"Trust God from the bottom of your heart; don't try to figure out everything on your own. Listen for God's voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; He's the one who will keep you on track." Proverbs 3:5,6 Message
Quiet time took on a new intensity as I interrogated the Creator, “God was that You?” Events began falling into place as we began a year of research into the world of adoption. A new prayer emerged from my heart, “Lord if this is Your will, lead us to our child, Your child.” Words from Jeremiah 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you…” played through my mind. I was learning to trust.
I don’t want to forget the emotional anticipation of expecting a child, linked to never-ending paperwork and fees and appointments. A new whirlwind of life began adding another layer of overwhelm to my already overfilled life. No longer did I daily set aside time for reflection, so driving to the hospital became my only respite. During these times, I thought about the irony of working so hard to complete our family while the increased stress was pushing us apart. Instead of a child, emptiness was again growing inside of me. What would it be like to just walk away? The thought tore through me. I rationalized, he seems miserable, I am short-tempered and exhausted, and she is probably young enough not to remember. What if I left? My heart pounded as I let this thought sit with me as I drove to work, numb. I was alarmed at how easily the speculation had surfaced. I knew it wasn’t what I wanted, but there had to be more to life than this mere existence.
I don’t want to forget the moment I heard the ominous train sound and realized he wasn’t by my side. In that split second, I couldn’t imagine life without him, without us. As wide-eyed teenagers we had taken a chance at love, marrying almost a decade later. Now, after 12 years of a ritualistic marriage, I was ready to commit my heart. A new resolve took root, and I vowed to find us. No longer was I willing to accept this existence, dictated by to-do-lists. The tornado had left our roof in our yard, and the unforgiving rain had rendered our home unlivable, but in the displacement, I began to find a new appreciation for the little things. It was during the disruption that we received an email that would redirect our focus.
