my story of fullness in barrenness

A few years ago, I discovered the kids on loan program.  I was in a small group that met in my neighborhood with several single people and a few families with small children.  We had communal living down.  We saw each other for meals throughout the week, we met at pubs, we knew each other's families and childhood friends and co-workers and neighbors, we went on trips together.  It was a fulfilling time.  One day I was talking with one of the mothers in the group, and she suggested to me that the couples with children would love some babysitters to emerge from within the group.

"I think a date night once in a while would be great," she said.  It was obvious.  But I had missed it.  I felt like I'd been really thoughtless and selfish.  These exhausted young parents had repeatedly opened their homes, listened to many of us go on and on about all our problems, fed us meals, and invested so deeply in our knowledge of Christ.  I was taking taking taking, with no thought about how I could serve or bless them.  In the evenings after work here and there, I started saying "Get out of here, I'm hanging out with the kids."

At that point in my life, I didn't have a huge desire to spend time around children.  I was in my late 20s and not thinking about having children of my own anytime soon.  I just wanted my friends to have date nights.  And in some small way, I was hoping to repay them for their incredible and seemingly endless generosity.  The irony as you probably guessed was that I ended up being blessed even more, grew to love their children and be loved by them, discovered a yearning for kids of my own, and my friends had time for a little outside of the home romance kindling.  (It was a win-win that I'm officially hooked on to this day. :)

Fast forward to the last year or so.  I stumbled into children's ministry, partly to meet a need and mostly because Father led me there.  I was convicted and gained a passion for it because of a couple key talks I heard on ministering to the next generation.  At a conference for church planters, one SC pastor declared  "Everything we're doing should have the next generation in mind."  I really resonated with that but wasn't sure what to do about it.

Several weeks later at my home church, a wonderfully convicting sermon on Psalm 127 turned another light-bulb on in my head, in the style of the "please babysit our kids" conversation from circa 2007.  The building metaphor somehow really snapped things into clearer focus.  Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain.  This was the first time I had truly *heard* this verse, like heard it in a way that it really made *sense* (and suddenly seemed so relevant), and it's still ringing in my ears.  My pastor took the opportunity afforded by this psalm to remind parents of the calling on their lives to disciple their children.  And he asked the rest of us, What are we doing to help each other in that huge and glorious responsibility?  How are we equipping our parents to disciple their children?  I got more involved from that point in our church's children's ministry; I was passionate about learning how we can better train our parents to train their kids.  I wanted to help in the process of our kids regularly hearing about Jesus, whenever our doors open, to reinforce what the parents are teaching and modeling to them at home.

I still yearn for children, and I talk to Father about it often.  The longing pangs aren't typically intensified by time around kids, or by hearing my friends talk about their kids; in fact, I've been filled and healed and cheered and given opportunities to nurture that in some ways have sustained me in the longing.  When I began working more frequently with our children, I remember having fears that at some point I would be pierced on Sunday mornings and that the only eventuality was bitterness and despair.  So I committed this to the Lord and asked several friends to do the same.  I have a dream of adopting a child one day, but in the meantime, I don't describe myself as childless.  We have 45 children who bring great comfort and joy every time I'm around them.  This is something I want to be careful to praise Him for.  It reminds me of the barren woman referenced in the psalms; He settles her in a family, and makes her the "happy mother of children."

Thank you Father! In barrenness You've filled my heart with 'greater joy than when their grain and new wine abound.'