Right in the middle of trying to process all of my feelings and the overwhelming sense of doubt, I was helping my church plan a women’s retreat, scheduled to take place in April.

I was asked if I might consider being a speaker at the retreat, sharing a story about how God had worked in my life. Initially I said I wasn’t sure, and I briefly mentioned that I was going through a difficult time, and I didn’t think God would resolve it by the time the retreat came about. “It doesn’t need to be resolved,” the other women assured me.

I told them that I was having a bit of a struggle with my faith, and that I didn’t want to be a downer at the retreat. But again, I was encouraged that being honest and openly sharing my faith struggle could be a really powerful thing for people to hear.

So I agreed to share my story. That April, in front of many of the women at my church, I shared what had taken place over the past few months – how I was angry at God, and how it didn’t feel like He cared or even noticed me.

Usually when I hear a story or testimony at a church event, it wraps up nicely with something like, “and God worked it all out in the end” or “it took a long time, but God had a plan for me the whole time…” I had rarely heard testimonies where people ended it with, “I still don’t really know why this happened, and I’m not sure anything good is coming from it.” But that’s how I ended mine.

It ended up truly being a blessing for me to be able to share my story, because I had multiple women come up to me afterwards to share how they had also struggled with infertility. Some of them had suffered pregnancy losses, some had eventually given up on their dream of having children… for many of them, their stories, likewise, did not wrap up nicely in a tidy bow. Some were still dealing with grief years later.

It’s interesting to ponder why God seems to answer some prayers and not others. There are so many stories in the Bible of God having compassion on barren women, and eventually granting them a child: Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, and Hannah – but I wonder how many godly women were never granted a child? And why aren’t their stories told in the Bible?

I’ve heard a similar pondering about Jesus – in the stories told about him, he is often seen healing someone – but he doesn’t literally heal every person in every situation. So how do those overlooked people feel? They watch Jesus miraculously bless someone else’s life, and then are left to continue to deal with their own suffering. Can you imagine what that would feel like?

Maybe you can… maybe you know exactly what that feels like.