When my "Maybe Someday" Doesn't Happen and I'm Left Longing

When my first son was born, I was so ecstatic that it was a boy. My husband had his first-born-son, and with that desire of his fulfilled, I felt I could give in fully to my own desires for a girl. Each pregnancy as we would have our ultrasound and hear “It’s a boy!” that hope would dwindle just a little, but the hope was still there, nonetheless.

Through the past ten years of having only boys, I would come across pictures of little girls or moms with their daughters, and my own longings would rise of desiring to share in that kind of legacy myself. Most times, I would sigh and console myself with the thoughts of “Maybe Someday!”

Several weeks ago, I was scrolling through my Pinterest feed when I came across a little girl dressed in a sparkly blue princess dress who was just about to curtsy. That familiar ache rose into my chest, I immediately thought “Maybe Someday” and continued to scroll. Then I realized what I had just done, and my heart dropped as I reminded myself that it won’t be that "Maybe Someday" anymore. That season is over. We have six sons. This is God’s best for us, and there’s no more looking to the future of “someday” that my heart’s desire will be fulfilled.

I paused and pondered the ways I had consoled myself each time those longings surfaced. And I realized that my “Maybe Someday” thought was my heart grasping at the illusion of having a daughter as my ultimate fulfillment – my heaven on earth. Really, when I looked deeper into those dark corners and exposed my hopes for what they were, I saw the truth. I had been worshiping an idea of future perfection. I had been setting my sights on an ideal that may happen in the days to come and expecting that the fulfillment would bring me perfect joy, delight, and happiness.

I’ve found myself here before – worship, such an easy thing to misplace – idolatry, popping up in my life again. In my focus on my “Maybe Someday,” I was disregarding the one thing (Person) who is the very fulfillment of that piece of my heart that is missing. Jesus gives me himself – wholly and freely. Having a daughter could never fill that void.

In the past, it was my desire for a husband – then life would be perfect.

If I had a child – then I would feel whole.

If we owned our own home – then I could feel like I could rest.

If only I didn’t have to work and could stay at home – then I could find my identity.

If I could just lose those pounds – then I would feel confident.

But each time, when the desire was fulfilled, I still found myself longing for the next best thing. And in the moments that my “Maybe Someday” didn’t come to pass, I felt jaded, depressed, and overlooked.

My friends, our hearts were made for eternity. We were fashioned with a longing, a longing that cannot be fulfilled in completeness this side of heaven. We desire beauty, peace, rest, comfort, perfect love, and so much more. But these things, these gifts that we have been privileged to experience on this tangible earth that we walk are only an imitation at best of what our heart desperately needs. And Christ as the giver has provided that in himself, in the giving of his Holy Spirit to walk with us. Each time we settle for anything less, we are like the children C.S. Lewis talks about who settle for playing with mud pies when they have been offered and ocean vacation (TheWeight of Glory).

Maybe your desires aren’t like mine. Your “Maybe Someday” might be about escaping from a painful relationship, finding financial stability, desiring healing for a loved one, finding a close friend, seeing that child turn back to the faith, or God easing your own physical pain. None of these desires are wrong in and of themselves. It’s when we allow our hearts to idolize our “Maybe Someday” and expect that result to bring about our salvation or ultimate joy that we step over the line.

Jesus is here, longing to bless us far more abundantly than we could ask or imagine (Eph. 3:20). Your “Maybe Someday” may be fulfilled, and God may choose to gift you with a taste of himself in that way, but please don’t worship that gift. Glorify the giver!

Or like me, you may sit with empty hands and a “Maybe Someday” that will never be. Don’t let that pull your heart away from the only one who can fill it! We must realize that what our hearts long to experience maybe someday is not something we can find this side of eternity. Anything less than Jesus Christ, himself will leave us longing for more and cause us to idolize that for which we long.

Jesus offers himself. He is our perfect peace – even when life is not perfect. He gives us grace to do what is right – even when it is the last things we want to do. His strength is made perfect in our weakness. And when I am left with longings unfulfilled, he shows me that he is more than enough. 

It's Mother Day: Please Treat me Like a Goddess!

The alarm rang waking me from my slumber. I turned over and silenced it then sighed. It was Mother’s Day. I now had four little boys who were under my care. I smiled at the privilege of being called their mom. As I sat up and stretched, my mind filled with curious thought of what my husband had planned in order to celebrate me. Maybe flowers? Chocolates? A hot breakfast? I knew he would be heading to work soon—that’s the life of a firefighter—and I had already psyched myself up for taking four little boys to church on my own on Mother’s day. But I just knew he probably had done something to make me feel special. 

