It was one of those days when I felt like I was slipping away, like the whole world was moving forward and I was standing still. Not by choice, but because of the circumstances surrounding what God has asked of my life. It was one of those days when I was in physical pain from this deep, deep longing I have to be a mother, to know that joy, to experience that kind of love. It was one of those days when it seemed that every single other person I know gets to be a parent, and I am reminded over and over again that I am not one yet. It was one of those days when tears were hovering at the rims of my eyes all day long, and I was barely able to keep them from spilling over.
It was one of those days when I had to coach myself through every minute:
"You cannot cry here. You have to get through this day, this class, this hour, this minute."
It was one of those days. One of the dark ones.
One of the ones that fills me with fear and doubt, that shakes me down to my core. One of the ones that leaves me feeling so far away from our children that I am certain the chasm will never be crossed.
By the time I made it to my car and pulled out of the parking lot, I was barely hanging on. Tears came, fast and sure. And I didn't know what to do.
I called Adam and did a terrible job stumbling through what was upsetting me so much. I said all the wrong things in all the wrong ways. And when it just came down to it, I realized that I felt completely forgotten by God. As though He was seeing everyone else, working things together for the good of everyone else, loving and blessing everyone else.
But not me.
I felt like I had been left behind. Abandoned. Alone.
And I couldn't deal with it. I couldn't deal with once more feeling this way. Knowing none of it is true but completely and entirely unable to get away from the sense that somehow it was true. Unable to escape this deep and gut-wrenching sorrow, anger and resentment.
It terrified me.
On these kinds of days, I have such a hard time believing that somehow all of this is actually working together for anyone's good. I think of us, deeply desiring to be parents. I think of our children, living in an orphanage on the other side of the world. And I just fall apart.
And that's where I was when I got home. Lost and scared. Hurt and confused.
I didn't know what to do, so I decided to update our memory verse chalkboard. We are trying to memorize a verse a week, and Adam had told me what this week's verse was, but I hadn't had a chance to update the board yet. I remembered the verse's address, but I couldn't remember what it said.
Imagine my face when I looked it up:
"No discipline seems pleasant at the time,
but painful.
Later on, however, it produces a
HARVEST
of
RIGHTEOUSNESS and PEACE
for those who have been trained by it."
Hebrews 12:11
Can I get an AMEN?
What God is asking us to walk through right now is the farthest thing from pleasant that I can possibly imagine. It is terrible. Painful. Heartbreaking. But this pain does come with a promise.
One day there will be a HARVEST of RIGHTEOUSNESS and PEACE.
I love the word harvest. It carries such powerful imagery and connotation for me. I am not sure why, because I am just about citified as they come (ask my man). Still, I love the picture. I think because, at the mention of the word, my mind envisions a great and abundant gathering. And love that this is what God is leading us toward.
A great and abundant gathering of PEACE. Of RIGHTEOUSNESS. Of JOY.
My heart and soul are so ready. If you have been with us since the beginning, then you know that this has been a long road. Much longer than we ever anticipated. And we are tired. I am tired. Exhausted.
I am ready for the harvest.
And I am so deeply thankful that the Lord does not abandon me. Not even when I have days like yesterday and I cry and doubt and think terrible things. Even in those moments, maybe ESPECIALLY in those moments, He is holding me. Carrying me. Keeping me from running. Reminding me that He is sowing these difficult seeds in our lives so that one day a bountiful harvest can be gathered.
If this is where you are, know that He is doing the same in you. If you know Him and you trust Him and you love Him, then He is working to bring a HARVEST to you. And if you don't know Him, He is reaching for you, calling for you, longing for you to be His.
Love,
Baylor
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