Angela’s Testimony

My husband and I both come from a large family and we dreamed of having a big family, too. Everything seemed so perfect when we decided to have a baby. And then the disappointment set in. Months and months passed.

All around us people were having babies. Then years passed and those people had more babies. We became the only couple out of our family and friends to not have a child. Talk about isolation and despair, and confusion and yes, anger and so many other horrible feelings. It was the darkest time of my life. My heart yearned and ached with all my being to be a mother. Instead, I felt empty and the pain got worse. As silly as it sounds, I even thought that maybe God didn’t love me.

Around the two year mark, we went through infertility testing and learned that there is nothing physically wrong; our infertility is unexplained. At that point we strongly felt it was just a matter of God’s timing and we turned down infertility treatments. From that moment , God’s plans took us in ways that we never imagined.

Over the next year, we bought our first home, then my husband had to have extensive back surgery. He started college at 30 as he felt led to teach and coach high school kids. I went back to school to specialize in an area of nursing. We also moved my elderly grandparents into our home and became their primary caregivers. Not only did our physical lives change drastically but internally God was giving our hearts and minds a makeover too. Looking back I see this was a crucial time and God was planting seeds and growing us individually and as a strong couple. He helped my husband mature and become disciplined and responsible. The love and devotion he showed my grandparents was inspiring and we learned how to work well as a team. I found new strength and faith during this time and grew to cling to God for both. Despite our cries and prayers, I see now that because of His love, He didn’t give us a child during that time! More time passed.

One day, my husband and I discussed it and thought we would pursue infertility treatments. Little did we know, I was already pregnant! I will never forget how excited and overjoyed I was to see a positive sign in place of almost 5 years of negative signs each month. I was shaking as I called to my husband and we both jumped for joy and held each other and cried and hugged. Even our dogs jumped and barked in excitement! We were sobbing in happiness when we saw that little heart beat on the monitor. We sobbed 6 weeks later when we learned the day before our 6th wedding anniversary that our baby had died sometime around 12 weeks.

That was one of the hardest days of our life. How could it be that after all this time we could finally be given something so precious only for it to be taken away? But something happened then. It was a defining moment and it was the moment I can truly say that I fell in love with our Lord Jesus Christ.

In all our pain and in all of our heartache we reached out to Him for peace, for understanding, for comfort. I learned that the deeper and larger your hurt is, the bigger the space is for God to fill it with his presence and peace and love.

 

Rather than focusing on our devastation and loss, we decided to focus on Hope. We shifted our tears of pain to tears of praise for His grace and love and thanked Him for our baby who did have life, no matter how short. Having been pregnant once, we had hope I would be again.

Amazingly, 10 months later, our beautiful, miracle, daughter was born. Her name is Elliana which means “God has answered me.” We named her just before I was emergently hospitalized my 18th week of pregnancy. I spent the next 5 months on strict bedrest. It was a challenging journey and a time of spiritual growth, a time when God, family, friends and even strangers wrapped us in love and courage. It’s a beautiful testimony to share another time.

What I’d like to share now is for all those couples who suffer from a broken heart and empty arms. I know this pain so well. It’s unfair, lonely and agonizing. But God has big plans for you (Jeremiah 29:11). Where you are right now is where He wants you to be IF you acknowledge Him (Proverbs 3:6.) Believe that! Ask God to help you embrace where you are in life, no matter how sad or difficult. Try hard to be thankful for the present. The story God has written for my life is so much more beautiful than I could ever have planned and much of the source of that beauty is derived from heartache and pain. Isn’t that the basis for the gospel story and His saving grace!?

I’ve learned when you pray big, God answers bigger. Be ready!

Paul tells us specifically to “Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer” (Romans 12:12). God is writing your story, too. I believe, just as He promises and like He has shown me, that your story is a beautiful testimony of God’s love and faithfulness. You might not be at the part you want yet, but God is working up to it and these chapters have purpose (Ecclesiastes 3). The best part is that even through the hard or sad times, if you ask God to be with you, He will (Jeremiah 29:12-13). During this time, don’t despair! “Delight yourself in the Lord and he will answer the desires of your heart” (Psalm 37:4).

