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             Sara’s Wait (based on a true story)
   


                                                                                   

The dim light of a new day was just beginning to illuminate our bedroom.  As I lay awake thanking God for a night of restful sleep the alarm went off and Sara and I arose to have breakfast and get ready for church.  It was a Sunday like so many others for me and at that early hour I was totally unaware of what the morning might hold.  But for Sara it was a annual date with pain and emptiness she had learned to dread several years earlier.  It was Mother's Day, 1986.  At age 31, with no children or hope of her own, Sara had to muster all the faith she had just to step through the shower and get dressed.

We ate breakfast together and before long we were in the car and halfway to church.  The ride was unusually quiet and soon we were cruising the parking lot looking for a set of empty white lines.  As we entered the building and searched the room for seats I was beginning to sense that something was different. Everywhere, it seemed, young women and grandmothers alike were wearing corsages.  Along with the usual greetings came wishes for a happy day and chatter of special dinners, gifts, and flowers.  As we took our seats my mind recalled a decade of Mother's Days past--and none was ever too pleasant for Sara or me.

Several doctors and thousands of dollars all confirmed the same thing--Sara and I would likely never have children of our own.  At her age, a life of never ending emptiness appeared more certain with each month that passed.  Friends, relatives, co-workers, and even observant strangers never failed to offer advice, but no one with children of their own could ever fully enter into the ache Sara carried with her each day.  Not even me, though I would have done anything to lift it from her.

Before long the church service was underway.  The customary greetings and announcements took place as usual, but this morning several women were asked to share the joys of motherhood with the congregation.  One by one, each woman witnessed to the joys of motherhood and the happiness each child had brought into their lives.  As the testimonies seemed to go on and on it was as if the morning had been meticulously planned to cause the greatest pain for Sara and any other women like her in the congregation.

As each mother paraded through memories of first words, first steps, hugs and kisses, and letting go, Sara could only sit in painful silence.  For some unknown reason it appeared as if God would never allow her to walk that road of motherhood which so many women take for granted.  I took her hand in mine as I looked over to offer a silent consolation, but our eyes never met. Sara sat silently, her face covered, as her tears made their way to the dusty church floor beneath our feet.

But this was not to be the end of the story.  God had yet to write the last chapter.  A few more empty mothers’ days would pass and the God of all hope would order Sara’s pain to end.  Her endless waiting and prayer would at last be rewarded; her hope against hope vindicated, for God is indeed a God of miracles!

These days our lives are still visited by tears.  But no longer are they the tears of an empty woman's heart.  Today Sara and I comfort the childhood tears of a son and daughter—and never forget both the children and the tears were a gift from God!

   

Epilogue: This retelling is based on a true story.  However, not all childless couples are rewarded as the couple in this account.  Why God allows certain blessings to some and withholds them from others is a mystery of His perfect and sovereign will that only He can answer. In the meantime, perhaps we would all do better to reconsider our well-meaning comments to childless mothers on this day and be sensitive to the fact that not all women have been granted the ministry of motherhood.

 

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