Shortly after my last letter to Jenna, I learned that her needs were beyond what we were equipped to handle. There was potential danger to our boys, and we couldn’t expose them to the potential risks. I could barely finish reading her profile through the tears that told me the harsh truth. 

After 6 months of praying over that little girl,
       I had to let her go.
It was so difficult.

We had resolved to continue with the adoption process, but to remain open about who our new little girl would be. Many months later, we finally completed final interviews for our home study. Then…well…see below.

A few weeks later, my mother-in-law called me complaining of really bad gastral pain and diarrhea. She had seen her doctor about it, but the medicine he had prescribed wasn’t providing any relief. After taking her to urgent care, she was transported to the emergency room. Later that night, she underwent triple bypass surgery. For the next six weeks, I devoted countless hours to sitting with her in the hospital and rehab facility, praying with and for her, listening to and helping to ease her anxiety and fears, advocating for her care, and then welcoming her into our home to help care for her needs. Last September, we awoke to her call for help in the middle of the night. I watched her take her last breath, and then felt the last few pulses of her heart. I administered CPR until the paramedics arrived. They were unable to revive her.

In the midst of my own grief, I helped shepherd my young boys through the loss of their Grammie, and supported my husband through the very difficult loss of his mom. As the end of 2009 approached, I reflected and thought, wow, I hope 2010 is better.

Then in February, I got a call from my sister. Grandma was not doing well. She no longer wanted the treatment which she felt was prolonging the inevitible and making her so uncomfortable. She was ready to go home to be with her Savior. The doctors ordered palliative care (making her comfortable in her last days). I spent the better part of the week staying at her home helping to care for her in those last days. I spent precious hours in prayer over her, in Scripture, watching and waiting by her bedside. I felt her leave many times, and then return as if something were holding her back. It was like something was grabbing her by the ankles and pulling her back. 

I diligently and prayerfully sought out any and all things
      which may be interfering with her peaceful passing.
She was ready.
But something wouldn’t let go.
I searched and searched for an answer.
It never was clear…

           …in hindsight, I wonder if something was keeping me there…
                                 …instead of home that week…

Grandma passed away very peacefully.
We had a small, intimate service.
Family came in from out of state.
It was the first time in 10 years
         –since my wedding ironically–
that my entire generation of cousins and sisters
were together at the same time.

The next day, the girlies spent the evening together
               reminiscing about “Grandma GG”,
        savoring both the laughter and the tears we shared.

…Little did I know what was going on back home…

As I was saying my final goodbyes to my grandmother,
         reconnecting with my sisters and cousins,
                        grieving with my family the loss of an amazing woman of faith,
circumstances were conspiring to rob me and my boys
           of what I had worked so hard
                 and invested so much in trying to build and maintain.

Another woman began pursuing my husband.

It didn’t take long for him to make his decision…

A decision that would turn our entire world upside down
         and threaten everything on earth that I hold dear.

Dealing with grief isn’t easy.
For anyone.
It’s obvious for the one dealing with the loss.

But it isn’t easy for those who seek to support the one in mourning, either.

Those around don’t know quite what to say
                 quite how to respond
                      quite how to approach the griever.

We want to offer words of encouragement.
Words of comfort.
Words of hope.

Words which we tell each other…
               we tell ourselves
        …in a desperate attempt to
                     relieve the immense pain and deep sorrow of loss.

“She’s in a better place.”
                   “She’s not suffering anymore.”
     “We’ll see her again someday.”
           “She knew how much you loved her.”
                             “What a blessing you gave her.”
        “You did all you could.”

Words that are true
         …words that make logical and biblical sense…
yet words that seem to reduce to platitudes
              in the emptiness that was once filled with her presence.

Naturally, as so many do,
we recount every moment of the past couple of months
especially the past several weeks.

We second guess everything,
     wish we could do things differently,
              wish we could do more.
We wonder if we did enough,
               if we made the right decisions,
          if we spent enough time,
      if we showed enough love.

