Even still, within the wanderings of my own mind, I have
found myself feeling a bit down over the past few weeks. And perhaps a bit
defeated, ever trying to swat away the nagging whisper in my ear, “But why?”.
This past fall my husband and I attended an open house for
Connecticut’s Foster to Adopt program, something that has been on our hearts
for some time. While there, we were told stories of children who were literally
sitting in the hospital waiting for someone to give them a home. It was all I could
do not to tear up at this causal, albeit heavy, informational meeting. As we
sat under the fluorescent lights with candy spread over a long round table, we
were given stacks of papers and a subtle sense of sadness, knowing even the
newest of ones were to experience deep (likely life-long) trauma.
As we exited the room that evening, we were told to give
them forty days to perform background checks and then we could expect to hear
from them.
Forty days came and went.
And we heard nothing.
Sixty days came and went.
Still nothing.
“Maybe it was because of the holidays. That was probably why,”
I told my husband assuredly.
A few more weeks passed.
It was January now, and we still hadn’t heard anything.
I knew we could call and inquire regarding the status of our
application. But I also knew I needed God to be IN this. We had prayed that if
it was his will for us to do this that someone would call.
But no one did.
From time to time, I casually asked my husband if he thought
we should just call. My subtle attempts to force God’s hand weren’t exactly fooling
him.
And so, we waited some more.
As time passed I began to wonder, was this not something God
wanted for us? Was my illness going to essentially render me ‘unqualified’ for
this role? Was I nuts, already having twins and a five-year-old to care for? Was
God not behind this, knowing there was more sickness down the road?
My thoughts spun round as I knelt down on the ground,
picking up the dropped food from the boys’ lunch (and breakfast if we’re being
honest…and last night’s dinner too if we’re really
being honest). Glancing down at my hand now scattered with taco meat, cheerios
and bits of strawberries, I exhaled deep. As I emptied it into a large plastic garbage
bag I stood to my feet, peering out my kitchen window. I began to earnestly
pray, “God if you are in this, PLEASE, PLEASE let this happen.”
An hour passed, and I picked up my phone to check my email.
An email sat in my inbox from a social worker from DCF inviting us to schedule
a home visit and begin the process.
It was sent that very afternoon.
My heart skipped a beat, and I immediately called my
husband. Tears streaked down my face, my doubts instantly assuaged.
I later checked my phone to read the admittedly cheesy ‘verse
of the day’ app which read, “If you remain in me, and my words remain in you,
you will ask whatever you desire, and it will be done for you.”
I knew those words were for me.
And I knew my God had heard me and he had answered.
A sense of love enveloped me in that moment.
And with it followed an unexpected pause.
How quick I had been to forget (dismiss?) the things he had
done. Was my faith so wavering that a prolonged response would lead me to question
him? And would I have been equally assured of his love for me if his answer had
been ‘no’?
I had certainly heard it before. But would it be okay -really okay- if he said it again?
These questions didn’t sit well.
As a forever planner, it had always been my preference to
know exactly where we were going, who was going to be there and what we were
going to do. None of which particularly jived with the life of a Christ-
follower, called to abandon oneself, not the least of which was going to
include one’s carefully thought out plans.
I needed to remind myself
that he was completely and totally trustable. In all things.
I needed to recall that he was faithful at every turn, no
matter how dark the picture.
I needed to remember his goodness. To all generations.
His mercies new every morning.
And so, I set about to make what has been a long time coming-
stones inscribed with specific things God has done for us. A simple gesture,
which now remains next to our fireplace, as a way for us to remember.
“I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart; I will
recount all of your wonderful deeds.” Ps 9:1
Rick Warren says, “The fact is, the reason we have so many
ineffective Christians today is that they do not know how to fight the battle
of the mind.”
In Romans 7:19 Paul says, “For I do not do the good I want
to do, but the evil I do not want to do-this I keep doing.”
Me too Paul. Me too.
But I find, I do it less
when I remember. Remember what he has done for me. And look to his character.
That’s where faith builds.
“And they remembered that God was their rock, and the Most
High God their Redeemer.” Ps 78:35
“To you, Lord, I call; you are my Rock, do not turn a deaf
ear to me. For if you remain silent, I will be like those who go down to the
pit.” Ps 28:1
“Praise be to the Lord my Rock, who trains my hands for war,
my fingers for battle.” Ps 144:1
The physicality of the stones in our home, while seemingly insignificant, to us, declare:
We will remember.
We will not forget.
We will teach our children to remember the good things he
has done so that in the hour of trouble, we will remember, and WE WILL STAND.
So if, like me, you question your prayers, or maybe
you just wonder if he even hears you at ALL, be encouraged to look back.
Remember a time when he came through for you. Let that be a testament to his character,
his goodness and love for you.
1 Peter 5:8 says, “Your enemy the devil prowls around like a
roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” Don’t let that be you. Arm yourself with the truth found in
his word. Read it out loud and preach it to your own heart. The Psalms is a
great place to start.
And if this whole prayer thing is new, I challenge you to reach out in faith.
You might just be blown away by his answer.
And if this whole prayer thing is new, I challenge you to reach out in faith.
You might just be blown away by his answer.
I sure have been.
