It can't rain forever

Today, as I was reading through a miscarriage support message board, I came across the words “It can’t rain forever.” That put into words a hope that I’ve been carrying for a few years now. I think it’s part of my mind’s way of coping with my seemingly endless heartache. To make myself believe that this can’t go on indefinitely. It has to end some time. Right? Kind of like the statement in my last post about making payments into the I’ve-suffered-enough account. It has to get full at some time, right? Pain has to lose its fury at some point, just like any storm in nature. Right?

Yet, like the author of my last post, I am continually surprised and even amazed at the endurance and intensity of pain. It appears to have no limit, nor does it has respect for human levels of tolerance. I often think to myself: “Why I am so surprised, again and again, at unfairness and injustice in the world?” Why are any of us surprised?? It is nothing new - we have been fighting it since birth. I recently got a call from my mother-in-law, who said it appears she had some sort of a mini stroke that permanently took away some vision in one of her eyes. The doctors are worried it will happen again and attack her other eye. What?? Where did that come from? She’s a healthy person – how could that happen? Again… I am surprised when these things happen. But I am learning that these things – and other things, like my grandfather’s awful death, and my dad’s bout with cancer, and my brother’s hard times, and my beloved friend’s depression, are not interruptions in life. They ARE life.

So why are we still so surprised? A few thoughts come to mind. The first, which is not very original, is that we are fish out of water. We weren’t created for this imperfect world. The reason I am shocked is because this really isn’t how things are supposed to be, so no wonder we are feeling the absurdity of it. We were supposed to be experiencing life altogether differently. It will never, never feel right to us; we will never get used to it. The second thought, actually borrowed from Adam, is that it may be due largely as a result of teachings many of us have received that, in so many words, tell us that, once we are Christians, life will not include the types of suffering and burdens that it does for those who are not believers. And that God is never silent, or hidden, or unfair. You know, the people who only ever talk about victory in Jesus. And who avoid the darkness.

Lately I am finding a need to accept the presence of this darkness. By that I don’t mean embrace it, but I mean to stop fighting against it. I think part of that means taking a hard and fast look at the belief that “it can’t rain forever.” I am beginning to think that maybe… it can. Really. Not for everyone, but maybe for some. Wouldn’t you consider Paul one who experienced a lifetime of rain? That doesn’t mean he didn’t have happy times and blessings, but he lost everything.

When Jesus was on earth, he didn’t heal everyone. It has recently occurred to me as a very real possibility that I may be among those who remain unhealed. From childlessness, that is. Sure, God can heal me, but perhaps the way He will choose to do it is by healing my heart, not my empty womb. Adam and I have discussed altering the direction of our prayers, to some degree. Not that we will no longer ask for children, but that our prayers may be more along the lines of “Help us to live with this” instead of only “Please give us our heart’s desires.” Using the picture of unending rain, the image becomes a prayer of “Since the rain continues, and the floods abound, teach us to swim!” That is a hard change in direction to take. By doing that I face fears that I may resign myself to my greatest nightmare – no children. I know that is not necessarily the case. God could still chose to bless me with children. But there are greater things at stake here. And I do so want to have my hands open when He finally chooses to fill them.

“As surely as the sun rises, He will appear; He will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth.” Hos 6:3