It is the following words from Sarah Mae in her book Desperate that grabbed my attention...
"I have no foundation in homemaking or baby-raising. I only babysat maybe three or four times..... I never wanted to babysit because I didn't like it; I found it boring. Entertaining other people's children was not my idea of a good time."
As I read those words, I found myself realizing there was a time in my life when I would have read those words and felt smug because I LOVED entertaining other people's children. I was blessed with a foundation in homemaking and baby-raising because of a mother and grandmother who made it look like a joy. My heart should have been humble, knowing my love of children was a gift given to me, not something that came from being a naturally wonderful person. But did I fully understand that at 22 years old? No. I would have read the words of that author and secretly congratulated myself because I thought I was better than her. I wouldn't have voiced this, but I would have thought it. Don't we all have secret smug thoughts we would never voice?
Now, at 35, I can relate to her. Why? Because ten years of infertility gave me plenty of time away from children and I learned to love all the time I had for myself. There was a season of about 5 years when I no longer wanted to babysit. During that season, entertaining other people's children was no longer my idea of a good time either.
I do love entertaining my 10 month old baby now, and her little friends, most of the time. The love of children has returned to me. It came rushing back with overwhelming love for my new baby. But because of that other season of life, I can relate to the author. And that's when it hit me; this is yet another reason God allowed those years of infertility. If I had not gone through that season, I would never have seen that side of my heart; my ability to be so selfish, that it was no longer fun to play with the most adorable creatures on earth!
It's always a great relief to see myself more clearly, to see how imperfect I am and to be able to relate to other imperfect people when they admit their weakness and failures. I'm a much happier person now, at 35, than I was at 22. It's not fun to be proud. It's not fun to think I'm better than others. That is a burden of loneliness I don't need. The more time goes by, the more I realize I can relate to every person on this planet. Given the right set of circumstances, there is no amount of evil too great that I could not be tempted. The more I embrace this truth, the freer I am. Free to love others on their worst days. Free to enjoy the fact that God loves ME, on my worst days.
I know God had many reasons for allowing infertility to be part of my story, but if the above lesson was the only reason, it would have been worth it.
I hate the reality of suffering. I don't have an answer for every perversion and every awful thing that exists. I watched a deer die today. Another car hit it and I drove up seconds later. The deer lay in the road, heaving, wide eyed, trying to breathe. We all stood around, wondering what to do. Eventually the deer stopped moving. She was gone. I don't have an answer for why stuff like that happens. But I've seen enough good come from pain to continue to trust God in those moments when I don't know the reason or purpose for the awful.
I know I would never see myself clearly if I didn't go through trials. Every trial has revealed more of myself and stripped away burdens I didn't need to be carrying. Every trial has left me happier than I was before.
