It was just seven years ago that I walked my days with an almost ever-present, searing pain in my heart. With many, many months of a silent womb to my name, the feelings of failure and barrenness had become familiar friends to my lonely days. At the time, I had no promise that I would ever bear children. I had no guarantee that Trey and I would see our desires become reality of having a home filled with the pitter-patter of many little feet. And the heartache was crushing.
When I was in college, I took a class one semester on religious cults. The class was fairly small, and I knew almost everyone in there. Except there was a new girl. I had never seen her before, and she was very different than what I was used to seeing in my school. She wore all black, sometimes with spikes on her clothes, and she had many piercings. But what made her really different, causing her to stand out so starkly amongst my classmates, was her anger. In our class on religion, it was very clear that she was angry at God.
At first, I chose to ignore her. She was different, and it is always easier to ignore different when it makes us uncomfortable. But as the semester wore on, the Lord kept bringing her to my mind. She sat alone day in and day out, and she needed a friend. He wanted me to be that person, so finally, I befriended her. What I learned has stayed with me ever since.
