tears and comfort.

Infertility can feel like a never ending roller coasting.

There are days, weeks even, when your hope is so high. You are leaning into each turn, you are riding the hills, you are feeling strong, determined and positive. You can just feel that God is in control. You know it in your bones, your heart, your core. “WE WILL BEAT THIS!” You have an anthem, you laugh, you tickle your friend’s children and you smile as you pass the room that will someday be your nursery.

And then out of nowhere, you have a sad day. It’s not like just a “kinda in a funk” day, it’s a day where the tears just flow and your heart breaks. You don’t want to hear one more kid story. Your newsfeed suddenly makes you gasp for air as you take in all of the pictures of children and pregnancies. You shut the door to the nursery, you cry out God, why? You lay at His feet and just cry.

As I process through the emotions that come along for the ride, I am convinced that tears are okay. They aren’t a sign that you lack trust in God. (“Jesus wept.” John 11:35) They aren’t a sign that you are a bad Christian. (“I am worn out from my groaning. My eyes flood my bed every night. I soak my couch with tears. My eyes blur from grief.” Psalm 6:6-7a) They are a sign that you are human. That your heart is fragile and that sadness is a real emotion. (More on Sadness here)

I sat at a coffee shop last week with a special friend and we talked about these days. When it all just seems to crash down and you have no choice but to face the pain you are experiencing and bring it to Him.

God is equipped to handle your tears. He is equipped to handle your worries and your hurts. And even more than being equipped, He cares. (“Turn all your anxiety over to God because He cares for you.” 1 Peter 5:7)

Some days, when we have these moments, it is so helpful just to know that someone relates. I think that’s why having things like blogs and communities are so helpful. Are we going to be okay? Will we get through this? Will we be successful? What’s next?

I don’t know the answers to all those questions, but I can tell you one thing, I care.

I know what you are going through. I feel your pain. I hate when those moments catch me off guard. I hate that it’s hard to make future commitments because I don’t know what will be going on with my journey. I hate that one day a pregnancy announcement can be met with a genuine “congratulations” and the next day, tears.

In a recent Bible study, we were studying the story where the disciples tried to stop the children from coming to Jesus and Jesus stopped them and told them to let the little children come to me. I have read this story many times and this time, a line stuck out to me – “… taking the child in His arms…”

I thought about this tender act of holding a child. For many men, this act doesn’t come naturally to them. I remember watching Josh hold a newborn for the first time – it was like watching him try to embrace a glass football. And then I thought – what if …

What if Jesus felt the same ache for a child and family as we do?

I can imagine He was surrounded by families. He watched His friends grow up, marry young, have kids, raise a family. Granted He was surrounded by His disciples who left everything to follow Him, but yet, He witnessed the beautiful bond of a parent and a child everywhere He went, and with great empathy as well.

The more I thought about it, the more I wonder if our aches are more real to Him than we can even imagine.

He gave up so much to come as a sacrifice for us. Perhaps taking that child into His arms was a comfort to Him, reminding Him of how much He loved us and how worth it is was to give up His humanly desires to accomplish something much greater.

But that simple act of tenderly holding the child in His arms brings such comfort to my heart. Because maybe He knows far beyond what we could ever imagine.

Now of course I am making assumptions here and I am not trying to rewrite scripture or say something is definite, but that small story, that request to let the children come to Him, touches my heart in a very special way and brings a comfort that only He can.

So simply know this – on those days when the tears are falling, He is there. On the days when you struggle to find the reason for this, remember that trials do serve their purpose. There is an end to our afflictions. He does remove hardships when His purpose in using it is fully accomplished. (Note I said using it and not causing it.) Charles Spurgeon wrote “It is not difficult for the Lord to turn night into day.”

Take a breath today. Remember that you are not alone. Take comfort in the fact that He cares for you, deeply, and that I do too. Tomorrow will come, the tears will dry up, your hope will be replenished and you will keep on fighting, because you, my friend, are a conqueror.