I am not quite sure how I got here. Honestly, I sometimes worried that I would never feel true joy again. For the past fifteen months, when peace would try to infiltrate into my heart and mind, other emotions quickly took over. Fear. Anger. A desire to be right. To win. I thought I wanted peace, but I didn't. I wanted to fix everything. I wanted the solution that made sense to me to make sense to everyone else, so we could all just move on.
The only person not moving on was me.
God has been so gracious and faithful. He has brought situations and people to pass to reach my stubborn heart. Just this week, I sat on a conference call where many other adoptive families are facing the fears that the Congolese government may never reopen adoptions, and my heart went out to them. I know the hurt and fear and overwhelm. A few days later, I ran into a friend who found out that his dreams of taking his family to Africa this summer, in hopes of preparing to become missionaries there, have been dashed. And, as I encouraged him of God's sovereignty and love for us, I heard the echo of my voice in my own heart. Really, it was the echo of God's voice, that small whisper he has spoken to me, His child.
But, I have bristled at the thought of moving on for so long. A friend sent me Jesus Calling, and I have read it almost every day, loving the days when I read about trusting God to bring about miracles, hating the days when it tells me to seek God above all things. I have watched the journey of my heart change through the music that speaks to my soul. From "Oceans" to "I Find You on My Knees" and "Though You Slay Me" to "Tapestry", it has been a journey from faith, to sorrow, to acceptance. I wrote about trusting and praising God in this season, and I am thankful for the heart to do so, despite my inner turmoil. But, still, there was a
And, now, I have finally realized something very important: we can't go back to the way it was. That world doesn't make sense either. Even if I received a call today where I found out, "All is well. You can adopt Jean Paul," it would be another year or two before he could come home because of the suspension in the DRC and inevitable backlog of adoption cases when the country reopens. He would then be almost 7, and he would have been living with a Congolese family for two to three years. He would have built friendships in his small village; that would be home.
While our moments with him have been etched into our minds and hearts forever, I have had to come to the difficult realization that, given his age, it is likely he does not even remember us. This week, a friend, who is also adopted, helped me realize that the Congo is all he knows. What a gift that the Lord would give him a family there. He can now understand trust and security and love for the first time. While we are blessed to continue to make a difference in his life, our repeated entrance into his life as possible adoptive parents will just add to his trauma and confusion.
Despite all of our efforts, the circumstances have changed. Praise God that my heart is finally ready to change, too.
This week, a friend posted a verse that spoke to me through another difficult season:
"Those who cling to worthless idols,
Forfeit the grace that could be theirs."
Jonah 2:8
Over the past few months, I have been so fearful of penning words of acceptance, any hint that we may actually move on. Each post has been honest but has also included an attempt to give just enough to not have to let go.
Today, I know, it is time. Words cannot express the gratitude that I feel for how passionately the Lord has pursued my heart in this season. There are no tears today. Only hope.
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