The Dreams of The Barren

“Sing, barren woman, you who never bore a child;

burst into song, shout for joy, you who were never in labor;

because more are the children of the desolate woman

than of her who has a husband.” - Isaiah

Women who wrestle with barrenness rarely, if every, discuss it. And certainly not publicly. It is far too painful. Far too present. And far too personal. I have no idea, and do not pretend to understand, the scope and magnitude of what barrenness of the womb is like.

At times, I worry I will. But I have to push away that fear as I'm sure many women, married and not, must. My heart wrenches for the women in my life who have walked through barrenness or loss in any form - it changes you forever.

A few years ago, I adopted a rule for myself: I will not share publicly that which still brings me pain. And that little rule has spared me additional pain. But, for this one area, I feel compelled to make an exception. Maybe because healing for my heart will be found in the speaking of it. Or maybe healing for yours. Maybe one of you has a word of encouragement that will be a salve to my soul. Or maybe simply the knowledge that none of us must walk alone needs to sink in a little more deeply...

I am experiencing barrenness...

Deep, disappointing, overwhelming barrenness that brings with it a nagging, relentless shame. And far too many questions to feebly attempt to answer: what have I done wrong? what is wrong with me? Am I less of a woman? Are my dreams really in God's plan? Will I ever be truly fulfilled in this area? Why do I walk this path while other women enjoy the fruitfulness that my entire being longs for? What can I do to fix it? Those questions loop in my mind all day. Every day. Whether conscious or subconscious.

You see, I have never been in a "relationship" - a romantic one. Never been taken on a date. Never been asked to a school dance. I think I may have had a boyfriend in high school? But the possibility was lost before it was defined. And, when I survey my surroundings, I see no "prospects" at the moment.

To some of my friends, this seems unthinkable, "You can't be serious...". To others, it's not such a big deal, "After all, you're only 26, Amanda.". And to be honest, it wasn't such a big deal to me. I've been busy! Getting degrees and gaining work experience, getting my house in order, my life solid with Jesus.

But something changed this year and, like the feeling of a limb awakening, life became extremely uncomfortable. And then, almost excruciating. Suddenly, I realized I was missing something. And then, that I'd always been missing it. And that I didn't know anyone else in a situation like mine. And that I saw no change forthcoming...

As I reviewed the "have not, do not and may not" situation unceasingly, the door of my dreams creaked ever nearer to a close...

It takes guts to face the stark reality of this part of my story. And strength of will not to dwell upon it. Because the other side of the coin is this: my deepest, most personal dreams hang the prospect of their fulfillment here. A marriage, where I can give a receive love. Children to wrap my arms around. Family. My family.

Dreams are dangerous. They are only for the brave, those willing to risk pain, the inexplicable kind that sweeps in and steals your breath. But it is only these risk-takers who really live. And for me, the pain of barrenness will persist, dreams or none. So, like a controlled fire that must warm me, but not overtake me, I must keep my dreams alive...in my heart, in my life, by my voice.

What a scary, terrifying thought. What a fool I am, dreaming of something I've never seen. Something that has never been real. Something that, for all I know, is impossible. (I think I just heard Jesus laugh to Himself as He works on my "impossible" situation, doing things I know not of right now...)

"Always be in a state of expectancy, and see that you

leave room for God to come in as He likes."

Oswald Chambers