Day three of the Big Why.
Went to bed last night still churned up, still asking God "why?" and reminding myself, "God is GOOD. He is FOR you." This became significantly harder after the five year old came in at 11:30 (precisely 4 minutes after I had fallen asleep) and announced she had wet her bed (well, of course she did. Her sheets were freshly washed and she'd just had a bath. It was kismet). But I did it. I slept and only clenched my jaw a little bit.
One of the really hard things to swallow was this thought: "What if he's right?" Because what comes with that rightness is the sneaking suspicion that I am not really the mom for this job, that our mojo as parents is so very fragile that this kind of event would sink it beyond recovery, that it might be a mistake of epic proportions, the kind you never really come back from. That we have done a really spectacular job of screwing up the kids we have and should never, under any circumstances, be unleashed on someone with no genetic obligation to us.
So I was letting all this junk swirl around in my noggin, depressing little thoughts bubbling up here and there, and I sat down at the computer to read a blog or two and came across this post which made me feel so much better. In fact, it made me feel so much better, that I firmly believe it was not an accident that I stumbled on it today.
Here's is what I'm holding onto right now: I am covered with GRACE. I can't ever be perfect. No matter how much I hold that as my standard, I will never, ever hit it. But between my best effort and the righteousness of God is GRACE. It fills that gap in a way I could never hope to do myself. Grace completes what I cannot complete. Whatever my husband says about our pathetic parenting skills, my secret weapon is GRACE.
Breakfast of champions? Grace.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Two Days...
and I am still aching. We had the big adoption talk, and the DH says "I just don't think so" and I am upset.
And if you know me, you will know that the italics indicate massive understatement.
I am feeling lost and drifting and without rudder. I am feeling frustrated and out of synch with my husband, and hurt, because being out of synch is kind of painful, like a pebble in your shoe painful. I have been mad at God these past two days, too. Because WHY God would you lay this on my heart and bring me to a point of submission and then let my husband bring it all to a screeching halt like some kind of cosmic speedbump?
I have tried to push it out of my mind. Tried to sublimate it in business. Tried to sleep it away, sing it away, read it away. But it is not going away.
Then today, I found this (From Jen Hatmaker's blog -- but Blogger won't let me link it):
God doesn't promise us a clean middle part of the story. He never said we wouldn't encounter antagonists and drama and surprise twists and heartbreak. We weren't assured a G-rated plot where good feelings are peddled and no one dies or leaves or fails or waits. God promised things like healing and restoration and redemption. Which implies there will be injuries and broken relationships and losses. When he speaks of beauty from ashes, he seems to know there will be actual ashes to resurrect beauty from.
If you are confused right now, if your story isn't going the way you thought, or if you're tangled up in the messy middle where hope is deferred, dear reader, it could just be that God isn't done yet. Your story is not finished. Every hero and heroine must wade through the conflict to get to the end, and you can trust God because he is good. If you have nothing else to cling to, remember this: God is good. He loves goodness and justice. He heals and redeems. He is on the side of love and beauty. He is for you. He is never against you. You may be against you, other people may be against you, but God is not against you.
It is okay to be confused; I'm afraid that is our lot as finite creatures dealing with an infinite God. Some of God's best heroes were confused in their subplots. But I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on. Because God is good and he is for goodness.
And I am hanging onto it for all I'm worth, because it's all I can do right now.
I am still hurting. I still feel like a fraud making small talk with my husband when I really want to hit him. I still don't understand why.
But somehow I have to hang onto the fact that God is good. Even when I don't feel it, even when I don't see it, even when I almost don't believe it. God is good. God is GOOD.
And if you know me, you will know that the italics indicate massive understatement.
I am feeling lost and drifting and without rudder. I am feeling frustrated and out of synch with my husband, and hurt, because being out of synch is kind of painful, like a pebble in your shoe painful. I have been mad at God these past two days, too. Because WHY God would you lay this on my heart and bring me to a point of submission and then let my husband bring it all to a screeching halt like some kind of cosmic speedbump?
I have tried to push it out of my mind. Tried to sublimate it in business. Tried to sleep it away, sing it away, read it away. But it is not going away.
Then today, I found this (From Jen Hatmaker's blog -- but Blogger won't let me link it):
God doesn't promise us a clean middle part of the story. He never said we wouldn't encounter antagonists and drama and surprise twists and heartbreak. We weren't assured a G-rated plot where good feelings are peddled and no one dies or leaves or fails or waits. God promised things like healing and restoration and redemption. Which implies there will be injuries and broken relationships and losses. When he speaks of beauty from ashes, he seems to know there will be actual ashes to resurrect beauty from.
