Heart Cry

waiting

Do you know what people tell me?

They tell me that they think that it’s probably good that I’m not married and that I don’t have a family. That I’m being “spared” with the world being what it is now a days. That it’s a good thing I don’t have what I want.

Do you know how that makes me feel?

These people who tell me this–they married. They had children.

They aren’t with me, down on their knees before God saying, “Oh, Lord, my heart cries out for my husband; my body cries out for children! Why am I alone?”

These people have had their fill. Had their spouses in their arms, and the little hands of their children, their little womblings, resting on their necks. Do they regret it? Do they wish it back? No! They rejoice in it. They were made full in it. But I–I am supposed to be happy and grateful for having less than what they do.

Spared? From what am I being spared? Spared from waking up in the middle of the night and wishing that one I loved was right beside me? Spared from a searing stab of envy I didn’t even know could exist when I see a woman cradle her swollen belly?

You people–you’re like the rich standing over the starving ones, telling them it’s just as well they don’t have the food you’ve eaten, as it’s much too rich to sit well.

Like one who takes away a garment on a cold day, or like vinegar poured on a wound, is one who sings songs to a heavy heart.

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