Sight for the Blind

Last week, I went to the eye doctor, and I am finally going to give in and get some glasses (but ONLY for reading and working on the computer :-).  I think it is very fitting that right now will be the first time in my life that I will start wearing glasses, because I feel like God has given me new sight over these past few weeks.  These weeks since Sergey left and we first learned how much he was struggling with his decision to join our family  have been some of the hardest of my life.  I was forced to come to grips with the fact that we might never see him again, and that felt almost too hard to accept.  It felt like walking into a dark room - I couldn't see what was ahead, I was afraid of what might be inside, and everything in me screamed to turn around and run away. Thankfully God had placed such a deep love for this boy in our hearts that running away was not an option, so we walked into the room.  It was a quiet place, and eventually even in the darkness I started to feel a peace and thought that I might really be okay.  And then we walked even deeper into the dark as I found out that I needed to have a biopsy done on a suspicious place found in a breast ultrasound.  At that point, any hint of light that I thought I saw ahead of me seemed to vanish.

Whenever I am driving down the road and see a funeral procession, it always strikes me as so odd that all of the rest of us are driving around, living our lives, going to work, attending school, talking to our kids, while this person who I don't even know is burying a loved one.  It always feels to me that everything should just stop.  When a tragedy has occurred, it feels like time should come to a halt, the sun should stop shining, and we should all sit and mourn this loss.  And when I think about the family members who are suffering that loss, I think of how alone they must feel.  For a mother, how she knows that NO OTHER MOTHER has just lost that child.  For a husband, that NO OTHER HUSBAND has just lost that wife.  It has seemed so unfair to me, that these people suffer while all of the rest of us are given the gift of an ordinary trip to the grocery store.  And then on a deeper level, there was always the fear lurking, "What about when that is me?  What if I lose my husband, or one of my children?  How will I survive?  I will be the only one suffering that loss, and I don't think I will be able to handle it."

And so when Clint is 20 minutes late coming home and doesn't answer his cell phone, the strong grip of fear grabs ahold of me. When I go outside and call and call for one of the kids and can't find them, panic rises up inside of me.  I think, "This is a road I can NOT walk down. I will NOT survive if this turns out badly."  Living this way robs so much joy from my life - clutching white-knuckled to the blessings that God has given me keeps me from being able to truly cherish and enjoy them.  I believe that if He were to take away any of those blessings, I would not be able to go on living.  I remember when Olivia was first born, I was lying in the hospital bed telling Clint over and over, "If anything happens to her, I will die.  Really. I will die. I will NOT go on living.  Really."  He just said "Okay, honey" and patted me on the head ;-), but I truly believed it.  I loved her so much, I could not possibly go on living without her.

Fast forward ahead to these past two weeks in our lives.  Fast forward to me being the one standing in the dark room, in the very, very tight grip of fear.  I am embarrassed, especially as a wife of a pastor and someone who has known Jesus her whole life, to admit just how strong that grip really was.  It was brutal.  I imagined all kinds of scenarios, including one where Sergey told us that he definitely wanted us to come adopt him, but then I would get a call telling me that I had cancer, and then the adoption would be off, since you have to be in good health to adopt.  That was just one scenario - I had many others as well.  I so wish I could say that I just sat back and trusted God, and knew that, whatever happened in either situation, I would trust him and be at peace.  But I didn't.

However, God used these days to change me, and that is why I am writing this post.  Over the course of those two weeks, I spent most of my time reading, writing, and praying.  I read the Bible, I read books, I read blogs.  I had a few conversations with my closest friends, but mostly I just spent time by myself looking to God for answers.  And honestly it wasn't just about these situations.  I knew that even if they both turned out well (which they have!!!!!! PRAISE GOD!!!!!), they wouldn't always turn out well.  Super hard things are going to happen in my life, and one day I will die.  Those are just true statements, no matter how hard I try to avoid their reality and mask the fear with all kinds of distractions.  Nothing had really changed in my life, other than the fact that I had just been brought more closely face-to-face with the reality that is always lurking behind every moment of my life, the reality of pain, suffering, and death.  I have lived a blessedly pain-free life.  It has not been perfect, but it has been free of tragedy and deep loss, and fairly free of suffering.  I have been able quite easily to push back the threat of darkness and death, but here I was standing in the room with it and wondering what was going to happen next.

