The last several times I have posted, I have been uneasy with the negative tone. I am in charge of the way I see life, and not that long ago, I posted about my desire to have a more positive tone. Then, as is habit for me, I walked off and forgot all about it. Apparently.
We just had the one year anniversary of a stressful time in our lives of which I can truly say, “What [another person] meant for [destruction], God meant for good.” As with all such occasions, the anniversary can bring distress we aren’t always anticipating, but when we look back we realize, the dates line up exactly.
I am sorry for the last few posts, but since I started blogging, one of my rules has been that if it’s up; it stays. I have made one exception. In this case I am making an explanation, and so I am leaving them there, because they represent the journey. (‘Journey’ goes on the list of words I try to avoid because their overuse hurts expression.)
Through this season, I have commented to God, ” I need You but I can’t lift myself. I am waiting on You to raise me.” I held still. I wasn’t where I should be and if I kept moving might make it worse. Toward the end of the time period, a thought began to recur. It was hard to put into words, but thankfully, I felt it in my heart…”the beauty of His holiness.”
It has been like slogging through mud and molasses. Exhausted, lonely, feeling isolated with only myself to rely on (scary, that), the memories we were really entitled to, not being honored. Finally realizing, our experience probably really turned a lot of people off from adoption.
Until the day that was the beginning of the end. The day the ‘neighbor’ (definitely not the guy Mr Rogers was referring to) did his stuff. What I haven’t included here is that on that same evening, my son found a gun at someone else’s house (it turned out to be an antique part of a decorative display and not in any way operable, but it was several hours before we got that sorted out). The next day, my son and I were cornered in the street by large, growling, black dogs.
Three events that could end in death. Three escapes.
I am aware how crazy it sounds.
I am glad to write this blog. I am grateful for it because I feel heard and supported in a way that I haven’t in real life. The real life response to what happened a year ago? Silence. Of course, the genteel inquiry as to how EVERYTHING is going, but as far as the depth of the struggle… It’s a vicious cycle, though. When people do ask, I don’t go deep; since we are usually standing in the foyer at church. Not exactly a place for deep sharing. When I talk about news weather and sports, they don’t probably get the impression that I am willing or interested in going deep.
I wandered off from “…the beauty of His Holiness.” He wants me, draws me back. He is disappointed in all the things I might use to fill the aching chasm inside my heart. He wants to fill all. Then I won’t get addicted to material goods, human relationships, and follow maps to fool’s gold.
The beauty of His holiness…
Set apart like ‘good’ china
Laid aside for specific use, like a wedding gown
that’s what holiness is.
What would you rather be?
Lost in the crowd?
Or the only one.
Kept for ‘good’.
Rare, precious, loved,
saved for a purpose?