It has been quite awhile since I’ve written anything. While it has always been difficult for me to write consistently, this break was incredibly intentional and necessary. You see, trying to force myself to write during the past 9 months would have been like deciding to bake a cake while rock climbing, terribly ridiculous and inappropriate. I didn’t have the proper “tools” or time.
And here’s the truth. Taking on the challenge God set before Katie and I of integrating a 10 and 6 year old into our lives was a lot like rock climbing. Especially if the person rock climbing had never climbed the specific course, didn't have the right equipment, realized that there were a bunch of false hand grips, and were additionally asked to carry an increasing sum of heavy baggage along the route.
At first it felt like we had strangers living in our home. They never knew where anything was and constantly needed to be reminded of the rules. We answered hundreds of questions per day.
They also had so many exorbitant expectations and all the changes put all of us on emotional rollercoasters. There were so many intense, undiagnosed emotions. There wasn’t just a small child that wanted our attention anymore. Suddenly there were two more kids demanding it. They quickly all realized they were in competition for it. Behaviors worsened and fits thrown anytime that Katie and I tried to establish healthy boundaries. Every one-on-one moment with one kid inevitably ended with a rude claim of injustice from one of the others.
They didn’t understand why we couldn’t play with them all the time and why they had to help with family chores. They were coming from a foster home with a retired elder woman who never went anywhere, so it was shocking and angering to them that we didn’t spend most of our days constantly watching TV.
There was plenty of anger, confusion, and tears to go around. Our very impressionable, youngest daughter soaked up every bad habit like a sponge.
What an endorsement of adoption.
The truth is important though. God doesn’t typically hand us tasks that appear impossible and then make them really easy right away. No, His role often is to continue to belay us (to hold our safety climbing rope) even when we stumble or need a break from climbing. He holds us steady and keeps us from falling completely off the wall.
While the above is true, our trust in God was more severely tested than ever before. During this adoption transition, Katie and I experienced a global pandemic, were presented with family struggles, and learned that my father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. This was like stumbling around the Mines of Moria. We were constantly on edge, anxious about what darkness awaited us. “We cannot get out.”
From Darkness into...Reality
In the past month, I felt like I finally emerged from an enveloping darkness. I had experienced fear, anger, sadness, and feeling lost. There was a lot of blind fumbling around, trying to find my way in the dark maze.
If I’m honest, I think I feel a lot like the Fellowship of the Ring after escaping the Mines of Moria. What they faced during that part of the journey was harrowing and emotionally taxing. They experienced confusion, exhaustion, and loss. Also, they don’t exit Moria with this sense of accomplishment, great hope, and joy. They lost their friend and leader with an awful long road yet to travel. They escaped Moria with their lives and yet the threat of death remained, biting at their ankles.
What I’m experiencing in this stage of life isn’t a mountain top moment. It’s far closer to pulling myself over the edge of the rock face I’ve been climbing just to find another several peaks awaiting me. Just as the Fellowship wept at the loss of Gandalf, I earnestly wept at the loss of my old life. It was a simpler life, one with far less: conflict, responsibility, emotional volatility, and pain.
We still have a long road to travel with adoption. My dad’s fight with pancreatic cancer is not over. There will always be unexpected conflict and tension. There are many peaks left to climb.
When people go through truly difficult times, I think there’s often a temptation to try and convince that person that it couldn’t have been that bad. It’s not enjoyable to accept the reality of pain. It’s far easier to pretend like it doesn’t exist, because just maybe, the rest of us have a chance of escaping it.
The hard truth though is that in this life there are always dark times. And sometimes you don’t emerge from darkness to the finish line. Maybe God has done a work through you and taught you a whole lot, but it has been costly and taxing.
It doesn’t mean that God isn’t faithful. This is merely the path of His disciples.
Starting With Trust And Ending With Praise
Earlier this year, I was reading Psalms 7 and the structure of the verses drew my attention. This psalm is an emotional outcry for God to bring David relief and victory over the enemies that pursued him. He longed desperately for rest and resolution. In spite of the circumstances though, David started this psalm with trust and ended it with praise, even without a clear end to the struggle in sight.
What a great encouragement and example to me! Whether I find myself in darkness, emerging from it, or good times of rest, I can start with trust and end with praise!
You see, David’s valuation of God and His salvation remained unchanged. Circumstances weren’t a determinant. He knew what God is all about. This is the beautiful truth of the Gospel message.
God’s salvation is not a depreciating asset.
His grace holds constant whether economies crash, wars are waged, people suffer injustice, global pandemics rage, or our lives becoming radically challenging. God is with us (Isaiah 41:10). He may ask us to tackle difficult challenges or suffer for doing good (1 Peter 4) but He never leaves and His value never wanes.
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