Break Down on Aisle 3

Or maybe it was the frozen food section…

I remember being cold…

And shaking…

And for the first time in my life, I understood how a panic attack might feel…

The shortness of breath…

The quickening heart beat…

And the feeling of circumstances spinning out of control.

Is this how he feels?

After all, while I tend to cling to the falsity that I maintain at least a morsel of control…

He truly has none.

Decisions are being made and his life will never be the same…

And as I sit here on a plane at 31000 feet, as a result of those decisions…

I wonder.

Nothing about this adoption has been easy.

Most adoptions are not a walk in the park, 

but this one was fast…

It had to be.

This one was emotional…

Most are… but this child we had spoken of, advocated for and prayed over, for years.

And when the Lord said “go”…

There was very little time left to get to him.

In the rush of paperwork and preparations, there was little of that time left over to just be still, to allow emotions to be felt and visions of our family, plus one, to be digested.

Roadblocks were real and hurdles were overcome time and time again, as were the emotions that lurked just beneath the surface of my heart. 

The attacks were fast and furious and like seasoned adoption warriors (wink), we battled and defeated each blow with the assurance of the One who stood beside us, but it was in that grocery store aisle, with a cart so full of provision that I could barely see over the top…

That it all began to spill out and it was messy… I was a mess and weary of the fight. 

 I looked past our provisions and our incredible blessings. I dismissed the courage and the fortitude that was not mine and all His. I couldn’t be grateful and thankful… for just being grateful and thankful. 

I saw a cart that was “abnormally” full instead of abundantly full and in a split second, a life flashing before your eyes kind of second, I wanted my “normal” back, the kind of normal that allows you to walk out of the grocery store with one cart instead of two, the kind of normal that doesn’t think about, obsess over and loose sleep over all of those children, those millions of children, who also long for “normal”, a safe, loving, forever family kind of normal…

And as I struggled to push all of my “burdens” down Aisle 3, my thoughts returned to a boy across the ocean who has waited for “normal” for 13 years and while the world may stare at our “abnormally” full life, this child will finally know life to the full…

Yep, that day in heaven, I am certain “clean up on aisle 3” was heard and I am just as certain that the Lord was the One with the mop.

Two more days to Song!