that last post was a song by sara groves, the song I listened to repeat last night and laid in bed, fan blowing on my feet, crying my eyes out. there's something incredibly cathartic about just sobbing, making that "cow having babies" noise that makes everyone turn and run. there's something transforming about just letting it all out.
last night i laid my heart out to my aunt who has cancer. she served it back to me by saying, "trust God, just like you've been telling me, you've have to put it out there and trust God."
the problem is, I have trouble trusting God. These past two years of loss, hurt and heartache have been so painful. No clear way on how to proceed, everything in me just screams, "I've had enough already. I've had enough." I want to cry uncle, ask God why He has chosen me for this burden of infertility. Why I feel like I have to explain to people that I don't feel that our family is "complete", even though we have a boy and a girl and are the perfect "nuclear' family. I've been praying for over a year that if we are "complete"< that God would give me that feeling of contentment, or that I would learn to have it.
I am working toward that, I am working toward this place of complete surrender.
Did you know that surrender has to happen, again and again and again? You don't surrender something and it is surrendered forever. That's not the way of the human, at least. The human tendency is to pick it back up, stick it in the backpack, carry that load much longer and further than He ever intended us to carry it.
Agh...the tears are clogging up the keyboard. I am a mess.
World, I am a mess. How could God ever use this mess for anything?
Last night after our foster/adopt class Scott was talking to my parents about how there is so much that we don't understand, about how the parents seem to have free reign in coming to visit the children in our home, etc., and how he didn't want to open his home to anyone and everyone who thought they needed to be in our home to visit their kids.
And I agree, and I also wonder how I would be able to say goodbye to children we have had long-term in foster care. And my heart is leaning more heavily toward straight adoption.
And then I sat there, and this incredibly horrible feeling of RAGE swept over me. And I said, "I think the thinkg that makes me the angriest is that we have to think about all of these things...that we have to consider all of these possibilities, that I can't stop miscarrying babies, that for other people it's just a night in the bedroom and the decision is made. For us, it's 85 painful decisions."
That makes me SO angry, and I cried all night last night over it.
So, this is me being real.
I am angry, and broken, and hurting, and if you call me on the phone I will be fine in 10 minutes. And if you think I'm mentally unstable, good for you.
I KNOW this was all in his plan...birth defects, 5 miscarried babies, all of it. And maybe it would be easier to believe He didn't exist, to believe it was all just chance. But because I believe that He exists, I also have to swallow the fact that He let all of those things slip through His fingers, into my life.
Not having faith would be so much easier. Who are You, great Mystery? What do You want to show me? Why am I not seeing it?
I helped in Lucy's kindergarten class this morning. I nearly dissolved into saline as I watched her count her numbers and recite her letters. If there weren't 12 other children in that class and a teacher watching me, I would have snuggled her and kissed her and said, "You're my adorable little baby!" Before we left, she said, "Now, Mom, don't cuddle the other kids like you cuddle me." AND SHE WAS TOTALLY SERIOUS!
And last night, watching Asher sleep, kissing his sweet cheeks...so much blessing I don't deserve.
I so desire God's will for my life over any will of my own.
And that, my friends, is the hardest part.