Sacrifice, Joy…..and How You Can Have Both at the Same Time
By: Christine Schrade-Keddy
Tags: Healing, Sacrifice, Advent, Joy, Infertility

Sacrifice, Joy…..and How You Can Have Both at the Same Time

What does JOY look like in the midst of sacrifice?

That is the question that is posed in my “Welcome Table” Advent reading for this morning.

I have been taking the question prompts and writing them out in my journal…..but this morning, I feel God calling me to write about this in a less private space….

When I entered my forties, I faced a significant crossroads in my life. I had two incredibly strong desires in my heart, and I knew that I only had the energy, emotional and spiritual resources to pursue one of them…..

Seminary or Motherhood.

My husband and I had already suffered the loss of three pregnancies. I had always just assumed that I would be a mother. I had spent my entire adult life caring for the children of others. There were many reasons why I had not actively pursued motherhood until my 30s, the main reason being that I didn’t get married until I was 33. This is not a judgment against anyone who decides to have a child on their own. I think that is wonderful — but it wasn’t on my radar at the time. I had been mostly working towards completing my education and trying to pay for it myself. That had consumed the larger part of my energy and resources in my twenies and into my thirties. So financially — having a child on my own would not even have been on my radar.

After I was married, I decided that I was happy enough taking care of the children of others. Most of the time they felt like mine anyway, and again, financially I didn’t think that we could support a child of our own. When I accidentally became pregnant, I was frankly shocked at how excited I was and how wonderful everything seemed. I realized that I had made a mistake, thinking that other people’s children were enough for me. I realized that I desperately wanted my own.

And then, it wasn’t.

This happened three times over the course of seven years. It was my dark night of the soul and my wrestling with God over how a God that I loved so much could allow those horrible miscarriages to keep happening to me. How God and I resolved this difference is another post for another time, but we DID resolve it -and I came out on the other side- with a stronger, more realistic and honest faith.

Throughout the time of our issues with infertility, we also ended up in the sandwich generation, and in a caregiving situation for my mother, who started out with health and financial challenges that needed assistance and ended up with dementia that needed even more assistance.

As we got more and more drawn in to the caregiving situation with my mother, things became quite overwhelming. I had discerned a call to Seminary and had begun to pursue my theological education in a formal way. I was working my way through Seminary, still caring for and teaching other people’s children thirty hours a week, and dealing with a caregiver situation at home that was becoming more and more impossible. Somewhere, in the midst of all that, there was still a strong desire to raise my own child.

My husband and I had determined that physically bearing a child was probably not going to happen for us. I had investigated fertility treatments but I decided that I could not handle the emotional pain of another miscarriage or the disappointment that often went along with fertility treatment. Having been adopted myself, I always thought that adoption would be a wonderful option and so we investigated the process of adopting through the Department of Social Services. We knew that we did not have the financial resources for private adoption and I was actually OK with that. I liked the idea of adopting through the state and potentially giving a child with limited potential a better life. My husband’s work even provided financial assistance for people pursuing adoption.

But then came the question……What was I going to let go?

There was NO WAY that I had “enough spoons” to pursue a Seminary education, care for a mother with dementia, work part time as a preschool teacher, and adopt and raise a child. I already knew that I was overtaxed in terms of commitments on my caregiving abilities. Something was going to have to give if I were to be a mother.The only obvious choice was to drop out of Seminary and let go of my dream to become an ordained minister.

There was only one problem.

I couldn’t do it.

And that was when I realized that my dream and desire to be an ordained minister in God’s church was stronger than my dream or desire to be a mother. It wasn’t stronger by much but, nevertheless, it was stronger.

And so I let go. I let go of one dream that I had nurtured in my heart since I was a child — to pursue another dream that I had nurtured in my heart since I was a child.

For me, that is what JOY looks like in the midst of sacrifice.

I can never adequately put into words the joy in my heart that I experience every day being an ordained minister in the Church. Most days, I still can’t believe that it has actually happened. I still can’t believe that this is actually my job. I still can’t believe that people look to ME for guidance and direction in spiritual matters and in the administration of our denomination. I still can’t believe that I get to travel to other churches in other towns and even far away to share the love and hope of God with others. I still can’t believe that I get to work with a team of incredible colleagues who enrich my life in more ways than I could ever describe. There is incredible joy in my work pretty much every day.

But there is also a sense of sacrifice. Always that sense of sacrifice. It doesn’t happen to me as much as it used to but it still does happen. When I see a mother pushing a baby stroller down the street. When I get an invitation in the mail to a baby shower. When older children ask me “how come you don’t have any children of your own?” (and they ask me this all the time). Especially at the holidays, when I see all of the beautiful pictures of families celebrating holidays together and children lighting candles, and singing songs, and joyfully opening gifts.

I am not writing this for anyone to feel sorry for me. There is nothing to feel sorry for. I made a choice. I made an informed choice and I chose the thing that I believe God wanted me to do more than the other thing that I believe God wanted me to do.

As I continue to grow in my ministry, it becomes more and more sure in my heart that I made the right choice. It becomes less and less of a hurt that I don’t have children of my own. It becomes more of who I am and I am making great peace with it. I have profound joy in my life, pretty much every day. And that is good.

God is still good. ❤️🙏