We were just a few months into the adoption process.
When we started the journey, I had not realized the wealth of emotions – fear, discouragement, shame, uncertainty – that would come hand-in-hand with this roller coaster ride. Apparently, there’s nothing like stepping out of your comfort zone to raise the warning flag of emotions indicating deeper issues in your life. I had been in the midst of a few weeks where my soul had felt rushed, I was stressing over minor details, hustling through each day, existing only to check things off of my to-do list (why is it that this seems to describe just about every holiday season, no matter how many times we swear that THIS year IT WILL ALL BE DIFFERENT?).
On top of all that, God had been stretching and molding and pruning my heart, rooting out unforgiveness, bitterness, fear, and selfishness, to name a few, as I processed through what it meant for us to become adoptive parents. It seemed as though, too, with each question brought up by our social worker or by the agency (what will the bedroom situation be? do we need to sell the house and look for a bigger one? how will we handle discipline as a family? home-schooling or public school? #allthemajordecisionspleasehelp), I was faced with decision-paralysis. I can’t make all these decisions all at once, so please, somebody just tell me what to do!
So there I was, paralyzed by indecision (for the love of all that’s holy, don’t ask me if I want pizza or burgers, just cue meltdown) and all too aware of my own humanity before God. I felt like the most selfish individual on the planet when I realized that no, I did not want to give up my bedroom for children, I wanted to keep my own space please (I have since been reassured by many a parent that this feeling was completely normal, but at the time, I just felt like selfish pond-scum).
In short, I was a THRILL to be around.
Which brings us back to an early morning in December of last year.
I was sitting on the couch, with my blanket and Bible and cup of coffee, gradually rubbing sleep out of my eyes and staring into the Christmas tree lights. I hadn’t even turned on my Spotify worship playlist…all was quiet. Then, out of nowhere, I suddenly heard God whisper these three words:
“You are loved.”
That was it. I hadn’t even set the mood with worshipful music yet, I hadn’t cracked open my Bible, and you can clearly see that I was not currently at the top of my spiritual game.
No matter. God just said I was loved. I was bringing quite literally nothing to the table, and He chose that moment to whisper through the glow of Christmas lights into the darkness of my own soul that He loved me. Forget decision-paralysis. Forget selfishness and fear. I was loved…by the God of the universe. Was I still kind of a mess inside? Yep. Didn’t matter, because He loved me anyways. Was it possible that I would still make some wrong decisions? Most definitely. But I was still loved.
Will I be a perfect mama to whatever children God brings us? Nope. But I am loved.
Will they be perfect children, playing sweetly together, always obedient, with no issues? Nope. But they will be loved.
Will any of us ever walk in perfect unselfishness, bravery, and obedience? Nope. But that won’t ever change the fact that we are loved.
Sweet friend, you are loved.
And my prayer, for myself and for you, is that we would grasp how fully and completely we actually are loved by our heavenly Father.
And that we would go and love the same…children, spouses, friends, neighbors, strangers.