And what happened, or at least what I think happened, is that God began to change me.  I am still afraid of dying, I am still afraid of cancer, I am still afraid of losing a child.  I can't imagine that any sane person would not be afraid of these things.  However, I do think that God has begun, even if imperceptibly, to loosen the grip that fear has on my heart.  How did He do this?  One way, I think, is simply by his Holy Spirit, in a way that I cannot understand or explain.  I cried out so many times "Jesus please help me," and I think that simply He did.  He eased my pain and fear, and I feel different than I did a month ago.

One way that I am certain he answered my prayers for help was by opening my eyes (hence the title of this blog).  In John 9, we read a story of a man who was born blind.  The disciples ask Jesus who sinned, the man or his parents, that he was born blind.  Jesus responds with these words: "Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life."  I have been thinking about this in terms of what has been happening to me.  I am reading an AMAZING book by Paul Miller called "A Loving Life," that examines the book of Ruth.  In it, he talks about "the low place."  He is talking about a place of humility, a place that Ruth goes willingly when she gives up her entire life to love and follow her mother-in-law Naomi.  Neither of the hard things I was facing were voluntary, but I feel like they had brought me to a place of humility.  I had none of the confidence, none of the ability, none of the security that I had previously felt.  Here were two difficult situations, and I had absolutely NO control over either of them.  I had not chosen the humble place, but I had been placed there regardless.  Miller says this about "the low place":

"You discover people in the low place. It is like entering a darkened room full of friends.  At first, you think you are alone, you can't make out anyone, but then as your eyes adjust to the light, you begin to see friends everywhere, maybe people that you didn't notice when you were up higher."  He also adds that "The great joy of the low place is that it is where God dwells (Isa 57:15)."  As I entered that dark room, and felt alone, I eventually discovered that I was NOT alone.  Over the weeks, as my eyes adjusted, I was able to see more and more clearly the other people who were there.  I saw so very clearly how many people were there for me, who were praying for me, loving me, bringing me meals, calling me, texting me, emailing me, hugging me and loving me.  Of course, I knew those people were there before, but somehow they looked very different as they emerged from the dark place and I saw them in a whole new light.  Before, they were just the fun and awesome people that God put in my life as a gift to enjoy.  Now, however, they were beautiful and kind people who God put in my life to help save me.  As I watched them emerge from the shadows, they just looked different.  More real, somehow more there.  And ultimately, their acts of love and kindness pointed to the most real, the most there one, who had given them to me, who had put them in my life.  And I just knew that He was there in a new way that  I don't think I ever had before.  And so my prayer now, as God continues to bring more and more sight to my blind eyes, is that "his work would be displayed" in me.

This experience was just a quick glimpse into the dark room, a preview of much harder things that I will most likely face later in my life (and that many of you have already faced).  We talked to Sergey this week and he said that he does want to come, and less than an hour later the doctor's office called to say that the biopsy was cancer-free.  The kindness of God in putting those two events so close together was almost more than I could bear.  It felt like a personal, intimate, tender word of love from my Abba Father who knows me and loves me.  I don't want to go back in that dark room, and I am SOOOOO loving being back out in the sunlight - it feels so very good :-).  However, whenever God in his infinite wisdom and love sees fit to call me back into the room, I think my eyes will adjust a bit more quickly. I think I will step into the room with just a bit more confidence, knowing that my friends are in there waiting for me, and that, most importantly, the God who made me, knows me, and sent his Son to die for me, is waiting for me inside with arms open wide.  And hopefully that knowledge will give me a new freedom (I think it already has) as I live out the rest of my days on this earth.

Until I get those glasses, I think I will need to go "rest my eyes."  :-). Good night to you :-).

P.S.  For those of you wondering exactly where we stand in the adoption process at this point, here it is: once we heard from Sergey that he wanted to come, we sent in our request for our first court appointment. We asked for March 18, but we won't know until we hear back from the Ukrainian government exactly what that date will be.  Once we get that date, we will buy tickets for our first trip, which both Clint and I will take, and that should last about 10 days.  When we return from that trip, we will wait for our next court date, which will likely be a few weeks after that.  Clint and I will return for that court date, and that trip will probably last around 10 days as well, but might be a bit shorter.  We will both come home from that, and then about 10 days later I will return with my wonderful Aunt Jeannie to pick Sergey up from the orphanage and do the rest of the paperwork necessary: visa, passport, medical records, etc. The length of that trip will just depend on the speed of appointments and paperwork.  And THEN, FINALLY, we will bring our boy HOME :-).

Picture taken soon after we were given so much good news :-).  So many crazy things had to happen to make this picture possible.  God is so very good to me :-).  I think you can almost see the look of disbelief still in my eyes.