We don’t know why or when or how, but God does and He is faithful and mighty. I pray my story glorifies Him and inspires you in peace and joy. He is the awesome creator and author of your life and mine. Trust in Him and His perfect plans and timing.

–Angela


Thank you Angela for sharing your story! Broken hearts and loneliness are two things I think a lot of us can relate to, especially as we are here talking about infertility and difficulty in pregnancy. You’re so right though, God’s plans and His timing are BEST, as He IS the Author of our lives.

If you would like to share your testimony of how God has healed your womb, or how He has healed, or is healing your soul (whether or not you have a baby) please email me [email protected] and check out the writer’s guidelines at “Want To Share Your Testimony?” I feature a Testimony each Tuesday, you can also subscribe with your email address, or follow along on my Facebook Page.

Love, Rebekah

To the Angels Without Wings

angels without wings

“We saw two abnormalities,” the doctor said, “On your son’s anatomy scan ultrasound.” I shifted on the white sanitary paper that I sat on, making it crinkle. “One is a shiny spot on the heart, which could be a soft marker for Downs Syndrome, or, another genetic disease. And the the other abnormality is an enlarged ventricle in the brain.”

My mind started to race.

“It could mean nothing, or…it could point to something more serious,” she said. “You need to get some genetic testing done, but it will take several weeks to come back. And then we will set you up with maternal fetal medicine, to do an ultrasound and see a specialist from out of town.”

I felt like I got the wind knocked out of me.

I wish I could say I walked out of there full of faith, with my head up, and shoulders back. But I didn’t.

I was deathly quiet until we got to the car in the parking garage, where I was flooded with emotions, and tears.

What did this mean?

Was he okay?

Would he live?

Did he have some deteroriating disease?

For the next few days, I felt like death. I was grieving. Grieving news I didn’t even have yet. Grieving results that didn’t even come back yet. I know I shouldn’t have been. I know other’s have recieved much worse news, and done better than me. But that’s what I did.

I usually try to be strong for the people in my life.  But during those weeks of waiting for results, I couldn’t hide how weak I actually was. It felt like my legs just gave out from under me. I didn’t know how to walk.

Or even stand.

But then God sent the angels…

To carry me.

I didn’t expect them to come.

I didn’t even know they existed.

But they came.

Not how you would think.

They didn’t have wings. Or halos. Or harps.

They didn’t appear with a bright light.

But they came. 

One sat on the edge of my bed, while I cried into my pillow the night after my appointment. He stroked my hair and whispered into my ears, the true things. The things that God says. He reminded me that the little one in my womb was God’s, and for God’s glory–no matter what that meant. He was a constant minister of strength to me. He held me against his chest and said through the dark, “Don’t be afraid.”

“You have to trust God now.”

And this angel was my husband. 

Then more angels came.  And they came like an army. Lifting me up, refusing to let me fall.

I didn’t call them with a heavenly trumpet…I called them with my old iPhone. And you know what? They answered.

They answered even though little ones were climbing up their legs, and the grilled cheese was burning in the pan–and they listened. To me.

They listened like I was the only one in the world…as I told them about my doctor’s appointment, and to please pray for my baby boy…and they listened when my voice cracked…and I fell silent on the other end, and couldn’t speak because the words got caught in my throat.

They didn’t speak to me in the tongues of angels. Instead they listened, and they reminded me of who God is. Some prayed for me—right then, on the phone, despite the chaos and noise going on in their kitches. And when they hung up, they cried for me. But they not only cried. They also cried out for me—with prayers and intercession to God.

They went to battle for me.

One drove hours to see me. And those who couldn’t come to me, sent text messages and voicemails, and Youtube songs (I would play on repeat)—and somehow, by the Spirit of God, they came close, just as if they were right there. And,

They lifted me up. 

