Practice. Not ‘to do something over and over again to get better at it.’ Instead, it’s more like ‘actively engaged in a specified career or way of life’ (like a physician’s practice). Patience is seeming more like a way of life to me now, than an isolated exercise.
We found out this week that Mercy’s orphanage is requesting that we re-sign the paperwork that we signed 6 months ago. They already had us re-do our dossier because they lost it. Now they are asking us to re-sign the paperwork that we already signed 5 months ago (because I’m guessing that was lost too?). I was under the assumption that the paperwork was making its way through systems and desks getting the next approvals we have been waiting on. But I was wrong.
I’m having a very hard time with this. The grief is palpable. It could mean that once we get all this paperwork in, things go swimmingly and bam,bam,bam things are done and moving forward. But based on the fact that I’m 20 days away from the 6 year mark in our wait for a daughter, I’m skeptical. Very skeptical.
The verse I’m clinging to that I read this morning is “Powerful people harass me without cause, but my heart trembles ONLY at your word. I rejoice in your word like one who discovers a great treasure. Those who love your instructions have great peace and do not stumble. I long for your rescue, Lord, so I have obeyed your commands. Listen to my prayer; rescue me as you promised. Let praise flow from my lips,for you have taught me your decrees. O Lord, I have longed for your rescue,and your instructions are my delight.” -Psalm 119:161-163, 165-166, 170-171, 174
A sweet friend emailed me this very timely verse this morning: ‘And I am convinced and sure of this very thing, that He Who began a good work in you will continue until the day of Jesus Christ [right up to the time of His return], developing [that good work] and perfecting and bringing it to full completion in you.’- Philippians 1:6 AMPSo, He will do it. Even when I doubt. Even when I fear. Even when I can hardly lift my head to look to Him about it— AGAIN.
I have been reflecting over the last few weeks. I had a friend dedicate her sweet adopted baby boy at church, and another friend finally get to go pick up her longed-for daughter in India (a family who has been waiting alongside us for YEARS!). With the baby dedication, I KNEW I had to be there. I NEEDED to be there. So even though we had gone to a different service, I snuck in right before the prayer, bawled and prayed, then snuck out and found tissue.
I had to question the Lord about the true state of my heart. Was I jealous? Was jealousy the right word for what I was feeling?
The salty tightness of tear-stained cheeks… The joy of watching another family welcome a child through adoption is tinged with grief.
Grief, not jealousy. Its more guttural than jealousy. Not bitter like jealousy.
Hunger, to hold her in my arms.
I felt it whispered to my heart that it’s an act of worship, to humble myself, in my sadness, and rejoice with another in their joy.Will I still weep tears that salt my cheeks and sting my heart AFTER I have her in my arms? Will I weep those tears for all of the children who do not have someone pining and longing for them? Will my heart be broken for the nameless ones who have no one to hold them, feed them, comfort their fears, clean their wounds, teach them to read, hold them ‘just because’ they want to be held?
Will life always be joy mingled with sadness? Are they meant to be two sides to the same coin? Until heaven at least, I think maybe so.