A Disappointing Surprise

I put on my house shoes and padded to the kitchen just as I heard the garage door close. I glanced around. Everything looked fairly normal. Standing on my tiptoes, I peered across the room to the dining room table. Nothing. I heard the rumble of my husband’s truck as he pulled out, and my heart fell to my stomach. No flowers. No chocolates. Nothing even set out for breakfast. To top it all off, he hadn’t even kissed me before he left or wished me happy Mother’s Day. Heat rose in my face as anger and great disappointment filled my chest. Forget it, I didn’t care anyway (or at least I tried to convince myself of such.) Time to be strong and get my boys ready for church!

Over the next hour, I bathed, fed, dressed and readied four boys (one still being a nursing infant) and myself for church. We were ready to go, and I glanced at the clock. I still had ten minutes. Fantastic! I realized I needed a moment to reset from the stress and disappointment of the morning, so I set the boys up with a movie and retreated to my room. 

A Moment to Reset

As I quieted my heart, I breathed deeply. I let my mind roam over what my expectations had been for the day. I work so hard all the time. Wasn’t Mother’s Day supposed to be a day to celebrate me? It was rare to hear gratitude throughout the year. My oldest was only five; he wasn’t aware of the sacrifice of motherhood, but didn’t I deserve at least some acknowledgement from my husband on today of all days? I followed David’s pattern from the Psalms “Pour out your heart to him, God is a refuge for us” (Psalm 62:8) and allowed my heart and my eyes to leak all the emotions of the morning. As I expressed my heart to my loving Jesus, He gently put His finger on a soft spot and pointed out a dangerous line that I was toeing.

It was Mother’s Day. It was also a Sunday. I was getting myself and my kids ready to head to church – to worship the God of the Universe with fellow believers. And here I was, sulking that I had not received accolades for my position as a mother. How sacrilegious! 

Idolatries in My Past

In the past, God had used various circumstances, speakers, or events to point out areas of idolatry in my life. Now, this didn’t look like the “household gods” described in the old testament. I hadn’t created a shrine for an idol and practiced worship in a formal sense. However, there had been areas of my life where I would find my comfort in things or activities rather than in God. For instance, I’ve always struggled with dealing with strong emotions, so I found it distracting and satisfying to grab a big bowl of ice cream or indulge in binge watching a favorite show or losing myself in a good novel. None of these things are wrong in themselves, but none of these things could fill or heal my heart the way Jesus could. And when I would run to these things first, I was putting them in the place of God. I was worshiping ice cream for how it made me feel. I was worshiping TV shows for how they helped me relax. I was worshiping novels for how they helped me escape. As Jesus had gently made me aware of these things in the past, I was able to work through confession and surrender and walk in new ways of seeking Him first to fill those emotional needs when I was struggling.

A Step Further: and not in a Good Direction

This time it was different. This time, I had taken a step further. I wasn’t worshiping some item or idea. I wanted to be the one my husband and sons were worshiping! My heart broke at the truth of what God was showing me. The reason I was so angry about no flowers, no chocolates, no breakfast, no “Happy Mother’s Day” was because I wanted to be the little “g” god in my family’s lives. 

Yet He Delights in Me!

In those last few moments before I ushered my sons out the door to church, I got down on my knees and confessed my pride, my arrogance, and my idolatry against my King. I was so grateful for His gentle conviction and began to praise him for who he was rather than claiming praise for what I had done. And Jesus spoke back to my heart: Hannah, I will never worship you, just as no one else should. But I want you to know that I delight in you, even when no one else does. (Zephaniah 3:17) At that moment, the chocolates and the flowers and the accolades no longer mattered. The King of the universe found delight in me!

Worshipping Him

I loaded the boys up and headed to church with a renewed joy. The morning wasn’t perfect. It was raining. I had three of my four boys splashing in puddles as we walked in the door. The infant cried through parts of Sunday school and church, getting the boys in the car was challenging, no one made me lunch, I didn’t get a nap, and my boys still didn’t realize it was Mother’s Day. But this Sunday truly was a delightful Mother’s day – because I chose to worship the God who made me a mother, and I realized that he delighted in me and my motherhood. And that’s what really mattered!

(By the way, the following day when my husband got off shift, he did wish me “Happy Mother’s Day” and bought me some flowers too!)

