The String

The pearl necklace begins with a string; the string tells a story of the silkworm and how strength comes from its perseverance.

The string in which our pearls are strung tells a story as well. There’s no sharing our nicest and sweetest days without first sharing the story behind how the string we are graced to be able to slide the pearls upon was made.

Our homeschool and my experiences with motherhood are not elements I can separate.  It’s all woven together very delicately, messy and confusing, but from time to time I catch glimpses of the beauty.  It is those images that spur me on, the beauty that helps me to not give up, the simple little pleasures of my life that I treasure up in my heart.  My God has most certainly worked all things for my good, and I do my due diligence to remember and praise Him all my days.

My consistent prayer for years now has simply been this: Abba, give me eyes to see.  There’s so much beauty around us, glimpses of my Savior who is pursuing me as I seek His face, and I really don’t want to miss it.  Every truth, every whisper of love, goodness, and beauty; I want to see it.  I wasn’t anticipating, however, where I would see it most, where God was aiming to teach me the hard stuff – in my own home and heart.

When you start a family, you never imagine the nightmares. You never stop to think about all that can go wrong, at least I didn’t {properly representing the ENFP}. Infertility was the mountain, and I did not see it coming. We had our first daughter just fine, but then words like secondary unexplained infertility, factor five, and acronyms like MTHFR and ANA formed a hurricane that threatened to wipe us out. What was happening? Where was this coming from? And WHY? Over and over, in denial, we pushed through. There’s got to be some mistake. We’ll just try again, you know, 50% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage, and we just must keep getting that side of 50%. Keep going, this isn’t real. But, it was real. Those days for so long represented dry, bitter places in my life.

Eventually, with the right cocktail of prescriptions, we had our son. Those rainbows and lollipops were here again, I don’t think I laid him down once for his first year of life – which might explain his attachment to me even still. *smile* We figured it out, we beat this, now we knew how to have another baby and keep the pregnancy.

Several years later we decided to try again. Why not? We had THE ANSWERS. Or did we? Because we were right back to where we started; sitting in fertility clinics, lost and scared and confused. This couldn’t be happening to us again; nothing was working, unexplained secondary infertility still unexplained. I’m not someone who gives up easily, so I put my head down and plowed us forward. Only there were no answers, just that same hurricane threatening to wipe us out.

Enter adoption. This was never on our radar, but it was everywhere we turned at that point. We picked an adoption agency and started the longsuffering process. We were told babies were rare; that they usually got first taken to the homes who went through the county first, leaving babies in this particular agency a rare occurrence. That was fine, we knew we were where we should be, so we would wait for however long we needed to. Our certification wasn’t even finished when we got the phone call; a tiny, baby boy was in need of a foster home. I called my husband, and we, full of ignorance and excitement, said yes {still properly representing the ENFP *wink*}. This was the beginning of the unraveling. This is how God took all that we had been through and honed it into His purposes and allowed me to wrestle with Him through it and ultimately get my eyes to open fully. It is in this place where He opened my eyes to see the joy that is simply right in front of my face; the significance of our children and how a quiver-full has nothing to do with a number. It changed me from the inside out.

Scripture tells us, “He makes the barren woman a joyful mother of children.” {Psalm 113:9}

His faithfulness, even though I know it to be true, still strikes me dumb when it touches me personally. Behold, He was doing a new thing. My infertility was being redeemed, His way, and it was the most beautiful thing I have ever done. The hardest thing, but I can see now. I am not who I once was…

Have you ever just sat back and marveled at the tiny humans in your life?  Really watched them?  The way they laugh, the way they play, the way they hold their mouths when they’re concentrating?  Their gentleness, their compassion, their funny thoughts and ways about doing things?  Their ability to overcome and see things and be joyful? It’s nothing very splendid or wonderful or exciting to the passer-by perhaps, but oh, friends, it is to me. These are the things that have captivated my heart.

My children are such gifts to me.

It’s not to say we don’t struggle and have bad days, we do.  Often.  Boys just seem to be a thousand times harder than girls.  We have sensory issues that seem never-ending, attitudes, and boy anger that is quite perplexing some days — but it’s beautiful.  It’s our life, and for so many years I fought to make this our reality. Prayed, researched, hid from it, ran after it, and wrestled with it.  Now that we are on the other side of it, the forest is clear for the trees.  I can see, and I’m in awe of what God has done in our lives together.

The many lessons we’ve learning: good, bad, ugly.

The wrestling with truth.

The beauty of what is right in front of us.

Seeking the simple things.

It has all been the making of this sturdy string that our days get strung upon. Even when I think I’ve blown it completely or can’t possibly do this just. one. more. day. The string is still there, it’s still strong because of Who made this string. God has done this, He just needed us to faithfully persevere. He would take our feeble attempts, unravel the threads, and weave them into something strong and beautiful.

In awe,