Pain to Passion

I just finished Beth Moore's Bible study on the book of James.

It was the first Bible study I've ever gone through and I really enjoyed it.  I was pretty sure she was speaking directly to me during each week's lesson.

But while every week was good, there was one that stuck with me the most.

It was just a simple sentence mixed into the rest of the lesson, but I couldn't quit thinking about it.

She said, "If we will let Him, God will turn our pain into passion."

I'm lucky.

I know exactly what I'm passionate about, what I'm here to do.  I may not have all the details on how best to make a difference with it, but I know what it is and that's a great first step.

I bet you think it's foster care or adoption.

You'd be half way right.

I thought that was it too.

Until about a week after the lesson, when I was talking to someone I love a whole lot, that my real pain to passion story hit me.

She was telling me about the hurdles they were having to cross to become parents.  And while their reasons are very different then mine were, I could feel the raw emotion bubble up to the surface of my heart as she described their day at the fertility center.

Suddenly I was 19 years old sitting in a sterile doctor's office, listening to a cold faced doctor rattle off odd and numbers and dollar signs that all added up to one thing.

You're out of luck.

Not in the cards.  You messed up big time.  Too late, not good enough, ain't gonna happen.

Childless.

Adoption stories make my entire heart smile.

It's one of the few things I will literally bawl over, in public, unashamed.

But that's my joy, not my pain.

Adoption was my solution.  It let me give a carefully picked finger to the doctor that treated me like an epidemic that rainy Spring day of 2002.

My pain came 6 years before when my dream of being a mother was smashed.

Listening to my friend made my pain come back hard.  It caught in my throat.  My eyes started to sting.

I love this couple so unbelievably much that my honest to God first thought was to offer my children to them.

Anything to make them not feel the pit of wanting.

Of course, I can't ship my Joy off to them.

But I can help them find their own Joy.

Seeing your past pains in someone you love and adores eyes fuels you.  It fans the flames.  Calls you to action.

We all have these pains.  They are defining moments in our lives that give us two options.

We can hold our pain close.  Nurture it and let it grow into contempt and anger.  We can let jealousy fester and eat away at all of us.

Or we can feel it, but not become it.  We can let it teach us the lessons it holds and then bid it farewell and use those lessons to push our passion forward.

I say my passion is adoption.  Finding families for America's hidden orphans.

But if I'm honest, if I search to the deepest parts of my heart, back where my pain still tries to rear it's ugly head, it's the infertility that started it.

It's hopes up every month and the subsequent let down that always followed.

When I talk to women still in the throws of infertility my heart breaks for them.  

I listen to them tell my story with their names and I want to tell them they aren't alone.  That yes, it is unfair and it sucks and you're going to feel out of control.

But that's ok because there's Someone else working out your passion.

I'm on the other side now.

A Mother.

And as much as 19 year old me thought I had to have a child grow inside of me for it to be mine, my babies are everything and more than I ever dreamed of.

Maybe a little more so since I had to work and fight and battle my own demons to claim them.

So sister, you in the middle of your pain, chose light.

Grab your pain and from it harvest a passion that will change your world.

You are not alone.