"Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill what He has spoken to her!"
Luke 1:45
In the first chapter of Luke's gospel, two women who should not be able to bear children are told that they would give birth soon. One older and barren, and one a virgin who was told that her womb would produce the Messiah.
The first time we see these women interact, Elizabeth exclaims this blessing to Mary after being filled with the Holy Spirit.
In 2018, during the season of Lent, I decided to read through all of the Gospels in a row. This is the chapter I just "happened" to read on the day I found out about our miracle baby.
......
Have you ever been in a public place when a fire alarm has gone off? Loud bells, flashing lights, robotic voices announcing dispassionately, "please find the nearest exit."
If there hadn't been one that night at the end of January, I'm not sure we would have our girl.
I was in a small hotel meeting room, attending a 6 week Bible study upon invitation from a friend. "I want to come," I had told her, "But you're going to have to check in on me and make sure I actually go." I already knew it was going to be enough outside of my comfort zone that I'd probably try to find excuses not to go.
But there I was, on the 3rd week of the study, listening to the speaker talk about "Breakthrough."
What comes to mind when you hear this word? I had a lot of thoughts about it when I showed up that night, but none of them were:
"This is going to be for me."
Until the speaker defined a "breakthrough" as essentially God doing a new thing in your life. And then proceeded to talk about the Old Testament story of Hannah, a barren woman who begged God for a child. Spoiler alert: She had a child.
A story I've heard a million times, and yet hadn't thought of once since the "I word" entered my reality.
I had a lot of thoughts about that story when the speaker was finished talking, but none of them were
"This is for me."
And then the speaker invited a young woman to share a testimony about a breakthrough in her life. A testimony that involved miscarriages and God telling her, through another person, that a child would be in her arms the very next year.
I had a lot of thoughts listening to that story, and one of them was,
"Okay...this might be for me."
.....
When I first arrived that evening, I had been sitting surrounded by strangers during the opening worship time. After the fire alarm-dictated evacuation of the room, I bumped into one of my friends and ended up seated next to her for the speaking portion of the gathering once we were allowed back in the building.
She knew my story. She knew my struggle. She knew exactly why my face and shirt were soaked in tears. She probably didn't know that I was seconds away from bolting (to hide in the comfort of my car before completely losing it) when they invited people to receive prayer at the end of the night.
She leaned over and whispered to me, "I know it might be scary, but I really think you should have someone pray with you."
I responded, "Okay, but can you come with me?"
So we waited our turn in line and when it was our turn, I shared the snapshot version of my story. The miscarriage. The subsequent year of negative pregnancy tests before finally receiving a diagnosis. The year after that filled with unsuccessful medications and procedures.
The speaker prayed. With power. She declared that my womb was open, that my home would be filled with a new generation of people who would follow Him. And then, she gave me homework.
"Look up Psalm 113:9 when you get home. Read it in several different versions. This is a verse God gave me after I lost a baby, and I think you should read it."
Honestly, I thought it was the "fearfully and wonderfully made" passage, so I wasn't sure exactly how encouraged I would be by it. But, always the rule-follower, I got back to our apartment and read it...
"He settles the childless woman in her home as a happy mother of children. Praise the Lord!"
My husband and I were moving to a new city soon, and had just paid the deposit on a rental house weeks before. When we had first walked into the house with a realtor, I was overwhelmed, almost breath-taken, by the feeling that this was us. This was home. And something meaningful would happen there.
In our home.
I spent the rest of that night after reading my assigned verse weeping and worshiping, feeling seen and loved with a powerful love.
The kind that can work miracles.
In the days and weeks following that experience, I felt encouraged in a way I hadn't in a long time. I felt expectant that what God had spoken would come to pass, but with a renewed sense of patience...I didn't know when or how He would do it, but I knew He would do it.
......
The next month - I kid you not, the very next window of opportunity for a pregnancy - I took a test. Mostly on a whim. I was a few days later than anticipated, but that's nothing new with PCOS. So, mostly for the sake of ruling things out, I went through the motions of taking a test - only to be stopped dead in my tracks by what appeared to be a faint line where there had only been blank emptiness before.
Husband still sleeping, I ran out for a more definitive, digital test.
PREGNANT
Unmistakably.
Miraculously.
Pregnant.
I felt immediate...
fear.
What if I lost this one, too? How could I even handle that? He gives and takes away, will He take this away too? And on and on...
Later in the afternoon, after sharing the news with my husband, I decided I need some time alone with the Lord. I got in bed and and picked up where I had last been reading in the Gospels.
Luke 1.
This was for me.
"Blessed is she.
Who has believed.
That the Lord would fulfill.
What He has spoken to her."
Again I wept and worshiped, and felt swallowed up in God's love.
This verse became my anthem in the battle with fear that continued for the duration of the pregnancy. I made posters. I wrote it over and over again. It played on repeat in my head at every checkup and ultrasound. I hung it as a banner in my hospital room during labor.
