Victory Through Death

A dream is a wish your heart makes…so says Disney’s original Cinderella.  (My cynical dark side sings “A dream is wish dashed against rocks-and yes I am laughing at my own joke) The heart however, is unpredictable.  The Bible even calls it wicked.  Before you protest, here is the Oxford dictionary definition:

Evil or morally wrong.

Morally wrong, I think we can all agree none of us is perfect and everyone does things morally wrong.   Often our motives our selfish and impure, as mine were in this case.  I am talking about having children.

Having a natural child or adopting an infant is a lovely and noble thing.  I found myself often daydreaming of a beautiful little bundle of joy.  Never, ever did I picture a boy.  Pink blanketed baby with matching rosy pink cheeks and nose.  I imagined dress shopping and other things of that nature.  Yet what I thought about most was how I could teach her from an early age how to handle herself,  Make sure that she would not be sexually abused by kids in the neighborhood-just like I was. Teacher he self respect so that she wouldn’t be sexually abused as a young adult by a unstable and dangerous boyfriend just like I was. Protect her.  I wanted to relieve my past through another child and make it right. And that my friends is not morally right.

When I found out I started ” the change”  a month ago, I was devastated.   I had just been prayed over for healing of my infertility.  Then  I got another period, my 3rd in 6 weeks. I went to the doctor and found out it was perimenopause. The window of my fertile years was slowly closing only to slam shut.  I felt God was saying no to natural children, and our wallets had already said no to adoption.  I was O.K the first week.  Then it hit me hard and I could barely function.  This feeling of overwhelming loss was swallowing me up, making my life feel like it had no purpose, no joy, nothing to look forward to.  At the same time I felt like I was experiencing things long buried in my past.  Not the shame or terror or rage or fear.  Like I was grieving a loss from my 9 month (see the connection here?) relationship with an abusive man.  The kind of loss you experience when something valuable is taken from you, almost like a death in the family.

When someone forces you physically or through intimidation and fear to do things sexually you do not want to do, it is demoralising.  When someone threatens to literally  kill you, it is the worst kind of rejection ever. It is a lie that says you are not worthy of living.  They don’t just want you gone, but to no longer exist.  You do not matter.

I cannot go back in time and change those things I experienced.   Yet in my delusion I would be adopting  a little baby girl, a little me.  As if I could reverse time.  It was pure fantasy.  It kept me from feeling that horrible sense of loss.  It is embarrassing to admit how selfish my desires were in all this, and how foolish. The bottom line is I am not in control, though time and time again I gravitate toward the illusion I am.  I cannot stop abuse from happening.  The fact that it did happen doesn’t have to define me.  I am a child of the Most High King.  Nothing can change that.

So yes maybe a dream is a wish your heart makes, but not all wishes are granted.  God is not a Jeannie.  What we get instead is sometimes painful, but always life giving.  We are given truth, and the truth will set us free.  The death of my dream gave me victory-and space in my heart for the right kind of dreams, the ones God has for me.

Amen and Amen.



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An imperfect and broken woman, I seek to know God better believing His promise "to make all things new..." one day at a time, one moment at a time.

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