It dawned on me the other day that for most of our marriage Mark and I have walked this road of infertility. The first three years of our marriage and the past four years.

That is significant only because it has taken that long to come to the place that I am right now in this whole journey.

For many of those years, I faced each month with questions such as:

"But WHY?"

"Why is it so easy for everyone else to get pregnant, but not me?"

"Why is it that You have blessed that woman and not me?"

"How come You've given that friend a child when she.doesn' when, Lord, I do so want one?"

"When will You move to answer our prayers; the desires of our hearts?"

Those questions. Among others.

There have been seasons where those questions, and the seeming silence of God, have been nearly paralyzing.

There have been seasons where those questions are fleeting, but the prayers that follow them fervant.

And in every season I have held on tightly to this thought: I trust my God. I may not understand, I may not agree, I may wonder why, I may fight it, I may grieve, but the bottom line is that I trust my God.

At some point I stopped asking those questions. And in place of them, with each month I prayed a simple prayer of: I trust You, God. And I tagged onto that prayer these reminders, too: And I know You love me. I know You care for me. I know You hear me.

But the questions have ceased. Not out of hopelessness, and not because I think it's wrong to ask such questions. But because of this, from Psalm 16:
Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup;
you have made my lot secure.
The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places,
surely I have a delightful inheritance.

No longer am I asking, "But why this portion? Why this cup?"

How can I argue, or even grumble- with what He in His sovereignty has assigned me? Oh, I can ask-- and I do-- from a position of humility, but He has assigned me this portion. This cup. I don't know why. Believe you me, there are plenty of times I'd like a different cup than this one I'm drinking. But He has handed me this one.

Elisabeth Elliot's writings have so ministered to me in this area that you'll have to forgive me but I'm going to quote a few portions from her book Be Still My Soul here. [And please, I know you'll be tempted to skim, (I often am when I see quotes!) but please take the time to read these. They are that good.]

Amy Carmichael wrote a poem she called "In Acceptance Lieth Peace." That phrase has become a dictum for me. Acceptance of my circumstances, the first step in obtaining joy and peace, begins with faith. I would have no reason simply to accept the awful things that happen if I had no idea that Somebody was governing this world and that my individual life was completely under the control of One who possesses perfect wisdom, perfect justice, and perfect love.


We have been shown the way of acceptance on every page of the life of Jesus. It sprang from love and from trust. He set His face like a flint toward Jerusalem. He took up the cross of His own will. No one could take His life from Him. He deliberately laid it down. He calls us to take up our crosses. That is a different thing from capitulation or resignation. It is a glad and voluntary YES to the conditions we meet on our journey with Him, because these are the conditions He wants us to share with Him. Events are the sacraments of the Will of God- that is, they are visible signs of an invisible Reality. These provide the very place where we may learn to love and trust.

God included the hardships of my life in His original plan. Nothing takes Him by surprise. Nothing is for nothing. His plan is to make me holy, and hardship is as indispensable for that as long as I live in this hard old world. All I have to do is accept it.

Sometimes it is hardest to accept the waiting parts of life. ...Many times in my life God has asked me to wait when I wanted to move forward. He has kept me in the dark when I asked for light. I like to see progress. I look for evidence that God is at least doing something. If the Shepherd leads us beside still waters when we were hoping for whitewater excitement, it is hard to believe anything really vital is taking place. God is silent. The house is silent. The phone doesn't ring. The mailbox is empty. The stillness is hard to bear- and God knows that. He knows our frame and remembers we are made of dust. He is very patient with us when we are trying to be patient with Him.
I know that if I were a writer of any merit, I wouldn't leave such a long segment of quotes in this post. I know I'm supposed to summarize most of that and pull out just one of those quotes. But that woman has such a knack for writing truth so plainly and with such refreshing authenticity, it would be a disservice for you not to hear it straight from her.

Anyway. So that is where God has brought me. To a place of acceptance. And I may well be the most stubborn woman ever to take so long to arrive at this place, but here I am.

