He read 1 Corinthians 6:19-20 next. “Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.”
As I sat there and listened, the Word of God was living and active and sharper than a double-edged sword, piercing right through me, showing me what I lacked. God wanted my body. As broken as it was. Unable to bear children. He wanted my all. He wanted me to give everything I was to Him. And everything I wasn’t.
Those verses shined a light on what I was holding back, and it hurt to face the stark reality. From the moment I’d found out I couldn’t have kids, I’d held back a piece of my heart. I’d given Him everything else…everything except that one small part. It was the portion that believed only marriage and children would make me happy, and here I was, miserable because it felt like He was withholding those things from me.
The pastor closed with Psalm forty-two. He read the first two verses slowly. “As a deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God?”
When we bowed our heads to pray, I asked the Lord to help me love Him with all my heart and not to hold back the part that was hurting.
Heal my heart, Lord. Help me not to be ashamed of what I can’t change. Take my life and use it for your glory. My eyes teared up as I prayed, and a river of peace swept over me, unlike anything I had ever experienced before. No matter what happened, God was still with me.
The next moment was almost strange. I had the strongest sense that I needed to talk about my infertility with someone. To not hold it inside of me like a secret. The thought was both liberating and horrifying, and I had no idea how to do that or who I was supposed to share it with. We all stood, and a verse flashed across a white screen behind the pastor.
“In our parting benediction,” the pastor said, “let’s recite Ephesians 1:5 together.”
Everyone in the room read in unison. “He predestined us for adoption to himself as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will.”
The word “adoption” jumped out at me as I spoke the words out loud. It was an analogy, but it was also real. The Lord had adopted me in the spiritual sense, and if He used that concept to explain His love and protection, then surely adoption was a beautiful thing.
It wasn’t as if I didn’t believe that before, but reading Ephesians 1:5 made me pause and think about it more deeply. Maybe there was a guy out there who would also see it as beautiful, and perhaps that man would not need years to consider such an endeavor as I had originally believed. I wanted that man to be Clay, but I wasn’t ready to let myself go there—to hope in that way. Still, the idea was encouraging.
Adopting a child might not be in my future, but I decided right then and there that I would pray about it. It was time to stop holding myself back from the desires of my heart because of fear and shame.
The pastor held up a hand. “Before you leave, I’d like to make an announcement. Little Amy Johnson is in the hospital because of an asthma attack. Her parents have said they welcome visitors and they ask that you pray for her recovery.”
My heart went out to the girl, and I was compelled to offer up a quick prayer for her and her family.
The pastor dismissed us, and I felt lighter than I had in years.
A woman with light brown hair walked over with a tall man at her side, and Sabrina introduced me to them. I learned their names were Callie and Derek, and they were good friends of Hunter. We chatted for a while and then Derek made eye contact with someone behind us.
“Hey, Clay.” He moved around us to speak with him, and my heart sped up in awareness of his presence.
“Poor Amy,” Callie said. “She’s only five years old, and she’s such a sweetheart. I’m considering stopping by the hospital today.”
It felt like God had refreshed me from the inside out with His word, and I desperately wanted to be of use to someone else. I was tired of thinking about myself and my own hurts. It was time to give back even if it was only in a small way. “I’d love to go with you if you don’t mind me tagging along.”
Callie’s eyebrows flew up. “That would be great. I would love for you to join me.” She glanced at Sabrina. “Would you like to come too?”
Sabrina winced. “I wish I could but Mom wants to go over the wedding plans with me at lunch.”
“Oh, do you want me to be there?” I asked.
She waved me off. “No, it’s not necessary. She’s really just rehashing everything for her own reassurance. You should go with Callie.”
“All right, thanks, I will.”
Sabrina and Callie continued to talk, and I glanced behind us, looking for Clay, but he was already gone. He’d left without saying goodbye, and my chest ached with longing and disappointment. I’d made it clear I only wanted to be friends with him and now
