This Barren Land: My Ugly Self

Part Three:

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What have I become?

When I think about the last seven years, this journey through the barren land of Infertility, and all that has happened good and bad, it is incredibly difficult for me not to think about all the bad that has happened because of me. Because of my own selfishness, because of my own pride. Because I was so caught up in my own mess and gunk that I missed those hurting around me.

And it's hard to be pulled into a place we wished didn't exist, fight with all our might, and not forget about those around us. Not forget that not everyone's life is as perfect and we assume it is. It's hard to be the person consumed with our own issues, because we want to fix them and be better people, and still be somewhat available to others. So I have to give myself some slack in this area. And I do. But there are moments, words, days I wish I could take back. ..

Right after Jason and I started realizing that we were different from other couples, that something about our "We're going to start a family!" plan was not quite like everyone else, and I mean right after, I was a mess. I should have been a good friend. I should have been the best friend. Supportive and kind. Because the call I was about to receive was mainly to do with the thing that I longed for most -- babies.

A good friend called to tell me that she was pregnant. Again. And I was…faking my happiness. Inside I was envious and jealous and mean and angry and awful. I was terrible, inside. I wanted nothing more than to get off of the phone with her. I wanted to throw the phone across the room. I was so mad. How could she do this to me? Get pregnant again! Doesn't she know that that would hurt me? Like everything was about me. And How could you make her pregnant again, and just ignore me, God? I feel sorry for my old self, think of all the wonderful things she missed because she was so focused on her own hurt. Sad, sad thing.

Later this friend was coming for a visit and bringing…her baby! This was shortly after my little "you're going to be a bad mom" conversation, if you can even call it that. It sounds silly now but I was afraid that I would break this baby. That somehow I would kill this little person. By looking at it? Is that how it works, this "bad mom" bone of mine? Like Medusa, turning others into stone. Maybe I would touch it? Maybe it would hear my voice? Maybe it would just hate me and that alone would make it want to die. I was a mess and I should not have been allowed talk to anyone. I should have set aside my fears and doubts. I should have pushed aside my self-conscious thoughts. I should have…I don't know. But what I did do was not what I should have done. And it is something I will have to answer for later.

I started a fight with my friend. My friend who probably needed a friend. A newlywed, a new baby, another baby on the way. Who wouldn’t need a friend? And maybe she just wanted a friend. She did want to stay with us. . .

She never came to visit. I started a fight. A bad fight. And for several years our relationship would remain strained. I could have called. I could have wrote. I could have made a surprise visit when other babes were born. I could have…I should have...but I didn't. I was so set in my anger and frustration. I was clinging so tightly to the words that we said to each other over the phone that afternoon. I was squeezing to assumption that she would never understand me. She doesn't get it and she never will!! How am I supposed to be friends with a person like that?!

Oh, goodness. It sounds so petty now. And it is. I'm embarrassed that this happened. That I had those thoughts. Oh, God, forgive me. I think about all the wasted time. All the fun that we could have had together. Because we did have fun, fun like you wouldn’t believe. And because I couldn't see beyond my own pain and hurt, my own junk and stuff…I missed it. We missed it.

My intent is not to roll around in and soak up my self-pity. But I do want to share the ways in which I have messed up, how I have said the wrong things. How I, in my pride and selfishness, even amid grief and loss, did wrong others. And I don't want you to think that all this is about me. It is in a way, about my mistakes. But it is about them, mostly. The ones that I let down, the people I failed to see right next to me, the missed opportunities and the moments I wish I could take back.

In the worst of it I messed up again. BIG. I just listened to the millionth woman on campus announce that she and her husband we're going to be parents. I wanted to scream. I watched the newest baby brought to chapel for everyone to ooh and ahh over. I was waking early for an overloaded class schedule, heading to internship after class, working in the library until it closed, reading hundreds of pages, writing countless papers, studying for exams, and crying myself to sleep.  I really don't know how I survived, how we survived -- Jason and I.

I don't tell you this as an excuse. It would be an easy and convenient excuse. Some might say I am justified in my excuse. But no matter what we are facing, what struggle is before us and all around us, there is no excuse to not be the hands and feet of Christ. There is simply no excuse. I thought I was justified in everything that I did. Because of my personal struggles. Well, I can't be a good friend because I'm too busy crying all the time. I can't go visit them because I'm not feeling up to it. I can't do that because…I'm going through too much. No excuse. I'm not talking about never taking time for yourself. I'm not talking about not taking time to grieve of process or cry. I'm not talking about taking on everyone's problems and issues and leaving little room for yourself. I'm just talking about my failure to leave room for others who were hurting, even when I, myself, was hurting. Because if anyone knew hurt and how to speak to it, I should have.