And as the months come and go, and we continue to long for a child and pray that God would grow a sweet little life within my womb, there is a peace that nestles around me. Yes, there are still tears, sometimes. But there is also a peace. And can I just say? --it is a good place to be.

Because all I want, really, is what He has assigned.


  1. Stacy,

    That was so beautiful....what truth and encouragement.Thank you for sharing your heart and all God is doing. It so reminds me to be content with my portion...though I long for it to be different in many ways. There is such peace in accepting his plan isn't there...I am grateful for his patience and compassion with me...I can be a hard nut to crack :o)
    Blessings to you and your family. Thanks for all your parayers on our behalf.

  2. Thanks for sharing this, Stacy. What encouragement to be content no matter what the circumstances. Prayers are answered just not always how we expect.

  3. Sometimes the portion in my cup makes my heart ache. Knowing the why's or why not would, in my mind make it all so much easier to 'deal' with. But then my growth would would be done. And off I'd go to the next thing, thinking - OK I get it.
    It's the, not "getting it"/not understanding that keeps me growing in faith and prayer.
    Well Said Stacey.

  4. Oh Stacey... Well said! What a beautiful reminder for me today. Thank you! ~Amy Crawford

  5. I so remember those days, Stacy. The temps, charting, Clomid, waiting... I cried when I was barren, and I cried when I wasn't. God finally blessed me with my son Aaron, and then another. But I wasn't ready for another yet. I was angry. God called it home at nine weeks, and the next one as well.

    I struggled so much after that, guilt-ridden. I had prayed so long and so often for a child. And then to be so ungrateful when God wanted to bless me with more. My poor husband didn't know what to do with me. I was such a mess.

    But God pulled me out of that place, and He did bless me yet again with my little Elijah. It wasn't an easy cup to swallow. His arrival involved surprises and an eleven-day NICU stay.

    I know God didn't take those two babies because I was angry, or because I did anything wrong. They had a place in God's plan for me, so I am grateful for whatever purpose their loss served.

    Yes, Stacy. Sometimes the cup God gives us is not what we would choose, but His cup is always infinitely better...

    I pray for you, dear girl...

  6. I too struggle with infertility. Been married almost 7 years (this June) and still no babies to fill our quiver.
    But I have accepted it. I accept that it might be God's plan to fill our quiver the adoptive way and that alone makes my heart rejoice! There are so many hurting children that my husband and I can open our home too.
    I know though my husband really wants a 'natural' baby and is sad that we haven't had one yet.
    I keep reminding him that God, not us, is in control and if He wants to give us a wee one of our own, than He will.

    Great post!


    P.S. I just came across your blog today and though I would say hello :)

  7. I had this struggle with the first only and can't imagine the hurt of it continuing on. I, too love Elisabeth Eliot and Amy Carmichael. Here's a poem of Amy's that I love. Perhaps you'll love it too:

    "Hast thou no scar?
    No hidden scar on foot or side or hand?
    I hear thee sung as mighty in the land;
    I hear them hail thy bright, ascendant star.
    Hast thou no scar?

    Hast thou no wound?
    Yet I was wounded by the archers; spent,
    Leaned Me against a tree to die; and rent
    By ravening beasts that compassed Me, I swooned.
    Hast thou no wound?

    No wound? No scar?
    Yet as the Master shall the servant be,
    And pierced are the feet that follow Me.
    But thine are whole; can he have followed far
    Who hast no wound or scar?"

    The scars, the wounds help us to receive the "fellowship of His sufferings" as it says in Phillipians 3. What a sweet fellowship it is, though painful.

    Be blessed, sweet friend.

  8. Um, there are simply no words. This speaks my heart in ways I could never have expressed.

    Praying with you that we can give a glad and voluntary YES to our portion and cup! Even through tears - the smile is radiant to our Lord.

  9. Hi Stacy :) This post is so precious, so challenging. I love your heart :)

    Wanting to want what He wants is such a big idea. It took me forever to realize that I just needed to begin there. Even beginning there is hard sometimes.

