I’m going to dedicate this post to Renae Morehead and Maralee Bradley, both of whom have been scared by my husband many many times. Jeremy gets a special thrill out of surprising others and, lucky for him, Livia loves to get scared—especially when she’s getting scared by her dad. Tonight there was an excessive amount of romping around the house in anticipation of making (who are we kidding? it’s the eating that’s most exciting) fudge with mom. This moment was mostly staged as I realized it would be a hilarious DPP shot, but even then the whole experience still set Liv’s nerves on end much to our great pleasure.

I don’t think I’ve ever missed a DPP posting until yesterday. I mean, really. I had Jeremy post once for me during an outpatient surgery [cue eyeroll] but couldn’t manage one yesterday between forgetting my camera during my one outing and feeling kinda cruddy during the evening hours. I’m not losing sleep over any of this, but it was really hard to force myself to take the shots today. I’m glad I did, however, because I got a few gems that really captured our lives at this point. Maybe I’ll post the other pics next month. DPP rejects will live on!

Last night a pastor from a church in Fremont preached at Redeemer. In these four weeks of Advent our pastor Michael Gordon has been preaching a series on the “mothers” of Jesus, the women listed in Matthew’s genealogy. The series has been excellent (you can find the sermons here). Last night’s preaching on Ruth brought up a point that I had never noticed before—that Ruth in her first marriage never had children. In Ruth’s marriage to Naomi’s son, which the bible tells us lasted about 10 years, she was barren.

If you go on and read the entire book of Ruth you’ll learn that Boaz eventually marries Ruth and together they give birth to Obed, who is the grandfather of King David. Jesus is born in this same line, many generations later.

This weird thing happens anytime someone mentions the word “barren” in a sermon. I get hot. I feel like everyone must immediately be thinking of me with sorrow in their hearts. Yes, that is a very self-centered way to think, but it is also true that my dear, wonderful, beloved friends think of me when they hear a hard story of infertility. It’s the story that—for me—continues and does not end with biological offspring as many other stories do. If you’ve studied the bible or been listening to sermons through the years, then you’ve heard of Sarah, Abraham’s wife, as well as of Hannah and Ruth. Infertile women, all of them. God opened their wombs, all of them. And furthermore, God did great things through the children he promised them.

I itch and sweat in the pew as these women’s stories are told. I get uncomfortable. I want to hide. Because my story is not like theirs; my infertility has found no resolution.

So hear me loud and clear as I get something off my chest:
God has not healed me AND he is still good.

Do you believe that? Can you believe that? Can you see something and want something so badly, can you pray for something for years and years and years, can you see your friends receive the gifts that you are not getting and can you still believe that God is good?

YES. Yes, you can. And you should.

I believe in the promises of God listed in the bible.

I believe he is good and withholds nothing that I truly need.

I believe he adores me the way that no human being can ever adore me.

I believe he catches all my tears in a bottle, that he holds me in the palm of his hand, that he shelters me under the shadow of his wings.

I believe I can be barren, infertile, not have the tidy ending of a biological child and that at the end of the day I am the recipient of God’s goodness.

THAT is what I believe. My story is the perfect one written for Rebecca Tredway. It is not Hannah’s, nor Sarah’s, nor Ruth’s. It is mine. The ending is not told, but the hope of the ending is not found in fertility. It is not found in adoption either (as profoundly grateful as I am that adoption made me a mother!). The hope I have is found in Jesus who gave everything to make me his. It’s that kind of love that gives me peace, that lets me rest, that forces me to take a deep breath in the middle of a sermon that deals with a barren womb. All is not lost. I am healed in all the right places.

The Redeemer Christmas party!!

Steven Curtis Chapman Christmas concert tonight!

“Oh wait!”

“What?”

“I need to get a shot of you.”

“Okay. I’m gonna play the piano.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Photography with Hope the Piano Player on a sunny afternoon in December. December Photo Project, day 10.

Sometimes it’s hard to study the bible when eyes like these are looking in your direction. And don’t get me started on this boy’s cheeks! He is scrumptious. This morning he was alert and in the mood to chat. Swoon. Sarah and Jordan sure make beautiful children.

December Photo Project, day nine.

The voices inside my head had a lot to say about this shot:
You forgot your camera. Again.
Don’t knock on a neighbor’s door.
Look, the sun is already going down!
Not another selfie. Groan.
A self-portrait is fine, just do it.
No.
You have to. See that setting sun?
There is too much of you online right now.
No one wants to see another moody picture.
Thirty-seven shots and five are in focus?
Take your pick!
Looks like you’re an art student.
So?
Isn’t every artist an art student?
That edit looks dumb.
No, it looks fine.
Post it already.
Whew. Day 8 of the December Photo Project.

December Photo Project, day 7.

Sometimes the right place to shoot your DPP is in the entry to your favorite little Japanese restaurant and there’s only room for one parent to sit. Let’s just say Mom dodged a bullet today and Dad took his seat in the spotlight. Happily full of udon soup and sushi, we got the shot and walked out into the warm sunshine-y December afternoon.

I began to think of throwing a big party for my birthday some time ago, only the idea of narrowing down an invitation list made me sweat. So I didn’t narrow down anything, rather I hosted a brunch for all the women at our church (we have a smallish sized church body) and rather self-centeredly did so on my birthday. It was kinda awesome and I only questioned my sanity a few times in the process. I asked several girlfriends to help set up and clean, and a potluck-style brunch meant I didn’t have to cook anything more strenuous than coffee—and even then I only prepared one pot.

I had a really fun morning with a lot of wonderful women, chocolate cheesecake and laughter. Thanks to all who came and all who helped. I love you, chicas!

December Photo Project, day 5.

Here’s the oh-crud-I-forgot-to-shoot-a-DPP-pic-today-I’ll-try-to-snap-something-in-Trader-Joe’s shot.