If you are confused right now, if your story isn't going the way you thought, or if you're tangled up in the messy middle where hope is deferred, dear reader, it could just be that God isn't done yet. Your story is not finished. Every hero and heroine must wade through the conflict to get to the end, and you can trust God because he is good. If you have nothing else to cling to, remember this: God is good. He loves goodness and justice. He heals and redeems. He is on the side of love and beauty. He is for you. He is never against you. You may be against you, other people may be against you, but God is not against you.
It is okay to be confused; I'm afraid that is our lot as finite creatures dealing with an infinite God. Some of God's best heroes were confused in their subplots. But I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on. Because God is good and he is for goodness.
And I am hanging onto it for all I'm worth, because it's all I can do right now.
I am still hurting. I still feel like a fraud making small talk with my husband when I really want to hit him. I still don't understand why.
But somehow I have to hang onto the fact that God is good. Even when I don't feel it, even when I don't see it, even when I almost don't believe it. God is good. God is GOOD.
Monday, September 26, 2011
No More Tiptoeing
Last night we had it out. And it was not pretty.
I think the best word for it would be frustrating.
I tried to listen, mostly. I tried to draw out of him why he seems open to adopting and then pulls back hard and retreats behind a wall of change-the-subject. I also tried to get him to pinpoint what really makes him feel like this can't work.
So he did.
I have to say, if I saw it the way he did I would never entertain the idea of adopting. In fact, just remembering what he had to say has left me feeling depressed. And let's not forget, I'm the worst-case-scenario person in the relationship. I felt like I was looking at this with a pretty realistic set of glasses.
The money is always a problem. In this particular instance, I think we probably could pull together the money to get a child home. It's the aftercare that would be problematic. Our insurance is very good (and I know this because our old insurance was very bad), but a child with a chronic medical need would increase our expenses. No question about that. Then there's that extra year of preschool, increased activities for 4 instead of 3, more food and clothing.
Time is another factor. Three kids take up a lot of time. Four would take up still more. He feels like we're just getting our mojo back now and we shouldn't wreck it by adding another child.
It's a noble thing (his words, not mine) but maybe not something we are supposed to do. Why us? Plenty of people we know have lots more money than we do and they don't adopt. True. I know lots of Christians who are good at being rich. I do not want to be one of those people. I don't want to be someone who realizes there's a problem and turns away without doing anything. And I'm not sure as Christians we have the luxury of seeing the problem and doing nothing. And I am not about being noble. In the end, it's not a noble act, it's a child. A child who has to be parented. A real child, who isn't going to send me a Hallmark card to thank me for rescuing him. Nor do I expect him to...he deserves parents just like everyone else.
If someone left a baby on our doorstep, we wouldn't hesitate to do the right thing.
I think the best word for it would be frustrating.
I tried to listen, mostly. I tried to draw out of him why he seems open to adopting and then pulls back hard and retreats behind a wall of change-the-subject. I also tried to get him to pinpoint what really makes him feel like this can't work.
So he did.
I have to say, if I saw it the way he did I would never entertain the idea of adopting. In fact, just remembering what he had to say has left me feeling depressed. And let's not forget, I'm the worst-case-scenario person in the relationship. I felt like I was looking at this with a pretty realistic set of glasses.
The money is always a problem. In this particular instance, I think we probably could pull together the money to get a child home. It's the aftercare that would be problematic. Our insurance is very good (and I know this because our old insurance was very bad), but a child with a chronic medical need would increase our expenses. No question about that. Then there's that extra year of preschool, increased activities for 4 instead of 3, more food and clothing.
Time is another factor. Three kids take up a lot of time. Four would take up still more. He feels like we're just getting our mojo back now and we shouldn't wreck it by adding another child.
It's a noble thing (his words, not mine) but maybe not something we are supposed to do. Why us? Plenty of people we know have lots more money than we do and they don't adopt. True. I know lots of Christians who are good at being rich. I do not want to be one of those people. I don't want to be someone who realizes there's a problem and turns away without doing anything. And I'm not sure as Christians we have the luxury of seeing the problem and doing nothing. And I am not about being noble. In the end, it's not a noble act, it's a child. A child who has to be parented. A real child, who isn't going to send me a Hallmark card to thank me for rescuing him. Nor do I expect him to...he deserves parents just like everyone else.
