The Valley: Part 6
Part of a "Journey to Charis"
The day finally arrived. We had been waiting patiently for two years. Going through two certifications. Learning all we could in our classes. Praying for our girls. Praying for redemption. Moving the boys into a room together so that the girls would have a place to call their own. Preparing their hearts for sisters. Preparing ours for daughters.
Linda, I have some good news. We have found two sisters that need a home. I think that this would be perfect for you guys.
I felt the lump in my throat and the nausea well up in the pit of my stomach. Oh, Lord, no. Why now?
I prayed silently. Please help me get through this conversation without weeping. Please give me the grace to be able to say no. I can't do this alone.
Please don't tell me anything about them, I said. It will be too difficult. You see, I am dealing with chronic illness... it is a glandular issue I have dealt with before, but I don't have the physical capacity to take any children right now. Could you put us on hold for now, until I'm done with my treatment?
I listened to my own voice, full of hope, optimism and a blind assurance. And then I hung up and collapsed in a sobbing heap. Oh, how my heart ached. Lord, why is this happening? I know it is your heart to redeem these girls and show them your love. I know your heart is for adoption. Why have you allowed me to become so ill? Why can't I take these children?
My whys were met by my husband's comforting arms, and we grieved over the loss together. Could I just take a paternity leave at work and take them? he asked. But we were barely able to care for our own pressing needs. It just wasn't possible. The answer was no... it was clearly no.
Along my journey, a friend spoke the oxymoronic phrase...
It is important to suffer well.
I have thought about this idea a lot. More specifically, what do I want to gain from my suffering so that it is not wasted. Do I want to be done with the season and move on, or in it, do I want to learn compassion and the heart of Jesus as I have never known.
The one vision that has remained in my mind about the way life will look when I am well is that we will adopt our girls. They will complete the picture of our family. It is a deep Shalom... a peace I can't even comprehend. There is seldom any doubt or questioning in my mind about it. And I wonder if they are the reason I have been allowed to travel through this dark valley.
So that I could be given a glimpse into their fragile, broken hearts.
So that I would have a fresh understanding of pain and fear and uncertainty.
So that my limited understanding would be replaced with a deep perseverance and longsuffering.
So that my heart would learn to deeply love what is really important.
Only time will tell.