Comparison Shopping
My broken heart was so wrapped up in this trap for so long. Truth be told, it still is. How many of us get caught up in the webs that Comparison spins? EVERY. ONE. OF. US. Sometimes her wheedley little ways make me want to say a bad word. Maybe two.
Comparison Shopping (the chapter), came out of an ugly place in my life and story. The Enemy used this tool to wreak havoc on those days I'd be feeling ok, and going about the business of everyday life. For instance, when I'd be at the store, a sweet mother would be walking by with a newborn car seat carrier attached to her shopping cart. Sometimes at church I would see a beautiful woman, waddling down the aisle trying to find a seat, abdomen swollen with a baby just bursting to get out. You get the idea. How hard is it for women journeying through miscarriage, stillbirth, and infant loss to find reprieve in a world teeming with life? It can be hard.
What Comparison was always good at doing was reminding me of what I didn't have. What I thought I wanted. My plans.
What God did for me during those times of anguish was an amazing thing. He held me. He cupped my face. He wiped the tears from my eyes and whispered words of love. His Word is chock full of them. I would not always heed His gentle promptings, but on days that I did, I found grace. All encompassing, mind boggling grace - to be exactly who and what I was. His child. His beautiful daughter who could not carry a child to term. The body that I held in disdain was lovely to Him. He created it, it was not flawed in His perspective. (As it was in mine.) His plans were being worked out on His time clock.
Loving Heart took a moment to linger in Broken's Heart's physical presence. He brushed a lock of hair from her face, and cupped it gently. He had the greatest understanding of humanity of any being, fully comprehending why it was that Broken Heart's journey include this pain. It was His nature to grieve with her, wishing He could remove the hurt, yet knowing His sovereignty wouldn't allow it. "Nothing comes to you my dear one, without being sifted through my fingers of love. Hang in there Broken Heart."
And so she did. She hung on and waited. The mysterious outcome of this part of her story, just out of reach.
"But who are you, a human being,
to talk back to God?
"Shall what is formed say to him who formed it,
"Why did you make me like this?"
Romans 9:20

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