God felt silent. Have you ever felt like that? Silence is no fun if what you really want is a word of guidance or a shouting intervention. I needed both only a few weeks back. I couldn’t retreat in the situation I faced, I couldn’t stay put, and I hesitated to move forward. The silence I was sensing was really an answer from God himself but in all honesty–I wanted a different one.
For months I prayed that I wouldn’t have to travel to Eastern Europe for our international adoption hearing without my husband. In all truth, I prayed he would go and not me. I was on the hunt for a miracle. I was conflicted. I had so many feelings waiting to pounce on my vulnerable brain–that I wasn’t even able to speak about the trip without crying. Yes, it was hard to maintain focus on our beautiful adoption of three siblings without getting sucked into my own anxiety about the trip. So, I chose instead to put my hands to the task of getting ready for travel without allowing my mind to even think about stepping onto the plane. Yes, I will admit to giving myself permission to take a swim in temporary denial.
Even though our seventeen year old son was on track to accompany me, all I wanted was Joseph to go plain and simple. I wanted his protection from a trip into the unknown– especially at a time of unrest and tension in Eastern Europe in 2014. I wanted his leadership. I wanted to stay home and enjoy the comfort of the familiar and the company of my mother. It’s sad but true–my faith and obedience was facing a big time test.
God felt silent. When it came right down to it, Joseph wouldn’t and couldn’t leave at a time when so much was going on at work. I accepted that only after months of praying otherwise. That step was numbing. Where was my help going to come from? Would our seventeen year old son travel with me as planned? I put my faith in James’ company and God’s will to be done… of course. I reasoned that James would be there to save the day–surely God wouldn’t want me to go overseas alone…
God felt silent. We packed our car in the wee hours, trusting in the overnight postal delivery that was promised would show. Even though we had no passport for our son in hand, we held out hope that our post office would receive the delivery on an early truck. It needed to be in our possession before we arrived at our gate. Every mile and click of the tires on the asphalt below us felt like a countdown to a bleaker answer. It never came.
So–God felt silent. I hugged my mother tight at the gate entrance while shock numbed me. I couldn’t go home and I struggled to accept this as my God’s answer. Didn’t He love me anymore? Me, me, me…was this really all about me? Or was there more to this situation than I understood–more to God’s plan? I felt exhausted by the time I shuffled onto my first flight to Washington D.C. and slept like an infant the whole way there.
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