When I look back on my life, I often think that’s not how I would have written my story. First, I’m not sure I would have had the imagination to create some of the flourishes of the story I’ve experienced. Second, I certainly would not have written the lows as low as they have gone, which conversely, allowed the highs to be higher in my life as well.

As I write this, I am in Italy, where Stephen and I were seven years ago on holiday, waiting for test results to find out if we would be able to have our own children. Nine years ago, we had our first miscarriage, followed by two more within nine months and in total I would have six in our journey to date. Somewhere in those first nine months we realized this wasn’t a detour on the life trajectory we expected, but a totally new direction. Not just in parenthood, but in who we are and what we do today. Suffering often presents that choice. We have a chance to say yes or no to what is being written in our story and often that impacts how the story unfolds. Let’s be honest, it rarely feels as simple as that.

When I think of saying yes to what God has written, my mind easily goes to the momentous and exciting things we have said yes to: Stephen saying “yes” to football ministry in Kenya and me saying yes to a post-college internship in Kenya, us saying “yes” to a group hike on Mt Kenya that laid a foundation of friendship, me saying “yes” to Stephen in April 2010, leading to the “I do” yes in 2011! And a yes to continuing in life in ministry in Kenya.

But that’s only half of it, right? There are nos for every yes -Stephen said no to stateside soccer when he chose Kenya. We had to say no to living close to family as we follow God’s call in our lives in Kenya. And then sometimes God says no to what we thought should be a yes. Betrayal from a friend or trusted colleague, illness that persists or tragedy that results in death, or for us, no for a while to starting a family.

What do we do when God says no? Well, I will tell you what I did, I said NO! right back. After five miscarriages God had gone beyond what I felt I could bear, and I realised I had a line in the sand that I felt he was crossing. I didn’t sign up for this - to carry little babies but never meet any of them. If that was God’s will, I just couldn’t authentically pray “Your will be done.”

Truth be told, I probably prayed, “Your will be done, as long as it’s in alignment with mine or a significant upgrade.” As I look back I see how, in so many ways, my heart was screaming “no!” But, by the goodness of God, I see one important yes I said in that time - and that was to God. I turned to him with all my nos and he said “Yes. Come to me.” When I told him I couldn’t pray the most basic prayer, he said, “I know. Just bring that to me.” I found my feet resting again on the firm foundation of the reality of Christ’s love that has nothing to do with my capability and everything to do with his consistency.

The more I tether myself to his steadfastness, the more I can weather the hard nos and yeses better. I am neither immune to pain nor above disappointment, but I cling to what I know to be true. God is not surprised, he is at work, he is gracious and kind and he sees me. He isn’t scheming or messing around with his children. He allows trials and tests and disciplines those he loves -exposing what otherwise might remain under the surface and undealt with.

When I told God about my line in the sand, he was neither surprised nor angry. I heard him say, “I know. Just come to me with it.” “It” was my inability to change my own heart and “it” was being honest that I wanted children of my own and didn’t know how to not want that. “It” was that I had no problem believing that God is sovereign -which was why it was so complicated and personal, he had made me to long to be a mother and was withholding it from me. I couldn’t feign peace about it, and Jesus told me I didn’t have to - I just needed to come to him with the mess that was my heart and hurt, and short-sighted vision for my life. So, I came as I was, knowing that in his timing he would do the necessary work to get me to where I needed to be.

So many things were shaken up for us in that season, Pandora's box opened and the list of our questions grew. And when we were given the gift of Abigail, our firstborn, questions remained but a shift in my heart had forever taken place. We live in a more raw space than we used to, keenly aware of other people’s suffering, realising that it isn’t an inconvenience or hurdle to get over as soon as possible, but often a trajectory changing space that brings not only new growth but also an entirely new dimension. As others did for us, we step in to walk alongside others, in prayer, in hope and in friendship when the blows come.

A sixth miscarriage and the loss of our teammate’s two-day old baby in the last 10 months have brought some of these themes to the surface. In a renewed sorrow we had hoped we had left behind and in an unbelievably painful road with our friends. And yet, there was a difference, as we observed in our hearts and lives the fruit borne from when this first began nine years ago. We have had a glimpse of what the Lord has been doing, and how he has changed us, permanently. And with bittersweetness, wonder and awe, we could thank God for what he allowed in our lives, even if a part of us would change it in a minute. We are stuck between those spaces, marveling at what he has done and grieving what is lost and find that God is quite comfortable to leave us right there.

Saying yes to God has taken us to places we never dreamed of, becoming people we would not have outright chosen. As Stephen once said, “Karis you are a sadder version of yourself” and I knew it was a compliment! Turning to God has allowed me to slowly, surely say yes to the story he has woven for me, and as I do, I get to admire his tenderness. When he exposed the line in the sand of my heart, he wanted to grow me in that space, even when he knew he was going to say yes to that deep heart longing. It doesn’t always work out like that, or in the timing or way we relate to. But to our deepest spaces and longing to be known and perfectly loved, he does say yes to us. And invites us into relationship with him--weaving a story beyond what we would believe.