If someone left a baby on our doorstep, we wouldn't hesitate to do the right thing.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Q & A
Tim and I are cautiously discussing adoption again...tiptoeing around it, actually. Or at least, I feel like I'm tiptoeing. See, I'm not really what you'd call a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of gal. I'm a planner, to the point of neurosis. So there are, understandably, some issues with adoption that I have trouble with. Like, letting an agency match me with a child.
Kind of basic, that one.
So for me, for my comfort level, I would prefer to look at kids on agency lists and find one whose face or situation "speaks" to me. In theory, I can get behind any child. In practice, I need to feel something for a child before I can commit.
So in the spirit of looking for a child that generates that spark in me, I have been looking at agency listed kids from a couple different places. About a week ago, I found a little boy with Thalassemia. Although he is darling, I initially said "no way -- blood disorders are too scary." But he kept creeping back into my thoughts. So I started researching thalassemia and it began to seem not so scary after all. In fact, it might seem almost doable. No surgery to contend with, no concerns about contagious diseases, no speech therapy (probably). Just monthly transfusions and meds for chelation and a yearly visit to a thalassemia center (there's one about 5 hours away by car). This was seeming like less of a big thing. At least to me.
So last night I casually mentioned him to my husband. Kind of like, "How would you feel about adopting a little boy with thalassemia?" We talked a little about what that was, what the treatment looked like, etc. and just as I was feeling a tad hopeful, he says "I don't think we're up to it."
"Thalassemia?" I said. "Well, maybe you're right -- but it did seem less scary than I expected and --"
"No, adoption. I'm not sure we're really up for adoption."
Huh. Really?
He mentioned that I am sometimes maxed out with the 3 we have. And this is a valid point. But it's the only point he really made --that I occasionally get overloaded with our current children. He didn't mention that I occasionally get overloaded with work, with extended-family obligations, with volunteer tasks at church...I just occasionally get overloaded. True dat.
So I thought it would be useful to give myself a little Q & A, to work through the arguments a bit and see if I'm as deluded as my husband seems to think.
Q: Don't you occasionally get maxed out with 3 kids? Won't a 4th put you over the top?
A: Yes and I don't know. I suspect that almost anything could put me over the top, depending on the day, my level of PMS, how much sleep I've gotten and so on. But consider this: when we had just 2 kids, I occasionally got maxed out. Now with 3 I sometimes get overwhelmed. I think I would almost certainly be overwhelmed with 4, but not every single day. It's a learning curve, and while the learning is happening, things might get a little hairy.
Q: What about the kids' schedules? You complain a lot about them. Won't a 4th child make that even harder?
A: Now this is a valid concern. Kids' activities make me nuts. Part of my overwhelmedness this fall has been adjusting to their increased activities, which have to be sanwiched around school and church. Also we've had weekly allergy shots, and will have until about June of next year. That's a further complicating factor. Having a child who requires a transfusion once a month (which takes the better part of a day to complete) could make things even more complicated. But, it is only one day a month, which right now is less demanding than weekly allergy shots. I'm not really sure about additional activities. That's always going to be a problem for me, no matter how many kids we have. Probably I'm going to have to let go of some expectations in that area in order to manage it without losing my marbles. This might be a good place to mention that I always feel overwhelmed in the fall when we go back to school, so if I said something along the lines of "I can't take it anymore" there is just the teensiest possibility that I might have been overreacting. Maybe.
Q: Do you think you might be minimizing the impact a 4th child might have?
A: Hmmmm. I don't know. I'm usually a worst-case-scenario person. I am very very good at imagining all the possible permutations of a situation and pinpointing the exact spot where our future becomes an untenable misery. So I have considered RAD, undiagnosed special needs, minor attachment issues, language issues, toileting issues, rearranged room situtations for existing kids, impact on finances, including insufficient health benefits, school issues related to absences for transfusions, sleep deprivation and attendant insanity, jet lag, gastrointestinal illness while in Ch*na, plane crashes, mugging prior to making orphanage donation, older children rejecting adopted child, excessive whining, increased furniture needs, feasability of 4 kids sharing bathroom with one sink, ability to get 4th child into preschool of choice, approximate increase in weekly laundry, possible need for psychological counseling due to abandonment issues...
Really I could just keep going here, but I think you get the picture. I'm pretty sure I've thought of it all at least once.
Q: Don't you worry about the money?
A: See previous answer. However, I do worry more than a little about the actual money for the adoption itself. I know we have half of what we need, and no, I am not sure how we're going to come up with the other half. Can I just say, "God will provide?"
