storyteller, I submit myself completely, and I continue to seek Him to make me the best I can be for His glory and service.
