"I have learned, in whatever situation I am, to be content." (Phil. 4:11b)

As I sat in the waiting room of my RE's office* this morning, I was tempted to do several things. I wanted to indulge in the People magazine on the table next to me, to engage the other women in conversation about their journeys, to sip my coffee, to browse the web via my iPhone. In short, distractions were plentiful, and I was happy to be distracted, as I was awaiting a critical appointment that would determine if we were allowed to proceed with our fertility treatments today.

And then I realized that perhaps my attention needed to be on Someone rather than something. Out came the iPhone and up popped my Bible app (thanks to a good friend in small group who recommended it!). I thought for a moment, and then ran a quick search for an old faithful: Philippians 4. My desire was to find the "anxiety verse." ("Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God." Phil. 4:6) However, by what can only be God's design, I managed to miss the first section of the chapter and landed in the next part, one titled "God's Provision." For those of you unfamiliar with those verses, in my limited understanding, Paul is thanking the Philippian church for their concern for him. He talks about how he has learned contentment in both "plenty and hunger, abundance and need." As I read Paul's words, I nodded and smiled; like Paul, I "know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound" (Phil. 4:12a). And then the nurse called me in.

Fast forward through bloodwork (it's amazing how much I don't mind needles anymore!) and getting ready for the morning's ultrasound. As I then sat on the table waiting for the doctor, I simply began to pray. I told the Lord how much I don't like praying for contentment in whatever situation I'm in, because it means giving up the firm grip I have on a desire for positive outcomes. I informed Him, in no uncertain terms, that I'd really love a clear ultrasound. I thanked Him for the amazing army of women (and a few stalwart men!) praying for me this morning. Finally, I just asked for contentment, in whatever situation I would be in, in whatever plan He has for me and Jeff. And then the doctor walked in.

My ultrasound was clear, and Jeff and I get to start our injections tonight! This is amazing, joyful news for us after the journey of the last nine months, after two surgeries, two diagnostic tests, innumerable vials of blood taken, five medicated attempts to get my cycle on track, and one failed Clomid** cycle. We have reason to rejoice! But, as I drove the winding back roads to school, I realized that I had only had one prayer to lift, one of thanksgiving for contentment in the situation we are in today. I don't know what tomorrow's plan will bring, but I do know my fervent prayer from here on out:

"In whatever situation I am in, teach my stubborn nature to be content."


* RE: Reproductive Endocrinologist, a fertility specialist who monitors and assists women in getting pregnant.
** Clomid: a drug often prescribed by OBs to help with ovulation in women displaying symptoms of PCOS or other disorders.

On being present.

As a child, I often heard a refrain in my house: "Presence with a c is far preferred." Of course, the "other" kind of presents were the ones I hoped to find stacked by the side of the fireplace Christmas morning, heaped on the green bench for birthday dinners, and tucked in a basket with green grass on Easter Sunday. But my mum and dad never failed to place the most important weight where it was most needed: on our physical presence within our family rather than on the presents so often lavished on children in the affluent suburbs where I grew up.

This fall, for perhaps the first time ever, I am truly able to grasp the enduring truth of my parents' oft-repeated mantra. As I re-entered the classroom last week and met all fifty-two of my students, I quickly realized that my full attention would be required--to learn new names, to engage in intricate discussions, to read countless summer reading essays. And so, even in the midst of all the topics competing for attention in my mind this fall--and perhaps because of all of them--I made a decision. Here is my commitment: I will remain 100% present in the place where I am.

In just a few days, my resolution has already taken several forms. As I drive to work in the morning, red lights are no longer a reason to check my texts; when my students are engaged in small group discussions, it's not a time to shoehorn in a quick work email. Likewise, when I have a free block, I'm not trying to bounce between grading, posting online, and checking email; if Jeff is home in time for us to cook dinner together, I'm doing my best to leave the computer screen closed.

Being fully present is a gift--to my students, my husband, my family, my friends, and--perhaps most importantly--to myself. It gives me permission to leave grading at school and make weeknight plans with girlfriends; it allows me freedom from anxiety and release from guilt. Instead of constantly feeling like I'm not doing enough, I am finally certain that I am doing the very best I can, for the people who I'm with, for the moments when I'm with them.

I honestly don't know what the coming weeks and months will bring. I know that my attention will be pulled in numerous directions as we start our medicated cycle, as we draw closer to the fall/winter holiday seasons, as the papers pile up and the students clamor for one-on-one meetings. And I know one more thing for sure: when Jeff and I are blessed to become the parents we so deeply desire to be, I will absolutely have to be fully present in one thing at a time.

I can only pray that this fall is the training we will need for an imminent future.