Woeful Saturday

Parenting is hard.  I don’t care who you are.  My particular brand of parenting (adoptive parenting) comes with some specific challenges.  And today, I am tired of them.  I am tired of paying for the bad choices of others.  I don’t want to hear about how someone wishes they had someone else as their mom.  I don’t want to look into the painful eyes of loss.   I don’t want to feel the endless ache of grief.  It’s taxing and I am tired.  


So I cry out, “Why, Lord?!  Why do I have to deal with this?  Why am I bearing the consequences of other people’s sins?”  Even as I cry the Holy Spirit is near, and it only takes a moment for me to recognize that the “sins of others” are sins out of the poverty of their situation.  That the pain inflicted on me is simply ricochetting off the many other people by whom it has been passed . . . all the way back to Adam.  Tragic pain upon tragic pain.  And my pain is the least in the long line.

Through my tears I hear the kind whispering of the Lord, “Why not you?”  It is, after all, Holy Saturday.  I am keenly aware of the suffering for our sake that Christ Jesus has endured.  On this day while he is dead and buried I am weeping about my own feelings and fatigue.  But this is not about me.  Parenting is never about the parents, and certainly these deep and enduring wounds are not about me either.  Didn’t I agree to stand in the gap?  Didn’t I sign up for enduring the difficulties?  Wasn’t that all part of the deal?  What is more, am I not one graced to endure the suffering?  I have a loving partner for the journey. I have the support of friends and family and my church.  I have the resources of a good education and the comforts of financial security.  I have received grace upon grace.  Why not me?  


In these moments I enter the ageless ache of all creation for full redemption and peace.  In the darkness of Holy Saturday I wait with hope for a full and final resurrection from death to life.  I long for the suffering to end--yes, mine, but even more the suffering of those connected to me:  those who are family close and extended, those who are neighbors near and far, those who share this sin-sick planet.  

. . . Your kingdom come 
Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven
Give us (all) today our daily bread and
Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us . . . 
For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory for ever and ever.


Come, Lord Jesus!  Come!

Strange Blessings

Today has been the most stressful day I have had in a very long time.  Battle after battle.  Frustration upon frustration.  Hurt upon hurt.  Today, I put up my fighting gloves and jumped in the ring with several opponents.  I have ricocheted between the ropes and my muscles ache.  Really ache.

Tension and frustration, however, have resolved to compromise and understanding.  I have met with allies to rally with me.  I have taken action and it has resulted in positive change.

I know today what Paul was talking about when he said, "We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed" (2 Cor 4:8-9 TNIV).

So at the close of this difficult day, I find myself strangely blessed.  God has entrusted me with three unique, amazing boys.  I am the mom for them.  Chosen.  Affirmed.  Right.  God has joined me with a life partner who is truly the other side of me.  We are perfectly (I am trying not to use this word, but it is absolutely right) fit for each other.  Needed.  Loved.  Offered.  Received.  One.

These two are enough.  And yet tonight I treasured a long, luxurious bath and moments of quiet.  And in these sacred spaces I find that I have everything.  My life is nothing like I ever imagined it would be.  It is so much more.  Complex.  Diverse.  Challenging.  Full.  Settled.  Free.

Indeed, I "have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us" (2 Cor 4:7, TNIV).

It is all strangely welcome.  Blessings.