The Weeds

I've been going through Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts Devotional for the last several weeks. It's not the meatiest devotional ever, but it's a good one for me... seeing gifts, finding grace, giving thanks... these are not the things that I excel at. It is good for me to be reminded to give thanks for what I do have rather than focusing on what I don't. One entry has particularly jumped out at me; maybe it is in light of Thanksgiving tomorrow, but I keep coming back to it. Essentially, the story she tells is about her daughter who picks a bouquet of burdock simply because of the purple color, not understanding that it is a weed not a flower. Ann is the master at extrapolating deep, insightful meaning from simple, everyday moments like this. She writes:

A plant isn't a flower but a weed only by function of its place. Transplant the weed to the heart and it blooms a flower...

Pretty interesting, right? Weeds and flowers... not that much difference between them, it is simply how I view them that makes me love one and disdain the other. Ann's prayer for the day was this:

Lord, all that I've deemed weeds in my life are only weeds by function of whether I want them in this place or not. Cause me today, to transplant all my weeds into wild wonder simply by thanking You for the grace of them in this place. 

This entry has left me thinking for several days now about giving thanks, particularly for the "weeds" in my life. There are lots of things that I am less than satisfied with in my life. For example: I don't love our home... it's small, dark, ugly, and in a less than desirable neighborhood. I could focus on that, or I could give thanks for the roof over my head to keep us dry in this miserable, icy drizzle. I could give thanks for the ridiculously low rent that has allowed us to get our finances in order. The house is a weed or a flower simply based on the way I choose to view it.

Obviously for me, the ultimate weed that comes to mind is infertility. I've said it before, but I have really struggled with seeing good, with finding value, with thinking there is a reason to give thanks for infertility. And I still feel that way to a certain extent. If given the choice between the way life has gone and the way I thought life would go, I'm pretty sure I'd go back and have that baby that slipped through my fingers at 25 years old. What could have been still seems better than what is. However, I've spent the last few days trying to view infertility in the same way I view our home. Yes, there are definitely things I'd change. Yes, there are definitely things I'd rather not have to deal with. But there are also things that I can honestly say that I am truly thankful for.

For one, I'm thankful for the motivation to get our finances in order. There is certainly a dichotomous aspect to this thanks as part of the reason our finances were in dismal despair was due to infertility, but I can admit that the real motivation for me to live on a budget, to save, to forgo gifts is the dream of a child. So I'm thankful that despite costing us a fortune, infertility has taught us a lot of lessons about living well below our means.

Secondly, I'm thankful for the testing of our marriage. Not a lot of couples can say that they've experienced a miscarriage and a life changing diagnosis within their fist two years of marriage. Even less can say that they've spent the last year and a half fighting together to beat the diagnosis, that they've worked hard for their dreams, and that they've fought for each other. There's no doubt that some days, I'd rather our biggest fight be about dishes and dirty clothes, but I feel like we've been tested by fire pretty early in our marriage. We're still here, and for that, I'm really, really thankful. I've seen what our marriage is worth to each of us. Infertility has given me confidence and a reason to believe in us.

Another thing I hope to one day be extra thankful for is the realization that children are a mighty, mighty blessing. This of course doesn't mean that I relinquish my right to whine about morning sickness, or 3am feedings, or bratty teenagers; no, I will definitely throw my hands up like any woman and utter a long, exasperated sigh. But my hope is that infertility will allow me to see the gift of relieved nerves that a little nausea can offer, or the extra snuggles with a baby at 3am because the baby will be a toddler in the blink of an eye, or that bratty teens are often just strong-willed children stretching and growing into adults. Essentially, I hope my struggles with infertility will make me a better mom. I hope I will see the not so great moments as a gift that might not have been.

And lastly, I'm abundantly thankful for the friendships I've made both in real life and through the blog. I can't imagine who I would be if I had not opened the door and shared my story. I'm so thankful that I am not alone, that I have been embraced by women who understand me, love me, and care for me. I am so thankful for the opportunity to cheer on my fellow infertile friends as they receive good news and bring home babies. I am thankful for a community that rises to the occasion when terrible things happen. I am so thankful to know that if and when my time comes, that there will be women who care, who will cheer me on, who will celebrate the life I've fought for. It's a beautiful thing to be amongst friends.

Infertility has been the ultimate weed in my life for the last two and half years. I've tried ripping it out of the ground, spraying it with weed killer... I've tried everything I can think of, and yet it persists. So I'm thinking it might be time to admit that this plant is a part of my life, and though I would not by any means ask for a bouquet of infertility, I'm beginning to see that some weeds flower, and for that, I can give thanks. Infertility, along with many things like houses, jobs, illness, etc, may be weeds only by the function of whether we want them in our lives. Maybe it is the act of offering thanks that changes the weeds into flowers.