Blessings and Raindrops

As I lay in bed last night, the full weight of my emotions pressed down on me. For the first time in my entire life, I won’t be spending Christmas at home in Florida with my family there. For several reasons, we decided to stay here this year and have a quiet Christmas as a family. Originally, this suited me just fine because I wasn’t really feeling the Christmas spirit anyhow. Simple and quiet sounded like just what my soul was craving.

Then, I started to think about all of the memories and traditions from past years. I’ll deeply miss Christmas Eve dinner at my Grandma’s house and candlelight service in the church I grew up in. I’ll miss wearing the silly-footie pajamas Lori and I have worn on Christmas Eve for about 20 years. I’ll miss the laughter and noise and excitement as the kiddos all race to open gifts in my parent’s living room. I’ll miss my mom’s ridiculously strange but delicious traditional Christmas morning breakfast of Cheese Gravy {it’s completely made up – no recipe to share, you’d laugh}. I’ll miss Christmas afternoons as the kiddos calm down and the gifts get put away and everyone sits down for the first time and drifts off for a little nap. I’ll miss Christmas dinner with the extended family. It’s loud and chaotic and wonderful.

Truthfully, what I’ll be missing most of all on Christmas day is the piece of my heart that is on the other side of this earth. Last night, I spent time on my knees, with my forehead pressed to the floor pleading with my Heavenly Father to fight for my girl. I truly believe that we are in the midst of spiritual warfare to get our S home. I repeated these things over and over, “You are ONLY good. You are faithful. You are Sovereign. Open the gates of Heaven to send your angel armies to surround our S.”

I was reminded again and again, through gentle whispers of my loving Father, “Be still and know that I am GOD.”

This post from Jen Hatmaker has resonated so deeply with me lately. A few of my favorite excerpts:

“Faith has nothing to do with being stoic or “chipper” or falsely propped up. We have entered the suffering of the orphan, the mission of Jesus. It is hard and painful. It hurts and makes us cry. Suffering is like that. Spouting off Christian clichés or pretending to be strong isn’t helpful and it isn’t true. It cripples true community and confuses and isolates a watching world.

Adoption means we are willing to enter the devastation of fatherlessness and struggle mightily to free children from the bonds of orphanhood. It is OKAY to struggle and cry and grieve and mourn while we wait.”

“I don’t believe for a second that we are fighting against God who is withholding favor while we and our children wait. I’m totally with Paul on this one: “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Ephesians 6:12). To the degree that God loves something, we can expect our enemy to hate it in equal proportions. With a mission to steal, kill, and destroy, redeeming abandoned lives out of the rubble of injustice is surely at the top of his Hate List.

So go ahead: Cry. Grieve. Wail. Scream at the top of your lungs, “THIS IS NOT FAIR!!” Mourn for the birth mamas who can’t raise their own babies. Rage at a system that keeps the rich richer and the poor poorer. Rant against corrupt bureaucracy and power politics that perpetually victimize the most vulnerable ones under its authority. Grieve every single second you are kept apart from your babies, because let me tell you something: If that is wrong, I do not want to be right.

That’s why we are not mad at God; we are mad with God. We are not fighting against God; we are fighting alongside Him. We are not crying because God is failing us; we are crying out because 170 million children will go to bed tonight with no parents, and we can not stand this injustice one second longer. These are the tears of the heavens that have been shed since the beginning of time for the least and last, the forgotten and forsaken.”

And, this morning, as I read my Jesus Calling devotional, peace infused my soul…

“Do not fear your weakness, for it is the stage on which My Power and Glory perform most brilliantly. As you persevere along the path I have prepared for you, depending on My strength to sustain you, expect to see miracles — and you will. Miracles are not always visible to the naked eye, but those who live by faith can see them clearly. Living by faith, rather than sight, enables you to see My Glory.”

Therefore, I’m resolved to live by faith and expect to see miracles along this path. And, I’m putting on the armor of God so I can stand firm alongside Him in this fight.

As Jen so elequontly said when concluding her post,