Q: That's your answer?
A: Yep.
Q: What's your biggest fear?
A: That I'm not a good enough mother to pull this off. But also, that fear will stop me from doing something really good. That in the end I will chicken out. It is a big, scary step on almost any level you care to examine.
Q: How will you address that?
A: For the mothering part, I'm relying on grace to cover my screw ups (thank you , Jesus!). For the rest of it, I think I could do it if I knew my husband was beside me, willing to step out in faith with me on this.
Q: Seriously, one more kid?
A: I think I have it in me to raise one more. I have thought a lot about this in particular, since I am over the f-word now and not, as they say, any spring chicken. How fair would it be to take in a child when I would be 81 when this child hits 40? All I can say to that is, I'll be 80 when Maggie hits 40, so in for a penny, in for a pound. And when I'm gone, he'll have a brother and two sisters to grieve with. He'll never be alone again.
I've thought also about what it would mean to go thru preschool again, and the first day of kindergarten, and learning to ride a bike, and soccer games and little league. And really, I think it would be okay. More than okay -- kind of nice. Let the record reflect, though, that I think one more is probably my limit.
Q: What did you think of the Mentalist season premiere?
A: They totally ruined all they achieved in the brilliant season finale last year. So disappointing. Apparently they've got 12 year olds writing their scripts now, 'cause that was a total playground "psych!" moment.
Q: Totally.
A: I'd like to say, too, that normally I prefer to throw money at problems. I haven't ever had a big desire to go to Haiti or Africa, but I feel for the people there and am happy to contribute to the various projects our church has sponsored for those countries -- mosquito nets, goats, cement floors, wells, education initiatives, eye exams, etc. I like knowing I helped build a well in Haiti that is providing clean water to some people I will probably never meet, but who needed it very badly. But for some reason, this time money doesn't seem to cut it. I feel like I may need to extend myself in a different way, to risk a lot more than the energy required to write a check. And that scares me, too.
Q: What does this all mean?
A: I'm not really sure. I just don't want to do it alone.
Kind of basic, that one.
So for me, for my comfort level, I would prefer to look at kids on agency lists and find one whose face or situation "speaks" to me. In theory, I can get behind any child. In practice, I need to feel something for a child before I can commit.
So in the spirit of looking for a child that generates that spark in me, I have been looking at agency listed kids from a couple different places. About a week ago, I found a little boy with Thalassemia. Although he is darling, I initially said "no way -- blood disorders are too scary." But he kept creeping back into my thoughts. So I started researching thalassemia and it began to seem not so scary after all. In fact, it might seem almost doable. No surgery to contend with, no concerns about contagious diseases, no speech therapy (probably). Just monthly transfusions and meds for chelation and a yearly visit to a thalassemia center (there's one about 5 hours away by car). This was seeming like less of a big thing. At least to me.
So last night I casually mentioned him to my husband. Kind of like, "How would you feel about adopting a little boy with thalassemia?" We talked a little about what that was, what the treatment looked like, etc. and just as I was feeling a tad hopeful, he says "I don't think we're up to it."
"Thalassemia?" I said. "Well, maybe you're right -- but it did seem less scary than I expected and --"
"No, adoption. I'm not sure we're really up for adoption."
Huh. Really?
He mentioned that I am sometimes maxed out with the 3 we have. And this is a valid point. But it's the only point he really made --that I occasionally get overloaded with our current children. He didn't mention that I occasionally get overloaded with work, with extended-family obligations, with volunteer tasks at church...I just occasionally get overloaded. True dat.
So I thought it would be useful to give myself a little Q & A, to work through the arguments a bit and see if I'm as deluded as my husband seems to think.
Q: Don't you occasionally get maxed out with 3 kids? Won't a 4th put you over the top?
A: Yes and I don't know. I suspect that almost anything could put me over the top, depending on the day, my level of PMS, how much sleep I've gotten and so on. But consider this: when we had just 2 kids, I occasionally got maxed out. Now with 3 I sometimes get overwhelmed. I think I would almost certainly be overwhelmed with 4, but not every single day. It's a learning curve, and while the learning is happening, things might get a little hairy.
Q: What about the kids' schedules? You complain a lot about them. Won't a 4th child make that even harder?
