I think about you more than you know.
You’re in my prayers and come across my thoughts so often in a day.
I could say I “get it” because I’ve been there, but, at the same time, I only mostly understand. I haven’t been in your exact shoes, in your unique journey, so I don’t understand completely. But all who have waited are warriors in some same sense. (And sometimes I wonder if it’s a sane sense.) So I want to encourage you, to bring you hope…
But I also need you. To remind me, to teach me.
I look to you to see how to wholeheartedly cast an unknown future into the hands of known God — more known than ever in times of utter dependence. Have I really become so important, having someone so utterly dependent on me, that I forget the One whose provision I prayed, the One who still provides my daily bread? Show me how to look ahead, because the future is not any more known now that the dream is true. I see faithfulness in your stories, I see God at work, and He is no less at work now in mine. It’s only just the beginning.
Here’s the part that will sound so strange. Sitting here on the other side, it would be really easy for me to say that being a mom is the best thing I have ever done or could ever do. (And when I hold her in my arms and look at her sweet, sleeping face that’s especially true.) But it’s not. Trusting God’s will and obeying His call is the greatest thing I can ever do. I know I have received the most precious gift, a blessing that has allowed me the greatest privilege of my life – but not the purpose. To bring glory to God, to know Him more and make Him known… that is my purpose as a Christ follower. (What a humbling way, by His grace, He has given for me – THROUGH her – to do just that.)
It’s what you are doing right now. Being faithful in the waiting. Trusting God with your whole heart and your whole life. Being so ready and yet being asked to wait.
The waiting, the waiting, the waiting… That desert place where the forming of our character has much more of an impact on our actual mothering than we will ever know. Where our faith is molded through exasperation and tears, preparation and hopefulness. It is the display of that same faith that will be the greatest gift we could ever give our children one day – not the perfect nursery, or the paperwork, or all the research, or anything else.
There is a time that’s coming for you (how I pray it’s soon!)… But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that God is always intentional with waiting. He has given each of us a very specific timeframe. And it has nothing to do with who finishes their paperwork first, or who wants it more, or did I choose the right agency… It’s much more heaven-sent than all of that. Actually, it’s perfect.
So really, I don’t know. I don’t know every story that leads to adoption. I don’t know the raw injustice of infertility… I don’t know the tremendous, crushing loss of a child… I don’t even know the tender (or perhaps sudden) way God whispered it into your plans, even as He once laid on our hearts the way to His plan all along.
But I do know this about the waiting:
God gives grace upon grace upon grace.
In all things and for all things you encounter.
Press on. Don’t you get discouraged. Never give up. Let go and yet hold fast – surrendering your expectations while clinging to the goodness and the promises of God. It’s no small thing. He is doing something right now that you could never dream. And now is the time that matters. It matters.
I was in this place less than a week before we got “the call”: https://glenhamsgrow.com/2014/11/09/when-words-are-weary-and-joy-runs-deep/ And it would be so easy for me now to forget what that was like.
The truth is, here I am now — completely, unfathomably in love with His gift — and He is still just asking me to trust Him. Just like you.
There is a song of hope that rises each time you say with your life, I trust You. It’s beautiful and painful, like childbirth itself. I see you waiting… And I’m inspired. Encouraged. Soldiers of hope, help me remember the faithfulness of the One who brought me here.
And don’t you get discouraged.
“Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin.” (Zechariah 4:10)