I just wept. I wept bitterly...gut-wrenching, heart-pounding, mind-numbing tears. And it was in the midst of this weeping that I asked you to pray...that's all I could think to do. I knew I couldn't do it alone so I called on our friends/family to join me. Then I just began to cry out to the Father, my Daddy. For the longest time, the only thing that would come out was, "PLEASE GOD..." That's it. I couldn't even finish the sentence....so I just pleaded with Him over and over, sometimes shouting...other times barely a whisper..."PLEASE GOD!" There was so much wrapped up in that begging...
PLEASE GOD...don't let her die.
PLEASE GOD...just heal her completely.
PLEASE GOD...help me trust you.
PLEASE GOD...help me understand what you're doing here.
PLEASE GOD...give me the strength to bear it.
PLEASE GOD...don't let her be scared right now.
PLEASE GOD...it will crush our own children to lose her.
God did so many things in my heart after that phone call...too many to mention...but I thought I'd share the highlights.
I was comforted knowing that Jesus Christ himself was interceding on my behalf and on behalf of C. I also knew that the Holy Spirit was communicating to the heart of God...even with words I could not say. I knew that my big-hearted Father was still loving little C with his perfect and complete love...that had never changed.
I couldn't escape the memory of that speaker I told you about at Living Proof. You remember the one..."called to be a widow." I finally said out loud, "I don't want to be called to be a mom that loses her child! I can't do that!" But that speaker's voice kept ringing in my ears..."I never would've known my God the way I do now if my husband had not died." Do I really want to know Christ in His suffering? It's a great sound byte...not an easy pill to swallow.
As I wrestled with God's purpose in the pain, I contemplated what my response would be if she died. I'm not trying to be morbid...that's just the very real possibility. My response would undoubtedly be to take action...any sort of action to prevent this from going unnoticed and unappreciated. I pondered starting to step out into any forum available to discuss the adoption process and the difficulties families face who come to the fight unarmed and out-numbered...what lengths would I not go to make a change in a system that seems to value papers over people...what sacrifice would I not be willing to make to speak for those who have no voice? And then the sucker punch...if it would be the right thing to do if she died...isn't it the right thing to do, period?
I was shocked out of my complacency with that email. There's no turning back.
Another side to the situation also became perfectly clear in my grief. Although we began this journey with a sincere desire to follow God's leading to do whatever it took to save the lives of these little ones and make Him known, somewhere along the line, my own selfishness creeped in. I'm not sure why I was surprised...it finds its way in every other crevice of my life...but I was jarred into the realization that a good part of my sorrow was that I wanted to be her mom...for my own joy. That, of course, is not necessarily a bad thing...it's just not even close to the main thing. Somehow I had drifted from that.
The most heart-breaking realization for me, however, was that I had not ever...in my entire life...pleaded with the Lord for anything with such desperation and humility...with such utter dependance on His grace and compassion and power...with such complete abandon that only He could accomplish the work...with such focus that the distractions of the day seemed to be non-existent. Never. Why is it that it often takes intense sorrow and tragedy to drive us to our knees before our King? Because He's not really our King at all. We sit on the throne of our lives. At least I do.
Looks like I need to listen to the Spirit's prompting more often. I needed that.