A: Now this is a valid concern. Kids' activities make me nuts. Part of my overwhelmedness this fall has been adjusting to their increased activities, which have to be sanwiched around school and church. Also we've had weekly allergy shots, and will have until about June of next year. That's a further complicating factor. Having a child who requires a transfusion once a month (which takes the better part of a day to complete) could make things even more complicated. But, it is only one day a month, which right now is less demanding than weekly allergy shots. I'm not really sure about additional activities. That's always going to be a problem for me, no matter how many kids we have. Probably I'm going to have to let go of some expectations in that area in order to manage it without losing my marbles. This might be a good place to mention that I always feel overwhelmed in the fall when we go back to school, so if I said something along the lines of "I can't take it anymore" there is just the teensiest possibility that I might have been overreacting. Maybe.
Q: Do you think you might be minimizing the impact a 4th child might have?
A: Hmmmm. I don't know. I'm usually a worst-case-scenario person. I am very very good at imagining all the possible permutations of a situation and pinpointing the exact spot where our future becomes an untenable misery. So I have considered RAD, undiagnosed special needs, minor attachment issues, language issues, toileting issues, rearranged room situtations for existing kids, impact on finances, including insufficient health benefits, school issues related to absences for transfusions, sleep deprivation and attendant insanity, jet lag, gastrointestinal illness while in Ch*na, plane crashes, mugging prior to making orphanage donation, older children rejecting adopted child, excessive whining, increased furniture needs, feasability of 4 kids sharing bathroom with one sink, ability to get 4th child into preschool of choice, approximate increase in weekly laundry, possible need for psychological counseling due to abandonment issues...
Really I could just keep going here, but I think you get the picture. I'm pretty sure I've thought of it all at least once.
Q: Don't you worry about the money?
A: See previous answer. However, I do worry more than a little about the actual money for the adoption itself. I know we have half of what we need, and no, I am not sure how we're going to come up with the other half. Can I just say, "God will provide?"
Q: That's your answer?
A: Yep.
Q: What's your biggest fear?
A: That I'm not a good enough mother to pull this off. But also, that fear will stop me from doing something really good. That in the end I will chicken out. It is a big, scary step on almost any level you care to examine.
Q: How will you address that?
A: For the mothering part, I'm relying on grace to cover my screw ups (thank you , Jesus!). For the rest of it, I think I could do it if I knew my husband was beside me, willing to step out in faith with me on this.
Q: Seriously, one more kid?
A: I think I have it in me to raise one more. I have thought a lot about this in particular, since I am over the f-word now and not, as they say, any spring chicken. How fair would it be to take in a child when I would be 81 when this child hits 40? All I can say to that is, I'll be 80 when Maggie hits 40, so in for a penny, in for a pound. And when I'm gone, he'll have a brother and two sisters to grieve with. He'll never be alone again.
I've thought also about what it would mean to go thru preschool again, and the first day of kindergarten, and learning to ride a bike, and soccer games and little league. And really, I think it would be okay. More than okay -- kind of nice. Let the record reflect, though, that I think one more is probably my limit.
Q: What did you think of the Mentalist season premiere?
A: They totally ruined all they achieved in the brilliant season finale last year. So disappointing. Apparently they've got 12 year olds writing their scripts now, 'cause that was a total playground "psych!" moment.
Q: Totally.
A: I'd like to say, too, that normally I prefer to throw money at problems. I haven't ever had a big desire to go to Haiti or Africa, but I feel for the people there and am happy to contribute to the various projects our church has sponsored for those countries -- mosquito nets, goats, cement floors, wells, education initiatives, eye exams, etc. I like knowing I helped build a well in Haiti that is providing clean water to some people I will probably never meet, but who needed it very badly. But for some reason, this time money doesn't seem to cut it. I feel like I may need to extend myself in a different way, to risk a lot more than the energy required to write a check. And that scares me, too.
Q: What does this all mean?
A: I'm not really sure. I just don't want to do it alone.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
In Which I am Seriously Hitting the Wall
So frustrated this week.
Kids' activities have me reeling. I need an algorithm to keep their schedules straight. Sheer volume of papers they bring home from school is probably the main reason we are losing the rainforest. I am so stressed, I can't keep it together emotionally. By that, I mean that I am yelling a lot.
Massively over-committed on the work front -- two off-site assignments, a workshop and Sunday School teaching have me feeling panicky and not a little short of breath.
Very very frustrated by the lack of purpose we seem to have. I don't think God put me on this earth to make sure my kids get to gymnastics and football practices. I accept that I am here to make sure they get their allergy shots and make it to the dentist. Tuesdays in particular make me feel like there has to be more to life than this.
And I know that there is, but I am losing sight of it in the midst of all the havoc. I know that I am a person who needs a lot of empty. I need big chunks of unscheduled time or I start to feel fractured.
