"whenever God closes a door, somewhere He opens a window." someone said once.
where is the window? it's hard to breath in here. the door slamming was loud, my ears are ringing. it's dark. so dark i can't see my hand. where is the window?
i just got an email from the lawyer. it may have been the worst email i've read- or one of them. it said NO. it said they said NO to rose's adoption. it said NO and Never and wait until she is 14 and can legally request adoption. it could have been over next week. we had a court date for next week. this 5 year ordeal could have finally been closed and a new chapter opened- the post adoption chapter.
i read it with shock and appall because we had spent an hour with the family before this, right before this, and it sounded like we were all on the same page. it sounded like we were family now- the jaja called me her daughter- it sounded like they understood what they had agreed to months ago in the village way up north. it sounded like finishing the reality that has been our life for 5 years now.
i read it and i felt like i was choking with my hands tied behind me. powerless, and trying to breathe. trapped and trying not to suffocate. 7 more years. jacob and laban. the longest labor ever known- measured not in hours but in years to birth this child.
i started clamoring around for a window in the dark. maybe there is latch if i can just feel it i can open a window- i can find light and air. but i'm just struggling in the dark- flapping my arms against smooth solid walls, and getting tired.
the thing is, i have this unshakable faith in God that gets in the way sometimes. i mean even if i want to get all pissed off and angry at God, i trust Him too much to really do that. i know he can handle it- i've been angry many times before, but lately His love and constancy have grown that trust even more and i know in my deepest parts that somehow, this awful, bleeping plan, is ........better. i know this, even though i don't know why. even though i don't know how. even though it sure as H-E double hockey sticks, doesn't feel like it's better.
it is.
we don't get to choose what life gives us, but we do get to choose how we respond to it. i have a choice in this. i can let the rage that wants to ignite in me take over and i can "fight this!!" (but i'm not even allowed to make a court date and if i had one, the judge wouldn't grant it anyway in this current adoption environment). i can let this anger fill me and i can refuse to let this family ever see rose again, because legally i have that right, and man right now that is exactly what i want to do.
or, i can sit down in this very dark room, open my hands and ask God to show me the window. knowing that this window might not look at all like my idea of a window. knowing that i might have to sit in the dark for a while and let my eyes adjust. knowing it might just be a window in my heart that opens. that lets a greater love grow. that changes me in ways i can't imagine, but need.
the tricky part is that i also have to trust that God is big enough for this to be .......better, for all involved. mike. zoe. jude. bryn. even rose herself. for her extended tribe. for our extended tribe across the ocean.
it's so much easier to get angry than it is to sit down in the dark. it's so much easier to organize and strategize and make plans a, b, and c. to feel i can take control even in a very dark room.i know because i've been doing it for 40 years. it's so much harder to feel what feels horribly unfair. to feel the pain of it. the trapped-ness of it. perhaps most of all to feel the fear of it and all it's rippling fears. it's so much harder to release the anger, to widen my view to see all sides, to embrace the very unknownness of this, and commit to do the right thing, and not what i feel like doing.
this is the battle we all have. the parts of us fighting inside - the dark side and the jedi side. in moments like this the dark side has some very legit points and likable ideas- "this isn't fair to rose! play hard ball! tell them they will never see her again unless they sign those papers!" but if i'm honest, all this heaviness is coming from a place of fear, not a place of love.
and light comes from Love. i'm sitting in this dark space yes, but if i can access that love, one small light is enough to kill the darkness. so i choose light. i choose trust. i choose faith and waiting. i choose hope. i choose to believe that while fear is flying all around this from all sides, so is love. love of a child. birthed by some and raised by others, loved by all.
i will sit in the arms of Love that parted the waters for the Israelites twice, once out of slavery and once more into the promised land. i will trust the parting. i will remember my own waters crossed dry and my own illuminated darknesses. i will wait with my little light. i will ask to see the window, and i will look and listen for where the light comes, and i will do my very best to walk in it.