I’ve been thinking about why.
Why do we second-guess?
Why, when we know we did all we could, do we still question ourselves?
Why do we speak words that are unable to fill the void that exists?
Why do we try to make ourselves, and others, feel better?

Early yesterday morning, the answer came to me.

Helplessness.

It’s easier for us to deal with guilt than with helplessness.

Guilt lets us feel like we are in control: 
            because if there was something we could have done differently,
     we could have changed the outcome.

The truth is, we couldn’t change the outcome.
We couldn’t change the reality of what was to come.

We couldn’t have known that this would be the last day,
    the last time we would talk to her,
        the last time we would tuck her in to bed,
            the last time we would say goodnight.

The truth is much more difficult to accept.

The truth is, we have no power over death.

We are absolutely helpless to it.
We cannot escape the harsh reality that in this world, each of us will ultimately succumb to it.
We are utterly vulnerable to it…helpless.

Helplessness requires complete surrender…and that is the toughest part of all.
Helplessness requires that we cry out for rescue, that we completely depend on Someone else for our salvation from the despair, from the destruction, from the unbearable sadness.

“But it’s God’s will. He has a plan…” is something we often tell ourselves…as if it will transform our sorrow into joy.

But it’s not true. Death was not part of God’s design.
He created us to be eternal.
He created us to be in relationship.
Death is the terrible consequence of the Fall…
    severing our earthly relationships,
        stinging our hearts with sadness and fear,
                   deepening the abyss into which we fall further and further,
           widening the chasm between us and God,
   leaving us utterly helpless.

Death is the enemy.

But God does have a plan.

He came to defeat Death.
           To make it His footstool.
      To put it to final death.

The only control we do have is whether to cry out in surrender to the only One who can provide rescue
             or cling to that which is passing away.

Tonight is our final class! Though we have learned so many valuable things, we are so excited to be done and ready to move to the next step. We’re hoping they will schedule our home study soon, and complete it quickly. We are so eager to learn more about you and bring you home. We want to know your favorite color so we can decorate your room soon. So many of our family and friends are excited and can’t wait to meet you. We have people at church praying for you, some who don’t even know us yet. Some even want to buy you welcome gifts, and have asked if we know your size.

This past weekend was the 4th of July. We barbequed at your aunt’s house. We had family from out of state visiting. I kept thinking how exciting it will be when we can introduce you to them, when you can play with your brothers and cousins. I long for next year when we can all sit together and watch in awe as the fireworks light up the sky.

The boys are so eager for you to come home. I love how they think of you already as a part of the family…even before they’ve met you. They ask questions about you. They include you in everything: talking about school, trips, church, pictures, toys, games, prayers. A few times we’ve bought them something, and they ask “which one is for Jenna?”

As I think about how close the day is approaching, I wonder how God is stirring your heart to get you ready to come home. Our hearts have been through many ups and downs during this long process. But we have pushed through and now are so close to the finish. We all just have to hang on a little longer, and continue to pray. Hang in there Princess. You’ll be home soon.

Love,

Mommy

As I sat there on my knees, I wept bitterly…
for those I didn’t know…
for sorrows I couldn’t name…
for chains I could not see.

For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life…John 3:16

We’re all familiar with this verse.
We see it at sporting events.
People throw it around like a beachball.

But do we really understand its depth?
Are we capable of grasping its implication for how we are to live?

We’re told throughout Scripture to share in the suffering of Christ.
           We think of Paul and the other apostles,
                 who endured painful torture and death at the hands of persecutors,
                        who gave their lives for the furtherance of the Gospel.

In our American sheltered luxury, we often think that suffering means enduring ridicule or being a social outcast for living and sharing our faith.
Maybe even sacrificing material desires in order to be obedient in our tithe…
Or giving up our weekend pleasures to serve in ministry…
We are grateful that we aren’t forced to suffer the ways many Christians throughout history, and today, around the world suffer for the sake of Christ, being beaten, killed, tortured, burned alive, separated from their families, martyred.

