Fear When I Don’t Get My Way

This was originally written on April 5, 2020

    I entered my home sobbing today. I had gone there to do some preparations for our continuing renovations, but my mind felt scattered. As I shut the door behind me I let out a scream. 

    “God! I thought I heard you! Did I not hear you right? I need you to tell me!”

    As the words left my mouth I heard a loud thumping coming from another room. Was I not alone here? I went from room to room, searching for the source of the mysterious sound. I finally found it in my back bedroom. 

    A robin was desperately knocking on the window. He was sitting on the window, pounding with his beak. When that wasn’t satisfactory he would fly off the windowsill and come back, crashing his body into the glass again and again. I’ve heard of birds doing this, but it's something I’ve never witnessed in my 30 years. 

    “Okay…” I said as I sat down on the floor in front of the window, watching the bird. There was no way that this was a coincidence. I was crying out for an answer and all of the sudden I had a bird going crazy. I knew God was speaking to me, I just had no idea what it was supposed to mean. 

    This month has been rough, but I thought I saw a purpose and a glimmer of hope. Quarantine, loss of income and loss of community have been stressing me out, but March was supposed to be an important month. 

    Since last summer my husband and I had been trying to have another baby. I had expected to be pregnant by now. It happened so fast with my first, I had no idea that it would be like this with my second. Months and months passed with only a regular period and no sign of conception. Every month I would get my hopes up and then try to brush it off when it didn’t happen. 

    Then one morning in the late fall as I was walking back into my house after taking my daughter to school I heard a very loud voice in my mind, not my own, tell me that I needed to wait until March. March is when I would conceive my next baby. As the months passed I became less and less worried about the regular appearance of my period. In March, I just had to wait until March. 

    March came, we did all the things necessary to create a baby. As the COVID-19 crisis worsened and we were forced to shut down our businesses I saw it as a good thing. If I was pregnant and happened to be as sick as I was with my daughter then I would need time off work anyways. What perfect timing. 

    The day my period was supposed to come I anxiously looked at the toilet paper every time I went to the bathroom. No signs of blood. Day after day passed. No period. Just sore boobs, slight nausea and a heightened sense of smell. All symptoms I experienced in my first pregnancy, but all symptoms I occasionally experience before my period anyways. 

    Today, almost a week after my missed period, I decided to take a test. I went to the store, a seemingly big feat during this current crisis, and bought a single test. I was nervous when I got home, but decided to go right to the bathroom before I could back out. 

    I peed on the stick as much as I could and waited. The results confused me. The control line barely appeared and in the space where I expected to see a vertical line I saw nothing. Ok… 

    I thought it would be like my last pregnancy, an immediate, definitive yes. But it wasn’t. I showed my husband. “It’s definitely negative,” he said. I didn't say much, just got ready to go work on our home. I dropped my husband off at one of our other properties on my way. By the time I pulled into the driveway of my destination I was crying so hard I could barely see. “Why?” I cried. “Why God did you tell me that? Or did I not hear you? I don’t understand. Maybe I don’t hear from God. Maybe it was just what I made up, what I wanted to believe”.

    I went inside, still crying. That’s when I heard the thud. 

    As I sat opposite the robin, watching him hit the window again and again, I tried to make sense of it. “Seriously God, what are you saying with this?”

    I thought about it. This bird is persistently doing… whatever he is trying to do. Robins. What do robins symbolize? Well a robin is one of the first signs of spring, new life. Was that it? I did a quick google search on my phone. There are dozens of things robins can mean to those that like to see signs, but one meaning jumped out to me: hope. 

    Hope, persistently banging on the window. Banging to get in. Not giving up, despite making no headway. Hope that was relentless. 

    I grabbed a piece of paper and sat down to write. I poured out my heart to God, listing my frustrations and concerns. I then took a moment, closed my eyes, and listened. As I listened I started to write everything that was coming to mind. I began to write faster than the thoughts were forming in my mind. When I felt finished I stopped and re read what I had written. 

    On the piece of paper before me was a love letter to a daughter burdened by despair and frustration. It was a letter of confirmation and assurance that I do hear from God. More than anything though, it was a letter penned as an encouragement not to give up hope. No matter what happens, I cannot stop seeking, I cannot stop asking, and I definitely cannot stop hoping. 

    I stood up and began the task I had come to do. As I worked I continued to hear the thump of the robin’s body on the glass. I even went outside twice, trying to deter him, but he kept coming back. Every few minutes I would hear that thump, and with each thump a reminder: don’t give up hope. 

    What a strange way to bring me back from the despair swirling around me. A bird, a robin, throwing his body at my bedroom window. I laughed at the absurdity, but thanked God for taking the time to answer me. 

    I didn’t get my way today. The thing I wanted, that I was sure I was about to get, didn’t happen. I felt angry and stupid for believing in it. I was angry that I wanted it now and didn’t get it. In my anger I began to fear that God didn’t love me, hear me, or speak to me. 

    However, God was with me. Closer than ever. He knew what I was feeling, but He delighted in the fact that I openly shared it with Him. When I became vulnerable I was able to listen enough to hear Him answer. 

    I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t know when or if I’ll have another child, but I know to keep asking and to not give up hope. God loves me, and he answers me. I just need to take the time to listen.