last october, i wrote posts related to the birthing of my three biological daughters.
stories of hope.
hope born. hope reborn. hope unexpected.
and i promised one for my son. my handsome little man. even though he won't read it any time soon. even though it may not have the same significance for him. it's just not so much a boy thing, ya know.
but it has remained elusive in the writing. just beyond reach. barely visible through the fog and mist of a story with so many more heart-twists & turns. . .
and i sit here this morning, coffee in hand, cool air whispering through the kitchen window.
and the Lord--He says, where is your hope?
and just having read this morning that there is, indeed, a time for everything, both lament and praise, life and death, tears and laughter, holding on and letting go. . .
and it came to me. this undoing of hope. not a destruction. not a relinquishing. not a giving up. the simple undoing.
for he came to us after two years of care in another world. half a world away.
two years of input. two years of information. two years of lacking some necessary input & information. while at the same time exposed to things a two-year-old should never be.
and it's important to remember that any child who comes from such a place will have serious wounds that only time can heal. that only time may never heal.
and that time may bring more questions than answers. and those same answers may be both our devastation and our lifeline.
for in the midst of the rubble as everything we've known and expected feels like it's come crashing down. . . God stands.
and my hope is undone.
i can no longer place faith in my vast knowledge gained from books and other sources of knowledge.
although those certainly have their place.
i can no longer rely on my parenting skills that have "worked" so well with my other children who came from my womb.
although they might work. on any given day.
i can no longer look at life through the same lens that worked yesterday, or the day before, or any other day prior to that.
you see, my hope becomes a minute by minute building back up of my faith. a show of hands, so to speak. as in, show me Your hand, O God, and my hope is built back up. hope is on the left, faith on the right, and surrounded by His incredible and enduring love. . . each step becomes possible in its own measure.
it is this that leads me to look at my son afresh every morning with a heart that seeks out heaven and whispers, thank You.
thank You for showing me the weakness of my flesh.
thank You for showing me the richness of Your mercies.
thank You for showing me the gift of Your grace.
thank You for undoing my hope.
for in the undoing, i am able to more become.