In the backyard of our house we have a Rose of Sharon tree. To see it in the spring and summer is a privilege. It is absolutely gorgeous; flowers blooming, beautiful green leaves. And the blooms last a long time; it continuously blooms from spring until late summer.
And then the blooms go away.
And while the shape of it is still beautiful-it is no longer awe inspiring.
I no longer yearn to sign at the window, just to watch the tree.
It is winter. And it is no longer fruitful.
That's a bit how this feels, how infertility feels.
We are in the middle of a cold, dark, barren winter. My heart is as empty as the tree's branches. My soul is brittle and can be snapped like a dead twig that falls from the tree's trunk. It is hard, to get through these tough, lonely months.
But eventually...there will be warmth. There will be sunshine. There will be light and a soft breeze and those buds will flower and grow and spread throughout.
And just like our Virginia winters, my winter has pockets of spring where I'm reminded of who I am and not of just my failures or faults. I feel like I've been in a pocket of spring in the midst of a deep, dark winter.
And I think-there might be-a warm breeze blowing our way after all...