Hebrews 10:23 "Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful;"
You've probably seen the cartoon of the miner who cuts his path for miles then gives up and turns around just one foot shy of the where he would have struck gold.
Of course, we'll never know if we gave up a day before our answer was set to arrive.
We recently spent over four years keeping our hopes up for one particular thing: a new baby.
We have two sons and when our youngest son was about three-and-a-half years old, we started talking about "trying" again. In the beginning, we were quite committed and I went through a lot of cheap pregnancy tests. If you've never "tried" to get pregnant, I can tell you that it's incredibly stressful, trying to get the timing right...then waiting to find out if you got the timing right, month after month after month. And of course, you want to know ASAP if it "took."
Over the course of those four years, our efforts occasionally waned, whether we were experiencing financial pressures or just feeling discouraged. I stopped taking pregnancy tests because it was such a let-down. Into the third year, my hubby would check in after the start of a new cycle to make sure I was OK. "Eh," I would reply. "I'm used to it."
From the very beginning (probably after the first few unsuccessful cycles, because once you decide you want to get pregnant, it should happen immediately, right?), I promised God that I would always keep my hopes up, even to the bitter end when I was SURE I wasn't pregnant. So even if I were crampy and spotting one night, I would wake up the next morning with my hopes still up. "I will never stop trusting," I promised Him.
Toward the end of 2016, I was growing weary. My husband and I agreed that at the first of the year, we'd either decide to stop trying or we'd go in for testing. I had visions of diagnostic tests, urine samples, ultrasounds and genetic work-ups. A part of me thought, "If it's that hard, maybe it's not meant to be."
Then one beautiful Sunday morning in early January, my cycle was five days longer than usual and I was set to head out for a day trip with my parents. I blamed holiday stress for a delayed ovulation but thought, "But I'm keeping my hopes up!" as I took a cheap dip test and let it run while I took a shower.
In the shower, I reminded myself for the umpteenth time..."One of these times, it's going to be positive." It was a thought that had kept me going for all that time.
Imagine my shock when I picked up the strip and saw a clear second pink line. "No way. No way! No. Way."
I don't know when you'll be reading this but as of today, I'm sixteen weeks pregnant and due in mid-September of 2017. We've had one ultrasound (when our baby earned the name Baby Bean) and have heard the baby's heartbeat several times but I still can't believe it actually happened. I thank God every day.
I am so glad I kept my hopes up. I clung to the belief that someday it would happen and I don't have to live the rest of my life wondering if I gave up too soon. I am convinced that part of the reason why we waited so long was to be able to tell other people, "Don't give up!"
Get your hopes up! Keep trusting! Keep believing! One day, you'll get your answer, even if it's not how you envisioned it. Just don't turn around before you reach the prize.
One last side note: just before we found out we were pregnant, my hubby and I made the leap of faith to bring a vision for a ministry into reality and are in the process of setting up a non-profit. We pray every night for what we believe God has called us to fulfill. Yup...we've already committed to keeping our hopes up.