A Cardboard Box

We wavered.

Back and forth through arguments, frustrations, prayers and multiple differing decisions.

I thought we should just let go. I have a cardboard box sitting in my guest room full of thousands of dollars worth of fertility medicine. We were told if we called the insurance company before August 30th we could get refills of anything I might need and it would be sent to my door for a nominal fee. I thought I was supposed to just let go, and release it. Trust. I asked Isaac about a week before the August 30th deadline, "Last chance...Should I just offer up that box of meds to the ladies in the email fertility support group?  Or, should we keep it just in case?"

Arguments, frustrations, circular thinking... delayed decision making... Both of us trying to second guess what the other really wants without trying to force our own opinions on the other. More prayers. Both of us coming to the other with conflicting opinions of where we are led next. More time to pray, both of us changing our opinions and still ending up in disagreement. The conflict of the responsible and proactive decision making (get the meds even if you don't need it. At least you'll have in just in case) or the trusting and faithful decision (it'll all work out the way it's supposed to, just let it go and God will take care of it).

I have often thought that second option was rather naive. I've been annoyed by the passivity of people who complain that God never moves, but yet, they never do anything either. "Well, did you go toward that dream or did you just think it would magically happen?!?"

Yet... I'm tired. I've moved forward toward this with over $10,000 just this past year and a solid 100% committed year of my life (in addition to the three years of hoping and trying naturally and with assistance before that).  I'm not sure how much more of this I can handle. I surrender!  I'm exhausted from the process. I'm not sure if it's me or God who is telling me to let go anymore.

Is it more trusting to run toward it, or to just rest? My answer could change daily.

Tension that cuts like a knife. Dreams, pain, conflict, fear... yet all of that is combined with a feeling of finally being able to move forward and live again. I can't really explain it fully. I'm writing down things I'm grateful for daily. I'm trying to find a new balance in life.  I'm doing more living and less striving and grieving.

Letting Go.  

Finally, as the school year was starting I simply didn't have the energy to go through the hour sitting on hold talking through all the meds I'd need with  the mail order fertility prescription company as they guessed what insurance "might" cover (they never really know). We ultimately did let go. We didn't get more meds, despite all our wavering.

The box of leftover medicine and syringes is still sitting in the guest room. Isaac and I haven't been able to agree on giving it away. Either that, or he's just avoiding making the decision.

Holding On.

I sort of want to get the box out of the house once and for all just to create a new space for whatever God has for us. Maybe we should turn that room into a contemplation space? An art studio? A place to birth new things that have been stagnant? Maybe we should just move out of this house? I can't get past the feeling that we just need to make a drastic change somewhere... but I'm not sure how or what. Perhaps the guest room that is currently painted in "baby blue" would be a good place to start?