I remember that after I learned that I had infertility that I wanted distance between myself and anything child related. I wanted to shut off that part of life and ignore it because it was a life I feared I would never have. I began to plan my career around not having children. Maybe I could be a lawyer? A doctor? A nurse? Anything but a teacher or any motherly type of career.Yet, my heart was breaking because I knew that I didn’t really want that. I wanted to mother little ones and to love on them. I wanted to have children to call my own and to shower them in hugs and clean up their messes. There isn’t really a career path for that life. You can’t get a college degree in it. It’s supposed to “happen” naturally.And it didn’t. It doesn’t. Not for me. For everyone else it seems, but not me. I thought maybe my hormone levels were off. Nope. Maybe I had something wrong structurally. Nope. No, it turns out that it’s stranger and in many ways worse than I imagined. Somehow my body has an actual immune response to children. It treats the child as if it is a foreign object and rejects it, sometimes before I even know. My immune system is constantly in overdrive which is also why I don’t get sick easily at all, but I also have terrible allergies. How’s that for weird biology? There’s an entire scientific explanation behind why this happens, but it took me reading 274 pages in a book to begin to understand it, so I’ll spare you the intense details. So for me, having a child looks a lot like 400+ shots and popping a billion pills because for whatever reason, my body doesn’t do what it was made to do.My heart hurts. Yes, it hurts. There are sometimes it hurts so bad that I just don’t want to get out of bed and do anything. I want to cry and scream and throw things because this world isn’t fair. It’s just not fair, and I wanted to distance myself so far away from anything that could remind me of the life I dreamed of. I wanted eight biological children and four adopted. For whatever reason, that’s been on my heart for the longest time. I didn’t handpick it. It sort of appeared one day. Yes, twelve beautiful children. It may seem crazy, but that’s what my heart wanted, and my dear husband fell in love with this dream as well.I know in these moments the last thing I want to do is read my Bible because I want to be angry and frustrated and upset at the situation, but I know to read it because I need peace. I need hope. I need God’s promises etched into my heart again and again and again.So, after many months of avoiding reading my Bible because it hurt. I picked it up, and my heart began to soften and mend.And God boldly carried me to a place of healing.It was a hot July morning, and I woke up feeling as if I needed to check out First Baptist Church Clarksville on Sunday. I had zero connections to this church. None of my friends went there. I didn’t have family that went there. I didn’t know any acquaintances that went there. So, for me, this was the strangest nudge from God I had ever been given. That Sunday went by, and if I remember correctly, another Sunday went by, and finally, I went. I mustered some courage and faith, and I went. I had never been here before. I had no clue where I was. I walked through the preschool entrance, up the stairs, and just followed the crowd into the sanctuary.I sang along to familiar tunes, listened to the sermon, and I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. So, I came back. A few Sundays went by, and then, August came. The church was seeking volunteers for Sunday School and people to help out in the preschool area. On a whim, I signed my husband and I up. We had both wanted to become more involved with the church anyway. Next thing I knew, I was standing in a classroom of eager three year olds trying to figure out how to teach them about Jesus, sharing, and kindness. If you’ve never tried to teach a classroom of three year olds, it’s intimidating, at least for me, when you’ve never done this before. The first month or two were a little rocky. I had to find what worked and what didn’t. I had to learn the best way for me to communicate with the children and the children to communicate with me. I had to find my “teacher voice”.I learned a lot in a short period of time, and I fell in love.I fell so madly in love with preschool ministry. I loved spending so much time with these little ones. I love their kind little hearts that just poured and poured with love. I loved the way they asked the most unusual questions. I loved the way they saw the world around them. I loved watching them grow, and each and everyday spent with them filled me with more and more hope that God’s promises are true because I saw them coming to life in these three year old children.How’s that for really awesome?When I was feeling hurt and angry and frustrated and wanting to run so far away from God, he sent me to a tribe of tiny disciples that shared love and hope with me, and I’m not even sure they realize how precious their love is to me.They bring me joy, such joy, and unimaginable healing and peace.So, as VBS begins this week, I can’t wait to learn to walk more in God’s way with my classroom of kiddos because these little ones are great mentors in learning to follow God.-MAnd your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left. -Isaiah 30:21

Posted in: Faith on June 17, 2015

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  • June 17, 2015

    Wow. That is incredible and the work of God all over it. Brought me to tears reading this. Thank you so much for sharing your story. I hope you share it so much more with others around you. I know it will encourage and challenge others in whatever their struggling with... Thank you!!!!!!!

    - Allison at A Girl Like Me