Valued

I am well aware that Mother's Day has come and gone, but after a conversation with a friend yesterday and with Father's Day just around the corner, it seemed timely for me to post this now. 

Mother's Day and Father's Day are obviously important.  My mom and dad did so much for me growing up, and they still continue to influence my life in powerful ways.  I don't take the time nearly often enough to show them my appreciation, so I'm glad that there is a day set aside to remind me to show them a little extra love.  Mother's Day and Father's Day have typically been happy times in celebrating two wonderful people who certainly don't have it all together but have worked very hard to pour into their children.  Generally, these days still are happy.  But for the first time this year, Mother's Day came with a pang of sadness for me.

Most you of probably don't know what I'm about to say.  (Yikes.  Here we go.)  Andrew and I have been trying to have a baby for about a year and a half now.  (Here I have to apologize because I know that that amount of time is probably the blink of an eye for some of you reading this blog.  I don't mean to be insensitive.)  Some days are easier than others.  There are times when I feel at peace about the whole thing, times when I just shove it under the rug and try to forget, times when I am heartbroken, and times when I am raging mad.  Well-meaning people often say things like, "God's timing is always perfect" or "When you just trust God and are at peace with your situation, that is when He will give you a baby."  While the former statement is accurate, it often comes across as flippant or trite to someone who is really struggling with understanding the "why's" of life.  The latter statement, I believe, is just not even true.  I think there are plenty of people who may be completely at peace and still aren't able to have children.  God doesn't operate on a rewards system in which only the best, most put-together people have babies and everyone else does not.  Also, it hurts to be told that you can only learn certain things by having children.  Example: "I now know what it means to be selfless because I have kids (and you will have no idea what it means to be selfless until you have kids, too)."  Everyone seems to be learning the same basic lessons in life: patience, trust, forgiveness, selflessness, etc.  The means of learning those lessons are different for everyone because everyone's story is unique. 

I'm not asking you to feel sorry for us.  What I do desire is sensitivity.  Let's be honest.  Most days, I struggle to be thankful for the cards that have been dealt to us.  But if there is anything that makes me the tiniest bit content with our circumstances, it is that I now am more aware of the hurts that some people face.  I am the last person to be casting stones at anyone here because I know that if I would have gotten pregnant as soon as we started trying, I would have been one of the well-meaning people who spat out cliche statements but didn't truly understand.  (The key in that sentence is well-meaning, because I don't think anyone we have talked to has ever intended to be hurtful in their comments.)  Now, like never before, I am attuned to people who have had miscarriages, whose parents have passed away, and who have tried to conceive for years longer than we have.  I don't listen perfectly, and I don't care nearly as much as I should, but I am thankful at least that my awareness of people who hurt has been heightened.

Here I must stop and say a huge "thank-you" to Doug and Bobby at City Presbyterian Church for doing something that I have never seen or heard of being done before.  Of course, no church does everything perfectly, but I was particularly impressed by this.  When Doug stood up to greet everyone on the Sunday evening of Mother's Day, he started off with the typical "Happy Mother's Day, we're so thankful for the wonderful mothers here..." speech and I almost immediately thought, "Great, here we go," and shut down.  But then he kept going and said something like, "As thankful as we are for the moms here, we know that Mother's Day is painful for a lot of women who want to be mothers and cannot.  It is painful for those who have lost their mothers.  It is painful for women who have miscarried.  So let's keep that in mind and be gracious."  Then he asked all of the women in the church to stand up, and he looked out at all of us and said, "You are valuable.  The church needs you.  We're thankful for your unique gifts and talents.  We're glad you're a woman."

I teared up.  Our society has placed such a heirarchy on people and The Church has, too, hasn't it?  (I'm capitalizing "The Church" because I don't think it's one particular church that does this; Christ's church around the world is at fault.)  Married people with children are the most valuable, married people without children are somewhat valuable, and single people are the least valuable.  Of course, no one would ever put it in those words, but isn't that how we operate?  Marriage is seen as the highest "badge of honor," and people earn more gold stars on their badges by having more children.  We act like there is something wrong with people who are not married by a certain age, or couples who have been married for a certain length of time and don't have children.  "When are you going to get married/start having kids," we ask, assuming that that is the next and only logical step for a twenty-something to take.  Not everyone was intended to get married, and not everyone was intended to have children.  What about those people?  Are their gifts not equally as important and useful as the gifts of those who do have children?  Being a mom or a dad is absolutely a significant role in The Church and outside of it.  The world needs loving moms and dads.  But doesn't the world also need enthusiastic single people?  Doesn't it need sweet married couples?  I think so.

Whether you're single or married, whether you have fifteen children or you have none, whether you're black, white, brown, or purple, you are inherently valuable because you are a man or a woman.  Those words don't come from me.  They come from the One who created us.  Even before there were children on the earth, "God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good."