Growing up, I didn’t spend much time dreaming about becoming a mother.
I played with baby dolls as a child, sure—but as a teenager and young adult, my attention was elsewhere. I knew I wanted a family someday, but it wasn’t the central desire of my heart. When I got married young, the thought of becoming a mother actually terrified me.
So you can imagine my confusion—and deep hurt—when that desire finally arrived in full force, only to be met with years of dead ends.
For three years, we tried to start a family and came up empty-handed. I did all the “right” things. I showed up. I waited. And again and again, doors closed in ways that were almost entirely out of my control.
Then came one of the hardest days of that season—the day an adoption match fell through.
We stayed home, stunned and heartbroken. Word had quietly spread through our community, and several people tried to do the only thing they knew how to do: send ice cream. It was the height of COVID, when food delivery was common and comfort often arrived in paper bags at the door.
Three different people called the same local ice cream shop, asking to have ice cream delivered to us.
By the third call, the owner finally said, “Is this for Zach and Amanda? You’re the third person to call.”
What makes that moment remarkable is this:
We didn’t know him personally. We were just regular customers. He had no reason to know anything about our lives—or our faith.
And yet, instead of handing the order off to a driver, he closed up shop and brought the ice cream himself.
When he arrived, he told us he felt compelled to come in person. He shared a few words of encouragement and reminded us—without knowing the details of our story—that God keeps His promises.
To do that, he quoted lyrics from a song called Waymaker.
That song was already meaningful to me. But that day, it became an anchor.
Not long after, God kept His promise in a way I never could have planned. We brought home our first child through adoption just weeks later.
That Christmas, one of the main songs in the church’s Christmas program was—of course—Waymaker. It felt like a full-circle moment. God had made a way. The promise was fulfilled. I tucked that memory away and didn’t think much about it for a long time.
Until recently.
A few weeks ago, that same song was played again. And as we reached the bridge, I was suddenly transported back to that Christmas season years earlier. I remembered standing there—overwhelmed with gratitude—because God had kept His promise and our daughter was finally home.
What I didn’t know at the time was that God was doing something else entirely unseen.
I was nine weeks pregnant.
My cycle had been irregular for years. I had long since let go of the hope of pregnancy. It never even crossed my mind that something could be happening inside my own body.
All the while, God was quietly at work—literally growing new life—without my awareness.
Which brings me to now.
I’m in a season marked by questions. By restlessness. By a low-grade angst about direction and calling and whether anything is actually moving forward. If I’m honest, I’ve been sitting in that feeling for a long time. It’s hard to see progress. It’s easy to feel stuck.
And yet—I know this to be true:
God never stops working.
If you find yourself in a similar place—wondering whether anything is happening beneath the surface—my prayer is that God would bring an anchor point to your mind. A moment, a memory, a reminder of His faithfulness.
And if you don’t have one yet, you’re welcome to borrow mine.
The Bible puts it this way:
“The Lord is trustworthy in all he promises
and faithful in all he does.”
(Psalm 145:13)
Even when we can’t see it.
Even when we feel stalled.
Even when we’re unaware.
God is still at work.
Growing A to Z 
Leave a comment