My BIG mistake: Another friend was going through her own unimaginable struggle. A divorce. I didn’t know the details. I didn’t know the story. I didn't take the time to ask or listen or be available. I hadn't seen this friend for a long time, so I didn't know what was happening in her life at the time. But I was judgmental. And cruel. Through a series of emails, no less. I was unsupportive and unkind. I cannot imagine how I made this friend of mine feel. I cannot imagine the disappointment and hurt. I cannot imagine just how painful that would have been. I would do nearly anything to take back my words and offer something far better. And it took years, after my fog of self-righteous grief lifted, to see the error of my ways. Another friendship pushed aside. A missed opportunity. "Be the change you want to see in the world," and I had the perfect opportunity to be that change, to be the kind refreshing, listening ear in a world of hurt and I failed. I missed it.

"We put no stumbling block in anyone’s path, so that our ministry will not be discredited. Rather, as servants of God we commend ourselves in every way: in great endurance; in troubles, hardships and distresses…"(2 Cor. 6:3-4). I called myself a servant of God, yet I was not behaving as such. I was selfish and angry. Even in hardships and distresses others ought to be able to know us by our love (John 13:35). And I was pushing others away. I wasn't a horrible person. I wasn't yelling at everyone or never speaking to anyone. But I was not being the person that I was created to be, the person God called me to be, the person I ought to be.

It's been a few years and I think, how did I let that happen? How did I become that person? How did I treat others exactly how I so wished I wasn't? Did I crush someone's joy in sharing their good news of a baby, by being a downer or not celebrating? Did I talk about my own junk when someone needed to share with me their sorrow? Did I hide too often? And others felt I was ignoring or avoiding? How many people have I hurt with my selfishness, self-absorption?

I need to do one of the most painful things…ask others to forgive me.

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I've played those conversations and moments over in my head again and again. And I clung to them. I kept them with me at all times, reminders of how I have failed and examples of how I will fail in the future. And in that sanctuary, listening to that short message about forgiveness I realized that I am just as unforgiving of myself as I am of others. No wonder why I was so miserable and unhappy and scared and lonely. I couldn't let own mess go. I held so tightly to my Sack of Sin along with my Ugly Grudge Monster. There was no room for joy or happiness or ease or a breath of fresh air.

An unexpected and wonderful and scary thing happened to me when I started learning to forgive myself. I started to learn to forgive others. I started to see that I am just as human as these people. It kind of happened all together, simultaneously. And amazing...

What have I become? My own ugliness laid bare before me, my own mess, sucking the life out of me yet I am keeping it. Clinging to it. For what reason? Because I believe I deserve to be reminded? Because I'm not sure how to truly let go? Because I don't believe that God can forgive, as he has promised to do, because I can't forgive?

I am a Christian. A believer. I know this. I know this with my whole heart. But sometimes, faith is a process. Faith is a movement from what we once were to what we were meant to be. And my process ebbs and flows and sometimes it's just plain stagnant.

But I know this, or at least it is becoming more completely known. Boring holes into my thick-headedness and finding room to grow: I am forgiven. I see my ugly mess, but all God sees is me. Just me, the me He had in mind when He formed me from nothing so long ago. The me that He is jealous for. The me He chases after, and He does give chase. And I am grateful.

I so want to tell you this perfect, beautiful love story. Filled with battles fought and won, the damsel rescued, more than once; a secret Prince (or King, rather) who took on humble and lowly places and roles until the perfect moment when He saved the day…and every day to follow. I wish I could tell you every juicy detail and about the "happily ever after" ending. But I can't fit it all in here. And it's really easy to find the book. (psst…it's called "The Bible".) But I will tell you this, it can be your story too. Maybe it is. And maybe you are like me. You just really never let go of your mess and allowed yourself to be the person you were meant to be.

He came for me. For you. Even if you and I were the only ones who would be saved. He died for us, willingly, and I like to believe, he found a little bit of joy in it, knowing that the end was well-worth the pain. Much like we do, when we step outside of our sufferings, there is joy to be found if we really look.

He came and he took our trash, our disgusting sacks of sin, as if they were his. And if he can do this for me, as I know exactly what was in my Sack of Sin, watched my reels of mistakes, if He could see that mess and take it, why can't I believe He would do the same for others? And why do I hold onto my grudges when He holds no grudge against me? Why can't I let go, just as He has…as I have been called to do? 

Forgiveness, for me...for others. But really, how?

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Part Four:

The Most Painful Thing

Now posted...Read on!