The Lord fulfilled what He had spoken on Thanksgiving Day, 2018.
How appropriate.
He gave us a miracle. I hope I never stop giving thanks.
......
Have you ever been in a public place when a fire alarm has gone off? Loud bells, flashing lights, robotic voices announcing dispassionately, "please find the nearest exit."
If there hadn't been one that night at the end of January, I'm not sure we would have our girl.
I was in a small hotel meeting room, attending a 6 week Bible study upon invitation from a friend. "I want to come," I had told her, "But you're going to have to check in on me and make sure I actually go." I already knew it was going to be enough outside of my comfort zone that I'd probably try to find excuses not to go.
But there I was, on the 3rd week of the study, listening to the speaker talk about "Breakthrough."
What comes to mind when you hear this word? I had a lot of thoughts about it when I showed up that night, but none of them were:
"This is going to be for me."
Until the speaker defined a "breakthrough" as essentially God doing a new thing in your life. And then proceeded to talk about the Old Testament story of Hannah, a barren woman who begged God for a child. Spoiler alert: She had a child.
A story I've heard a million times, and yet hadn't thought of once since the "I word" entered my reality.
I had a lot of thoughts about that story when the speaker was finished talking, but none of them were
"This is for me."
And then the speaker invited a young woman to share a testimony about a breakthrough in her life. A testimony that involved miscarriages and God telling her, through another person, that a child would be in her arms the very next year.
I had a lot of thoughts listening to that story, and one of them was,
"Okay...this might be for me."
.....
When I first arrived that evening, I had been sitting surrounded by strangers during the opening worship time. After the fire alarm-dictated evacuation of the room, I bumped into one of my friends and ended up seated next to her for the speaking portion of the gathering once we were allowed back in the building.
She knew my story. She knew my struggle. She knew exactly why my face and shirt were soaked in tears. She probably didn't know that I was seconds away from bolting (to hide in the comfort of my car before completely losing it) when they invited people to receive prayer at the end of the night.
She leaned over and whispered to me, "I know it might be scary, but I really think you should have someone pray with you."
I responded, "Okay, but can you come with me?"
So we waited our turn in line and when it was our turn, I shared the snapshot version of my story. The miscarriage. The subsequent year of negative pregnancy tests before finally receiving a diagnosis. The year after that filled with unsuccessful medications and procedures.
The speaker prayed. With power. She declared that my womb was open, that my home would be filled with a new generation of people who would follow Him. And then, she gave me homework.
"Look up Psalm 113:9 when you get home. Read it in several different versions. This is a verse God gave me after I lost a baby, and I think you should read it."
Honestly, I thought it was the "fearfully and wonderfully made" passage, so I wasn't sure exactly how encouraged I would be by it. But, always the rule-follower, I got back to our apartment and read it...
"He settles the childless woman in her home as a happy mother of children. Praise the Lord!"
My husband and I were moving to a new city soon, and had just paid the deposit on a rental house weeks before. When we had first walked into the house with a realtor, I was overwhelmed, almost breath-taken, by the feeling that this was us. This was home. And something meaningful would happen there.
In our home.
I spent the rest of that night after reading my assigned verse weeping and worshiping, feeling seen and loved with a powerful love.
The kind that can work miracles.
In the days and weeks following that experience, I felt encouraged in a way I hadn't in a long time. I felt expectant that what God had spoken would come to pass, but with a renewed sense of patience...I didn't know when or how He would do it, but I knew He would do it.
......
The next month - I kid you not, the very next window of opportunity for a pregnancy - I took a test. Mostly on a whim. I was a few days later than anticipated, but that's nothing new with PCOS. So, mostly for the sake of ruling things out, I went through the motions of taking a test - only to be stopped dead in my tracks by what appeared to be a faint line where there had only been blank emptiness before.
Husband still sleeping, I ran out for a more definitive, digital test.
PREGNANT
Unmistakably.
Miraculously.
Pregnant.
I felt immediate...
fear.
What if I lost this one, too? How could I even handle that? He gives and takes away, will He take this away too? And on and on...
Later in the afternoon, after sharing the news with my husband, I decided I need some time alone with the Lord. I got in bed and and picked up where I had last been reading in the Gospels.
Luke 1.
This was for me.
"Blessed is she.
Who has believed.
That the Lord would fulfill.
What He has spoken to her."
Again I wept and worshiped, and felt swallowed up in God's love.
This verse became my anthem in the battle with fear that continued for the duration of the pregnancy. I made posters. I wrote it over and over again. It played on repeat in my head at every checkup and ultrasound. I hung it as a banner in my hospital room during labor.
The Lord fulfilled what He had spoken on Thanksgiving Day, 2018.
How appropriate.
He gave us a miracle. I hope I never stop giving thanks.
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