With open hands

That's what I was originally going to title this blog.  I went with "Making God Laugh" because I didn't have a picture of hands to go along with the other title, and you absolutely cannot have a nice blog without a good picture.  See, even if you don't have much that's useful to say, you should at least look good doing it.  Irony of ironies, I have the same boring header I had when I started this blog 3.75 years ago...so much for that decision based on appearances.  ;)

The phrase "with open hands" came from a talk I heard in college at our campus parish.  The speaker was discussing how we receive gifts from God.  He was trying to make the point that we are stewards but not owners, and God is free to take back the gifts at any time.  Here's the image he gave us:

Imagine each gift God gives us is a balloon.  The gift could be anything:  spouse, particular talent, job, health, etc.

Imagine standing with your hands out ready to catch the balloon.  Each of your fingers has a thumbtack on it.

The only way to catch and hold the balloon with thumbtacks is if you keep your hands wide open.

If you would try to grab the balloon or hold it tightly, it would pop.  If at a later point God wanted to take back the balloon, He would have to pry it out of your hands, and it wouldn't look as beautiful as when he originally gave it to you.

The speaker's point was that the proper posture before God is flat, open hands.  We gladly receive what He gives us, but we don't become overly attached or turn the gift into an idol or think we deserve the gift because it might be on loan to us for a limited time.  On the day God asks for the gift back, it will make it all the more difficult to let go of the gift if you sit there with fists clenched saying, "Mine.  Mine."

With that background, here's the story...

Two years ago on Holy Thursday I was sitting in a dimly lit church.  Evening Mass had finished a while ago, and there were only a handful of people remaining in adoration.  I imagined Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane, pleading with God that there be another way besides the cross.

“My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet, not as I will, but as you will.”  (Matthew 26:39)

“My Father, if it is not possible that this cup pass without my drinking it, your will be done!” (Matthew 26:42)

He prayed the same thing a third time.

So I thought, if Jesus prayed like that, I can too.  I started to pray with all sincerity and lots of begging, "If it is possible, let the cup of infertility pass from me; but not my will but yours be done."  I definitely put a lot more emphasis on the first part (infertility passing) than on the second part (your will be done).  :)  It might have turned into praying just the first part...

Normally I don't hear God speaking to me directly in prayer.  That night I did.  In the middle of my begging, I "heard" this in my head:  "I want your fertility.  Give me your fertility."

I immediately thought of the balloon metaphor I described above and how fertility was the balloon I was grasping onto with all my might.

If I wasn't already crying, by that point I was.  I'm not proud of it, but the first thing I said to God in response was, "I can't.  It's asking too much."  I wondered if that's how Jesus felt in the garden; if He knew the answer to His prayer was "no" but the thought of going through the crucifixion just seemed so overwhelming that he had to ask to be spared.  (Clearly the crucifixion is light-years different than infertility.)

I feared that if I gave my fertility to God and relinquished my "control," it would mean infertility forever and the death and burial of my dreams.

I left church that night with no resolution.  I kept thinking that I can't let go.  It's too painful.

I wish I could say this story has a happy ending—that I've been able to let go and give God my fertility.  There has been progress for sure, but I'm not completely there yet.  The thought of one day stopping all TTC meds doesn't distress me as much as it used to; I can see how there would be peace and acceptance in that decision.  If that day comes, I'm sure there will be a whole new level of grief to face, but along with that will come boatloads of grace...grace that I don't have today.

When I originally wanted to name my blog "With Open Hands," I knew that I did not have open hands, but hoped that it might continually inspire me to work toward it.  Even though I didn't use it for my title, it has been a motivator for me nonetheless.


**Special thanks to DH for humoring me when I said I needed him to model for me.