When the Scale Doesn't Move, Eat a Cookie

I looked down at the scale; my lips curled into a frown. I had my baby 5 weeks ago, and I was barely down 7 pounds. Sighing deeply, I moved to the bookshelf and retrieved the diet book. Guess it’s time to pull up my big girl pants - literally - and do this. I flipped through the pages and found the information I was looking for - low carb cleanse. It had worked before, so I purposed to stock my pantry and fridge with the required items and follow the plan. I couldn’t wait to see the pounds melt off.

Five days later, I skipped to the scale expecting to see big results. As the number appeared, my mouth dropped in horror. What was wrong with this thing? It hadn’t budged!

Dinner Arrives

A friend had volunteered to bring us dinner that night. As the food came in and my house filled with the smells of warm comfort, my stomach rumbled in desire. It had been a long day, and I was hungry - really hungry. I thanked my friend and unpacked hot chicken pot pie, bread sticks, salad, and just-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookies. Ohhh! Chocolate chip - my favorite! My mouth watered, but I stood there dumbfounded. Of all this glorious dinner, only the salad fit my low carb plan. I felt the tears fill my eyes as I stared at the wafting steam from the dishes. What was I going to do?

I retreated to my room where I cried angry. God, this diet has worked before. Why isn’t it working this time? I’m trying to be so faithful, but I’m so hungry!

I started to weigh my options. I could pitch the whole thing and just enjoy myself. But where was the self-control in that? I could stick with my diet and just eat a salad; but I knew that wouldn’t fill my stomach making me even more emotional, and it wouldn’t give me the calories I desperately needed in order to feed my baby.

My Body, His Temple

As I sat there, 1 Corinthians 6:19-20 came to mind. “Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.”

If my body is the temple of the almighty God, then he must know exactly what my body needs at each given moment. Maybe I should ask him what he thinks? So that’s what I did. Over the course of the next half hour or so, my loving Father led my heart to several passages of Scripture and began a paradigm shift that would change my life.

“‘All things are lawful for me,’ but not all things are helpful. ‘All things are lawful for me,’ but I will not be dominated by anything’" (1 Corinthians 6:13).

The enticing food sitting on my kitchen counter was not bad, wrong, or unlawful for me to consume. The question I had to consider was whether it would be helpful or controlling in that moment.

I began to ponder the options I had laid before myself. If I threw up my hands and indulged my every appetite, the very food that I was consuming would be taking mastery over me.

“I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery. You shall have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:2-3).

In that moment, my eyes were opened to the truth. If it was possible for food to become an idol in my life, could it be that - even in my desire to be healthy and do things right - my diet could also become a little “g” god in my life? Maybe my diet and my desire for health wasn’t exactly aligned with God’s design for my body.

“For everything God created is good, and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving, because it is consecrated by the word of God and prayer” (1 Timothy 4:4-5).

If I chose not to eat any of the food provided because of my fear (fear of calories, the scale, messing up the diet, etc.), I was revealing the pride and ingratitude of my heart. And my well meaning diet was pushing me further away from the woman God wanted me to be.

My eyes began to clear as I realized my struggle wasn’t ultimately food. The issue at hand wasn’t even what the scale read at the end of the day. The question I had to ask myself was that of my heart’s posture. Who or what was I bowing to? My appetites? My diet? Some idea of what I should look like?

All those times in the past that I stressed myself out because of the rules of a diet or how fast the weight was (or was not) coming off, I was bowing to those things. The diet and the scale - both becoming my master. I was worshiping them before I was worshiping God.

Thank you God, for creating my body. I’m sorry I haven’t been treating it like your temple. I’m sorry I’ve had my own ideas of what I should look like, how I should eat or what I should weigh. I’m sorry I’ve never asked you. Could you give me wisdom? You promise it when I ask (James 1:5). Give me your vision for my physical body. Show me how to take care of this temple for your glory!

Food for the Stomach and Soul

As I returned to the table, new peace and joy flooded my heart. I did eat a hearty salad and a modest portion of the pot pie. And as I reached for a cookie, I felt God smile.

I returned to my room with that one cookie, sat on my bed, lifted it toward my face and inhaled deeply. Thank you, God for the cow that gave the milk that made the cream for the butter in this cookie. Thank you God for the chicken that laid the egg that was put in this cookie. Thank you God for the field that grew the wheat that produced the flour that is in this cookie. Thank you God for cocoa beans that got processed into chocolate chips that flavor this cookie.

Eating the Cookie

That chocolate chip cookie was probably pretty ordinary. Nothing spectacular went into that recipe. But that chocolate chip cookie - when I received it with a heart of gratitude - was the most delightful cookie I had ever eaten!

