The many feelings of ‘can’t’

Sitting on the tram just weeks after being in the country, I heard sounds and an unfamiliar language I could not comprehend. I didn’t know what stop to get off at or how to ask for help. Not knowing how to read signs and having to get off the tram feeling a sense of defeat.

"Will I ever be able to get around here?” I thought. “This is hard. I can’t."

After another bout of sickness, medicine and doctor visits our sweet toddler was not getting better but worse. One night with labored breathing, we took her to the hospital with the help of our teammates.

I was five months pregnant and we were in the middle of a pandemic, so my husband stayed five days in the hospital with her. I tried my hardest to smile and comfort our daughter while we had video chats. But my heart broke as I saw her hooked up to IVs as my husband held her and she told me how much she missed me.

As I sat at home, I thought, “How will we get through this? I just can’t see how."

Later, as I prepared to deliver our newest daughter here in Poland, it required a lot of mental and spiritual preparation. Looking back, I see in numerous ways how the Lord went before me and guided me through it all.

I vividly remember being transported to a postpartum room, wheeled away from my husband and into a room with two other moms and newborns. I felt my heart sink in my stomach thinking of being away from my husband and toddler, surrounded by a language I still have yet to conquer. Experiencing vastly different circumstances than with my first daughter's delivery.

My mind raced with, "How will I do this for the next few days? I can’t."

These scenarios felt hopeless, lonely, and at times debilitating. But what I didn’t share is that God met me in each of these scenarios. When I felt like I could not handle it, he reminded me that was the point.

On my own, I can’t handle it. But he can. He met me in those situations.

I now know how to ride a tram and successfully get around town, read signs and, though I probably will never conquer this language, I am learning to communicate more and more.

When my husband and daughter returned home from the hospital, I knew it was God who sustained us all — and even healed her.

During those few days in the postpartum room, I clung to Scriptures I wrote on index cards during the long nights. And, it may sound cliché, but the peace that took over me was indescribable.

These scenarios aren’t a draw for sympathy but rather a reminder that in our deepest weakness, less-than-ideal circumstances and suffering, God can — and will — be enough. He is not on the other side waiting for happier moments. He is in the trenches with us, guiding us, comforting us and loving us.