I’ve said many times that if someone had told me I would have twins at the age of forty-three and that another woman would carry them for me, I would have laughed from here to high heaven. Well, it turns out this is exactly how I became a mother the second (and third) time around. After suffering undiagnosed recurrent miscarriages, hiring a gestational carrier was my last and only hope for expanding my family.
My 9-year old son Aidan and I were driving down the road to the grocery store on a hot Friday summer afternoon. Traffic was backed up in every direction at the intersection. I looked up and saw a well-known homeless man who lives in our community. He is about 60-years old, wears a long beard and layers of dirty clothes. I don’t believe that he has had a shower in months.
It was late afternoon on a warm spring day when I pulled into the vast shopping center parking lot. I put my car into park and began to sob.
It’s okay to be mad at God. Catastrophic events such as the death of a loved one, loss of a job, a divorce, or a miscarriage can make us angry at God.