Sometimes glorifying God in my body is eating the cookie in gratitude. Other times, it is allowing the Holy Spirit to produce his self-control in my life and leaving the cookie on the tray.

Learning to bow to God alone is not a one-size-fits-all method. As I’ve learned to treat my body as God’s temple, I’ve seen that what is best for me may not be what is best for my friend. It’s really all about learning to walk in step with Him. Moment by moment.

May God be glorified in us as we live (and eat) for Him!

This post was originally published on True Woman Blog.

Continuing the Conversation: Simplicity

I heard him speaking quietly to my heart. You know, that still small voice that so easily gets lost among the chaos of everyday living.

My husband had lovingly sent me out for a few hours of processing time. Being just over 2 months postpartum from the birth of my fourth son, I was understandably overwhelmed. But I had gotten to a point that I couldn’t even think straight. I knew my heart had longings – longings to be more, to be enough actually – because I so often felt like I failed. But I wasn’t even sure what those were any more.

So I took the time, coffee, quiet, good music and my Bible. And I sought God. I asked questions. Lots. I was silent much of the time. And when it finally came through, His voice was crystal clear. “Be still and know, Hannah. Be still and know that I am God.” It seemed like such a simple answer – should be easy, right? But as a stay at home mom of four boys, I never. Stopped. Moving! How could I ever be still?

I started seeking, analyzing, and trying to understand the root of all the motion. The word “simplify” seemed to continue to surface throughout my studies. But what did I really have to simplify? We had a garage sale the year before, and I really felt like I had cleaned out well at that point. And even though my schedule felt “busy,” at that point, my kids had not ECA’s and other that Wednesday nights, we were home almost all the time. I fought the idea at first. I’m not a rich person. We don’t have the biggest house, and I sure don’t have too much stuff. But then why was I always feeling so suffocated and unable to focus?

My husband came home from work one day with a story of a couple who had a very nice couch they loved but had no place for in their home. So they rented a storage unit and paid monthly to have it stored there in case one day they may want to bring it back into their home. Years later, they went to retrieve it – and finding it moth eaten and unusable, they grieved the loss and realized their mistake of hanging on to something for “what if” had cost them more in money, time, thought, and energy than it had potentially benefited them.

God immediately began to bring to mind different items around my home that I had stashed or stored just in case I may need it sometime. He raised the question in my mind, “Hannah, because you are hanging onto that dress, that bedding, those dishes, the baby gear, are you trusting in your possessions more than you are trusting in me? Are you turning your stuff into your ‘savior’?”

Scripture is pretty clear that we should have no other gods (Exodus 20:3) and that we should love the Lord our God first and most (Matthew 22:37). In maintaining and finding storage for all these extras that I didn’t know if or when I would need again, I was not only taxing my management ability, my ability to focus, and my chaos meter, but I was also putting those items in place of God in certain parts of my life. When I found myself saying, “I cannot live without this.” I was saying that I was in control, and I had to stay in control to guarantee my future. My stuff and my own control were subtly seeping onto the throne of my heart.

As I began the slow process of weeding out these extras. These items of idolatry in my life, I found out my heart was more deceitful than I first thought. I uncovered areas of both pride and fear. I found myself constantly pendulum swinging from “contentment” (not godly contentment – prideful contentment in my possessions and how I compared to the world around me) or consumerism (aka: fear that if I didn’t have, didn’t buy, didn’t own certain things, I would be less than, undesirable, or not measure up in some way to the world around me.

No one can serve both God and money (Matthew 6:24). And that is exactly what I was doing. When I was emotional, I would shop. When I had free time, I would shop. I didn’t think it was a bad thing because I would find good bargains and stay within my budget, but what I had failed to see was that my heart was devoted to my money, to my possessions, to my appearance rather than trusting God to provide exactly what I need and direct my heart to what was best.

I started with my clothing. I knew that if simplicity was a change I wanted to see in my home as a whole, I had to start with myself. My dresser was overflowing, closet stuffed, buckets in the basement. How could one person ever use so many clothes? I was disgusted with where I had wound up. After tackling my clothing, I went on to my books, decor, kitchen, linens and continued to move throughout my house. I found so many things that I didn’t even like taking up space and time to maintain that I was hanging onto just because it had been given to us. I found myself even irritated with some of these items. Why not just get rid of them? They don’t serve a purpose…you don’t even like them. Yeah, but someone had spent some money or time on them, and if I got rid of them, I was afraid of what those people would think. And it made me feel guilty somehow. Then God whispered to my heart. “Hannah, are you fearing man more than you are fearing God? What if I asked you to get rid of it to make more space for me? Would you fear me more than them?”

