He said, “About this time next year, you shall embrace a son.”

“Stop! Don’t say that!”

She couldn’t allow him finish.

She put out her two hands like one who was trying to forcefully push an unwanted load back. She cut him off, right in the middle of his sentence. Her eyes burnt red. She swallowed. She turned her head southward and wouldn’t look him in the face. She was trying to find the right words. She didn’t want to appear rude, she couldn’t hide her disgust neither.

“About this time…”

“Stop it man of God! Stop it already!’ Her voice was louder now. She was struggling so hard. And the pain in her voice was touchable. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t! Don’t raise my hopes, Elisha. Don’t take me back there. Don’t!”

“I don’t want to be in that space again. I don’t want to embark on that journey again.” She stared hard at him. No inflection. No feeling. “Don’t do it. I’m actually no longer interested. I sincerely no longer care if I have one or not. Those days are over,” she simulated a smile, “the days of praying and waiting, trusting and believing…those days are over. I’m done, truly.”

Elisha wasn’t fazed. “About this time…next year…”

“You don’t understand.” She pulled a seat close and sat.

Elisha stood there and watched.

As hard as she tried, the tears drop uncontrollably. “You don’t know how tiring it is to wait month after month, year after year.” She grinned. “You’ve never been in my shoes, you know. You have no idea how exhausting it is to see your flow every month without fail. You don’t know the weight of expectations that was shattered in your face daily and monthly. You don’t know about the several failed attempts. You don’t know about the sleepless nights. You know nothing about the ridicule and the stigma.”

She waited for him to interject. He didn’t.

“I could list for you the number of physicians I met. I could tell you the number of IVFs I did. Is it all my life savings that I spent you want me to talk about? Is it the several prayer meetings and conferences I attended you want me to detail? You don’t understand, man of God. You have no clue. Several people counseled us. We subjected ourselves to many therapy sessions. We tried everything, you don’t want to know.”

Elisha listened on.

“I advise you just stay on your lane, man of God.” She looked away. Do the assignment you have come to town to do, enjoy the comfort we provide to make your work easier. Ermm…don’t poke your nose into my matter. You don’t have to feel any pressure to pay us back for our largesse. Come on, we are not doing this so we could get anything in return. Because, truly, you don’t know what I’ve been through.” She sobbed.

“About this time…next year…”

She laughed. “You know, come to think of it, I had two baby cots in this room…yes this room we gave you, this very room.” She scanned the room. “I had one cot over there,” she pointed to the right side corner of the room.” Elisha turned, his eyes followed the direction of her hand. “And the other on the left side. I told my husband since we had waited this long, God was going to give us double for our trouble, we believed Him for twins. I painted the walls, filled this place with baby things…I would come regularly and add more baby things, whatever I saw that appealed to me in the market, I bought. I had a shelf over there where I kept baby clothes…I bought diapers for different ages…toys littered this whole place.” She hissed. “I would come in the evenings, I would pray and confess. I would read the Bible verses, He said to call those things that be not as if they were, right? I laid my hands on the cots and prayed. I even had names for the two of them.” She hissed again.

Suddenly she stopped. She stood up from her seat. She walked closer to where Elisha had been standing all along. Her anger and disappointment unconcealed. “You don’t know for how many years I did that, do you? You don’t know what level of stupidity and madness drove me that far, do you? I’m sure you don’t.”

Eyeball to eyeball. “About this time, next year…”

“Pleaseeeeeeeee……Leave me alone!” She screamed. “Leave me alone in my safe place.” She turned her back to him. “I’m settled in with this stillness, don’t rattle it, please.” She wept. “I used to be there, hopeful, positive, confident, waiting, expecting, trusting, and believing…I used to be there. My expectations were sky-high. My hopes were over the top. Oh! Those days!” She jeered. “Time and time again I believed, time and time again I was disappointed. Leave me alone, Elisha.” She collapsed on the floor and wept.

“About this time…next year…you shall embrace a son.”

And she wept even more.

*************************************************************************

Anyone home? What’s your story?

Single. Married. Wife. Husband. Young. Old. Heartbroken. Rejected. Student. Unemployed.

What’s your story?

Used to be out about? Jolly and friendly? Vulnerable and gullible? Believing and trusting? Used to dance around in your innocence, trusting every fable, accepting every tale. Jilted three times. Broken four. Back to back failure. Shame upon shame. Over and over again you trusted. Over and over again you were left.

Anyone home? What’s your story?

Believed in the sanctity of marriage. Subscribed to fidelity. Loyal to the core. Faithful beyond measure. But had it thrown back in your face? Every principle you cherished rubbished right in front of you. Every standard you laid claim to slammed to pieces.

And with every rejection, every betrayal, every disappointment, you build a wall – To never trust again, to never try again, to never go there again, to never believe again, to never be caught vulnerable again. So, you’re no longer needy. No longer beggarly. No longer wanting.

Why? The What Ifs!

What if I’m hurt again? What if I’m just opening myself up to more pain? What if I am wounded again? What if I’m injured again? What if I lose again? What if I’m disappointed again? For it is tough to be exposed again. It’s tough to show and admit you still want or desire it. It’s tough to let your guards down and allow yourself be loved again. It’s tough, Elisha. Hope is torture.

Any Shunamite in the house? Whatever your story…

“About this time next year, you shall embrace a son.”

I dare you to trust again. I dare you to be vulnerable again.

II Kings 4:16 Then he said, ‘About this time next year, you shall embrace a son. And she said, ‘No, my lord, Man of God, don’t lie to your maidservant.’’

#Reflections