I don't want to be this person...you know, the person who chooses to talk about the one cloud in the brilliantly blue and clear sky.  The person who always has a reason to discount the miracle of the silver lining.  I don't want to be this person.  But words hurt...

I am sure that the lengths to which I have made people feel as though they need to tip-toe around my heart is exhausting.  You see...I keep expecting deliverance.  A complete and total end to the pain that I am feeling.  So, when a nurse innocently remarks that they see that I have been struggling with infertility and that they are sure that I will get pregnant eventually or an acquaintance remarks how lucky I am that I don't have to stay up all night with a crying baby, I am shocked when it hurts.  I believe in the grace which I have been freely given, but I want it on my terms.  I want delivering grace and not sustaining grace.

I stumbled upon this blog several months back and it expresses the game of tug-of-war in my soul that seems to be never ending.

When God Does the Miracle We Didn't Ask For- Click on this link and savor.every.word.  It describes my broken and battered heart perfectly and it flows with truth.

"With every heartache I wanted a Red Sea miracle. A miracle that would astonish the world, reward me for my faithfulness, make my life glorious. I didn’t want manna... At first, I rejected it as insufficient. I wanted deliverance. Not sustenance. I wanted the pain to stop, not to be held up through the pain. I was just like the children of Israel who rejoiced at God’s delivering grace in the parting of the Red Sea, but complained bitterly at his sustaining grace in the provision of manna." -Vaneetha Rendall

 I see it, I feel the weight of it, and I have been fighting against it.  I'm sorry that I have become the person that can't seem to let unintentionally hurtful words and situations go...but I'm trying.  Please be patient...and call me on my crap...yes, I just said crap.

"But God knew better. Each day he continued to put manna before me. At first, I grumbled. It seemed like second best. It wasn’t the feast I envisioned. It was bland and monotonous. But after a while, I began to taste the manna, embrace it, and savor its sweetness. This manna, this sustaining grace, is what upheld me. It revived me when I was weak. It drove me to my knees. And unlike delivering grace, which once received, inadvertently moved me to greater independence from God, sustaining grace kept me tethered to him. I needed it every day. Like manna, it was new every morning." -Vaneetha Rendall

The woman who wrote this blog has experienced greater loss than mine, and greater pain than mine.  And yet, somehow, God has revealed to her the beauty of His manna.  She is limping toward the sustaining grace that keeps her close to her Savior.  

I want to be "that" person and I pray that, that is the miracle that He accomplishes in me, even when it isn't the miracle that I ask for...