Good Plans
How can this possibly be for my good?
Jeremiah 29:11 says “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
But then the doctor said three little words that changed everything.
“I’m sorry but…”
Your child has Down Syndrome. Infantile Spasms. A congenital heart defect. ADHD. Cerebral Palsy. Autism. Cystic Fibrosis. Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. Hydrocephalus. Sensory Processing Disorder. A rare disease. Epilepsy. Leukemia.
Each one has its unique challenges and prognosis. Some have more support available than others. Some are terminal, some have treatment. Some are lifelong, some are temporary. Some are visible, some are invisible.
But there is a thread intricately woven between every single one. So small that if you don’t pay attention, you may not even notice it.
That thread is the question: “What about this is a good plan? How can this prosper my child or my family? How does this give us hope and a future?”
A diagnosis often ignites a sort of mourning process for each of us. Most of us have to process the loss of hopes, plans and dreams. A life we once imagined, that will never be our reality.
Life changed in the blink of an eye, and before you could even adjust your eyes, life has continued hurrying along waiting for you to catch up.
This post is for you if your eyes haven’t yet adjusted to life after a diagnosis.
It’s for you if you are feeling the weight of the question “How could this be good?”
I’ve had my fair share of “I’m sorry but…” conversations with doctors. Maybe you have too.
But I remember the first one so vividly.
I remember being pregnant with my first child, and being so excited! I was all in — names, registry items, nursery design, routines and schedules, fun activities and places to go. I had Pinterest boards and Google searches and conversations with every friend I knew who already had babies… it was a dream coming true, and I wanted to make the most of it.
But it didn’t take long for all of that to come to a sharp halt.
My screenings were abnormal. Then it was more testing. Being closely monitored. Extra appointments. More abnormal results. Being told it was “probably a false positive.” People praying for me that my baby would be okay.
You know, “It doesn’t matter as long as they are healthy!”
But the question I didn’t dare to ask or even think about… what if my baby isn’t healthy?
Before the official diagnosis, I had a moment with God at my kitchen sink that brought me to tears on my kitchen floor.
I knew in my heart, that all those prayers were going to be answered much differently than anyone had hoped for or asked.
God was giving me a “No.”
I knew it would still be okay. I had a peace that made no sense.
But I still wrestled with God off and on. I knew that He had a plan, and that He could see what I couldn’t. I trusted God and I surrendered.
But from time to time, I would look around and see moms around me living out the dream that was mine for so long.
I loved my son and my life, but a part of me ached to know what that life would have been like- the one I had dreamed of and planned and prepared so meticulously for.
I didn’t understand why everyone else I know could have the very dream I wanted for so long. Why did I have to watch, an outsider looking in?
I didn’t understand how my story was going to be good, prosperous, full of hope. I knew it would, but I couldn’t always see it.
And then the next diagnosis came, and it was the start of grief and surrender and comparison all over again. “God, I know you have a plan, but why this? Why can’t you give me a break? Why won’t you take this away? How are you seeing this and calling it good, full of hope and a future? How is this going to prosper me or my family?”
Sweet friend, if you are here, there is no shame or guilt. You are not a bad mother for thinking or feeling these things. It doesn’t mean you are ungrateful, unloving or lacking faith.
God can handle your grief. He can handle your frustration. He can handle your raw overwhelming emotions. He can handle the weird mix, and the feelings that you don’t even recognize or have a name for.
It’s okay to be sad, confused, frustrated, overwhelmed and angry. It’s okay to feel the feelings and process them slowly. Faith doesn’t mean denying your emotions and pretending everything is all great and positive.
You can hold great faith and great grief simultaneously.
This week, I heard this verse read slowly, intended to meditate on and let the words really soak in.
Because it’s a popular verse, sometimes we gloss over it and don’t look closely enough.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
— Jeremiah 29:11 (emphasis mine)
The speaker asked, what part of the verse stood out to each of us.
What stood out to me were the words: “plans to prosper you”.
I didn’t struggle with knowing God has plans and that He can see what I can’t see and it will all work together. I didn’t struggle to trust God had a purpose for it.
I struggled to believe that His plans for me were for my prosperity.
After hearing God say, “No, you can’t have that dream.” so many times, I had stopped asking God for things I wanted entirely.
