With open hands

(This is a repost from last year on Holy Thursday.)

"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 4.75 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...

Three 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.

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.

I asked for an egg

It was that gospel reading this past Sunday.  The one that if you’re infertile (or have any unanswered prayer) it makes you feel really uneasy if you listen to it at face value—like you’re doing something wrong or not praying enough or just not worthy of having your prayer answered.  I’ve asked God a thousand times to heal our infertility and allow us to conceive, yet He hasn’t said yes to that particular prayer.

So this was my brain during the second half of the gospel reading…

Luke 11:9-13	polkadot
And I tell you, ask and you will receive; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.	Okay, I’ve been asking to conceive for a long time.  Why isn’t the door opening for me?
For everyone who asks, receives; and the one who seeks, finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.	Don’t cry.  Don’t cry.  Don’t cry.  Don’t cry.
What father among you would hand his son a snake when he asks for a fish?	Shoot.  Can’t stop the tears.  Just don’t make a sound.  Deep breath.  Calm down.  No sobbing in church.  Don’t make a scene.  Your parents are sitting on the other side of DH.  Thank goodness the pew is empty to your right.
Or hand him a scorpion when he asks for an egg?	But I asked for an egg (baby).  Wow, that’s a lot of tears.  They just keep coming.  Don’t move.  Don’t draw attention to yourself.  You can grab a tissue when you sit for the homily.
If you then, who are wicked, know how to give good gifts to your children,	This homily better be good.  I hope he addresses this point.  I know this gospel isn’t about getting everything you want, but I still want to conceive.  It’s just my human desires talking here.  Why does it feel like I’ve been given a scorpion instead of an egg?
how much more will the Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him?	The “egg” is the Holy Spirit.  See??  It’s not about getting what you want.  It’s about getting the Holy Spirit.  But I still want a baby.  Lots of babies.  I hope the priest clarifies this.

Note there were two voices in my head competing for space and dominance…one in purple (human/emotional side) and one in red (rational/faithful side) above.

The priest’s homily was precisely what I needed to hear.  I’m sure he wrote it just for me.  A minute or so into it, it struck me how good it was, and I was very close to turning on my cell phone so I could record it.  I decided not to because my phone takes a while to turn on.  I probably wouldn’t have been able to record much because the homily was very short.

His main point was: God’s will is exactly what we would choose for ourselves if we had all the facts.  We don’t have all the facts.  Therefore, we have to trust that what God wills for us and gives us is what we need in order to increase our holiness to ultimately end up in heaven for all eternity.  Even when life is difficult and we face suffering or pain, we have to remember that God sees the whole picture and can see the fruits that will come from each trial.  He wants us in heaven.  The road to heaven may not be easy.  In fact it probably won’t be easy.  But He wants us to keep persevering through all the hardships we face.

It reminds me of something a favorite priest of mine used to say, “God didn’t create us so that we’d have a great, happy time here on earth.  He created us so we’d have a great, happy time with Him in heaven.”  That’s not to say He wants us to be miserable during our lifetime, but rather that this life’s purpose is directed toward eternity and should be viewed in light of it.

I know in my heart that God is not Santa Claus.  He doesn’t give me everything I ask for, even if I make a nice list and keep reminding Him of said list.  He gives me what I need.  He will gladly answer any prayer that would help me become more holy.  As much as I would like to think that I know what would fit that criteria (e.g. I think having a child would make me more holy), I don’t get the final say.  I will still continue to ask, but always with the caveat of “if it is Your will, God.”

“My Lord and my God, you created me to praise, reverence, and serve You, and by this means to save my soul.  The other things on the face of the earth You created for me, to help me in attaining the end for which I was created.  Help me, therefore, to make use of them insofar as they lead me to my end, and to rid myself of them insofar as they prove a hindrance to me.  Aid me by Your grace to make myself indifferent to all created things, as far as I am allowed free choice and under no prohibition.  May I not prefer health to sickness, riches to poverty, honor to dishonor, or a long life to a short life.  But let my one desire and choice ever be what is more conducive to the end for which I was created.”

~St. Ignatius of Loyola, whose feast day was July 31

Some words of encouragement

You know how sometimes you come across some words of Scripture that you think God meant specifically for you on that particular day in that minute?  That's how I felt when I heard this passage the other day.  It's all of chapter 2 of Sirach.  I think it's pretty fitting for Advent too.

