This Morning’s Prayer

After Communion this morning, as I attend church alone, I walked back to my seat and bowed my head to pray.

I struggled emotionally this service, as the holidays are always a bit hard for me, and I have no family here.  Everyone around me was trying to quiet their toddler, standing with their older children, or resting their hand on their ever-growing belly, having their own little Advent inside their bodies.  Alone, childless, and in the back – I was feeling low.

I spoke to the Lord about all this.  For reasons only He knows, I can’t have children.  It’s not even miracle worthy, it is just a simple fact of biology.  There is no fix.  It just is.  I’ve struggled to understand or at least get over this stupid concept.  I’m much better than I was at this time last year, I believe having a direction (writing) and keeping my quiet time with the Lord has improved that.

Anyway, as I’m on verge of tears, head bowed, with my thoughts circling around the fact that I will never have the experience of children, especially at Christmas, BAM! out of no where something large knocks into me.

I’m in the middle of a row by myself.  This was a tactical move.

Startled, I look up and see my friend’s three year old foster son, all smiles, with those sparkly blue eyes that are going to break hearts when he gets older.  He ran to hug my legs and exclaimed something I couldn’t understand.  I am not fluent in Toddler and it wasn’t English.  Maybe it was Tongues, but no one interpreted.

I couldn’t help but smile.  This kid usually pays me no mind, and honestly, I’m not the best with kids.  His mom quickly pulled him away, with that “Sorry for disturbing your prayer!” look in her eyes.  I just laughed.

Maybe that was God’s way of saying, “Buck up.  I Am enough.” or “This is My Way of reassuring you that everything will work out according to My Plan.”

Nonetheless, I got a hug from God today.  And for a non-touchy-feely person like myself, it was so very cool.

Merry Christmas.  And if you have children, hold them close, and bask in it.  For me.

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