In the Unfolding

I thought that's all we were waiting on. For my willingness. For my confession of willingness.

In 2013, when we learned that Asa had been born, and a few weeks later, that he had been placed into CPS in a neighboring county, Philip and I fervently prayed for his well-being, and also prayed for the Lord to show us our part in his story.

After a month or so of consistent concern and constant prayer, we sensed the courage to pursue a kinship foster arrangement. I remember sort of declaring to the Lord, slightly dramatically, “Yes. We can take him and care for him.”

Now, reflecting back on those nervy, strange times, I imagine the Lord blinking back at my resolute commitment, like, “Yes. Yes I know you can. Glad you are on board.”

And I thought that's all we were waiting on. For my willingness. For my confession of willingness. I assumed that in His graciousness, God had been waiting on me, and now that I was on board, the foster-to-adopt train would leave the station.

And yet it did not. It just sat there. Week after week.

We were Ready. Brave. Surrendered. Open for whatever came next.

*unless what came next was more waiting. “Waiting” was actually not on our list of approved verbiage that we had subconsciously submitted to the Lord. Weird.

I read a PILE of library books on attachment theory and fetal alcohol syndrome. Philip calmly collected phone calls from Birth-Mom in jail.

With puffs of newfound expertise, I persisted in my prayers that the Lord move quickly on our behalf. I rattled off data about the importance of months four through seven in an infant's life, which in my mind proved my will was aligned with His. (Yes. I thought I'd enlighten the Creator of the universe about the limbic system and neural pathways. Bless.)

As weeks turned into months, and every action step was met with stalled procedure and snagging red tape, my frustration escalated. In the uncertainty, I had let fear creep in.

Birth-Mom's rights had not been relinquished or terminated. Our encounters with her were clunky dances, spinning around between gentle compassion and stern advocacy. My emotions would stumble into a dizzy mess.

One afternoon, I shut the door to my room and fell face first, onto my bed … slobbery sobs soaking into the comforter. “Jesus … why aren't You bringing this baby HERE? He has needs! Can't You see?? I said ‘yes’ to You. What else do You want?”

All at once, peace and calm pressed down like a weighted blanket, and as though His presence gently tucked the hair behind my ears so I could hear Him plainly …

“You are emotional and weary. What else do I want, you ask? I want you to be strengthened and stable and filled with confident peace so that, together, we can care for this precious child. I want his foster mom and dad to keep caring for him until it is the best time for him to come home to you. I want you to trust Me.”

At least those are the words my surrendered soul perceived in the quiet, whole-hearted concession.

Moments passed and I opened my eyes. I resumed my day with my kids and heard someone mention “mom's power nap”. Yes. That's what we'll call it.

It was mid-summer and time to sketch out the new calendar for six kids and the school year … with or without the addition of a high-needs infant. I had nowhere to begin. So I would set the legal pad aside, fight the urge to roll my eyes or huff, and keep blindly trudging through.

Trudging also meant two, separate week-long trips where the little kids stayed with “framily” and Philip and I enjoyed extended changes of pace and scenery together. I had just enough maturity in perspective to realize what a gift that was, and to be grateful for the time away.

We had two days between trips to wash laundry and repack. We also used that time as an opportunity to insist on seeing Asa. His foster mom brought him to the CPS office where we got to spend an hour with him. He screamed with stranger-danger angst almost the whole time.

I cried all the way to the airport the next day. “WHY, GOD???” My rupturing heart silently screamed. “Why can't he live with us NOW? We need to bond!!!”

I had said “yes” to God. Why wasn't He making things happen??

At the end of July, Philip had hip surgery. Since he climbed power poles for a living, the doctor required ten weeks off for recuperation. By the end of the first week he was off pain meds and had traded the walker for a cane. By August, he was basically good to go.

By August, we were together, healing at home, settling into new rhythms with our three oldest kids attending public school and the three youngest learning steadily at home.

By August, Birth-Mom had embraced the terrible beauty and selfless wisdom of letting go. She relinquished her rights before they were terminated.

By August, I had mercifully been given the opportunity to renew my “yes” every day for a hundred humbling days and more. I was miraculously good to go.

And by August, Asa arrived. He was chunky, filled with cheerful squeals, and that gifted and talented boy could sleep through the whole, big, long night!

We were collectively smitten … happier and healthier than we had been in a great while.

By August, we stood at the unexpected threshold of six more wonderful weeks of fulltime, two-parent bonding … a luxury our biological kids didn't know.

……………

I don't know what you might be waiting on. Maybe you've said yes to some divine invitation and everything feels as though it has come to a dismal halt.

Wait. I say wait.

Wait with more maturity and elegance than I typically do, if you can. Wait with expectancy and belief. Keep trudging and trusting while you wait.

Because there is a time coming.

An actual fullness of time is approaching in which you'll behold sovereign supply provided with precise punctuality and plentiful peace.

So say yes. And if things don't immediately take off, or instantly fall into place, wait on the Lord (who is diligently developing the narrative in more stories than just your own).

Feel free to beg and kick and scream and complain. Any gaps in your maturity are not secrets to Him. God is big enough to handle your fits and good enough to see you through.

Feel free to find rest as well.

Let Him work.

Let His joy be your strength.

Let His peace guard your heart and mind.

Let Him be everything you need.

Because He is.

He is our wise and wonderful God … worthy of our yielded obedience … and whatever He has in store, whatever is in the unfolding, it is absolutely worth the wait!