when hope feels lost…{He's right there}.

I woke up this morning and did the same thing I’ve done every day for as long as I can remember, I checked my email looking for word from the Embassy or from our daughter’s foster mom in Congo. I always check my phone to see if any important news has come through from the other side of the globe while I slept {to be fair, sleep is a relative term since Charlotte was up off and on most of the night}.

This isn’t healthy. Believe me, I know. I know I shouldn’t check my phone before I even say a thank you to my Creator for this new day.  But, the thing is, when your child is waiting for you on another continent, you cannot stop praying for news and hoping against hope for positive updates. Since email is the source of those updates, I check over and over again all day long.

This morning, there was once again no news. Instead, a question came across from another waiting mama friend- she asked for advice on how I was able to cope and stay sane during this wait.

That simple question did it. It broke me.

I suddenly realized I wasn’t staying sane. I wasn’t keeping it together… instead, what I was doing was letting go of hope. Over the past week or so, I’ve let go of believing that the latest news could actually mean our daughter will come home sometime soon.

You see, about three weeks ago, we received some really good news and I was so hopeful, so sure, that this was finally it that I started planning logistics for her homecoming. And, then, nothing. No news. No updates. Just waiting… in silence.

So, I started giving up. I stopped praying as often and as boldly. I stopped believing that God could do this and that this could really be the time.

I didn’t realize I had traveled down this road slowly inching my way toward despair until that question was asked this morning. I answered her honestly, I told her that I was starting to give up and let go of hope and that was the only way I could make it through the day. That was the only way I could walk into her room and not crumble. The only way I could manage to look at her clothes hanging in the closet or her bag packed or her photos on the wall without hitting something. Or wailing. Or weeping.

After letting all of this out, I realized I should go ahead and have a talk with Him. God knows my heart. He knows. So, I just stopped evading Him and finally admitted what I was doing. I asked forgiveness and asked Him to sustain me once again.

I then pulled out my prayer journal.

I read through the pages and cried out to Him. Why? Why, God? Why have you answered almost all of these requests {literally, it is astounding to see what He has done with the requests on those pages- not all answered in the way I thought they would be, but answered in a more incredible way than I had ever prayed for} but my daughter still waits???? Why are you ignoring this one? This is important, God. YOU asked us to walk this road. You brought her into our lives and our hearts. Why would You turn away now?

You can probably guess how my little rant ended. A gentle stirring in my heart.

Read the words again.  All of these prayers — miraculous healings, babies coming home, healthy babies born, provision, safety — answered. 


I stopped then and responded in gratitude. Praising Him for the bounty of goodness that I have witnessed.

Then, these verses were before me…

And, then, as I opened my computer to type this post, my email contained a new post from a dear friend. Sarah wrote these words about how to keep walking forward when the road gets bumpy that ministered to my aching heart this morning.

The last words of her post could not have been more perfect. Tears fell as I read…