Learning to Trust

What is life but a journey of learning to trust? When we are born, we have no choice. Trust seems to be a default position. As an infant, my daughter had to trust that I would feed her because without someone to help, she would starve. She trusts that when she cries I’ll be right there to pick her up, or when she wants something, if she brings it to me and grunts, I’ll automatically read her mind and take care of the issue. However, as we grow older and more experienced, we learn that not everyone can be trusted. Sometimes those trustworthy place other requirements on you (now my daughter has to say “please” if she wants something…grunts no longer cut it).

With time, trust becomes a precious commodity that is earned rather than doled out without regard to anyone around. Hardships in life and self-help books at Barnes and Noble teach you that you can only trust yourself. “You are in control of your own destiny.” “Don’t let anyone else distract you from finding your own path.” In our American culture that values individuality and independence, we have moved away from what we were originally designed for.

In the garden of Eden, God provided for all of mankind’s needs. He provided food, water, shelter and companionship. All that was required of Adam and Eve was to trust that what he said was true. “Behold, I have given you every plant…every beast…every bird…everything that creeps on the ground, everything that has the breath of life.” Gen 1:29-30. “You may surely eat of every tree of the garden, but of the tree of knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.” Gen 2:16-17.

Early on, the two basked in the joy of perfect companionship with God in paradise. However, one day, Satan called their trust into question. “You will surely not die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” Gen 3:4-5. Mankind chose to no longer trust that God had their best interest at heart, and chose instead to trust their own flawed instincts.

I don’t recount this all too familiar story to bring up flashbacks of flannel boards, but to illustrate that 6000 years later we are still floundering because of a basic lack of trust. It seems that if we can have any control over a situation, we would rather take it into our own hands—no matter how inexperienced—rather than give it over to the One who created it all.

 When Scott and I felt led to start a family, we vowed to let God have control over the whole process. However, as the months drew on without a positive pregnancy test, like any good scientist, I began to look at all the variables and attempt to control each factor. Through months of tears and journaled letters to an uncreated child, we finally stopped worrying about it all…and then on November 30, 2015 God proved his trustworthy nature.

Early in the pregnancy, things seemed to be going really well. We were overjoyed at the prospect of our tiny baby E. However, as a physician, I had seen many reach this point before only to never meet their babies. I continually prayed that God would hold and care for my child, since those were things I couldn’t do before she was born.

One day after my OB visit for some routine testing, I received a voicemail directly from my doctor.  I knew that this could only mean bad things, because in such a busy practice, routine news could easily be delivered by a nurse. I had several hours of seeing patients before I had a chance to return her call, and in those hours, a million possibilities ran through my mind. I was fearful that if I returned her call at lunch that I wouldn’t be able to make it through the rest of the day, but after a prayer and reassurance from my husband, I managed to call her back.

She told me that my AFP was high, indicating a possibility that our child had a spinal cord or abdominal issue. However, she reassured me that 5% of the time, these were falsely positive and scheduled me for an US in a week. I was shattered. I had cared for many delightful children with disabilities as a pediatrician, and I knew it was not the end of the world, but I also knew that we would have an uphill battle. I went into the bathroom and cried. I called my husband who comforted me the only way a man can through a phone, and we prayed for healing and for God to once again take control of the situation.

That night we attended a prayer service at a church I had never been to before (now our church home). They had us write down our request on a piece of paper before meeting with the prayer team. My heart was so wrought that I could not speak the words, much less write them down. Scott gently wrote down our request, and we then sat with 3 of the most loving and kind women I’ve ever met. They prayed for us and Evie. They prayed for wholeness and told us that she would be a worshiper. Most of all, they prayed that in the midst of this, we would trust God. Even though we still had a week to go before we would know any more, I walked out of that church service fully trusting that God had healed our baby. I knew that she was the 5%, thinking to myself, “She’s one of the extraordinary outliers even before she is born.”

Though the week was long, it truly was filled with peace. I realized that since I could do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, I had no choice but to trust. We had our ultrasound where we were given a great report and a purple envelope that confirmed that Evie was in fact a girl…something we had not yet known for sure but had been told in the prayer service one week prior.

Throughout the remainder of the pregnancy, worry and doubt would start to creep into my mind, and God would gently remind me that this child was His. He would care for her better than I ever could if I would only let Him. Since again, all I could do was waddle around with her like a toddler carrying a basketball, I let him take over.

Since she has been born, numerous times the serpent has visited the garden in my mind, trying to convince me that my human ways are better in taking care of Evie’s issues. When she refused to feed her first week, I thought I could figure it out by plowing through textbooks and mom blog posts. When she wasn’t walking before her 1^st birthday, I thought if I bought her the highest rated walking toy it would fix it. Now, when she doesn’t say as many words as her nearly 1.5 year old counterparts, I meticulously count each sound and add it up on a tally, hoping it meets the milestones prescribed by pediatric boards. I go crazy talking out-loud as much as possible and spend hours after I lay her down ruminating over whether I need to talk to her doctor about speech therapy, or worried that I’m just a crazy doctor mom.  

The point is, now that I feel like I can have an ounce of control in the situation, I want to take over. Gone are the days of trusting completely. Before I had no choice, just like a baby who needs a parent to feed him. Now, I feel “older and wiser” and can feed myself. Therefore, do I really need to wait for God to provide me with food if I can go up to the tree myself and pick some? Sure, his food may be better, but this will do, and I know when it’s coming and what to expect that it will taste like.

Sometimes we all need those moments of being completely out of control. Just like an infant. Then we can remember that God is still good and trustworthy in the other moments where we feel that we have some control, and we can still give it over to him. I’m still learning, but I know His food will be worth it.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart. Never rely on what you think you know. Remember the Lord in everything you do, and he will show you the right way. (Proverbs 3:5-6)