Detachment

I had a bit of an epiphany the other day.

I've been thinking more and more about holy detachment. It's not a new concept to me. Lots of saints have talked about it in their spiritual writings. St. Francis DeSales and St. Teresa of Avila immediately come to mind. It's a bit like surrender to Divine Providence but it takes it to the next step.

Authentic holy detachment, as I understand it, surrenders not just our will to God above, but our desires, our hopes and all that we love in favor of whatever pleases Him most, even to the point of our greatest personal loss. You strive not to care whether you are rich or poor, afflicted or blessed, loved or unloved, etc...whatever gives God the most pleasure (and thereby earning our eternal salvation) is what is desired. One develops a detachment from from the earthly notions of joy and happiness in favor of whatever it is that will give us the most joy and happiness in eternity.

And often, as we know, our path to salvation is paved with sorrow. Holy detachment transcends the sorrow of this life and uses it as a highly efficient vehicle toward the next. Exspectantes has some wonderful food for thought on this.

The thing with detachment is that it rebels against our very nature. We are naturally inclined to that which we perceive as good or pleasurable--and certainly I've argued with God: what is more good and everyone most pleasure than a child?! Not that God desires us to be in misery, but in that He utilizes our sorrow to attain a greater good--strength of faith, development of the virtues of patience, humility, etc.

But the sad fact is (and here comes my epiphany)...

Not every one who wants a child will be blessed with one.

Shocking revelation, eh?

Sometimes God's ways are incomprehensible to our human nature. Yet His will fulfills so much more than we could possibly begin to grasp. If it's not His will, why am I fighting so hard against it? God is the author of life. We are mere co-workers in the vineyard. We "till the soil" by seeking doctor after doctor, treatment after treatment. We sow the seeds through the marital embrace and timed intercourse. Yet ultimately He it's up to Him whether that seed takes root.

In my case, they really can't identify a clear reason for our infertility. I have textbook cycles, clear mucus patters and am "structurally" sound. I have a picture-perfect reproductive system it would seem--save some slight thyroid imbalance (and according to Dr. Hilgers, a subclinical adrenal insufficiency.) The point is, if it were God's will and it was just a matter of a little medical "tweaking", it would have happened by now, I'm sure of it.

But here is the other half of my epiphany: this fertility of mine is not really mine. I'm sure that sounds backwards, but if I am truly detached, I would not just surrender my fertility to God and walk off, hurt, wounded and sorrowful; dragging the cross and complaining about it. Rather I would recognize that my fertility, however limited it is, belongs chiefly to God. And He does with it whatever He wants according to what pleases Him most. Whether it be many children or none.

I'm merely a renter in this ol' body. God expects me to be a good steward with it. Certainly, the surgeries, drugs and other treatments hitherto have been in keeping with being a good steward. But ultimately, nothing that I do is going alter His plan for me. No one treatment. No one pill. No one surgery. Not even one more novena.

It simply is His will or it isn't.

God has blessed us abundantly in many ways in this life--I can boast an otherwise remarkably healthy body. I've done my best to care for it. I've sought medical help (and then some) in hopes of restoring the fertility I thought was owed to me. But I'm feeling increasingly called to not just lay down my fertility at His feet, to cast this crown, the pour out this libation. But to truly be a humble pawn to His Divine Will.

This is both frightening and comforting at the same time. Comforting in the sense that God really is in control and we need not worry. (Luke 22:12). Though worry we often do! Frightening in the sense that He could ask more of me than I think I can give. Or worse yet, ask me to return without question and at any given time, what rightly belongs to Him. Which is everything: my desires, my health, my secure little life, even my husband and children.

I need not look on what others have received but that has been withheld from me. I too have been blessed with things others might envy. We are but mere renters and He the Landowner. Matthew 20:1-16. It is His prerogative to bestow or to withhold.