Sirach 2

1 My child, when you come to serve the Lord, prepare yourself for trials.

2 Be sincere of heart and steadfast, and do not be impetuous in time of adversity.

3 Cling to him, do not leave him, that you may prosper in your last days.

4 Accept whatever happens to you; in periods of humiliation be patient.

5 For in fire gold is tested, and the chosen, in the crucible of humiliation.

6 Trust in God, and he will help you; make your ways straight and hope in him.

7 You that fear the Lord, wait for his mercy, do not stray lest you fall.

8 You that fear the Lord, trust in him, and your reward will not be lost.

9 You that fear the Lord, hope for good things, for lasting joy and mercy.

10 Consider the generations long past and see: has anyone trusted in the Lord and been disappointed? Has anyone persevered in his fear and been forsaken? Has anyone called upon him and been ignored?

11 For the Lord is compassionate and merciful; forgives sins and saves in time of trouble.

12 Woe to timid hearts and drooping hands, to the sinner who walks a double path!

13 Woe to the faint of heart! For they do not trust, and therefore have no shelter!

14 Woe to you that have lost hope! What will you do at the Lord’s visitation?

15 Those who fear the Lord do not disobey his words; those who love him keep his ways.

16 Those who fear the Lord seek to please him; those who love him are filled with his law.

17 Those who fear the Lord prepare their hearts and humble themselves before him.

18 Let us fall into the hands of the Lord and not into the hands of mortals, for equal to his majesty is his mercy; and equal to his name are his works.

When I first read this chapter, I thought it applies to IF quite well.  I just found out today we are facing a new trial:  DH lost his job.  His employer is facing severe budget cuts and has no money left to pay him after this month.  We knew his job was ending, but it wasn't supposed to happen until late next summer.  He has been looking for a new job, but if he finds one it won't start until summer.  If you could spare a prayer for us, we would very much appreciate it.

I just can't take it anymore

(Don't worry.  I'm fine.  You'll see where the post title comes in shortly.)

I've been having a rough week, feeling more discouraged than usual about our chances of conceiving.  It hasn't been sadness or depression, more like feeling out of sorts.  It probably didn't help that in the past couple weeks there have been two pregnancy announcements and a birth among my fertile acquaintances IRL.

Then one evening I glanced at the pile of mail DH had opened.  On top was a book.  This book:

It was sent out as a mass mailing.  I stared at the book and smiled.  God knew that I needed this book so much right now.  The timing seriously could not have been more perfect.  There was a letter included with the book, and this sentence stood out to me:

"But no matter how well we transform life's challenges into grace-filled moments, the fact remains that there is no escaping pain and suffering in this life."

I've been thinking about that a lot lately—that no matter how much we offer up our suffering, especially IF-related suffering, for others carrying the same cross or for an end to abortion or for any intention, and no matter how much we reflect on how much God loves us or the spiritual lessons we have learned from IF that can help us grow in holiness, the pain is still there.  So we all need encouragement from time to time, and this book definitely provided some for me.

Each page of the book has one sentence and a cute or funny photograph.  (Almost half of the pictures are babies, but I tried not to let that distract me from the words.)

Here are some excerpts:

"Sometimes I just don't understand life.  I've heard that God only gives you what you can handle.  But if that's true, He must have me confused with somebody else. . .because I JUST CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!

. . .

I wonder...  Is God trying to test me?  Because if He is, it would be nice if He could make the tests a little bit easier.  

Is he trying to cure me of some problem I have?  Because if He is, I wish the medicine He's giving me wasn't so hard to swallow.

Is it that we're all connected somehow and God wants to use my pain to help others who are hurting?  Because right now I could sure use some TLC myself!

. . .

But then again, maybe God has something else is mind.  Maybe there's a bigger plan I can't see.

. . .

In fact, I seem to remember that God went through some pretty tough times too—maybe even worse than mine.  But somehow, some way, He was able to come through everything okay and transform even the most terrible suffering into the happiest ending.  If He can do THAT, then maybe He's got something special planned for me too.

. . .

So I guess the best thing for me to do is try not to despair...or be too grumpy...or get too worried about things I can't change. . .

. . .[and] try to find a couple of good friends** to confide in and maybe even lend a hand (because no one can bear the burden of life's troubles alone), and have a little faith that the One who made the universe and set the stars and planets in motion can help me figure a way to get through all my problems—no matter how overwhelming they may seem now.

If only I put my trust in Him..."

I know the language is simple, and I've heard all the sentiments before, but sometimes I think I need to be told the simple truths over and over again.  Maybe after enough repetitions it will actually sink in.  :)


**or many friends in the IF blogland :)