I, as many, have reflected, and considered whether my faith would be strong enough
–whether I am strong enough–
to endure those types of suffering.
If my child were threatened, would I have enough faith to stand firm?
          If the knife were at my throat,
                           the gun to my head,
              if I were drenched in gasoline and the match was inches away,
would I have the courage to still proclaim Christ?
I’ve long been thankful that I will likely never have to find out.

But is that what He was really talking about?
Is the extremity really necessary?

Is that the God we serve?

I don’t intend to minimize the suffering of the saints who have endured extreme persecution.

The Holy Spirit has just been teaching me something different.

But go and learn what this means: I DESIRE COMPASSION, AND NOT SACRIFICE;
for I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners…Matthew 9:13

He’s been teaching me about compassion.

          Compassion comes from a latin root:
                      com=with or beside; 
                      passion=suffering or feeling
          Compassion: to suffer with or beside; to share in one’s suffering

I’ve always been gifted with compassion. But my understanding has deepened.

We see suffering. 
We experience suffering.
Right here.
In our city.
In our neighborhood.
In our schools.
In our churches.
In our homes.

It looks different…
It’s more subtle…
Yet it can be just as destructive
–perhaps even more destructive–
as physical torture.

The suffering we see attacks the very soul.

I see people at extreme lows.
Total despair.
Buried in shame,
            consumed with anger,
         soured in bitterness,
  smothered in fear,
                      lost in darkness.

As I pray with people through their suffering,
I get to experience the intensity of their feelings.
It’s part of my spiritual gifting.

I feel the shame that makes them curl up and want to disappear.
I experience the darkness that surrounds them and leaves them blinded to God’s goodness.
I burn with the anger they hold on to.
I shudder in the fear that consumes them.
I am heavy with the unforgiveness they harbor.
I battle against the thoughts of death that seduce or torment them.
I hear the lies that taunt them.
I confront the demons that prey on their suffering,
    trespass on their souls,
        pulling them further into the abyss.

I experience compassion…I share in their suffering…
It’s a heavy burden sometimes.
It’s messy.
It’s troublesome.
It’s difficult.

Yet what I experience with them is nothing compared to what Christ experienced.

His suffering was not just physical. It was not isolated to the cross.

He has suffered from the beginning,
                 knowing we would turn away
…and embrace the knowledge–the experience–of good…and evil…

…and yet, He loved the world so much, He made a plan to redeem.

I can hardly fathom the great love of the Father…to love an undeserving people
so deeply,
so intensely,
so unconditionally,
so relentlessly,
so tenderly,
that He would be willing to become one of us and endure the cross…
that He collects our every tear and record each of our sorrows (Psalm 56:8)…
that He wept bitterly (Luke 19:41)…
          and felt great compassion, for those distressed and dispirited
                   …like sheep without a shepherd (Matt 9:36)

That kind of love…and we just don’t seem to get it…that’s suffering.

Parents can only experience a glimpse of this kind of love for our children.

But do we really know the suffering of Christ?
Do we experience the suffering of Christ?
He suffered in body.
He suffered in Spirit.
His heart was broken and grieved.
he was deeply moved and troubled in spirit. (John 11:33)
He wept bitterly for His people.

…

We are surrounded by suffering.

It’s time for battle.

Be devoted to one another in brotherly love; give preference to one another in honor; not lagging behind in diligence, fervent in spirit, serving the LORD; rejoicing in hope, persevering in tribulation, devoted to prayer, contributing to the needs of the saints, practicing hospitality. ..Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep…Romans 12: 10-15

He defended the cause of the poor and needy (materially and in spirit), and then it was well. Isn’t that what it means to know Me? declares Yahweh…Jeremiah 22:16

Are we ready to emerge from our comfort zones?
       …and share in the suffering of others…of ourselves…of Christ?

