The Crying Girl in the Second Row

Approaching our church building this morning, it hit me how sad I have been about the latest road bump in the adoption journey.  Repeating to myself "God has a plan; there is a plan, remember the plan" had not allowed me time to feel.  I had previously gotten wrapped up with the cerebral, and as often happens in moments  I am encountering the Lord, I began to connect with my heart. 

In writing this post, I guess I am hoping to normalize the less obvious losses that those of us waiting parents are likely to encounter.  I also want to share my experience of comfort and caring. 

This weekend has been wonderful. I spent time with my beautiful family and cherished friends. I ran with my two healthy legs and slept in a large cushy bed. Know that I am thankful and aware of my good fortune.  I  met up with friends this weekend who are pregnant with their second child and spoke with a another dear friend about when she will start planning for her second pregnancy.  And on the way to church, it hit me.  Even though I started 1.5 years ago on this journey, they will know their children before I know my son. 

It is difficult to explain this loss.  There is no death, no separation to speak of, no referral of a child that went on to fall through, just an expectation.  A hope.  And while I still feel hope, I have lost.  Lost what? I'm not sure.  I still believe God has a son for our family, and I still believe that God's timing will prove better than mine. So what have I lost? Time with my son? The feeling of progress? I don't know.  All I know is that I feel it, and it is real to me. 

So during worship this morning, I simply said to the Lord "I'm hurting", and with this admission, my tear ducts became overly active as I let the pain of our latest adoption set back settle and be experienced.  And as I often do when I am hurting, I got a little obstinate with Him. I began to say (in not quite so insistent wording) that I needed Him to comfort me, why hadn't He sent someone? I surprised myself in this conversation with the Lord. I was also surprised at the tears. What happened next was unexpected.  Just moments after , I  was prayer-bombed.  This is what I have decided to lovingly call what happened.  A lovely  mother and daughter from our church approached me where I sat and the daughter said "I don't know why I'm supposed to pray for you, but the Lord sent me over to you." And they proceeded to pray words of comfort over me, hug on me, and love me.  (I cried more of course :) ).  And I cry now as I think of what a defiant immature child of God I am, and even in my pouting and irritability, he sent me what I had asked for. 


I did some more chatting with God this afternoon, and wondered aloud in my time with Him about what I knew and understood about His nature.  My brain first went to the New Testament.  The NT describes a God I feel more familiar and/or comfortable with. Then, I thought about the Old Testament.  I thought about a sermon I heard when I was visiting First Pres., here in Tulsa.  Dr. Miller spoke of Heman in 1Chronicles 6 and described how his story unfolded.  And what I captured from that sermon was that the scope of God's plan is so much greater than what we can experience in this one piece of the puzzle that we live in.  That His nature is so complex as to provide for the girl crying in the pew and to pull back and also orchestrate on a plane that I can't even imagine. One which moves through generations and provides for His people. 

God is bigger than this moment.  He can heal my pain and he can help me wait on His timing.  For those of you waiting for your little ones, I'm so sorry that it can be painful.  I just keep thinking that there is a little boy and his mommy out there that need me to tough this out.  And for those of you that have friends that are adopting, just know that the journey is riddled with surprise hurts.  Thank you for hearing God's leading, and for comforting the crying girl in the second row.