where is the window? it's hard to breath in here. the door slamming was loud, my ears are ringing. it's dark. so dark i can't see my hand. where is the window?
i just got an email from the lawyer. it may have been the worst email i've read- or one of them. it said NO. it said they said NO to rose's adoption. it said NO and Never and wait until she is 14 and can legally request adoption. it could have been over next week. we had a court date for next week. this 5 year ordeal could have finally been closed and a new chapter opened- the post adoption chapter.
i read it with shock and appall because we had spent an hour with the family before this, right before this, and it sounded like we were all on the same page. it sounded like we were family now- the jaja called me her daughter- it sounded like they understood what they had agreed to months ago in the village way up north. it sounded like finishing the reality that has been our life for 5 years now.
i read it and i felt like i was choking with my hands tied behind me. powerless, and trying to breathe. trapped and trying not to suffocate. 7 more years. jacob and laban. the longest labor ever known- measured not in hours but in years to birth this child.
i started clamoring around for a window in the dark. maybe there is latch if i can just feel it i can open a window- i can find light and air. but i'm just struggling in the dark- flapping my arms against smooth solid walls, and getting tired.
the thing is, i have this unshakable faith in God that gets in the way sometimes. i mean even if i want to get all pissed off and angry at God, i trust Him too much to really do that. i know he can handle it- i've been angry many times before, but lately His love and constancy have grown that trust even more and i know in my deepest parts that somehow, this awful, bleeping plan, is ........better. i know this, even though i don't know why. even though i don't know how. even though it sure as H-E double hockey sticks, doesn't feel like it's better.
it is.
we don't get to choose what life gives us, but we do get to choose how we respond to it. i have a choice in this. i can let the rage that wants to ignite in me take over and i can "fight this!!" (but i'm not even allowed to make a court date and if i had one, the judge wouldn't grant it anyway in this current adoption environment). i can let this anger fill me and i can refuse to let this family ever see rose again, because legally i have that right, and man right now that is exactly what i want to do.
or, i can sit down in this very dark room, open my hands and ask God to show me the window. knowing that this window might not look at all like my idea of a window. knowing that i might have to sit in the dark for a while and let my eyes adjust. knowing it might just be a window in my heart that opens. that lets a greater love grow. that changes me in ways i can't imagine, but need.
the tricky part is that i also have to trust that God is big enough for this to be .......better, for all involved. mike. zoe. jude. bryn. even rose herself. for her extended tribe. for our extended tribe across the ocean.
it's so much easier to get angry than it is to sit down in the dark. it's so much easier to organize and strategize and make plans a, b, and c. to feel i can take control even in a very dark room.i know because i've been doing it for 40 years. it's so much harder to feel what feels horribly unfair. to feel the pain of it. the trapped-ness of it. perhaps most of all to feel the fear of it and all it's rippling fears. it's so much harder to release the anger, to widen my view to see all sides, to embrace the very unknownness of this, and commit to do the right thing, and not what i feel like doing.
this is the battle we all have. the parts of us fighting inside - the dark side and the jedi side. in moments like this the dark side has some very legit points and likable ideas- "this isn't fair to rose! play hard ball! tell them they will never see her again unless they sign those papers!" but if i'm honest, all this heaviness is coming from a place of fear, not a place of love.
and light comes from Love. i'm sitting in this dark space yes, but if i can access that love, one small light is enough to kill the darkness. so i choose light. i choose trust. i choose faith and waiting. i choose hope. i choose to believe that while fear is flying all around this from all sides, so is love. love of a child. birthed by some and raised by others, loved by all.
i will sit in the arms of Love that parted the waters for the Israelites twice, once out of slavery and once more into the promised land. i will trust the parting. i will remember my own waters crossed dry and my own illuminated darknesses. i will wait with my little light. i will ask to see the window, and i will look and listen for where the light comes, and i will do my very best to walk in it.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.