Suffering with…

to know Christ.

Do you really know Him?

Mayim Hayim–Living Water

John 4…At the well, Jacob’s well, on the outskirts of town, a Samaritan woman comes during the heat of the day to draw water. Jesus meets her there, and asks for a drink. He offers her living water, and tells her to go and bring her husband. She admits that she is not married, which, of course, He already knew. He refers to her five ex-husbands, and her current live-in boyfriend. This woman was a social outcast, caught in a life of sexual sin. He essentially tells her He knows her fruitless pursuits: seeking fulfillment, escape, belonging, and more, in mere men and the things of this world. She is amazed and runs back to town to tell the rest of the Samaritans about the Messiah, whom she has just met face to face, and who told her everything she had ever done. Many Samaritans believed after hearing the woman’s testimony about Jesus’ words.

I think about the woman’s words, what Jesus called her to, and the Samaritans’ response.

I think back to my first encounter at the well…

My initial response to sexual abuse (not by my father) was to withdraw, turn inward, and insulate myself almost completely. It was easy to convince everyone that I was just stuck up, being a cheerleader and all…

Truth be told–I was afraid:

…afraid of boys…the only ones who seemed to take much notice of me hurt me, binding me to a life of darkness, confusion, and secrecy…
…afraid of being found out…I couldn’t bear for anyone else to know the shame, horror, and humiliation I had experienced…

Dysfunction and chaos at home just added fuel to the fire…

I walked a fine line
                       …between the external confident, fun-loving feistiness
         …and the internal shame, fear, and self-hatred that consumed me.

It’s taken me a long time to realize what was happening to me…
        what I was doing to myself…

                                               I began walking two paths–
   …the one most could see–of apparent perfection: 
           high grades, prudish chastity, full of accomplishments…
                     …the other was much darker–the road to self-destruction:
                                                 alcohol, partying, empty, shallow relationships…

Along both paths I experienced
                        further betrayal
              more violations
                                      and a brutally terrifying assault.

Unable to deal with the assault or other abuses at the time, I needed other reasons to hate myself.

Before long, I plunged almost completely into the darkness.

Into the abyss…

          …immersed in the poison, deceit, confusion…

Within a couple of years, I found myself
                     nearly flunking out of college
                                              drinking and partying almost every weekend
                           squandering my soul piece by piece
      on the verge of a life I had never imagined for myself
                     …nor ever wanted for myself.

Then…one morning…I woke up…
Literally…

…next to an older man I barely knew…
                   so hungover that I couldn’t remember how
                           the previous night had ended…

…I woke up at the well…

I heard a Voice inside ask me,

“Wendy…what are you doing here?
This isn’t who I created you to be.
Is this what you want for yourself?”

No.

I walked away…
                  from the drinking
     the partying
              the clubs…

I was ready to walk away…but was not yet strong enough for the battle…
                      so I locked that part of my life away…
 

    …while traces of the poison still coursed through my veins…

 
        …and I ran headlong back to the life I had envisioned…
               graduated college with honors, married a good man,
                          went to graduate school… 
                                     I have two beautiful children, 
                                            my dream career
                         …and Christ…

After many years, Jesus brought me back to the well
                 –to join the battle–
                      it was time to begin bleeding out the toxic sin
                        that had plagued my life and relationships…

   …it was finally time to tell the other Samaritans about the Messiah
                            Who told me everything I had ever done…
                  Who called me out of my life of sin
                                 Who offered me Living Water
          and invited me into a life of mercy, grace, redemption,
                                    restoration, healing, wholeness,
                  sacrifice, joy, servanthood…

                                    …into a life of Immanuel…

Mayim Hayim…Living Water… 

Have you been to the well?

Only three more classes to go! The weeks don’t seem to count down quickly enough, though we are learning alot. We had your brother’s birthday party this past weekend. We wish you could have been here to share it with us. We all got to be rock stars and decorated t-shirts. We tried to make a rock video. I wonder if you would be as camera shy as the rest of the kids ended up being.

