Psalmist

Last year for Bard’s birthday we took the girls on a family hike to my mountain.  It was an easy loop and a different view from what I’m used to, so that was fun.  I had checked the weather daily and knew it was a bit iffy but it looked promising when we started out so I wasn’t too worried.  About a mile in we heard it, the distant roar of thunder bouncing off the surrounding mountains thus hiding both its proximity and location.  And I was scared.  Not just worried but suddenly steeped in the strangling presence of fear. 

Get me off that mountain.  

Rationally I knew we were probably fine.  But I didn’t care.  I knew the thunder was far off.  But storms blow in fast.  I knew Bard was an experienced hiker, I could hold my own, and we weren’t that far from the trail head.  But we had the girls and I didn’t know for sure what was going to happen to us.  For every common sense thought that existed in my head, a nonsense thought full of emotion tried to pound it out. 

Since you didn’t see us on the news, you know we made it off just fine, and other than leaving Evelyn’s sneaker in the parking lot, we enjoyed a problem free day, complete with cupcakes and full of happy pictures.  But I will never forget standing on a precipice with my two young daughters and watching the storm clouds roll in, completely unable to know if the storm would hit us and what the damage would be to our family. 

I heard that same rumbling of thunder last week and could see storm clouds in the distance.  Or maybe not too far future.  I looked at our family pictures, climbing the stairs, and wondered what on earth were we doing and would we survive this storm.

I know who goes before me. I know who stands behind.

No, we don’t have travel dates yet, although fingers and toes are crossed for this week. And those dates will make a lot of imaginary moments very real.  But for every tearful, joyous, dreamed about moment I picture in my head, there is a panicky, questioning, want to see the ground beneath me before I step out in faith thought that tries to strangle my growing excitement.  Worry strangles joy.

The God of angel armies is always by my side.

I still don't know why our journey looks the way it does.  But I have a better idea now than I did even just a few months ago.  About a year ago, when were already in the midst of ups and downs, I started praying something quite ridiculous.  I knew we were in for it.  And I knew that was a bad thing for me!  If you don't know me very well, you might think I am a pessimist.  Because, if I have an idea-mine or someone else's-I play out all the options, good and bad.  But here's the thing, that doesn't stress me out, and in fact, I love it!  However, and this drives Bard crazy (maybe because it makes me difficult to live with but that is just a maybe), I will almost always assume the best option is the one that will play out.  I hope for the best, prepare for the worst. And honestly, best is under estimating-I will often be quite sure the most unrealistic and positive outcome is the one that will happen.  I walk through life disappointed ;) That can sometimes make me a teeny bit cranky.  Or a ranting lunatic, again, depends on your outlook!   Either way, it's a challenging perspective to have throughout an adoption when the reality is that the best outcome will likely take quite a while to form.

Let thy goodness like a fetter, bind thy wandering heart to me.

Prone to wander, Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love;

So I prayed. I knew I would get cross.   I knew I would be disappointed.  I just prayed I would return faster than normal.  That I would not get bogged down in discouragement, tangled up in anger, that I would fix my eyes, a tethered mind free from the lies.  Of course I am not sure I realized that learning how to bounce back requires being thrown down, over and over again.  But I don't think I care.

Here's my heart Lord, O take and seal it,

seal it for thy courts above.

Last week I saw that prayer answered.  Don't worry, there is nothing at all wrong with our adoption.  But we knew going into this that there would be known and unknown challenges we would face together.  There are no guarantees in adoption, there is a often corruption, we will be interacting with a foreign government, and there are a lot of potential problems that could cause roadblocks.  Bard and sat down a few days ago with lots of issues to talk through and lots of worries that were growing up around us.

Worry strangles joy.

We had spent all week with a clearer perspective of things that could go wrong and why they would do so.  We talked about worst case scenarios and slightly less than worst case scenarios.  We committed to being who we are, who we are meant to be, no matter what happens. And relief like a bubble burst out of me with a laugh.

Whatever will come our way, through fire or pouring rain,

We won't be shaken, no we won't be shaken

Even with two weeks of waiting to hear our travel dates, even with unknowns-and knowns-I felt good.  Don't get me wrong, I am antsy and under a lot of pressure.  Let's be honest, I am borderline psychotic by this point!  But I feel peace, even with a storm swirling around me.

Whatever tomorrow brings, together we'll rise and sing,

That we won't be shaken, no we won't be shaken.

For months now I've read daily from the old and new testament.  For months I've had a daily prayer time.  For months now, God has been saving up joy for me to experience when the world wants me to cling to worries.  Maybe this sounds crazy to you.  Maybe you think religion is a crutch.  Maybe it is.  Maybe you don't feel broken.

But if you have a convincing argument against there being an unacceptably painful amount of brokenness in this world, I'd love to hear it.

All this pain

I wonder if  I'll ever find my way

I wonder if my life could really change at all

All this earth

Could all that is lost ever be found

Could a garden come up from this ground at all

God has never stopped creating.  I was reminded of that yesterday at church.  He continues on through time, re shaping, making old into new, breathing life where there was death. He is an artist. This concept resonates with me because even though I am openly Type A and love details, sometimes I feel like I get put in a box, I'm not the "creative type."  I'm not a dreamer.

Bull****

Sorry :) I am a dancer!  I cannot watch anyone dance without re choreographing whatever it is they are doing.  I watch people and imagine how they would dance.  My passion for arts guided my college career and shapes my life even today.  Yes, I like routine, yes, schedules are just plain gorgeous.  But I love to dream.  And I dream big. Nothing is more exciting to me than chasing down a new idea and then making it look fabulous.  I constantly search and think, what can I do with that, what will make it beautiful?  I am an artist.  It's in my nature.  And that is why I can live with joy amidst the fear.  There will be brokenness over the next few months, decades.  There will be loss and grief, darkness, old, passing away.  But out of that old we can create something new. Hope.  Family. Beauty.

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of dust

You make beautiful things
                                                         You make beautiful things out of us

All around

Hope is springing up from this old ground

Out of chaos life is being found in You

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of dust

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of us