Resources

Imperfect Plans
 
“Why wasn't my story turning
out to have the perfect ending?
Why was God not hearing
and answering my prayers?”

When I finished university, my whole life was planned.
Plan 1: Be married within a year (OK, so I didn’t have a boyfriend yet, but God works miracles).
Plan 2: Soon afterwards (and in two-year intervals) have kids.

Four years later, I was married (yes, the plan deviated slightly, but I was thrilled). Our daughter was born a year later. My plan was falling into place.

Everything turned upside down when it was time to start trying for our second child. Our daughter had been born to us without complication, why should anything be different the second time around?

Six weeks later, instead of announcing our pregnancy, I told my parents I was miscarrying.

I comforted myself by thinking that this happened to many couples; it was just a minor glitch in the plan.

However, two years and three miscarriages later, it became very clear that this was no glitch. My disappointment was mixed with anger, confusion, questions, and an overwhelming sense that life was not fair.

Night after night, I cried out to God. Hadn’t this been what Hannah did? Her prayers were answered. Wasn’t God listening? I clung to the verses in Psalm 20:4-5: “May He grant your heart’s desires and fulfil all your plans. May we shout for joy when we hear of your victory, flying banners to honour our God. May the Lord answer all your prayers” (NLT).

I believed with all my heart that God would fulfill all my plans, as the verse said, and that we’d run down the street flying banners in His name when we successfully carried another child to term!

We did everything right. We had the best specialists, a prayer group praying, and we clung to God’s word and committed to not becoming bitter over our losses.

On the morning of September 4, I woke up thrilled that we had made it farther than any other attempt. But by 9 am, I knew things were turning for the worse. A phone call from our specialist moments later confirmed that the tests I had taken just days before showed I was indeed beginning to miscarry for the fourth time.

The despair I felt cannot even begin to be described. I lay on the cold linoleum floor of our house and wept. For most of the day I cried — pouring my heart out and questioning God’s logic in all of this. Why wasn’t my story turning out to have the perfect ending? Why was God not hearing and answering my prayers?

Over the next few months, I began to grieve the losses experienced over the past couple years. I purchased a ring with small baby footprints in a line around the circumference and created a framed piece of art with a poem and the due dates of our four children whose names we will never know. Those, along with some other memorials, are my way of ensuring that I never forget the children we lost.

Exactly nine months after our final miscarriage, Jaydon Daniel was born. We met him 15 hours later. The moment I laid eyes on his chipmunk cheeks and dark features, I knew that he was the child God planned for us to love and parent. This was one of the most overwhelming times of my life. Seeing the tears of despair and grief on his birth mother’s face as she placed him in my arms was almost unbearable. But at the same time, it was incredibly joyful knowing God had brought us through our own pain to a place of peace.

Looking back, I’m struck by the realization that I had it all backwards. Instead of trusting God with my life, I tried to plan it and orchestrate it all myself. I didn’t trust that He, in fact, had something far more beautiful in place for my family. His plan wasn’t easier, but it allowed us to be used by Him, and to grow deeper as people and in our relationships with Him.

Now those verses in Psalm 20 have a whole new meaning. The desire of my heart is that my plans will be God’s plans. The road might be bumpy and heartbreaking, but I am certain He is leading and directing me.

And now each Sunday in church, when I see the children waving banners in worship, I’m reminded again of the path God brought us down. In my mind, these banners are His way of saying to me, “Yes, I heard your prayers Tanya. And I have answered them. Not in the way you requested or imagined, but in a way far more profound and meaningful.” And maybe one day I’ll join those kids at the front and wave my own banner in joyful thanksgiving.

About the Author:  Tanya Kieneker


 
Tanya Kieneker