He will make it good

As someone who truly only came to her faith after losing three babies and ending the infertility journey without kids, I have not only heard, read, and studied the scriptures on suffering, but I have them memorized, embedded into me, and understand them in my daily life of grief and joy in every moment.

As someone who has now lived with pain that at first had me begging for my life and now, on most days, would incapacitate the strongest person, I walk in and breathe those scriptures every single day.

His living breathing Word.
Full of fact and promise.

Including what God has shown and told me, that this isn’t of Him or me, that it is the work of the enemy (only further supported in my at least weekly dreams of being hunted).

He also told me when this pain first hit that He would heal me.
Except He hasn’t yet. This piece isn’t about that, though, most especially because I wrote about that not long ago. 

Rather this is about what happens when you truly think He isn’t going to heal, at least not without some huge-only-Him miracle or in the way and time I want or until I finally meet Him face to face where there will be no more tears or pain as promised.

I just don’t think He is going to heal me, and I can’t keep praying for it.

This is about what happens when you stop praying for healing and instead ask for the strength, endurance, and grace to keep going. 

This is about what happens when your prayers of begging for relief and healing become prayers of gratitude that the peace of acceptance has finally, finally settled in.

I don’t think He will heal me.
And the craziest part? I’m not even mad about it.

I can’t be.
I know Him and His grace and love too well.
And, I am too tired to be.

Because it’s true…
we’ll have trouble in this world
.And He has overcome it.
He gets suffering more than anyone.
And He is with us.
He will make it good.
And we have grace and courage through and in Him to endure it.

The wildest part, though?
He has made it good. So freaking good.
All of it.

I have a literal lifetime of His faithfulness.
I have seen His face, felt His presence, and know Him better because of this dark battle.
And more than any season of my life, I have shown that Love to the world and so many people.
And so, I’m not even mad about it.

I just need enough strength, endurance, and grace to keep going, especially on the really hard days.
And if you’ve read this far, you already know who I turn to to get that.
I’ve written before that I refuse to let our infertility journey leave me a bitter shell of who I was once. And it hasn’t.
Similarly, I refuse to allow this dark pain and unanswered prayer of healing to steal who I know my God to be. He is so, so good. And He is with me.