They carried me.

And these angels were my friends, and sisters, and parents. 

Then more angels appeared in my church.

They weren’t dressed in white robes…but in business-casual Kohl’s outfits. Their eyes were wise and kind. Because they were moms who had already weathered these storms.

One sat next to me in the church lobby and laid her warm, healing hands on my belly. She didn’t care as people walked past that Sunday morning, and she prayed for me and my baby boy. She spoke life over him. And me.

Another angel, like this, gave me a message before worship started.

It wasn’t on a gigantic scroll…but on a simple piece of loose leaf paper, written in black ink.  She handed it to me, and said, “I spent two hours praying for you last night.” Tears filled her eyes. “And I believe these Scriptures are for you.”

She hugged me and I cried. Who does that? Who spends two hours praying for someone else…and their baby? Who sits before the Lord for hours…on behalf of someone else? Not me. But, this woman had. And I could not ask for a gift more precious. 

As we embraced she told me, “God is still forming this baby boy in your womb. And he is going to be a mighty man of God.” Hot tears filled my eyes, and I was not able to find words to even thank her for what she had done–it was so precious.

And do you know what? That piece of loose leaf paper she gave me, with scriptures she wrote out for me…is almost see-through today.

Because every single morning, as we waited for results, and appointments, I would come downstairs while the house was still sleeping, and I would sit on the couch with my coffee and read those hand-written Scriptures, and cry. And I would speak them over my womb. Over my son.

All my life I have wanted to see an angel. But suddenly, during those weeks of waiting, and wondering, and praying I realized—they were all around me. 

These were the angels God sent to me.

Angels without wings. 

Right when I needed them most.

I was falling, and they caught me.

I was weak, and they carried me. 

They lifted me up in their hands. 

This week, I left the specialist’s office crying again–but this time it was tears of joy.

God healed everything.

Our baby boy’s genetic tests all came back normal. The shiny spot in his heart disappeared. And as for the enlarged ventricle in his brain,

“It actually got smaller,” the specialist told us this Monday, “It’s in totally normal range now. Your baby looks great.”

(I’d never openly cried in front of a doctor, until then.)

“That’s exactly what we, and all our friends were praying for,” I said through tears I couldn’t hold back.

“It worked,” he smiled. “Prayer works. Intercessory prayer works,” he said.

I know that God doesn’t always heal–and He is still worthy of our trust in those times. But this time, He did heal. And I know sometimes people (even Christian people) are skeptical and think that the results for our son would have been the same–no matter if anyone prayed or not.

But I couldn’t disagree more.

I believe that these people praying for him–changed something. Because prayer isn’t man’s idea. Prayer is God’s idea. 

God tells us to pray. To ask Him. To cry out.

And His word says, “Pray for each other, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.” (James 5:16)

I don’t know what would have happened had these people not been praying. All I know, is what did happen because they had. And I am in awe of God because of it. So…

To My Angels Without Wings,

I don’t know why you came to me, but you came.

I don’t know why you prayed for me, but you prayed. 

I don’t know why you loved me so deeply, but you did. 

And because you did, something changed. 

I believe it’s because of you, that God has done a miracle in the secret places of my womb, where no eyes but God’s can truly see. 

And one day, I will tell my son about you.  I will tell him about the ones who went to battle for him, while he was yet being formed.

I will tell him, that while he was yet in the womb, he was surrounded by angels. 

Angels without wings. 

Don’t Forget The Miracle

selah

It’s 9:47 p.m. and she’s still not sleeping. Though I put her to bed over an hour ago. It’s bedtime–the never ending saga–of hugs, and kisses, and stories, and songs. And tears–because the door isn’t cracked open enough to let the light in, and cups of water. And reassuring whispers in the dark.

It’s 10:15 p.m. and I thought she was sleeping, but she’s calling for me–yet again. “Mom! Come here, I need to tell you something!”

I go up. “What?”

“I hurt my finger.”

