“This, then, is how you should pray…”
Matthew 6:9

Thy will be done.

I’ve known for 74 days.  But this confession began long before then.

  • A first kiss
  • 9/11
  • A diagnosis
  • The unexpected phone call

…Memories that become etched in your head – as real to you right now as it was in the moment it played out – however planned, however shocking, however brief, however lasting.

I know exactly where I was standing when the Holy Spirit said: “Heather Lynn, if you do not have this child, it will never exist.  NO ONE else can do this for me.  This is what I’m asking of YOU.”

I’ve had to return to that moment countless times these past 2 years.

During the months prior, I’d heard God’s prodding, and I didn’t hesitate with my answer:  “NO”.  We were done with kids.  Two was always the deal.  And this road has not been simple.  Our first born (now 7) nearly died in his first week.  [See: Suffering Produces Perseverance]  We had our boys in a foreign country and managed those trial-and-error years, both without family and in another language.

I am entirely in love with our sons, but I will not romanticize my truth.  Parenting is hard.  I can’t imagine anything more sacrificial.  I know we have a long road ahead of us with triumphs and trials I’ve not yet imagined, and I’m honored to be their mom through it all.  But I’m grateful sleep is no longer a distant memory, diapers are done, and some parts of ME are regaining momentum.

Yet, on that day, the Holy Spirit cracked my core.  And, in the months to come, Steve and I made a very hard, very purposeful, decision to trust the Father’s plans for us  – over our own.

Thy will be done.

And a baby began to grow.

But life spiraled into darkness, when, 10 weeks in, I laid alone on a table and learned this child had not survived week 7.  For the months following, I walked in a fog – managing a move across the atlantic, mourning the great loss of this life, hemorrhaging from complications of a D&C, and deeply questioning both God and my ability to hear from Him – Ever.  [Read: Sometimes We Just Believe]

Still now:  No answers.

I will not pretend to understand.  Yet, I can’t manipulate what took place in order to “fix” this broken testimony.  Over this year, I’ve learned to lay that pain at the cross, because there is nothing else I can do with it here.  And, slowly, with careful steps, I’m regaining my ability to hear from Him, trusting anew.  [Read: Own This Heart Broke Sound]

But the question remained:  What. Now.

I sought God, but could seemingly only find the frustrating buzz of radio silence.  So, I dug deeper, trying to get past myself and find the Holy Spirit’s voice on this topic again.  I could easily access that moment when He’d said, “This is what I’m asking of YOU.”  But the conviction was gone, as was the desire to follow through.  Nothing from before was left.  And, finally, after 10 months, I went to a teen pregnancy center and dropped off the very last box of baby things we owned.

The decision had been made, we are family of 4.  A chapter closed.  I have to move past this.

That’s when the pasta nearly killed me.

Steve and I had a rare Monday lunch out, and, against my better judgment, I’d indulged in some creamy sage noodles.  Mind you, gluten is not my bff, and for weeks I regretted that meal.  So much so that I was finally prepared to swear off those beloved carbs forever.

And then the wheels started turning…

I’m a mess.  Have been for a while.  Sick and exhausted.  What IS wrong with me?  And that ridiculous possibility skimmed the surface of my brain.  So off to the store I went.  I bought a box of tampons along with a box of pregnancy tests, because, clearly, peace of mind is all I need here.

I was on my way to grab the kids early from school for an appointment.  However,  I’m a ridiculously impatient person.  So, instead of waiting 2 hours until I got home, I brought a test into a private preschool bathroom stall, where, to my surprise, the toilet was barely 18 inches off of the floor.  I looked at it and thought, am I really doing this here?  Yes, yes I am.

When that second line turned an immediate bright pink, “some words” left my mouth and some blood left my head.

I took every test I had that afternoon.  Between the lot, we were 299.4% sure it was, in fact, not pasta.

Thy will be done?

I wish I could tell you the miracle of this life stole my heart and my maternal instincts kicked into overdrive.  Trust me, I know how many women are desperate for a second line on that stick.  But, instead, for many days, I found myself saying “No, No, No” before snapping back to reality and realizing I was speaking it out loud.

Have you ever felt like you heard from the Lord, but ended up somewhere on the floor instead?  Questioning if that bold move was your great misstep?  If the onlookers who thought you were crazy saw exactly what you couldn’t?  If you believe whole-heartedly in a Father who doesn’t actually work all things together for YOUR good?  If the Holy Spirit is just an excuse we use to justify our own actions?

Thy will be done.

For a long time we’d been planing our summer trip to Spain, and I had permission from the doctors to keep our 7 weeks in Europe.  I couldn’t have known then that I would use these weeks to cry and fight and question and HIDE like never before.  [Read: The Power of a Painful Present]

And then THAT day came.  I hung up the phone with the lab in America, having learned that this tiny life was, unequivocally, a 3rd boy.  Breathe.  It was the last thing I’d held onto – clenched fist… slipping out of my hand now was the conviction of a promise that this life would be a girl.  And I basically lost it.

I’d been at the pool with the kids, which is located on the roof of the house, and I told them I was running down to “grab something”.  But what I really needed was to release the expanse of my emotions and text Stephen with the results of the blood work.  I got as far into the villa as I knew would be necessary to pick up the WiFi.  I couldn’t seem to make it any further.  Sitting at the top of those stairs, in an echoey hallway, the flood gates rushed open.  And I spoke (loudly) to the Father, with the full force of my most ugly, honest, hurts.  I was angry.  Confused.  Done.

And then I stopped.

And that crystal clear moment returned to my spirit again:  “Heather Lynn, if you do not have this child, it will never exist. NO ONE else can do this for me. This is what I’m asking of YOU.”  And I realized I was sitting on the EXACT steps, in the same house, of the same country, with the same God that had called on me 2 years ago.  It was, perhaps, the most significant moment of my Christian walk.

It was never about me or my ability to hear from the Father.  This was about Him and His ability to hear me…  To know me…  To have PLANS that include me…  That include this baby…  This boy…  This man.

THY.       WILL.       BE.       DONE.

He’s asked us to pray those words exactly because He knows we will need His will – EVERYDAY – to replace our own.

And, here, in a blog birthed out of obedience, I’m officially – finally – announcing that we are having a baby.  He is due on Christmas day, December 25th, 2016.  I have no clothes, no stroller, no blankets, no diaper bag, no car seat.  But I have a promise from a Hallowed Father whose will is being done in my world, just as it is in heaven.  And He will give me what I need for today and forgive me when I lose my way.  Because HIS is the kingdom and the glory and the power – FOREVER.

And my deepest desire is that, in the moments you feel the most incapable of hearing your Father OR of doing the impossible task you believe He’s asking of you, that you will still pray:  THY. WILL. BE. DONE.  And know that He hears you.  His ability – His plans – outweigh yours.  And, my friend, HE WILL BE FAITHFUL TO IT.  I believe this for you as surely as I’m believing it for me.

This song right here:  

It rings in my head all day and night.  It might as well have been written to save me.  I pray, if you need it, that it saves you too.

Thy Will Be Done:  Hillary Scott (of Lady Antebellum)