Faithfulness

“Maturity, one discovers, has everything to do with the acceptance of ‘not knowing.” 
― Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves

I kind of hate these words. Really. I mean, they sound wise, wise enough for me to pick them out of a page full of quotations about uncertainty. He uses the word "one," so it rolls off the tongue. The book they come from even sounds poetic. However, I'm learning that maturity, acceptance, not knowing are some of the least poetic, most difficult things for someone who has lived her entire life desiring the illusion of control. 

Election years always leave me feeling uncertain. I avoid newspaper stands because the fragility of the world in black headlines shouts, "uncertain." This last leg of the pregnancy has been unexpectedly uncertain. 

We're still dealing with low amniotic fluid levels here. I've a few more restrictions, a few more ultrasounds, and a whole lot of water. I know God is completely able to heal me. He healed my autoimmune issues, he healed my blood pressure that had been high for several weeks in a row. My fluid levels might rise and our journey will continue "normally" (what in the world does that actually mean when you're pregnant?!) Or, they might not. What are we to do with these increasing layers of uncertainty? 

I love that we have a Bible with laments. We even have an entire book of them. Lamentations 3 is one of my favorite passages, especially when things seem tight-rope tipsy. I see in it some ways to move forward each day: 

"I remember my affliction and my wandering, 

the bitterness and the gall.

I well remember them,

and my soul is downcast within me.

Yet this I call to mind    

and therefore I have hope.

Because of the Lord’s great love 

we are not consumed,

for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;

great is your faithfulness. 

I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;

therefore I will wait for him.” -Lamentations 3: 19-24, emphasis mine)

We are, I am, not called to forget about the uncertainty, to spring up to thanksgiving while ignoring the fact that things are not as we would wish them to be. We are able to remember, to give voice to our mourning, our wandering, our dissappointment and pain. BUT, we are not called to stay there. 

I can wallow in the discomfort of an uncertain future, or I can call to mind God's love, the fact that we are not consumed, his unfailing compassion, his great faithfulness. I can say to myself, "God is enough. I will wait for him." 

This week I've listened to this song over and over. I think Brian Doerksen puts it into more beautiful words that I could have. I hope, no matter what uncertainties you might be facing, that it brings you as much peace as it has me: