I grew up in a home where the phrase "it sucks" was not allowed. My mom believes it to be vulgar and disgusting. She is right. It is. My parents lovingly taught me not to cuss, not even the non-cuss cussing - no sucks, crap, or gosh in my house! I actually feel bad just typing them.
When you use words like these often, they lose their power. If I went around cussing or non-cussing ALL the time, no one would think the title of this post would be anything more than normal.
But, no. This is not normal.
I am sorry, Mom. I didn't want to say it, but sometimes it is fitting. It sucks.
So, what is so bad for me to use such a vulgar and disgusting phrase?
The pain of childbearing. That's what.
Or equally -
The pain of the LACK of childbearing. That's what.
Read THIS.
The pain sucks. Sometimes is sucks so bad that our faith is shaken. We fall. The very consequence we were given as women following the first fall continues to aid our falling today.
And then God goes and does something amazing. He uses the very outcome of childbearing (the child) to show us faith - to tell us who we are to Him - to remind us of His nature.
Read THIS.
Our five-month-old daughter searches a room for me. As soon as she is out of my arms, her head flies around until I move into her view and we make eye contact. Then, her world is realigned. She knows from where her help comes.
And why does she do this? Because I have been feeding her when she wanted it, changing her when she needed it, and holding her most every other moment. I do this through my vocation as her mother, only with the help of God.
Only through Christ am I good to my children.
Christ is working through me, veiled inside this sinful body of mine. Our daughter scans the room looking for her help, looking for her Christ in me. Why do little children come to Jesus? Because they know, much better than we, from whence their help comes.
When it sucks...
When the world is spinning and I can't find my equilibrium...
When I have pain in childbearing...
When I have pain in the lack of childbearing...
From where does my help come?
I feel as though I am an infant snatched from the arms of my Christ. I am searching. My head spinning around the room. But then it happens. Instead of me finding my Christ's eyes to lock onto, He finds mine. There I am, crying and lost as a little child. There He is, picking me up, spinning my head around and pointing my eyes right towards Him.
And most amazingly, my Christ knows better than anyone how bad...
how very bad it sucks.
So, He will never tell me, His little child, to just suck it up.
He will keep searching for me until He finds my eyes and my world realigns.
