The Shove
On the drive home from speaking at Maranatha camp’s marriage retreat, Jon asked if I was planning on going to the women’s retreat as well. I listed off a few pros and cons and concluded that I wasn’t sure. “I think you should go.” His candor surprised me. He doesn’t often vocalize his opinions without being prodded. Two weeks later, I returned to camp.
Friday (Day 1)
I’m not sure what it is about Maranatha - the beauty of the lake, the break from daily responsibilities, the spotty cell service, the opportunity to break out of your comfort zone, the connection with other believers, or the army of prayer warriors who support the ministry - but God always works through it.
Early in the women’s retreat, God first nudged me with an ordinary memory. I know a 5-year-old who, like most kids her age, enjoys having downtime with her iPad. But did you know iPads have side effects? Hearing loss is one (I’m sure it’s documented somewhere). Attempts to talk to this sociable girl during iPad time are met with silence or zombie-like mumbling. Later, she will not remember any response she gave, and if you tried to tell her something important, she will accuse you: “You never told me that!”
As the memory reel crossed my mind, I knew what God was showing me. I do the same to Him. I feel sometimes like He is silent or that He isn’t communicating what I think He should. The problem isn’t God’s voice. The problem is that I get so fixated on whatever is in front of me that I’m not listening for His voice. And I miss it. He isn’t going to shout - I have to be alert and ready to hear.
With
my heart primed, God started the deeper work. Friday evening ended with a
speaker whose message pressed into some old marriage wounds (which had already
been scuffed during the marriage retreat). Healing from that part of our
story has been (and continues to be) a long process. God is still
untangling the mess in my heart. But just like my junior high self
swatted away the hands of the surgeon who tried to remove my appendectomy bandages,
I shoved God’s healing hands to the side that night. Healing hurts.
And it’s scary. I wasn’t sure I was ready for another phase of it.
Saturday (Day 2)
The sunny morning on Saturday promised a warm, beautiful day and brought my guard down. I knew from years of camps, conferences, and retreats that the last evening session is usually the heaviest, so I expected more of a “salad” morning (in the thick of the marriage struggles I just mentioned, I labeled movies and tv shows as “salad” or “steak.” My heart couldn’t handle the complicated or emotional steak shows at the time, so we watched a lot of Phineas and Ferb). I haven’t even seen the show This Is Us, but I can tell you that’s what kind of morning it ended up being.
Morning Session
The speaker began in Psalm 13, which piqued my attention and caution. When she moved to 1 Samuel 1, I felt my throat and chest tighten, and my walls shot back up. Hannah. Breath caught and eyes frozen, I listened as the speaker shared her own story of infertility that nearly mirrored my own. Then, the room spun as she talked about her failed adoption match. Finally, she described the picture text she received from their case worker of a baby boy that said “I can’t wait to meet my mommy and daddy!” I couldn’t hold myself together anymore.
Thankfully,
I didn’t have to. Jen (whose son and daughter-in-law are also waiting for
an adoption match) grabbed my hand and Polly (an adoptive mom herself) handed
me a Kleenex. Shaking and crying (like I am now as I write this), I made
it through the rest of the story because of the specific women God chose to
seat on my right and my left. Once we were dismissed, Rhonda crossed the room
to give me a hug and let me know she was praying, and then I darted out of the building
and toward the lake. Mind spinning and heart racing, I didn’t look back
as I kept putting one foot in front of the other until I reached my favorite
spot to be alone at camp.
Processing
For an hour, I cried, I talked to God, I stared at the water in front of me and the tree above me, I journaled, and I listened to the songs God brought to mind (the main one being “Worn” by Tenth Avenue North). The adoption portion of our wait hadn’t been hard yet. The change of direction from medical intervention had been a breath of fresh air, and excitement ruled the earliest months. We had already waited six years - what was one or two more?
