Today I’m thankful to feature my friend Holley Gerth, sharing a painful yet redemptive story with you. She’ll be giving a FREE webinar next week chatting about transitions of the heart. Find out more here. Later, I’ll host a webinar about Transitions in Faith, followed by author Lauraine Snelling discussing Transitions in Courage. We’d love to have you sign up for all three. The only thing they’ll cost is your time. We hope you’ll be encouraged and strengthened by the messages.
And now, to Holly:
It started with a thin line.
Pink.
Stretched from one end of a pregnancy test window to another.
I stared it, that dream come true.
Hardly believing my eyes.
It ended with a thin line.
Pink.
Stretched from one end of cotton underwear to the other.
I stared it, that dream slipping away.
And in the hours that followed I laid on a bed and cried.
I asked God hard questions.
I got no answers.
But in the silence I felt held.
In the six years that have followed, I’ve never seen a pink line like that first one again.
I don’t know why.
But I do know those two thin lines brought me to a thin place I never expected.
God somehow slipped in and made the end of one dream become the beginning of another.
The lines in my life now are not pink…they are black and white, filled up with words, living on my blog, (in)courage, and my books.
I am not infertile.
God called Eve the mother of all living.
And I am a word mother.
Does this take the place of a physical child? No.
But it does somehow, inexplicably, fill up the ache inside, that hollow place that used to be there.? Yes.
Sometimes God-sized dreams find us in the most unlikely of places, the most unlikely of ways.
They come with a beautiful, scandalous joy that grows in places it shouldn’t.
They defy sorrow, uproot expectations, act wild.
They stretch us, grow us, heal us…set us free.
It started with a line.
And I’ve walked that line of mysterious grace down a road different than I first dreamed—
but wouldn’t trade now for anything.
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