Summer air sticks hot to our skin as we walk. By 1:30, it's been a long day already, full of school work and cleaning and picnics and playing. The cashier at the tire center had said it'd be hours before they could change my car's oil. I hesitated only a moment before clinking my car keys on the counter, grasping two tiny girl hands, and walking home.
Life buzzes along these days as always, one routine moment after another. Except now, in this world of usual, a very unusual backdrop frames the scenes of each day. I'm not sure when this unusual beauty crept in, but it gets stronger each day. I don't know how to describe it except to say it is a new found fascination with God's hand visibly at work in our lives.
And I know that Ann Voskamp is right. All is grace.
He gifts us
and gifts us...
With Spanish Moss hanging from trees.
With bitter seasons of life that somehow turn sweet because our loss of mere things becomes reliance on Him.
With little girls laughing at hide-and-seek.
The beauty and the pain, He presses them all into submission to serve His good purposes, for our good. (Rom. 8:28)
These days, more and more adoptive parents write how hard it is to parent once-orphans. Children who carry baggage, who behave strangely, whose face bears no resemblance to any family trait.
On one hand, I worry these stories will frighten waiting mothers. Will less families adopt, fearing it's too hard?
On the other hand, I worry these struggling families don't feel free enough to speak out. To admit that adoption is hard. To find others who can relate to them, pray for them, uphold them.
I ache for these hurting mamas like I ache for the mamas who have yet to hold their children. Waiting hurts, as I imagine hard parenting hurts.
I was a whiner during our adoption wait. A wimp. Others endured worse, but I fell to pieces. I can't tell you how often I'd spend the hour before Brad came home in a crying heap on our couch.
But it is that pain that makes life so sweet today.
I can't watch my girls play together without thanking God in euphoria.
I can't feel Amelia's tiny hands on my cheeks
or soft kisses on my nose
without recognizing the miracle she is.
I don't know what your hard circumstance is today.
I don't know what in life you wait for,
I don't know what plagues you,
threatens to steal your health
But I can promise you Romans 8:28. For those of us who treasure God above all else, I promise you...
God will use your mourning to bring you joy.
Not cheap joy.
Priceless joy in the Eternal One.
I know. It's hard to believe it. When the only evidence you can see is pain, it takes blind faith to believe Redemption is coming.
He's already in your circumstances.
It's going to be good.