I’m a little “caught up” as I write this.
Sara and I were just singing together (we often just sorta sing songs that come from our heart as I play my guitar), and this profound sense of God’s fresh kindness swept over both of us as we sat there together in our living room.
It’s no secret to many of our friends that we’ve been trying to have children of our own for about 2 1/2 years now. And the doctors say that it’s still possible–just very difficult due to some medical realities.
And as some may understand, this has been very, very difficult at times. And sometimes, you just sort of numb yourself and choose not to think about all of the “joy deferred”. I love kids–I love their exuberance, their innocence and spontaneity, and their wonder. Friends with children have come to be familiar with “Mr. Nate” playing games and wrestling with their kids.
Yet it’s sometimes been tinged with sadness, as I find myself, apparently so wired to be a Daddy, not yet with children of my own. And not for lack of trying.
Pregnant and young-parent friends of ours are usually quite sensitive about it to us–which is often helpful, and sometimes just more reminder of our current lack. We truly celebrate with them, but there’s always that stirring of the wound.
But something strange has occurred within us in the last few months as we’ve embarked down this adoption road.
Just like He so often does, God has given us an oasis in the desert.
Sure, this whole expedition could fail spectacularly–we somehow get rejected, the paperwork gets lost, or any of a host of calamities could derail the process. But this morning, I’m once again seeing the Father who brings beauty from ashes.
It’s almost as if He was planting seeds during the season of mourning (for that’s indeed what it was), which are now bearing fruit in indescribable joy. Seriously, this sounds weird…but Sara and I would be a little disappointed (at first) were we to get pregnant. Because–at this stage in the adoption process–that would mean that we would have to put our adoption plans on hold.
But it’s the very pain that we have felt over the last few years that is now proving to be a foundation for deep joy.
It’s more than just “getting to perhaps be a parent”. It’s all that comes with this adoption thing–the story of redemption for orphaned lives, the enjoyment of getting to know a different culture (Ethiopia), even facing the task ahead of having to persistently love “institutionalized” children that might carry attachment disorder.
All of this, combined with the possible future of having a little girl look into my eyes and say “Daddy”, makes my heart fill up.
And if it were to end today, for whatever reason, I would still be glad. I’ve seen afresh the kindness of God in providing streams in the desert. And that’s more than enough for today.