Why? Why did this have to happen? Why did everything seem so perfect? Why did we paint the nursery? And rearrange most of the house? Why did we buy a new car? Why did we spend every spare moment in February planning and preparing and dreaming and praying? Why did we believe this was the real deal?
Honestly, God, I never did. I never believed this adoption would actually go through. I have been disappointed far too many times to even remember what it’s like to hope, to believe. I knew you could do it, finish it. I believed this could be the baby we’d waited for. But I didn’t really believe it. I just couldn’t.
I knew that setting my attitude would make my actions follow suit. And so I decided to live in the hope. I decided to think about the joy. I let myself dream. I pushed away the doubts and fears as best I could.
But I can’t help but tell myself I told you so.
I closed the bedroom door. I stopped organizing and cleaning and preparing as the gifts kept arriving. Now the room is cluttered and neglected. My heart wants to do the same, just let the thoughts and feelings pile up, never tending to any of them or allowing anyone in.
The emotions come out in unfounded anger. Why would tell me the website header is wrong at ten o’clock at night?! The emotions come out in seclusion. I have no words to respond to the messages. And I don’t even want to. The emotions come out in fear. What in the world happened to our bank account?!
God, there are many people’s faith hinging on your story for us. Friends who wonder at the religious life we live and this God we follow. Is it real? Would a good God do this to such good people? they ask. And for their sake, God, show up.
And you did for me yesterday. You gave me joy and purpose to lead our congregation on Sunday morning, just days after this adoption miscarriage. My heart grieves, but the mending comes in working out my purpose even through the pain. And so I share my story. I tell of your goodness to my church family, to the Facebook world, to our families, and to these dear readers who journey so faithfully with me.
I can say, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. May the name of the Lord be praised.” (Job 1:21)
You are constant.
You are only good.
I am believing that, God. And I am believing that you aren’t done with us yet. Our story is still unfolding, and I am anxious to look back and see clearly what tapestry you were weaving in these tangled times.
For now, though, You have honored my willingness to share this private story in such a bold, public way. You have showered me with friendships that support with deep dependency. So many have shared their own raw emotions over our pain. Many are grieving, God, not just me. Heal.
I am thankful for friends who are sincere. They rejoice greatly in our rejoicing. They mourn deeply in our mourning. We are not alone. And I am thankful.