From Gut-Wrenching to Heart Melting

I've heard it said that adopted kids start to settle in once they've been with their "forever family" longer than they lived without them. Uh, so, right about the time Angie's heading off to college she'll get comfortable and compliant? Great for her professors I guess. But what about us?!

On a good day, I daydream about adopting more. On a bad day, I fantasize about an empty nest.

Today, was a bad day. The worst in awhile. I complained about an extended Christmas break, when the Polar Vortex kept my little one at home two extra days, and kept me from a full work day. But really, if put head to head "Happy Snow-day Angie" even when she's up in my grill all day, is probably far preferable to "Grouchy Back-to-school, showering, homework, and basketball-practice Angie." I have got to learn to be content in all circumstances, or at least some!

I read Jen Hatmaker's new blog post last night about difficult relationships, I even reposted it. No, I didn't assume reposting it would be enough to reap some relational benefits. I actually tried to use some of her ideas.

I will pray for two things in regard to this child: love and selflessness. Dear God, give me a heart overflowing with love and banish my selfishness with your awesome magic powers.

When it comes down to it, I’d rather work hard on a difficult relationship than flounder in frustration over it, waiting for it to miraculously improve. Inertia is no friend of healthy relationships.

I probably wouldn't have expected instant results, except a few hours after she posted the article, Jen added this note on Facebook:

You guys, practiced my blog tips on Remy today, and at bedtime prayers (me first, her second), I thanked God for how precious He made her, and she said: "Mama? Take my turn and pray again because your words are just so sweet!" FOR THE LOVE. I'm serious. For the love. Anyone else have a small victory today with your person?

Uh no. I mean, I at least was hoping for 'same to improved' on the peace in the home scale, not total mother-daughter MELTDOWN. But we chose the meltdown. I'll spare you the details, just know that it was ugly around here from shortly after the bus brought her home around 3pm till an artificially early bedtime of 8 o'clock.  

By then things had simmered down enough; ignoring-defiant Angie had been replaced with the sweet-repentant version, so we attempted some semblance of our bedtime routine, minus Daddy who's out of town. Yesterday, at a friend's adoption fundraiser ice cream outing, we ran into Angie's church small group leader and she asked us to be reading Psalm 139 before class on Sunday.

Could she have been some kind of an angel, or a prophet? 

Last night, I read it to Angie in Spanish. Tonight, I picked up the bilingual Bible and started into the English translation half-heartedly, until I began to melt...

O Lord, you have examined my heart
    and know everything about me.
²     You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.
³     You know everything I do.
⁴ You know what I am going to say
    even before I say it, Lord.
⁵ You go before me and follow me.
    You place your hand of blessing on my head.
⁶ 

Just being reminded that He knows me SO well, when I fall SO short, yet He continues to love me, was too much. I had to agree with David, "Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too great for me to understand!"

As if that wasn't enough, then God took it up a notch.

Angie did something she never does, she asked if she could read, she hates to read out loud. But she read better than I've ever heard her! She read these words:

You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body
    and knit me together in my mother’s womb

Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!    

Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.

You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,
    as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.

You saw me before I was born. 

Every day of my life was recorded in your book. 

Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.

How precious are your thoughts about me, O God.
    They cannot be numbered!

I can’t even count them;
    they outnumber the grains of sand!

Where are the tissues?!!?!?

He had me at: He made all the delicate, inner parts of her body and knit her together in her mother's womb, but He didn't stop there... Every day of her life was recorded, every moment laid out.

His thoughts about her are precious.

When I can't muster one precious thought about the child, God's cannot be counted, they outnumber the grains of sand. 

Oh, there are no words. Forgive me Lord, for my...everything.

Then, Angie opened up to me that today was unexpectedly her best friend's last day at school, and that she hadn't finished making her a friendship bracelet yet. Oh, heart that was melted is now being ripped out. If only she'd told me her sorrows at the beginning of our afternoon, instead of raging. Or, if only I'd assumed the best about her, if only I'd extended her a little more grace... Next time...

Psalm 139 closes with a prayer we personalized tonight for ourselves, maybe you can use it too.

"Point out anything in me that offends you, 

and lead me along the path of everlasting life."

Goodnight friends, I'm exhausted. Life is exhausting.