But March arrived. March has gotten harder each year because of my birthday. Age is not a friend of infertility, and in the days prior to this retreat, I had been struggling more with the possibility of having a long adoption wait on top of what we’ve already endured. March marks sixth months since we contracted with Lifetime and four months since we went active. Now, we are almost done with the adoption work, and our main job is to remain ready and to wait. I understand that God has a specific baby that He wants to place into our family, and I know that He has a specific birth mom he wants us to be connected with. I know there is no way to predict or force that connection. But losing the distraction of being able to “work” on our adoption has made it more difficult to stay positive when I am forced to slow down (like at the retreat). Many days I am fine - happy, even. Saturday was not one of those days. But God held me and helped me wrestle through my longing.
After
lunch, I spent a couple more hours alone with God and then rejoined the other
women for Josi’s art workshop and Polly’s Refit workout.
Josi’s Art Workshop
Josi gave us 5 questions to ask God, and she provided music as we reflected:
(1)
What does my heart look like? What do You want to do with that?
(2)
How do You want me to think of You?
(3)
Will You give me a picture, verse, song, or word to show me what You think of
me?
(4)
Do You enjoy spending time with me?
(5) Is there anything You want to show me today?
After spending some time in prayer, we gradually retrieved our various art supplies and started to create. Here are the explanations behind the journal page I put together:
My Heart
As I thought about my heart, I saw a few wounds that still feel fairly fresh. Others are partially healed, but they still break open easily. I also saw that some of my wounds are scarred over, but they still occasionally itch or ache - like my deepest surgery scar.
Safe
I was reminded that my heart is always safe with Jesus because of who He is. No circumstance can ever change that truth.
Dark
Gray Phrases
The dark gray phrases in my picture depict what I was saying to God. Most of these are lyrics from the song “Worn” by Tenth Avenue North. I knew I was missing a key lyric from the chorus, but I couldn’t get internet in the building we were in to look it up, so I made the picture without it. Later, I had enough service as I was walking to our cabin to find the missing lyric: “That You can mend a heart that’s frail and torn.” How crazy is that? I’m pretty sure I forgot the lyric so that God could emphasize the truth of it to me that much more.
Light
Gray Phrases
The light gray phrases are what God had been saying to me in various ways. Here are a few examples:
“I am kindness without manipulation” came from an Instagram post I had seen from @stephaniehcochrane days before the retreat.
At one point during the retreat, I was looking through the papers shoved in the front of my Bible and found an old note from some of our first youth group girls. On the back, I had written notes from a sermon: “If you try to shepherd without first sitting with the Savior, one way or another your sheep will end up with scars” and “Have the attitude of a victor, not a victim.”
Polly’s Refit Workout
The
Refit workout helped calm my emotions and clear my mind for the rest of the
evening. Moving your body does wonders for your inner well-being. Also, Polly
is the best!
Evening Session
Saturday
night’s speaker had us laughing, cringing, and sympathizing with her as she
described the year she spent as a missionary teacher in Brazil. She was
solid in the way she taught Scripture, and her encouragement was to follow the
basic principles of trusting and obeying God. Her message was simple, and
it served as a great landing spot after the wrestling I had experienced through
the previous messages. The path ahead was clear once again. The
next right step is always to trust God and to obey what He asks me to do. I
felt His peace rest on my heart.
Sunday (Day3)
Sunday morning was a time of wrap-up and reflection. After the message, we were encouraged to visit with the ladies around us about what God had been teaching us. For me, this eventually led to a sweet time of connection, evaluation, and prayer with Tanya and Natalie (two other ministry wives). We are all in different seasons of life, but we were able to understand and relate to each other so well. We cried together, encouraged each other, and helped each other identify and voice what was going on in our hearts.
I have no doubt that women’s retreat is exactly where God wanted me to be last weekend. He spoke to me through my husband to urge me to go. He spoke to me through the speakers to make me face some of the things I’d been pushing down with busyness. He brought the women He knew I’d need and who would need me. He sat with me by the lake. And He will “never, never, never, never, never” leave me. He is so good.
