The measure of my creation

Recently I got a chance to experience again Courtney Kendrick’s fantastic essay on infertility (which you can read here). The first time I read this essay, I was thinking about my own experiences with infertility. I still remember the pain and frustration of that time, but it was strange to me to look back on those days from where I am now. Between my days of infertility and my life now were some very hard years of post-partum depression and struggles as a young mother. My struggles with young motherhood were much harder for me than the infertility struggles, and yet—and yet, who can campare pain? When you hurt, you hurt, regardless of the reason. Anyway, when I read that essay at first, I thought about motherhood and the pain it (and the lack of it) brings.

This time, however, I was thinking about what I am too often thinking about: my current illness. And the words were like scripture to me. Because I am at the same place Courtney was—in the middle, confident that it will end someday, but still in the middle. And then I came to these words:

All bundled up in sweats and a wool hat, I was passing by my neighbor's home when I had an inspired thought, “I am fulfilling the measure of my creation.”

And I just wanted to cry. That’s it—my deepest yearning (probably it is everyone’s): to fulfill the measure of my creation. Can I do it while I feel sick?

The answer must be yes. Because God created me. God is perfect. His work (to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man) WILL succeed; it will succeed with me, if I let it.

How? How? My heart breaks open as I ponder this. Have I been hindering God’s work within myself? What exactly is the measure of my creation, and how can I fulfill it despite illness, despite weakness, despite all the ways I fall short? Courtney answered that question. She goes on,

Since interest in my body was no longer simply how to make it pregnant

[make it healed],

I felt empowered to do the Lord's work in other ways.

And that’s it. I have to find the other ways to do the Lord’s work. Which include allowing myself to be served, sometimes. Or maybe just smiling and nodding while my kids play in front of me instead of throwing balls outside with them. Or serving frozen food again, but doing it cheerfully instead of mournfully.

It’s worth spending more time in conversation with God about this. What is his purpose for me, since he’s put me in this situation, and how can I bring it to pass?

Thanks, Courtney, for the lesson.