Fractured, you know, is another word for broken. I'm broken right now.
We were exploring the idea of adopting and right now I feel assailed by messages saying, "yes, you need to do this," and other messages saying "you can't do it -- look at you, you're crumbling as it is." Which one is right? Neither Tim nor I is usually willing to grab the bull by the horns, to take a stand. We both want the other one to shoulder the responsibility, and therefore the blame, for major decisions. This is what happens when no one wants to be the grown up.
I feel positively pummeled.
God, where are you in all of this? 'Cause I gotta say, I'm feeling rather lonely and adrift. Is that my fault? Probably. I can't seem to pray lately. My mind shuts down - totally on purpose - and I can't tell You what I want to. That I want to adopt but I'm scared. That I need Tim to be fully participatory in this or I can't do it. That a nice, extremely bright, neon sign saying "Walk This Way" would really help me right now. That I am tired of driving our spiritual life. That I am afraid my skills as a mom, which are sorely lacking sometimes, are seriously failing the kids I have, let alone any other kid we may take on. That I am lousy at flying blind. That I can't see the forest for the trees -- the bigger picture almost always eludes me, and when I do catch a glimpse of it it's usually a worst-case scenario. That I so desperately need your grace, and I just can't seem to feel it right now. That I am badly in need of a redeemer -- to redeem all my mistakes as a parent, as a wife, as a human being. That I have felt like I am in limbo for about 4 months now, just hanging in and hanging on, but with no sense of any greater purpose or direction.
And if we adopt, what then? What if I still feel this way -- rudderless and blown all over by our schedule? What if we don't adopt and I keep feeling this way? 'Cause it really stinks, this feeling.
"God, you are my God, and I will ever praise you. I will seek you in the morning, I will learn to walk in your ways. Step by step you lead me, and I will follow you all of my days."
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Amen.
Kids' activities have me reeling. I need an algorithm to keep their schedules straight. Sheer volume of papers they bring home from school is probably the main reason we are losing the rainforest. I am so stressed, I can't keep it together emotionally. By that, I mean that I am yelling a lot.
Massively over-committed on the work front -- two off-site assignments, a workshop and Sunday School teaching have me feeling panicky and not a little short of breath.
Very very frustrated by the lack of purpose we seem to have. I don't think God put me on this earth to make sure my kids get to gymnastics and football practices. I accept that I am here to make sure they get their allergy shots and make it to the dentist. Tuesdays in particular make me feel like there has to be more to life than this.
And I know that there is, but I am losing sight of it in the midst of all the havoc. I know that I am a person who needs a lot of empty. I need big chunks of unscheduled time or I start to feel fractured.
Fractured, you know, is another word for broken. I'm broken right now.
We were exploring the idea of adopting and right now I feel assailed by messages saying, "yes, you need to do this," and other messages saying "you can't do it -- look at you, you're crumbling as it is." Which one is right? Neither Tim nor I is usually willing to grab the bull by the horns, to take a stand. We both want the other one to shoulder the responsibility, and therefore the blame, for major decisions. This is what happens when no one wants to be the grown up.
I feel positively pummeled.
God, where are you in all of this? 'Cause I gotta say, I'm feeling rather lonely and adrift. Is that my fault? Probably. I can't seem to pray lately. My mind shuts down - totally on purpose - and I can't tell You what I want to. That I want to adopt but I'm scared. That I need Tim to be fully participatory in this or I can't do it. That a nice, extremely bright, neon sign saying "Walk This Way" would really help me right now. That I am tired of driving our spiritual life. That I am afraid my skills as a mom, which are sorely lacking sometimes, are seriously failing the kids I have, let alone any other kid we may take on. That I am lousy at flying blind. That I can't see the forest for the trees -- the bigger picture almost always eludes me, and when I do catch a glimpse of it it's usually a worst-case scenario. That I so desperately need your grace, and I just can't seem to feel it right now. That I am badly in need of a redeemer -- to redeem all my mistakes as a parent, as a wife, as a human being. That I have felt like I am in limbo for about 4 months now, just hanging in and hanging on, but with no sense of any greater purpose or direction.
And if we adopt, what then? What if I still feel this way -- rudderless and blown all over by our schedule? What if we don't adopt and I keep feeling this way? 'Cause it really stinks, this feeling.
"God, you are my God, and I will ever praise you. I will seek you in the morning, I will learn to walk in your ways. Step by step you lead me, and I will follow you all of my days."
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Amen.
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