Oh my goodness.
I just love my boys.
Yesterday, Caden had his first tearful meltdown about school.
Everything is fine, he just got hurt feelings.
It really is hard not to get all fired up about silly stuff when it’s your ba-bay, isn’t it?
But I refuse.
Plus, these are the types of lessons we wanted him to start learning now.
But, still. Help him, Lord.
And help us guide him through these tough lessons well.
Little one is little one.
I will be so sad when he stops pronouncing breakfast ‘frefrast.’
Plus, if it’s all the same to us, he’s not interested in sitting on that porcelain toilet when his pull-up works just as well. I totally know I need to just bust out the underwear and deal with the messes. I think I’m waiting for the perfect 3-day-at-home window to go for it. Or I’m waiting for Jesus to come back.
But, seriously. Dan and I have had lots of people walk alongside us so far in this parenting journey. We’ve read wonderful books. We’ve watched those ahead of us that we admire.
But I really can’t shake the feeling that we’re making this up as we go with God. That we’re taking wonderful principles and examples and lessons to heart, but in the end there are no guarantees. And when you love someone this much, all you want is a guarantee.
And it is interesting that all this is on my heart, while at the same time a section from The 7 Experiemnt is on my brain. Sometimes I feel…bipolar? I don’t know. It reminds me of the intro Beth Moore wrote for When Godly People Do Ungodly Things:
“On behalf of all authors who seek the sole leadership of the Holy Spirit, please allow me to say that we don’t just pick and choose our subject matter. In fact, sometimes God assigns us a message that is more radical than we’d ever want to invite! I am being as honest as I know how to be when I say that I did not write these pages by simple preference. I wrote them because had I not, the rocks in my yard would have cried out…
I may unknowingly err in interpretation or application, but the overall message of warning, redemption, and restoration are consistent with a God so merciful and courageous, He would dare to use a pauper like me…
I find my insecure self wanting to issue some kind of disclaimer about my mental and spiritual health. I really am a pretty normal person. I am a regular wife and mom. (And does anyone happen to remember that one of the last books I wrote was a sweet, inoffensive mommy book?) I’m just your average girl, for heaven’s sake!
I didn’t ask to write some of the kinds of messages God has appointed me. My mother went to her grave wondering why I couldn’t ‘just be funny’ like I ‘used to be.’ Choosing God’s approval over hers was a monumental test for me. I cannot write to please man as much as I’d like to at times. So, when you’ve turned the last page, if you’re not pleased, kindly consider telling God and not me. My self-esteem is shakier than His.”
Ahem.
So on we travel.
“Paul said we are adopted children, heirs of God and coheirs with our Jesus, ‘if indeed we share in his sufferings’ (Rom 8:17).
When we were stuck in the Ethiopian court system for our son, staring down an impending rejection for his adoption, we hit darkness. Month after month stretched out, as our children waited for us, victims of a difficult, chaotic system. A black cloud hovered over me and I could not shake it.
During that time, well-meaning friend offered many versions of this statement: ‘Chin up! Find joy in this! This is all in God’s timing, so don’t worry!’ Good reader, I know this came from loving hearts, but it would not pierce my grief. My spirit would not receive this, no matter how much I prayed and faked it.
Finally I screamed in desperation, ‘I am worried, God! I am devastated! My children are on another continent wondering why we haven’t come back for them, and they are going to bed without a mom and dad tonight again, and my heart is broken! I will not put my chin up! I will not skip around like Polyanna! I am angry and sad and hurting for them and raging against the political systems that keep children in orphanages and families in poverty! If grieving for them is wrong, I do not want to be right ever again in my life!’
Very quietly, very clearly, God spoke to me: ‘When I asked you to adopt, I invited you into the suffering of the orphan. That suffering includes all their losses, all their grief, all their fear. You are suffering with them right now, because that is part of the deal. You will suffer with them even more once they get home. When you said yes to adoption, you agreed to enter their brokenness and live there with them until they were healed. Obeying Me means suffering with those who suffer, which is dark and painful and it hurts. You don’t get to live a happy, oblivious life while My vulnerable ones grieve. Jesus was a Man of sorrows, acquainted with grief, and you are His disciple.’
We are no longer obligated to sin nature, but we are obligated to share in Jesus’ suffering. For whom did He suffer? Who broke His heart? Who moved Him to action and mercy?
What sort of suffering does the church sign up for when we act justly and love mercy?
‘The creation waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed…We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently’ (Rom 8:19, 22-25).
Like Paul observed, this feeling of endless labor is not just around us but within us. We feel it too, don’t we? The earth is filled with groaning and waiting and frustration and bondage and decay. One need not look far to find it. Mamas are burying their babies and the sick are dying alone. Hunger steals life in a world with enough food to feed us all. Humans are sold as property; innocence is ruined. Creation itself longs for liberation, anxious to be set free from the effects of human sin.
But there is also much good news in this passage, for Paul speaks of glory and eager expectation and freedom and redemption and hope. No labor, however long, lasts forever. We know Jesus will make all things new. We know our hope is well placed. We know tears will be dried and suffering will end. We know God will make the last first and the least the greatest. The meek will indeed inherit the earth. Glory is coming.”
– Jen Hatmaker, The 7 Experiment (pgs. 176-178)