    I love the verses from Philippians 2 - esp v13 "...for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose."
    Such a wonderful promise :)

    Praying with you and for you is a joy! I am excited about what the Father has for you for the days to come. Love, Q

  10. Stacy, I'm so thankful for you to share this journey of your heart. I have repeatedly asked the Lord every single one of those pleading questions on the behalf of people such as yourself.

    I'm so thankful for the way you openly share what God is teaching you. You're such a blessing!

  11. I love the peace that I "hear" in this post Stace, what a good place to be. I am so, so thankful that He has given you His peace.
    And I will continue to pray that He will also give you more children.

  12. Thanks for sharing your heart on this Stacy. I know we've been assigned different portions and different cups, but I can relate to some of your questions. It's easy to feel sorry for ourselves and continue to ask why instead of accepting what is given to us. Bless you, as you continue to follow our loving Savior. And know that you are very often in my prayers, both concerning the adoption process and that He would open your womb!

  13. Stacy,

    Thank you for blogging. You are a blessing. Your post caused me to reflect on my own path of infertility, and to thank God for His patience with me, goodness to me.

    Blessings to you & yours!

  14. Thanks so much for commenting on my blog. And yes, I have a feeling that we're with the same agency. Feel free to email me at gmail, booksandbairns. I'd love to talk to someone in the same boat!

    It sounds like we have a lot in common. I, too, have been assigned a cup that I would have much rather had passed from me. In the Lord's goodness and grace, though, He has given me so many rays of light to lift me from what could be overwhelming despair. All around me, friends are pregnant with their fourth, fifth, sixth babies ... and here I sit, longing for more. ((sigh))

    Thank you for your post. ((hugs)), friend!

  15. Stacy.
    As I read through the comments posted here, I was reminded again of how so (SO!) many times in our journey to Micah, your words blessed and strengthened me. You are so faithful to continue seeking God through your trials....and in the process you encourage, inspire and challenge so many others...myself included. I am blessed to call you friend!!!!

  16. This post was so beautiful - you truly touched my heart with your honesty and sweet faith in God's sovereignty. I am so glad that you included that quote in its entirety - it is one I think I will have to copy and put up in the house!

    Stacy - I know God is using this to bless many, so thank you for sharing your heart.

  17. Yes, dear one, it *is* a good place to be. For it is here, in this lot He has assigned us, that He gives peace.

    I had to read over this post a few times, and swallow that big lump in my throat. Thank you, Stacy, for sharing your heart. I *know* so much what you mean... about the questions, the fears, the wondering. But by His grace, these past few months I too am coming to know the acceptance.

    Praying for you always: may He keep you secure in the lot He has assigned, and keep you faithfully trusting. And in His perfect time-- I pray that He will open your womb and bless you so abundantly.

    Love you, friend!

  18. Sweet Stacy...
    (I thought I had commented on this earlier; maybe it didn't got through.)

    That part of Psalm 16 is one of my favorite in the entire Bible. Such reassurance in it for me.

    This is so beautiful, Stacy. And such a testimony to what God has done in your life. You are such an encouragement to me and I am sure to many, many others.

    I think you should work this into a piece to submit somewhere. It would minister to everyone who read it.

  19. Oh Stacy,,
    through so much pain, saying, blessed be His name. That truly is the sweetest sacrifice, yes?

  20. And that peace and acceptance, it comes and goes. He knows that, He is ready for that. And yet, how beautiful it must sound to Him when we praise through our tears! When we quietly accept through our pain.
    Oh, beloved Stacy. I *hug* you over the miles. I pray for you daily, and love you so much.

  21. Thank you for writing.

    Our stories are similar ~ in mine, we were infertile for 6 years. Then adoption. Then almost 2 years later, birth! And now, for the last 5.5 years, barren again.

    I figured out this past birthday that I've spent 1/3 of my life trying to conceive.

    Some days my perspective matches that of your post. And then other times, like the past week or so, the cold fingers of despair grip my heart again. You'd think one would want to shake that feeling as quickly as possible, but I settle into it. For all it's hollow, dry and scraped-raw feelings, it's also something else.


    Thank you for inspiring me let it go, to walk away from it, once again....


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