After the conference ended on Saturday, I ate lunch with my parents and then headed back to Dallas. Alex and I are pretty much creatures of habit and we really love Hope Fellowship, so the majority of our Sundays are spent at our home church unless completely unavoidable.
Sunday was a big day for us, Alex and I have officially been trying to get pregnant. Officially official. Sunday was the first day I could take a test and see if we were pregnant, and I just felt in my gut that it would be positive. I was pretty excited, but also a little nervous.
Sunday morning came and I woke up like a kid on Christmas. Let's get this party started! I went in the bathroom and did my thing, and then waited and watched. And watched and waited. You know that old saying that a watched kettle never boils? Three minutes felt like a lifetime.
I waited.
I'm making you wait.
I waited some more.
Finally, the three minutes were up.
And it was negative.
Negative.
No, that's not right. Must not have waited long enough.
Five minutes.
Seven minutes.
Negative.
Ten minutes.
Eventually, I resigned myself to the fact that it was negative, and I just started crying. I went and laid back in bed with Alex and just cried into his chest. I felt pregnant. I knew I was pregnant. Why wasn't I getting the confirmation? Why wasn't that stupid second pink line there? This is dumb.
My husband, logical and positive man that he is, says to me, "Do you trust God?"
"Yes," I said between my tears.
"Then it's not time yet. I don't know why, and you don't know why, but its not time yet."
I hate it when he talks sense to me. Get down in the sorrow and wallow in it with me for a second, will ya'?
After a few minutes, I picked myself up and decided that the test was wrong. It was just, wrong.
"I don't believe it, I'm going to retake it in a few days. I just think that it's wrong. It's defaulty, or expired, or something." I said to Alex.
An hour later, we pulled up to church, my heart still hurting with disappointment in wanting to know why I'm not pregnant yet (what the heck is the hold up?), and we went into the worship center.
For some reason that morning, the worship leader had decided to pull out an older worship song that had first come out when I was still in college.
He is jealous for me
love's like a hurricane
I am a tree
bending beneath
the weight of His wind and mercy
All of a sudden
I am unaware of these afflictions
eclipsed by glory
and I realize just how beautiful You are
and how great Your affections are for me
and Oh
How He loves us so
Oh how He loves us
How He loves us so
And we are His portion
and He is our prize
drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
if His grace is an ocean
we're all sinking
heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss
my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don't have time to maintain these regrets
when I think about the way He loves
Oh how He loves so
Oh how He loves us
how He loves us so
Yeah He loves us
Oh how He loves us
Oh how He loves us
Oh how He loves...
I cry a lot during worship, I always has. Music reaches my heart in a way that spoken words just can't do. And today was an avalanche of emotions. I was disappointed and saddened that my answer that morning had been, "no", and yet here in the worship of my God, He was reminding me that He loves me. Bigger than that: He cares about my disappointment. God told me "no" for some reason that I will never understand. He said "not yet, but I love you. Trust me." It is so hard, even after everything that we have been through, to trust God. It is hard to give up the facade of control that we all cling to, and I was reminded of that Sunday morning.
I'm not in control. But someone that loves me enough to die for me is.
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