You Have to Trust

 We're on month five of trying to conceive. Trapped in a vicious cycle: one negative pregnancy test after another. What seems to be symptoms of pregnancy are again interrupted by the punch of my period starting. 

Every month of no baby seems to bring a heavier weight, the more grim and crushing reality that my amazing, deeply treasured mother will not be in the delivery room with me like I always imagined she'd be. I will not likely get to see her hold my baby. She will not be around to marvel at the milestones, to answer my desperate calls pleading "what do I do with this child?!" Barring a miracle, my children won't get to hug their maternal grandma. 

This devastating truth can rob me of my joy and consume me, if I let it. And for a couple days lately, I have. I have been floored by the fact that life is not going how I planned it. Things are not like I hoped they would be. This valley is darker, harder, and lasting longer than I ever imagined. And there is a long, long way to go. 

I was sitting by Mom's bedside yesterday after returning from some much-needed counseling. The remnants of sobbing still streaked my cheeks, so she held my hand and asked me, "What's wrong, baby girl?" 

I leaned into her shoulder and wept. I wept over the life we once knew and the future we dreamed of. I wept over the trials, the prayers that seem unanswered, the wilderness unending. I wept that we are here and not in Heaven, that she is suffering and I can't fix it, that nothing in my life seems to be what I would ask for right now. 

And she said, "Cali, you have to trust God's plan for your life." 

This is a simple truth. It's so Christianese it might even seem cliche. I've heard this same phrase probably a hundred times. Sometimes on t-shirts or posters, sometimes in songs or sermons, often from pastors trying to encourage weary college students who don't know what to do what their life. 

And every time I hear it, I can logically say, yes. That is true. I know that is what I have to do. I know He knows best. I know He is perfectly worthy of my trust. I get it. Next question. 

Hearing that this time struck me in an entirely different way. To hear that truth from my mom? To hear that from the woman I love most laying paralyzed in a hospice bed? To hear that from a woman who was power walking four weeks ago and now will never walk again? A woman with cancer so aggressive that it had spread to her bones and brain before they could even detect its source? A woman who had to miss her son's wedding due to a traumatic brain injury caused by rapidly-growing cancer?

She is not speaking hypothetically. She is speaking experientially. With deep conviction, walking the walk while talking the talk. She is living this imperative: you HAVE to trust God's plan for your life. And she is doing it boldly, fearlessly, unashamedly. Wholeheartedly trusting God's plan for her life. This is absolutely not what she would choose, not what we would choose. But it is absolutely for our good and His glory. The plan is painful, but it is perfect. We have to trust Him. 

We cannot let that statement become cliche. Instead, it must be our banner. Our reminder. Our source of hope and joy and strength. There is a God, and He has a perfect plan for our lives. It's not just that we should trust it; we have to trust it. It's the only way we'll make it through. 

Mom's example of trusting God in trials is not a facade. It's not something we're posting just to make her look good. It is a deeply-woven, time-tested steadfastness that has been built for years as she has continued to lean not on her own understanding, but on her sovereign God. And now it is an example we all get to follow -- in cancer, in hardship, in infertility, in conflict, in poverty, in wartime, in death. He has a plan that is perfect. We HAVE to trust it.