Redemption wins

Last night was a tough conversation with a child. He struggles. He doesn't want help. He doesn't want me. And he certainly knows how to push my buttons. Yeah, calling me an idiot is a definite button-pusher.

There is always loss in adoption. For some children, the loss is greater than for others. For some, loss didn't just happen once but multiple times and for others, it happens in multiple ways. Some children, for various and often unknown reasons, handle loss better than others. Some periods of life can make loss more pronounced.

As a parent, it can be so difficult to watch the healing process. You want to fix everything for a child who doesn't want to believe that fixing is necessary or that you are the best person for the job.

Sometimes I don't feel like the best person for the job. So I read another book, we attend another counseling session, we talk to those who know.

This morning my quest for wisdom involved a lunch bag, a passage of Scripture, and a song.

I was awakened in the wee hours of the morning and couldn't go back to sleep. I decided I might as well get up and get something accomplished during my insomnia. I remembered that this child's lunch bag handle was detached and unraveling. I recently learned that I connect best with God when doing something for someone else. This may not be news to you, but it was to me. You mean I don't have to sit quietly for an hour praying for someone while my mind spends more time wandering than praying? I can pray as I serve? Eye-opening and releasing for sure.

So that's what I did. While the rest of the house slept, I gathered needle and thread and the lunch bag, and started sewing. And as I sewed, I prayed. I prayed that redemption would win, that the struggle would end, that God would do the work of mending a heart that's frail and torn. And maybe that heart is mine as much as his.*

I prayed through 1 Corinthians 13, so familiar yet so full of truth. As I read each verse, I added my own request, for greater kindness, perseverance, and yes, full and complete love. I prayed that my flawed attempts at perfect love would be seen as love that first comes from the Father, perfect love. I don't want to be a clanging cymbal, an annoying, repetitive noise from which one just wants to run as far as possible. I want to be patient, unfailing, complete love to him.

And my morning ended (or began?) with the reminder that we know the end of the story.

Spoiler alert: Redemption does win! The struggle does end! And torn, frail hearts are mended!

Praise God!


*Tenth Avenue North, Worn