Grateful for Infertility? Kristin's Story

We are truly honored to share a beautiful story with you today. A story of learning to live in the present, in the midst of today - the good and the bad. When we are in the midst of a trial, like infertility, it is sometimes so hard for us to learn to accept that God will give us the strength and peace to get through it. But when we can finally grasp that, we can start to live again. We can thrive in the today while still waiting on the tomorrow.  Please join me today as we welcome Kristin to ONSEL today. I know you are going to be touched by the raw beauty of her heart.

Living in this Space {Kristin's Story}

But blessed is the man who trusts me, God, the woman who sticks with God. They’re like trees replanted in Eden, putting down roots near the rivers—
Never a worry through the hottest of summers, never dropping a leaf, serene and calm through droughts, bearing fresh fruit every season.
— Jeremiah 17:7-8

I am in the midst of a story unfinished. Strength is carrying me now.

Not the kind of strength that tells everyone I am okay.

The kind of strength that allows pain to be felt. Strength that finds courage to tell the story of my heart.

Plan A, teaching until motherhood. The release would come when motherhood started. Life would truly begin. Months passed, years passed, a decade on the horizon.

Year nine, there was a wrestle, an all out fight. Plan B was finished, the chapter closed, the end. There was no more to give. This chapter was supposed to be short. In fact, not even written, that was the dream. Almost a decade later, my mother's heart shattered to pieces. There would be no release this year or maybe ever.

The call came in the middle of the day at the very place I worked, and had grown to resent, school. Showing up everyday was a reminder of unfilled desires, a broken heart, a life not lived. The load was heavy, there was much to bear, the weight crushing. Resentment brewing, a volcano ready to erupt. Joy diminished.

The phone call ended, the hope of my release shattered to pieces, seventeen first graders waiting for my return. My moist eyes filled with tears as I entered the room. This was never supposed to be my life. My heart was shattered to pieces, yet my first graders new nothing of my broken heart.

Another year, my contract signed, another year of an empty womb.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.
— Matthew 11:28

As the school year approached my counselor felt lead to pray over my year. "What are  you most concerned about this new school year?" In my heart of hearts, I didn't want to face that space. The space at school where my dreams shattered. The space was just outside my classroom door. My hands folded and head bowed, I asked God a simple question. A question that I am forever grateful I had the courage to ask. "God, what do you have to say about that space?"

The words were loud and clear, LIVE. A place that spoke death over my womb was to be a place of living. That space was not to be a reminder of death, but the day God asked me to live. Live not waiting of dreams to come, live because of who HE is.

My heart is forever grateful that in His love for me He gave me new life. The chapter that was never supposed to be written at this time has an indefinite ending and there are still more questions than answers. Though there are many battles and longings that go unfilled, I am learning to life in the midst of unfilled desires and empty arms. Jesus said "Blessed are those who mourn, for that shall be comforted." (Matthew 5:4) I'm grateful that in this season of coming to terms with living without, there is a comforter that I have found alive within that truly gives me peace that surpasses all understanding. In my wilderness season, new life is blooming and being produced. I am learning to live, all to His glory.

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.
— Philippians 4:6-7

A month ago at school I was asked by a co-worker if they could take my picture. I sat down and smiled not thinking anything about the location. She then handed me the picture. As I held the picture in my hand, I was overwhelmed by the joy in which my smile seemed to radiate. Then it hit me... I was living in that space.

There are many things in this world that can define a person. Some say I am a daughter, wife, sister, granddaughter, friend or teacher. What really matters in life is that I am a child of God, who desires to walk in the freedom of Christ, and to share the journey of liberty with others.
— Kristin

Kristin and her husband enjoy serving in children's ministry. She can often be found running, reading a book, sipping coffee with a friend, singing songs with her first graders and writing. You can follow more from Kristin on Instagram @wildernessblooms

A series for people who are grateful for infertility?  Sounds crazy right! But it's not... what was once a phase of life marked by heartache and longing, has now become the scars that make us beautiful. Some of you reading this are right in the middle of your wait, are facing an unclear future or have been scarred by infertility. You may be struggling with how you could possibly be grateful for infertility. It took us a long time to get there ourselves. This is one of those areas where sometimes our faith has to guide us while our hearts and heads catch up. We have to practice thankfulness, even when it makes little sense, while God does His divine work on our souls.