God Always Keeps His Promises

     If we had spoken a few months ago, I don't know that I would've agreed with the title of this post. Baby hunger is something no woman should have to experience, but unfortunately, many do. When you hunger for a child, everywhere you look there's a reminder that you are NOT having one. That you may not EVER have one. It's devastating. Every commercial, comment, book, television show, every THING seems to be about babies. You try to forget about it. You beg God to take away this desire, to change your heart...nothing works. It's still there. That constant ache. Constant pain. Constant hunger.

     Several years back, when my journey first began, my faith was strong. My God was real. He was able. I had no doubts that my miracle would come. I recieved confirmation, after confirmation; message after message: "It's coming! Your baby is on the way!"
     
     I wasn't too concerned about being a mother yet. I knew my God would come through. (My journey had not gotten intense yet.) I even dreamed that my nephew (who had just been born) grabbed my face and spoke like a grown-up to me saying, "You're gonna be a mommy real soon!" Confirmation was everywhere...like I said, it hadn't happened yet, but I knew it would...SOON.
   
      Then on Mother's Day 3 years ago, my pastor did a sermon on biblical mothers. He had a bouquet of yellow roses, and he would pull them out one at a time when talking about these mothers. After giving a description, he would call out the name of a mother in the church who exemplified that biblical trait, she would walk up front and recieve the rose. I wasn't a mother. I wanted to be. But I wasn't.

(Sidebar here: Mother's Day is one of the hardest days to endure when you want nothing more than to BE one.) 
       
     Then, he pulled out a yellow rose and said, "This rose is for someone who is not a mother...yet. But, I believe she has the heart of one." Then he said my name. I knew that was my sign! Alas, the waiting had JUST begun. I kept that rose on the dash of my car for THREE years...waiting for the promise to be fulfilled. Waiting for my rose to bloom. Instead, it just kept shrivilling up smaller and smaller. Becoming more and more fragile. Every time I looked at it I didn't think, "I'm waiting on my promise." Instead I thought, "Wow...that must be what the equipment I'm working with is like."
     
     I looked at that rose today and thought...I wonder what it meant? Was it a symbol of my fertility? Of my promise? Or is it something else? I think it was a promise rose. I think it was a reminder to me that even when my promise felt dry and shriveled up, a promise is a promise; just as a rose is a rose. Time doesn't change that. It remains the same: a rose; a promise.

      As William Shakesphere wrote, "A rose, if by any other name would smell as sweet." I think Mr. Shakesphere would agree with me if I changed his words around a bit and said, "A promise, if by any other name would STILL BE as sweet."