Saturday, November 17, 2012

The weary days

I have Nahum 1:7 up on a long sheet of paper in my kitchen, "The Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble; He knows those who take refuge in Him." This went up earlier this fall on a particularly bad day mainly because I needed to see it. Then things improved and I started to think about what new verse we should decorate and put up.

But this past week has me needing to refer to again. Often. I was prepared for things to be hard after having gone out of town, but I guess I wasn't really prepared for the degree of regression. It feels as though we are right back where we were when I originally put the verse up. I understand the reason... our (my) going just resurfaced all those feelings of abandonment and fear and made my boy realize how much he has come to love me. And that love has terrified him because it makes him vulnerable. So we are back to being as unpleasant as possible in order to make me abandon him and just get it over with. He 'knows' it is going to happen sooner or later and the anticipation is killing him.

I have read that you can't undo progress. That it only seems as though a child has lost ground, but it is merely  a precursor to future greater growth. I have no idea if this is really true, but I am holding on to it for all I'm worth at the moment. (And I'd really rather you not disillusion me at this moment if it's not. OK?) Because by the end of the day I'm all used up. The constantly having to remain calm, to extinguish (figurative) fires with as little drama as possible, to protect my other children from the barbs of the unkind words, to try to keep life as normal as possible for everyone in the midst of a tornado, all the while seeking out ways to connect with and reassure the wounded child is exhausting.

I know we have weathered storms like this before and come out on the other side, but even with that truth, I too, find that I have regressed. Instead of remember that the Lord is my stronghold, that He really does have everything under control, I doubt and I fear. What if things never get better? What if things get worse? What if I have damaged my other children? What if...? What if...? What if...? I lose my way wandering through this wilderness instead of taking refuge right away.

We regress together, my boy and I. He senses fear and he fights. I sense fear and I crumble. Fear, possibly the enemy's most useful weapon. Because it saps all your thoughts, your attention, your energy into projecting what will happen, it leaves nothing for dealing with the present. It certainly doesn't leave room for joy. I think it is the lack of joy which is most wearisome.

As I gently lead my son back from his fear, back into the joy of a family, God is gently leading me out of my fear and into His joy. Following Him is easy, if we are willing to give up control and turn things over to Him, including our need to worry.

These children still do not have families going forward to adopt them... keep praying!

Continuing to advocate for the children in Bulgaria. Their files were sent back which means that they cannot be advocated for on Reese's Rainbow or have any funds donated towards their adoptions. It means they are essentially invisible and unwanted. It tells the government and the agencies that yes, indeed, their initial assumptions were correct. No one wants a child like these. They are not worth it.

But they are! They are created by God in His image and we are called to care for them. They are truly the least of these. I cannot let them go; I think about them in nearly every free moment that I have. I'm going to post one of their pictures here at the bottom of each of my posts each day. Would you join me in praying for each of these children? Pray that a family would come forward who is willing to adopt them. Love them. Pray that they will know they are not forgotten? There is still hope for these little ones as their files can be specially asked for, it just adds time to the process.

This is Brandi. She is 6 years old. She lies in her crib and waits and waits and waits for someone to scoop her up and tell her how loved she is. Just imagine a grin on her face, her hair allowed to grow out. Imagine how transformed she will look when she is loved. Pray that she doesn't have to wait too much longer for her parents to find her.

1 comment:

Julie said...

Thanks for your honest and beautiful post. It is a situation I can relate to with Our daughters. You explain it well. We both regress (or so it seems) out of fear - theirs of being left and not wanted, and mine of having ruined our family or that it will get worse. Praying for all the families who support adoption, have adopted, and live these type of feelings and experiences while parenting wounded hearts.

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