The air is crisp.
The house is quiet, but for the sound of the running tap and clicking of plates and pans here in the kitchen. Mr. Steady walks up quietly behind me as I put away the last plate and I watch as his eyes begin to roam the room slow, “who would have thought…”, he begins…
Yea, who would have thought a thousand things; a thousand blessings; a thousand breakthroughs, a thousand grace-moments, a thousand breakthroughs? Who would have thought a thousand heartbreaks would lead to here. Who would have thought we would be here, standing straight here, had you seen how our year began.
Because when you are walking with God, you soon learn that you can’t count from where you stand, because it never looks like where you are headed.
I sigh. We walk in tow into the living room.
The rain pierces right through. Thunder.
My eyes roam. I’m counting blessings within.
And I can’t believe I say this: “…you know, this means there’s never really anything to fear!”
I declared it, almost.
Did I just?
Perhaps it could be that I’ve come a road-away from the quavering woman who nursed an unspoken fear at her chest.
This fear: “will God withhold?”
“Will God withhold a good thing from me?”
Don’t we all sometimes wonder: if all this crazy faith could leave us ashamed? This holding on to God, looking and feeling like you are crazy, could leave you mad altogether.
The nights we spent dreaming up names for our babies, I wondered why we’ve had to wait. And I know I cannot say “wait this long”, because it really hasn’t been “long”. But a wait is a wait when you want it now.
It has been this unspoken fear that I have nursed at my own chest.
And it really can be okay to fear a tarrying dream when your expectations are dashed with each passing time of the month. But when this fear becomes the cross you carry daily, you could be crushed under the weight of it. Be bitter with the taste of it. And give away your joy because of it.
Oh, I have cried this tears of a pressing; of waiting; of wondering.
“Will God withhold?”
Because you can want this one thing so bad, during this one time, and it just never happens because our God always has His timing.
And I wonder, as I hold dear babies in my arms, and my heart just breaks a little bit more, and my unspoken fear rises just a little higher: could this be a test? And if it is, do I have it in me to pass this one?
It bites to wait for something that is beyond your control. Because God uses times like this to remind you that really: nothing is and will ever be up to you.
Anyone can tell you that they never worry, but we all have the fears that we carry against our chest: the fear of failure, fear of loss, fear of broken dreams, fear of being alone; these fears make their home within us, the more we feed them.
And somehow God is calling us to drop them at His feet, because somehow, the things we fear the most, could become our reality, if we keep feeding it some faith. Hear this: too much faith in your fears brings your fears to life. So will you feed your faith or feed your fear?
I even feared my fear. How could I fear this? I couldn’t even voice it. Yes, we want our babies and we want them. But my fear silenced my fear, because I didn’t want it to be known that I even thought this. And so I hide my fears in questions I ask others who may have been where I am today, and I read more and more heart-stories of those who may have walked this path as well. I mask my fears in conversations and I end with: “oh I’m not even worrying about this…”
But God knows my heart and He hears its beat. And he knows how my heart yearns…
“…I can’t believe we actually have this home – that we can finally afford to make a place home… Babe, we couldn’t do up the last (first) home like we wanted because God knew that was only a temporary place. This is our place of rest…” says Mr. Steady.
Yes, indeed. God never gives us more than we need. He never gives us rest in a place that we are only meant to lay our heads temporarily. He never makes your dream come true until it is time. He breathes a life into your womb when it is time. He answers with your miracle when it is time.
Maybe now I know that I just need to learn to see my life through His eyes.
Across the room, I can see the glimmer in Mr. Steady’s eyes and somehow I am reminded that God always breaks through for us. And no good thing has He ever withheld, will He ever withhold.
Maybe finally…now finally, I know that there’s really nothing to fear. Because His perfect love calls me out of my deepest fears.
About Rayo Adegoke
When Rayo Adegoke is not writing to somehow give hope and promote well-being for orphans and vulnerable children through her work at Catholic Relief Services, you’ll find her penning her heart about the fight for everyday joy on her blog: Iseejoy.
You can also connect with her on: Instagram & Twitter
