“For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them.” ~Ephesians 2:10
Here I sit. I have been struggling with writer’s block for a full month. I keep trying to start and then I just stop. It’s partly exhaustion. This has been a trying month. It’s partly because I’m struggling to open my heart. And any of you who have read my blog at all know that I pour my heart out here. I want to share with you all what is going on in my head, but it’s just so hard to put into words.
So I’m going to go back. Way back. WAY BACK. When I was a little girl, my mom would take me to this little ice cream parlor/burger joint called Jem 100. It’s still there and I still love them. I still remember ordering bubble gum ice cream on a sugar cone, and I would admire the totally cool high school girls working behind the counter. I dreamed of being just like them and working there someday. In my sophomore year, my dream came true.
Coolest. Job. Ever!
When I was working there, before they remodeled, there was a little corner booth where I would often take my 30-minute paid lunch. One of the booths faced a stained glass window. I stared at it often. Surprisingly, for as much as I looked at it, I don’t remember what it looked like. I’m pretty sure it had a bird as its centerpiece. I often worked at night, making it dark outside for my dinner break, but there was a streetlamp on the other side of that window, so the colors shone brilliantly.
I have no idea what was going on in my life at the time. High school was full of trials and tribulations, of course. But the Lord was reasoning with my heart on one memorable night in particular. As I stared at that window, the Lord told me that my life was a stained glass window much like the one I was staring at. It was filled with many different parts. Each seemingly insignificant piece represented events, lessons, phases and chapters in my life. Some were large, some were small. Some had smooth edges, others were sharp and defined. They each were fairly monochromatic. Pretty, maybe, but kind of “meh” on their own.
Then, there was the metal fusing them together. It was hard, cool and silvery. But at some point, under the guidance of a skilled glazier’s hand, that same metal had been an oozing, flowing, red hot fusing material. Whatever was going on in my life, the Lord impressed upon me that the really hard times, possibly something happening at that moment in my life, was one of those lines of lead. And it was still hot and painful to touch. But someday, it would be part of the beautiful masterpiece. And the heat and pain would be just a memory.
Finally, the Lord reminded me that in order to see the true beauty of a stained glass work of art, the light must be shining behind it. Without the Light, even the most beautiful stained glass is dull and lifeless.
Fast forward to nearly 20 years later. Do you know what triggered that memory? A grown-up coloring page. Cracks me up to think about it, but many of those pages look much like a stained glass window when they’re completed. I was coloring a card to send to a close friend and the Lord reminded me of that special moment, when as a teenager, the Lord made Himself so real to me. I only meant to repeat it (or the parts of it I remembered at the time) to encourage that friend who was going through a fiery trial. But truth be told, I am, too.
I’m facing the fear of loss of our Little Miss. This case continues to drag. And although I am so very grateful for every single day that we have her, I long to call her mine. Yet, I fear that sounds selfish.
I want God’s will above all else. I want the kids’ Mom to be saved and well. I want Little Miss to have closure and stability. And I hope and pray that all of these desires can be answered at once.
Prior to just a couple of weeks ago, I felt extreme guilt from asking to keep her at all. What a selfish thing to pray for, after all. But my sweet husband in his wisdom reminded me of a very important event over 2,000 years ago. Jesus prayed a prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane right before His crucifixion (Luke 22:42). Before my discussion with Shane, I had only focused on one part of His prayer, “nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done.” But I was so gently reminded of the fact that in that same prayer, and in fact, in the same sentence, Jesus also prayed, “Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me…” Jesus had asked for something specific. He wasn’t selfish, and He wasn’t sinful. So praying for something specific like being able to raise this little girl is OK. As long as I am also willing to accept, and embrace His will, should He choose to answer my prayer another way. After all, I am not ignorant to the fact that the Father did not choose to remove the cup from Jesus and He did, indeed, have to suffer for me and for you on that cruel cross.
Now here’s the part that I have been having trouble verbalizing here. The thought of losing her doesn’t cause me to fear that I will turn my back on the Lord or stop loving Him. I can’t imagine my love for Him ever diminishing. But I have been so afraid that I will get lost in my grief and won’t be able to find my way out.
Prior to losing Little Miss the first time back in June 2014, I didn’t really know what a broken heart felt like. But when I lost her, my chest physically hurt for days. The tears couldn’t stop flowing. I felt that my heart was being literally ripped apart. And I struggled to grieve with my family because it was so very painful. It took a full six months to even feel again. So what will happen to me if I lose her again? Will I recover at all? Will I be able to be involved in the ministry? Will I even be able to sing without weeping?
I don’t know.
But by the grace of my Jesus, I can say this. This whole trial, I mean the WHOLE trial…from the first day we brought this bright, beautiful blue-eyed baby into our home until today…has been a very long, flowing, winding line of red hot lead. It has fused the pieces of our lives and our story together in a way that I could never have imagined. And for better or for worse, whether we get to be her forever family or not, our life story has been carefully and gently crafted by the Master and when it’s all said and done, I trust Him.
I don’t trust me. But I trust Him.
And that’s enough.
Blessings and much love,