Madison Wheatley, Writer: When God Gives Beauty For Ashes

When I decided to get back into writing, I joined an online writing site called Scribophile. Soon after, I met a writer named Madison and we quickly hit it off. Every now and again, the group we are a part of hosts flash fiction contests, and the last story she wrote really had an impact on me. The theme was Dark Bible stories. In other words, writing a story inspired by one of the many dark stories written in the Bible. I loved her piece so much, I asked her if I could post it on my other site for Christian creatives, Delia Talent, and if she would write a line or two about the inspiration behind the story. She did, and that story was even more moving than the flash fiction! I’ll post an excerpt below to give you a taste. But I hope you’ll go check out the whole story here. If nothing else, though it starts dark, her story just might brighten your Monday. 

Excerpt from, Madison Wheatley, Writer: When God Gives Beauty For Ashes 

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Picture by Amanda Staley

When Delia asked me to provide the inspiration behind this piece, I thought about being vague. I thought about saying, “I wrote this piece in response to my own struggle with infertility.” In the end, I decided to share the ugly truth. I don’t have any aspirations of “inspiring” or “uplifting” people going through what I’m going through, but maybe someone reading this will find comfort in knowing that they’re not alone.

I wrote this piece following a miscarriage. Not mine, though. The thing is, a couple close to my husband had gotten pregnant, and they wanted us to adopt their child. They knew they didn’t want to be parents, and more than that, they knew how badly we wanted to–and how we had been unsuccessful in the seven years of our marriage.

We knew better than to get our hopes up. We tried to be smart, or at least we tried to be. We talked about nursery ideas but didn’t make any purchases. I wrote a letter to our home church asking for financial support, but never sent it. We’d tried not to refer to the child as “our baby,” knowing that nothing was official yet. We spiked all our hopes with a healthy dose of pessimism.

But when we got the call saying that the mother had lost the baby, I realized the hold that hope had had on me. All of a sudden, it was our baby, and she (We always assumed it would be a girl.) had died. My husband cried all day. I was simply numb, that is, until little by little, the realization of what had happened chipped away at my armor of I knew this would happen. I went to bed early, but the nightmares were so bad that I cried in my sleep…

 

I hate the end the story here (I really do!) But I hope it’ll inspire you to check out the complete post. It’s worth the read.

Thanks for stopping by! Have a great Monday.

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