I still remember the night….

Standing in front of our bathroom mirror. Washing my face. Thinking about the day’s diagnosis. Rampant endometriosis. The likely culprit of the miscarriage two years prior. Misdiagnosis had turned into two more years of trying, waiting, and failing at pregnancy. Two years that felt totally wasted now.

Now here we were, faced with the need for surgery. Aging ovaries looming, feeling like a slow hour glass losing all sand.

Looking in the mirror, pondering, wondering why it’s so hard for us and so easy for others. Is it somehow my fault? Could we have done something more, tried sooner?

Then, like a bubbling up from nowhere, two stories came to mind….the first, Lazarus, dead and in the grave four days. All hope gone. His sisters questioning the Lord. And Jesus says, “This happened that Glory might come to my Father.”  The second story involving the man blind from birth. People asking, “Is this his fault or his parents’?” Again Jesus says, “Neither, but this happened that Glory might come to my Father.”

Deep in my spirit I heard at that moment….”Lynette, your story, My Glory.”

Yes, yes, that’s what I want Lord. But how, and how long, and what will it demand?

Now years later, long after I quit praying passionately, hoping vigorously, believing constantly. Having laid it down a thousand times. Finally resigned to accepting the mystery this side of Heaven. Now it happens.

Glory, this story. A story we would not, could not have written, nor would we have wanted to. But one we love, one we wouldn’t change one small little bit. Little faith turns into big bust-wide-open miracle, two of them.

The story for His Glory has been shared with thousands in just 10 days. Different than we thought, better than we imagined.

So whatever desperation you feel in your story, get ready. Your story for His Glory too.


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