Challenges, growth, and freedom have all come through this process of pursuing simplicity in order to make room to Be Still. One of the most freeing moments so far happened one day when I sat down with my to do list, overwhelmed at the amount of things left on it for the day. I brought it before God. I just don’t see how I’m going to get this all done. This is so overwhelming! “Hannah,” He quietly whispered back. “Your expectations of yourself are higher than my expectations are of you. Let it go.” A weight lifted as I looked back at my list and realized that of the nine things left there, only two were necessary for that day and four I could eliminate all together just by freeing myself of my own expectations and choosing to live within God’s expectations for my day.

Simplicity: this journey that God has had me on for the last twelve months has begun to free me to know who God is, to understand who I am as a result of it, to the interrelationship of how I interact with the world around me and the stillness or chaos of my own heart. This journey to simplify, to still my heart and to be. To Be here. Be still. And know. That HE IS GOD!

I would love to hear how God is directing your journey or any lessons you've been learning about who God is and who you are in the midst of learning to be still...

Getting Back on the Horse...er, um, The Treadmill

I've been asked by several people recently how my recovery is coming along - well, here is where I found myself yesterday...

I went running for the first time since the race yesterday. I mean really running – not just these recovery jogs. And I faced some real demons along the way. Sometimes getting back up on the horse that bucked you off can be the most frightening thing. 

Mentally, I was so much farther along than what my body would allow, and as I watched the time and distance slowly tick up on the display of the treadmill, the doubts started to creep in. “Could you even run a 5k anymore, Hannah? You pace, akin to what you were running nearly a year ago when you first started out. Yep, you’re weak. You’re out of breath at a 5.2? Are you even sure you should be doing this? Maybe you’re not cut out for running. Maybe you never were a runner. Maybe you should just give up.” As my breathing labored and my leg once again tightened down, I slowed to a walk around mile 2.2. 

Over the past year, I had seen so many changes in my body, in my mind, and even in my spirit as I trained my body for the races. I felt healthier and stronger than I ever had before, and I was definitely smaller than I had been in a long time. I found it easy to like my body when it was this way. The results of the hard work excited me and pushed me to keep going. And I found that I really liked working out hard for an hour and then enjoying food rather than not working out and having to really count calories. 

My runs were my time – my time to connect with my heart, to connect with God – to allow him to enlarge my heart amidst the struggle and press on through the pain, coming to the end and finishing victoriously. Kind of an image of the Christian walk I want to lead. All of that changed when I got injured.

I loved being able to go into a store, know what size I was, pull something off the rack and know that it would fit. I loved how I was finally comfortable in my own skin, and I was no longer concerned about what others' thought. I had reached the climax. I was where I wanted to be, and I was content. Crazy how fitness doesn’t stay when you can’t train at the same level.

Running our neighborhood was all well and good, and I had set several PRs for my time as I trained for the marathon. I was excited about setting a PR at a spring race for a 5k distance. I wanted it recorded. I wanted it official and something more than just on my stopwatch. I wanted to feel good about my time, I wanted to find my identity there – to finally call myself a runner. And yesterday, as I was running, I saw the reality of where I am now – having lost nearly 40% of my performance in just three short weeks.

As I walked, I was ready to throw in the towel. What was I thinking? If I’m just going to “fail” anyway (at least fail in my eyes…), why even try? And God started cultivating my heart in that moment. I cried out to him and told him all my fears and frustrations. He turned like a mirror and showed me the reality of my heart in the midst of this. 

Hannah, you may not have seen it. It may have been subtle, but running has become an idol to you. The feelings of endorphins, addictive. The results of your size and fitness something that you cannot let go of. Your speed and distance, your pride. And some sort of title as “runner” your pursued identity. That’s not who you are. And my grace has allowed this injury to bring you to this point – for you never would have realized the depths of this stronghold without being pulled away from it for a time. You’re not a failure. You’re walking in my sovereign allowed grace. Accept this as a gift. Learn to run in Me, by Me, for Me.

Up to this moment now, I had not even considered my injury something good – much less a gift and something to be grateful for. But that’s what it is. And today, I thank God for his grace in allowing me to be pulled away from my idolatry. I’m still in process as to what this all means. Am I going to give up running? No. Am I going to change some goals and perspective? Yes. What does this next year look like? What does my new training look like? All of that is still in the works….

Where is my heart right now? Trying to break down what it looks like to have been crucified with Christ, therefore it is no long I who live, but Christ who lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the son of God who loves me and who gave himself for me. (Galatians 2:20)

 



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