We got our home inspection done this week. Our house is officially safe enough for kids. It’s also mommy-proofed, because to put stuff out of children’s reach, it’s now also out of my reach.

I got to see another family’s adoption finalized this morning. I kept thinking of you, and how that will hopefully be us soon. We are trying to wait patiently, though we are eager to bring you home.

Take care. I’m praying for you every day.

Love,

Mommy

Now on the last day, the great {day} of the feast, Jesus stood and cried out, saying, “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to Me and drink. ”He who believes in Me, as the Scripture said, ‘From his innermost being will flow rivers of living water.’ “ But this He spoke of the Spirit, whom those who believed in Him were to receive.
John 7:36-39

…we were all made to drink of one Spirit
1 Cor 12:13

The Spirit and the bride say, “Come.” And let the one who hears say, “Come.” And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who wishes, take the water of life without cost.
Revelation 22:17

Let them give thanks to the LORD for His lovingkindness, And for His wonders to the sons of men! For He has satisfied the thirsty soul, And the hungry soul He has filled with what is good. 
Psalm 107:8-9

For I will pour out water on the thirsty, and streams on the dry ground; I will pour out My Spirit on your offspring, and My blessing on your descendants.
Isaiah 44:3

The Holy Spirit is being poured out like living water…Will you drink?

I discovered something really amazing this weekend, as I’ve been “preparing my case”. It highlighted the awesome healing work that has been taking place these past couple of years.

One of the catalysts in evaluating my life and my relationships a few years ago was that I recognized that I had no close friendships. I had no one with whom I felt I could share the deep, dark, raw, and vulnerable places within. As I wrestled with questions, wrestled in my faith, wrestled in my marriage, wrestled with terrible memories re-surfacing, I had no one to turn to.

…truth is, I had plenty to turn to, but no one I felt I could, or would, turn to…

In B4A, we made a short list of our support people, who we could call on if/when things got really tough.

This weekend, I began making a list…of people I could turn to for support and for prayer. I was amazed at what I found. The names just kept flowing.

In addition to my husband and counselor, I was able to list more than 50 people.

Of course, there are a handful on the “short list”, with whom I would feel the most comfortable, who are most familiar with my story and my struggles.

But the rest, I know I could call, text, email, or walk into their office, and without a lengthy explanation, receive immediate prayer, encouragement, and biblical insight.

WOW!

Thanks Abba, not only for providing such strong, caring, loving people, but for giving me an opportunity to recognize such a gift.

This weekend, I’m going to work on putting together a picture book for you. The boys are going to write notes, and make flowers for you.

Last night in class, we discussed grief and loss. As I put myself in your shoes, my heart just broke for you. What you may have been through. How many times, and in how many ways, your heart has been broken. How it all has made you feel. I just wanted to hold you last night, rock you, sing over you, and tell you I love you.

I’m a bit scared, though. I’m worried that I may never get the chance. I’m worried that you may never get to call me mommy. I’m worried that if it all doesn’t work out, you may never know how much we love you, have prayed for you, and waited for you. You may never even know about us. You may never get to read this letter.

Some people hurt me when I was a little girl. The Big People are concerned that if you were hurt the same kind of way I was, that it may be too hard for us to be a family. I don’t think it would be as hard as they are worried it might be. Sure, I know it will be difficult. I know it won’t be easy by any means. If you have been hurt like I was, I know that it’s really confusing, scary, and just feels icky, and you have no idea what to do or say. You don’t know whether to scream, cry, pretend, or what.

But I know how to listen. How to be patient. How to be gentle. tender. safe. accepting. loving.

I’m not sure what will happen. But this I do know: Our Abba, our Daddy, is in control. He is with us. He always has been. Even through the really sad and really bad times. Even when we feel that no one else is around. He is there. I hope you can experience Him. I hope you can know His love.

