I was sitting on the beach last week, watching the waves crash onto the shore line in front of me thinking that yet again, we are not pregnant. It was hard to hold back the tears, even though I feel that I should be used to this by now. I sat in the sand, praying in desperation for....something. Hope. Children. Faithfulness to God in spite of my grief, in the middle of my grief, because of my grief. I watched the rhythmic pull of the tide, with each crash of water, powerful waves crept towards my feet in the sand. I remembered the passage in Job (a fitting book when one wonders at her circumstances) where God says that the waves of the ocean can only go as far as He allows. In essence, God says, "little wave, you can only go this far, and no further up the shore than that." And the wave--powerful though it may be with the force of the Atlantic behind it--must obey, must submit to a Sovereign Creator. And so must I.
This may seem a disjointed train of thought, but what I reckoned with on the beach is that the God who holds the sea at bay is the same God who holds my fertility in His hands, as well as every other aspect of my life. He is the same God who is close and tender when He says, "No, not this time." Maybe His restraint in my life is not really like His keeping the mighty oceans in line, but maybe it is. I know that it is for my own good. And, as only a mighty and powerful Creator can hold the waters in his hands, He is letting me glimpse His glory in the midst of infertility.
"And I said, 'Thus far you shall come but no farther; And here shall your proud waves stop.'"
-God, in Job 11:38, NAS