unconventional

I have a secret to share.  Most days (like 29 out of 30), I am not at all bummed out about not having biological children.  Most days, I know what it means to be a mommy…and it has nothing to do with genetics.  Most days, I’m even grateful to have been chosen for this.

But when I read about Elizabeth in Luke 1:7, I feel slightly stabbed.  Her pain from infertility is mine times a thousand.  Infertility back then was much, much worse than it is today.  But I have to admit that when people ask me “You can’t have children?”, I feel pretty stung.  When people talk about the magic of pregnancy, I feel queasy (like morning sickness, maybe? HA!)…and I absolutely feel ashamed that I can’t relate.  When people look at me pitifully or my children pitifully…as if maybe we’re all a second choice…it cuts pretty deep. Baby showers are almost unbearable for me.

I think it all boils down to the fact that I wish the world saw me in the way God sees me.  He doesn’t see me as flawed.  Or imperfect.  Or less.  He made me…and He knew from the beginning of time that I would be a mommy.  When I die, my biological connection to this world will forever cease.  All I can pray is that my children can carry on my spiritual legacy.

Miller, Andre, Keenan - if you are reading this, years later, I want you to know that you are much, much greater than what our biological children could have been.  They would have been beautiful in our eyes and perfect in God’s.  But you…you are living testament.  That love knows no bounds of race or ethnicity.  That every part of who we are (and where we’ve been) works perfectly together to glorify our Master.  That God’s plan and guidance is always, always superior to what could have been.  When I look at you, I echo Elizabeth’s words in Luke 1:25: “The Lord has done this for me! In these days, He has shown His favor and taken away my disgrace among the people!”