I can barely breathe…

I swallow hard and perse my dust-encased lips closed.

I try to set my face like stone… unreadable…

My heart is heavy…

I don’t know if I can face the journey again…

My body felt weary before I even took the first step on the desiccated, dusty road to the temple in Shiloh… to worship You.

I am well. My soul is not.

It is fatigued by the inner fight. My heart is divided in this moment. I feel let down, disappointed and unable to trust that You are truly good…

I feel like a waste of space…

Unworthy…

Unloved…

Every year it’s the same…

Pennaniah mocks me and gloats over my bareness…

Bitterness then breeds all kinds of ugliness within my heart and soul toward her and toward You. It seeps in like a poison trying to kill any life or live that is left within me. I am desolate, desperate and in deep despair God.

I see their faces looking sympathetically as I saunter past. Some mock and jeer, others are filled with heartfelt empathy. I can almost hear them whisper the shame I bring upon him, Elkanah, my husband and my love.

How my heart aches for him. He loves me, I know… but I can’t help cloaking myself in the shame I know I bring on him…

My bareness…

I’m empty…

Childless…

A humiliation to my husband…

Not worthy of one portion of food let alone the double portion he places in front of me…

I cannot bear to eat a single morsel.

Why me Lord?

Have I done something wrong?

Have I not remained faithful?

Every year I set my heart on You, believing that You can and will open my womb…

Why hasn’t it happened yet?

Do You even hear me, God?

Are You not the same God who parted the Red Sea and brought down the walls of Jericho?

Aren’t You the God who has remained faithful to His people despite our constant disobedience and poor choices?

You are Him right?

I can trust You and put my hope in the one true God, can’t I?

The One who made a convent promise with Abraham that all people on earth will be blessed through him?

I am one of his children.

Is not Your covenant promise for me too?

Can You open my womb and allow me to be the bearer of life, to be called a blessed woman?

I can’t bear this garment of shame any longer.

So I run…

I run so hard, so fast…

Dust encircles me and invades my lungs and I do not care.

My tears almost blind me and I stumble forward as I arrive at the temple.

Breathless.

Panting.

Desperate.

My body trembles with exhaustion. I simply fall on my knees and weep.

All these years have taken their toll… and I am in the deepest anguish of heart…

So I am here, bursting open the floodgates of my anguished heart and pouring out the deepest parts of my aching soul before You.

Lord, my Sovereign King, it is in this moment that I choose to yield my heart and life to Your great plans.

I choose to fix my mind, my heart and my life on Your governing Lordship alone.

I choose to trust confidently that He who promised is faithful.

I will year after year come and celebrate Your blessings and Your faithfulness in my life.

I boldly ask for a son and believe that You can and will open my purposeless womb to the promise of fruitfulness.

You, God, are great and worthy of all praise.

My heart rejoices in God my savior.

There is no one who gives good gifts and loves humankind out of the purity of holiness like You do.

You breathe life into being.

I will trust You and I will thank You.

If you enjoyed this short story, you may also enjoy reading

A Christmas Tale: May it be to me as you have said...

OR ordering my book, The Freedom Sound