You have been growing in my heart for several months now. I pray that I will get to hold you soon. To bring you home.

My deepest prayer, my strongest desire, is that even though you are not here now, that you will feel the amazing love for you that is in my heart. That you will know how much you are wanted. That you will know how much you are cared for. That you will know how special you are. That you will know you are a Princess.

I love you,

Mommy

Well, maybe not so little…She’s 12.

We saw her picture months ago, and were captivated. I’ve been praying over her, preparing for her, and thinking about her all these months. I’ve wondered what might have put her into the system. How long she’s been in the system. How many homes she’s lived in. How many schools she’s had to learn in. How many friends she’s left behind. What connection to her past she still has. How much she wants to have.

…In come the warnings: “don’t get too attached…anything can happen.”

Pbpbpbpt!!! I’ve spent my whole life not getting too excited or too attached, because I got tired of the disappointment. God told me a couple of years ago, that I was going to have to take risks. So I did.

From that first night, I have loved this little girl like she is my own. Even though I only know a handful of facts about her. Even though I have never met her, but have only seen her picture. I have no idea what she will be like. How long it may take to adjust. Who she will grow up to be. Or even if I will ever get to hold her…I still love her. Like a mother loves her unborn child, without knowing, seeing, or touching, I love this little girl. She is my little girl.

I really felt the Holy Spirit tell me the first time I saw her picture, “This is My little girl, and I want you to love her”.

Now, it’s social workers’ jobs to prepare people for worst-case-scenario. These children have had their hearts broken countless times, in unimaginable ways, and I’m sure the social workers carry that and feel that too. They have to be protective…of the children, of themselves, of us.

At our interview, they mentioned the possible obstacles that could come up in this process. I’ve been well aware of the things that might happen. I know the kinds of things this little girl might have to deal with. I have a vivid imagination. I also have experience with some of these things. I’m aware of some of the things she might do to cope. I don’t expect it to be a cake walk. I only expect to love her anyway. With the love of Christ.

Yet, last night after our foster/adoption licencing class, I hit a speed bump. That’s an understatement. The class content was heart-breaking enough, focusing on grief and loss, and imagining what kinds of loss these kids experience, and how they’ve coped and survived.

After class, I was asking our social worker a question regarding the home studies. In our conversation, one of those obstacles presented itself again as a possibility, maybe even probability. They want to be cautious about potential triggers, both for me and for her. He wasn’t certain, but she and I may share something in our experiences that causes them to pause. To hesitate. To reconsider.

He assured me, that they will find a match for us…My heart dropped. The thought of losing this little girl. Tonight of all nights? Inside, I started scrambling, stirring, grasping.

I was up most of the night, praying, wrestling with feelings, naming them, imagining how I might work through various possibilities, preparing my case.

A battle is raging…
I named anger…at the perpetrators who took so much from me so long ago, who even now, threaten to take something even more precious
I named frustration…because I feel helpless–it’s ultimately not my decision
I named fear…of losing, of the unknown, of them erring too far on the side of caution
I named intimidation…because part of me is worried about not being heard, being misunderstood, labeled, or under-estimated
I named shame…for trying to make me feel like it’s because of who I am or what I’ve experienced

I fought them by…
Surrendering…to Christ, His sovereignty, His goodness, His will.

My Abba is bigger than any doubt, any obstacle, any rule, any pre-conceived notions, any reservations, any stigmas, any labels, any opinions…He is BIGGER…He is STRONGER.

He has a plan. He gave me this girl. Even if for just a season. Even if I may never hold her. Even if I may never meet her. She has been conceived in my heart, and will continue to grow there. 

My heart is in His hands.

God is using this to teach me so much
about love
about belonging
about trusting
about surrendering
about accepting
about fighting
about adoption
about loss
about being vulnerable

Please pray for us on this challenging journey of faith…I’m off to write another letter…