I have no idea how you can hurt your finger while wrapped in soft blankets. But, that’s my girl. “Okay. Good-night,” I say.

Eventually, she does sleep. Eventually, we all do.

And…I forget sometimes that the little blonde-haired girl in the blue snowflake pajamas next door–is a miracle. I forget sometimes of what my life was like, before her.

And how I never expected her to come.

But she did.

She did come, because God had ordained it. And I didn’t know it. I didn’t know she was coming to us.

All I knew was this name, He dropped in my heart, before we ever conceived her, before we ever even wanted to try.

It was,

Selah.”

It’s from the Psalms and means, “pause, and reflect on this.” It’s a musical interlude, when the singers to grow silent, and reflect on what was just sung.

And I thought about Selah often. I didn’t know if Selah was really a girl, or merely a state of mind. I didn’t want to try and “name it, claim it!” I didn’t want to try to dictate to God, what He would do, or what or who He would give us. I thought maybe God just wanted to teach me how to practice, “Selah.” To be still, and listen, and reflect–on Him.

And I wasn’t sure.

And it was shadowy, like something from a dream. Like traveling through fog.

You can’t see it, but then, it’s right there.

And I didn’t see her. I couldn’t see her.

But then,

she was right there.

The miracle.

Sometimes miracles are like that. They seem so far away. And then, suddenly, it’s right there.

We were just watching a movie one night, and I got up to take a pregancy test I had bought that day in the clearance section at Walmart. “Do you want me to pause it?” my husband called up the stairs.  “No!” I shouted.

I didn’t know that in two minutes everything would change for us.

I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t see her coming.

But God did.

He always saw her.

And this is something I love about God–He sees everything. He sees it far before.

And He sees us.

He sees us, even on the day we stop believing in miracles. And He loves us still.

I don’t understand it all. I don’t always understand God. But that is part of His mystery. And part of His majesty.

I don’t really know how miracles work–but I know that when God does a miracle, we should celebrate it. We should remember it. And never forget it.

That’s why when the Israelites crossed the Jordan River, they were commanded to bring up twelve stones from the bottom of the river–and take them with them. It was to remember that God had stopped the flow of water for them, so they could pass through. He saved their lives. And God wanted them to keep the twelve stones as a memorial–so that one day, when their children were grown, they would ask their fathers, “What do these twelve stones mean?”

And then, they would remember. Then, they would tell their children–what God did. The miracle God worked on their behalf.

We are prone to forget–the miracle.

So today, remember.

Remember the miracle–that God did–that time you were crying out. That time when you whispered prayers in the dark. And you couldn’t see anything in front of you. That time you thought nothing would ever change–but it did.

Remember the miracle, that God did?

Remember?

Sometimes we have to remember the miracle of the past–in order to have hope for the future.

Remember the time, He victoriously came through?

Remember the miracle?

Because when we remember–then we can celebrate. Then we can trust Him. Then we can worship. Then we can stop walking by fear, and start walking by faith. And joy. And trust.

We are taught to be good at telling people our accomplishments–about showcasing our talents. But what if we started saying, “Now, let me tell you about what God did..” “Let me tell you about what God accomplished…in me.” “Let me tell you about the time God victoriously came through.” These are the stories our kids need to hear. These are the ones they will remember. This is how we show them the twelve stones. And the God–who carried us through the river.

“We will not hide these truths from our children, we will tell these truths to the next generation, about the glorious deeds of the Lord, about His power and His mighty wonders.” Psalms 78:4

We have to remember. We have to celebrate–what God did. Even if it was last month. Even if it was last year. Even if it was ten or twenty years ago.

Remember the miracle. And the God who showed Himself through it.

“So the next generation might know them—
even the children not yet born—
and they in turn will teach their own children.
So each generation should set its hope anew on God,
not forgetting his glorious miracles
and obeying his commands.” Psalm 78:6-7

***

One day, my daughter will ask me if I believe in miracles.

And I will tell her, Yes. You are one.

Selah

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