"See this disastrous hole in my kitchen ceiling? Now just imagine my entire left leg dangling from it.
Why? Because about an hour ago, it was!
In an effort to save a little $$$, I went to the attic to try to find some of Grace's previously worn black dress shoes for Gloria to wear this weekend to a Valentine's dance. Wasn't paying attention, took one step back & down I went...screaming all the way.
Took Derek about 2 seconds to race up the ladder & rescue his insulation-covered, shaken-up, teary wife. Girls witnessed the whole thing & were quite shaken up as well. :(
I bruised my knee & right wrist has been throbbing (& of course my pride is wounded), but other than that, I'm good. Praise God!
So...looking back (& up at this mess), I'm thinking it would've been a whole lot cheaper to have just purchased new dress shoes..."
From the response I received, apparently falling through your ceiling is more common than I had initially thought. After the shock wore off and the heart rates went down, we all got a good ol' fashioned belly laugh about it, particularly when my oldest said, "Mom, no offense or anything...but when I saw your leg hanging down, all I could think of were the huge shoes at the Center for Puppetry Arts."
A most accurate comparison indeed.
|The last time we were at the |
Center for Puppetry Arts in Atlanta
My sweet, compassionate girls had ushered me to the recliner in the living room and had given me ice packs for my knee and wrist. And while they were doctoring me (and my frazzled emotions) with lots of TLC, Derek took to action, cutting back loose dry wall, vacuuming up the insulation, etc. Then without saying a word, he headed back up into the attic with a large piece of cardboard he'd found in the garage.
From the recliner, Grace and I could hear him working and could see some movement, but weren't sure what he was doing. I asked her, "So...what do you think he's doing up there?"
Gazing up at her daddy, Grace nonchalantly said, "Hmm...I don't know. But I trust him."
Forget the new bumps and bruises on my body, that simple comment left fresh marks on my heart.
And I knew why.
Three years ago, in one of the biggest steps of faith we've ever taken as a family, we began the journey to adopt. Three years ago. Sometimes it seems like yesterday and other times, another lifetime ago.
Last spring we thought we'd finally found her. A brown-skinned 9-month old girl with a cleft lip and palate. We requested her file from her orphanage, spent hours researching future surgeries she'd need here in the States and even had discussions of the exact placement of her crib in our bedroom.
But then we got a phone call. It wasn't going to happen. We were not allowed to be matched with her. Officially, we were still attached to our original orphanage in northwest India and this little girl was in a very different orphanage in southeast India. And adoption law in India (CARA) dictated that was not a possibility.
Disappointment hurts. Especially of the faith variety. Somewhere along the way, I've pulled back. In the past year, I've struggled with trust and unbelief. I've wrestled with doubt and fear. I've grappled with selfishness and apathy. I've even fought thoughts of, "Do I even still want what we've been waiting for these past three years?"
Inside, I've been a mess of emotions. I've suffered from tension headaches. All because I can't seem to regain the confidence I once had in this journey. I've lost it...or rather had it stolen from me. I guess waiting a long time for anything has the potential to do that to a person.
Through all of this (and trust me, we're still in the midst of it), God has been kind. He's been more than patient. He's been faithful when I've been completely faithless. He's shown me that it's been this dormant disappointment which has kept me from reaching out in full faith again, believing Him and all the promises He's given us in the last three years.
About a month ago, He directed me to this in His word:
"In You our fathers put their trust;
they trusted and You delivered them.
They cried to You and were saved;
in You they trusted and were not disappointed."
Trust and disappointment.
And then just this past Sunday, our pastor, referencing David's two-decade wait to become the anointed King of Israel says this,
"The work of faith is in the waiting.
The work of faith is when it's not.
Will you wait faithfully?"
Waiting and faith.
And then we headed into Kids Crossing where we serve, where the new virtue for the month of March is patience. Yep. Patience.
So, there I stood on stage Sunday, talking about the impatience of Esau with his brother, Jacob, and encouraging the kids to keep waiting on God's best, even if they don't think they can wait one. more. second.
It's almost like God is telling us something...
After this emotional update, let me give you the logistical update with the adoption. I know the guys would've liked this first, but sorry, I write the blog posts around here, not Derek.
Following the debacle last spring, our adoption agency contacted CARA (the governing agency dealing with all things adoption in India) and petitioned we be released from the orphanage they'd matched us with nearly three years ago. After months and months of waiting for this request to be granted (because everything in India moves slower than slow), our request has been granted. We are now officially unattached.
What does this mean?
This means we now have access to a special listing/database called CARINGS. From what we understand, this database is updated and monitored daily by adoption agencies all over the world. Indian orphanages upload children from their orphanages onto this list for adoption. Since India is not releasing young, "healthy" children to be adopted by foreign families right now, this listing contains children with various special needs, ranging from mild to very severe. The little girl with the cleft lip we had hoped to pursue in adoption was on this list.
Yes, we are clueless as to how this will all come to pass, but we are choosing to stay the course until we feel nudged to do otherwise.
What do we do while we're in this limbo state?
We...(wait for it...) wait.
And similar to Derek quietly taking care of business up in our attic, I choose to believe God is working, too.
Even when my feelings try to convince me otherwise, His Word says He is for us. He is for the fatherless. The plans He has for us are good. Plans to prosper us, not to harm us. Plans to give us a hope and a future.
So...what is He doing?
"Hmm...I don't know. But...I trust Him."
|In the recliner...post-fall.|