"Did I really say that?"

I have been reflecting on my last post, and another one quite a while ago. Both of them make me go, "Did I really say that to the whole wide world?" And my immediate reaction is a flood of shame. The world is now aware of how deep my sin goes.

And upon further reflection, my decision is, that is a good thing.

It is good for me to see how deep my sin goes. Because then I can see my dire need for redemption, for grace, and for God's mercy to be given. I have discovered, that when I try to hide or modify others' perception of me in light of my sinfulness, I don't truly have a deep gratitude for the redemptive work Jesus has done. I do not have humility.

So if any of you reading this thought "Wow, that girl is a selfish whiner, " you're right. I am. The reference to the woman who lost her daughter was referring to someone I've never met (as if that makes it somehow "less" bad...it doesn't".  Basically, I was struggling one day with how long our affliction has lasted. I longed to feel community with someone else who's struggled like we have, to see how someone else has handled the grief and stress and shame and guilt. And initially I thought I'd found it. And then when I read about the healing that came from them expecting another child, I kinda lost it.

I was really angry with God for not giving me what I want. The clay telling the potter what to make.

"5 Times" and "I need something good"

I cried five separate times on Sunday. Not that it's a record for me, by any means. But it's out of the norm lately. Apparently life hasn't gotten the memo that after a traumatic experience and losing one's children, there's supposed to be a healing calm. Oh no. That memo missed his inbox entirely.

I went back to the psychologist a week ago. Over the past few months, I've realized that I'm able to integrate the story of the children into our life much more healthily, but other things have creeped in as a result of the constant stress of the past two years. While the Dr. is booked for a while, he did give me homework.

Gosh darn it. When will this strenuous mental processing end??? Huh?? Ever?? It's wearing me down.

We desperately long for something good. It's hard watching it come to others sometimes. That's the honest truth. To read someone's words of how a second child has filled their heart, been so healing, after the loss of their toddler. And I cry out inside, "Why can't that be for us?"

The intense sadness that used to be is now replaced by intense frustration and anger. The battle of feeling like we're "owed" something is never ending. Like we've put in our suffering chips and now should get something back for them. That isn't how God's kingdom works.

But how I long for something good. I long for it in my job. S longs for it in his job. In the expanding of our family. I want to feel a breath of fresh air. Like a new start. Something in life that matches this "new me" that is now me. But then I get scared and think hurt will bombard us like it did before.

Trusting God is hard. Really, really hard. I'm glad we have the story of the disciples. They got it wrong so much. But Jesus drew them in, even then.

Sweet Memory

Driving home from work today, "The Best Things Happen While You're Dancing" came on my 40's station on XM. (Love that channel!) I happily hummed its winsome tune all evening. As I thought about it more and more, and recalled dancing with my sweetheart at one wedding we attended in particular, I had to agree.

Later on, I had another memory. Instead of a freshly glossed dance floor in the banquet room of the football stadium, it was a wooden floored room crowed with six people. A little girl was singing "Baila! Baila!" while jumping on the bed and begging me to swirl her around in the air, dancing to my made up waltz.

I couldn't get my breath, was lightheaded from the altitude, sick with a cold, and very nearly wanted to faint. But my daughter wanted me to dance with her. And so I did. And I will treasure it forever.

Finality

I'm trying to write this, and i don't really know what to say. As is usual when I sit down to write. My mind keeps me awake at night trying to sort through all the thoughts of the day, and then accumulation from the week. It's like my brain is taking a pile of disheveled papers and is trying to sort them into the right file folder, all the while carefully creasing each file folder at just the right width for the papers it will hold, and making sure each tab is visible above the hanging file.

Ok, that makes me sound crazy.

The past week has had a few times when the finality of the adoption has shown itself. The first one was a dream I had where I was getting ready for work, and suddenly realized I didn't know where E was.

"Where is he? Where is E" I anxiously asked S. "Didn't you pick him up from daycare? What are they going to think of us leaving him there?"
"I picked him up, but I don't know where he is," S replied.

And that's where it all stopped. We don't know where our "son" is or the other son, or the other son, or daughter. And never will. Ever. If they're healthy or not. If they're loved or not. If they're safe or not. We'll never know.

The next day we received the dossier in the mail. As I cried, I realized something. They didn't feel like "my" kids anymore.

And here is where I need the script for this. If I don't feel like they are mine anymore, it's as if the whole experience is going to just fade away, never to be remembered again. Will people forget their names when I mention them? What am I supposed to do? How do I do this?

Then my mind turned on me. Are some coping mechanisms you've been using now unhealthy? Things that you've held onto for the past year, or six months that you needed then, but need to release now?

No one ever told me about this. The books all say, "cry all you need," "don't let others tell you where you should be in your grief." But they don't mention that at some point the crutches that were healthy for you initally, would become hindrances. It may sound like common sense, but....

Yesterday
My sister, nina and I all went shopping yesterday. The second half of this story is a very young teenage girl that my sister is tutoring. She is pregnant. Sister and I are planning a baby shower for her. We went to get the invitations and then to the baby aisles at Walmart.

You see, we were at Walmart because of some very dear people. People who unknowingly have been a blessing to many. Just about 2 years ago, I was the recipient of two "kid showers".  I was overcome with joy at impending motherhood, and overcome with gratitude for friends who were there with us to celebrate and to help us prepare.

When we returned home, I didn't think twice about the still unused gift-cards tucked away. It was probably a year later when i came across them. Believing that the right time would come, I just kept them there.

So when sister and I prepared to go to the store, I pulled them out. I looked lovingly at the "froms" and remembered how grateful we were to receive them. I put them in my purse.

We probably spent a good two hours in the baby section at Walmart. We headed to the register with our cart full of blue and white and green and brown. I pulled out my gift cards and one by one handed them over. Sister went home, I went home with nina.

We are going to shower this girl with love, love from countless people she'll never meet.

Jesus answered, "The most important is, 'Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. ³⁰And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.' ³¹ The second is this: 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no other commandment greater than these."
Mark 12: 29-31