As we sat casually on the couch together, my oldest asked me why I felt the need to teach the Bible and share my faith with others. He was asking out of curiosity because he was watching as I persisted to lead while a very vocal minority pushed back, questioning my character, integrity, and ability. He wanted to know why I’d continue doing something when it was obviously hurting and frustrating me.
At that moment, it occurred to me that I had shared my testimony with so many but not with one of the most important people to me. Part of that was because he was too young, and I wanted to shield him from any difficulties I had to walk through. But it was time I told him- partly because he will be 13 soon, and I am watching him grow out of being my little boy and into a young man. But more so because he was the reason that I had any amount of faith at all.
I explained to him that once upon a time, I believed that I got by on my intelligence, work ethic, and good decision-making skills. I am sure he could relate because he is a mini-me.
I existed to check off boxes:
- Graduate high school.
- Attend college.
- Meet a boy.
- Get multiple degrees.
- Marry that boy.
- And finally, start a family.
I lived in a reality where success was defined by worldly things, and the belief that if you worked hard to earn them, that’s how you’d find happiness. It wasn’t enough to get good grades; you needed all As in honors classes. It wasn’t enough to graduate from college; you needed to get at least one more degree afterward. It wasn’t enough to get a job; you needed a title to go with it (doctor, lawyer, financial adviser, etc).
Fourteen years ago, his father and I wanted to start a family. We were young, healthy, and financially and emotionally ready as we’d ever be.
But there was a moment when the illusion of that way of life was taken from me. In an instant, I realized that a favorable outcome was never a guarantee, no matter how good I was or how hard I worked. I had a miscarriage. Something I didn’t even truly have a concept of until I was on the phone with the hospital.
After that, I could no longer move forward, thinking that I was in control and that it was all up to me to be successful and make things happen.
One statement from someone else going through a similar situation opened my eyes to a different way of living: “In life, when people face setbacks or hardships, they choose one of two things: fear or faith. And we choose faith.”
So, I decided to give this “faith” thing a chance. Slowly but surely, I learned who God was and just how much Jesus loved me. I got to know the Holy Spirit and how he had been working in my life since I first accepted Jesus (but soon left him behind, thinking the narrow way wasn’t a better way).
Instead of my own strength, I leaned on Jesus. Instead of my own understanding, I leaned on God. Instead of shutting down and being bitter from my heartbreak, I leaned on my church and its community.
The very first thing that confirmed that I had picked the right “thing” was a positive pregnancy test six months after that first. What gave me the reassurance and confidence to keep going down this road of faith over fear was an ultrasound of a little baby boy.
When we tried to do things our own way, we didn’t know that my husband would essentially lose his job and that we would have to move right after that initial due date. Fear would have convinced me to stay put and miss out on the life we’ve lived and loved.
It was him. He was the initial reason that I knew God had a higher perspective and bigger, better plans for my life. My son may be the reason I have wrinkles, gray hair, tired eyes, and zero patience. But he is also the reason I have any faith at all. And I have found that true happiness comes from sharing this faith with others.
And I keep going because I could potentially say that “one statement” that opens other people’s eyes to this different way of living.
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