I don’t want this blog to be a downer, but I need to be real for a minute, my peeps:
Jamey came to live with us two years ago on Easter.
My heart and my mind are completely blasted, trying to figure out why or how the judge could have let him go back into that… and continue living there even now, when his parents are being dealt with in drug court.
Father God, tomorrow is Easter. Two years ago, you gave us the miracle of miracles. You placed this 10-day-old baby in our arms, and we did what you said to do: love him with all our hearts. Maybe if we’d have known that he was going back, we wouldn’t have fallen in love with him. Perhaps we’d have kept some shred of our own hearts intact, if we’d been made aware that our taste of Heaven on Earth would last only 10 days.
I used to wonder how people could remain upset for years over a still birth or miscarriage, but I don’t wonder anymore. This baby. This boy of Carl’s and mine…. I can’t explain it. He is our son. He’s very much alive. But unattainable.
God I’m angry about it. I want to yell or fight with someone, but who? I want to do something, but what? Short of this prayer, I have nothing. Every ounce of my being cries out to have James safe at home with Carl and me and his sisters. Our hands are tied and our hearts aching. I am tired of hearing Carl say that he knows Jamey is coming home to us one day. And I’m tired of hearing that different friends and family cried over this for us.
My boy is gone. He’s been gone so much longer than he was ever here, and I’m not ok. I can pretend I’m ok, but it’s not true. Down inside, apart from everything else that I know, is a hurt that can’t be explained, nor lessened. There is no relief, and nothing can ever make it make sense.
God I choose You daily, and I know without the shadow of a doubt, that is why I continue to live and breathe.
I used to very selfishly think “People should be happy with the kids they already have.” Of course I am happy with my daughters! Their adoption is nearly final! After three long years, this fiasco is nearly at a close. But for that lost one, or in other cases, more than one, our hearts long for him desperately.
Something Carl and I learned when dealing with infertility is that sometimes, Hope is more raw and painful than defeat. The possibility of something happening means we dwell on it, and roll it over in our minds and obsess over it until we’re sick and tired of it, and then we start the process over again. So the facts that our boy is alive, and his birth parents STILL not acting right, is the constant thought that he could come back. And I won’t even mention all the times the phone rings and we jump for it, hoping, praying, needing desperately to hear that the workers are coming here to bring our son back home to us and to his sisters.
I’m at a loss. And on this day before Easter, I know I will live, and love, and thrive, even. But underneath it all, this aching, lonely loss that who can heal? Scripture tells us that “Through Christ, all things are possible.” I have believed this always, but HOW LONG WILL YOU BE SILENT, OH GOD!?
How long will You ignore my cries? Your Word promises that You will never leave or forsake me, but I can’t see your hand in it.
Yes, it’s a fallen world. Is that another phrase for “crap happens”? I know you’re not testing me, I know you didn’t “do this” to me. But what good can possible come from my 20 years of infertility? And then having a boy, only for the judge to then place him back with his unsafe birth parents? God how can this help anyone? I try every day not to be selfish. I try to be understanding and helpful. I work to be your hands and feet and reach people in this world. And all I’m asking for is my son back. Or maybe I’m asking for some understanding. Or some peace. Peace would be nice.
Nobody gets it. Nobody understands. Do you, Father? You say that with you there is no shadow of turning. Your face is always toward me. For a long time, I thought I was Ok. I am not Ok. Is your face still looking toward me? Can you hear me? Do you understand?
I love You and I want to love You. I want to love you more and be in love with you and have my breath taken away by how precious I am to you, how precious you are to me.
I can only imagine the tears of Jesus’ friends after His death. Nothing makes sense. Nothing is good anymore. What do we do now? Loving Father God, even THEY had Easter on Sunday. When is Carl’s and my Easter coming?
I know you are working this out to my good. Your word is truth, and it says so. You’ll make it clear though, someday, right? Because I’m not OK with my son not being here. God I love him so much. Please keep him safe. And his younger brother also. Love them and protect them from the evil surrounding them.
God, shine your loving face on those precious boys, and make a way for them when it seems there is no way. Bring them here, at least so our daughters can see that they live. Number the steps of all their days, Loving Father. Work all things to their good. Help them to grow in Your love, always. Help them to know about you, and learn to love you early in their lives. Make a way for them, Lord God.
You’re showing my heart right now that You’re working this out. I don’t know how or where or when I will ever see Jamey again… if it will even be this side of Heaven. But I do know that You are love. And a loving God that puts Mama love in my heart for a boy who only ever lived 10 days of his life here?…. well let’s just say that I can see the glimmer of hope…. the promise of your Plan, and for now, I can be OK with that. Which is, in itself, a miracle.