Dear friend,
So year by year, when she went up to the LORD’s house, her rival provoked her. Therefore she wept, and didn’t eat. Elkanah her husband said to her, “Hannah, why do you weep? Why don’t you eat? Why is your heart grieved? Am I not better to you than ten sons?”
I keep thinking about the two-week wait, even years later. I never had the version you're living, but I remember counting days for other things, watching my body for signs, treating every twinge like information it wasn't giving me. I got so tired I started resenting my own hope. Nobody warns you that hope can feel like labor with no delivery date.
This week I've been sitting with Hannah in 1 Samuel, the actual person, not just my name. What gets me is the detail that she wept and would not eat, and her husband asked why she was sad, wasn't he better than ten sons. He meant it kindly. It landed like nothing. Sometimes the people who love us best still can't reach the specific shape of what we're carrying. She had to take it to God herself, silently, so silently the priest thought she was drunk. Nobody else could carry that one for her.
I'm not going to tell you what this stretch means. I don't know. What does the waiting cost you most on an ordinary Tuesday, not the hard anniversary days, just a regular one?
A prayer
God, You watched her tears before anyone else noticed them. Be near the ordinary Tuesdays, not just the anniversaries. Let her not feel alone in the waiting. Amen.